Why is Everything so Loud?! (Fem. Percy)

Dry Drowning

Anything, anything would've been better than what he wanted. Ares, monsters, even navigating the labyrinth. I wished it was something simple like that, not 'let me get rid of the air bubble.' Part of me knew I should've expected it. The thought of a god taking feelings into account was a wishful one at best, and a stupid one at worst. Though he didn't know why I wanted it, just that I was afraid. Maybe he had some deeper reasoning. Hopefully he did, beyond: my kid needs to like my domain. 

I sat on the edge of my bed. My feet didn't quite reach the stone floor. The soft mattress sank under my weight, and the fluffy blankets only added to the plushness. It was just a reminder of how much he was doing for me that he really didn't have to. A bastard child, a mistake, something that should be shipped back to camp. It's all I was, and him giving me a room--my own room in his palace--beat out every expectation I had of him. 

Dad hummed and looked down at me. His eyes washed over me like searchlights. The air around him was saltier than usual, leaving a tang on my tongue. He hadn't brought the water close yet. It hovered there, just a foot away from us, and I couldn't help the way my heart slammed against my ribs at the sight. I jerked my head down, just so I wouldn't have to look at it. 

A hand settled against my spine, big and large and gentle. He rubbed my back, an attempt to soothe away my worries met only with tension. The sharp pain of my nails digging into my palms wasn't enough to help. 

"Just try, okay?" said Dad. "The water is your birthright, little one, there's nothing to be afraid of when it comes to it. It's not like you can drown."

I stared blankly at my hands, throat tightening. Each breath I took became shorter and shorter, until I wasn't sure I was breathing at all. "Drowning- Drowning isn't fun." My vision blurred. "Not fun at all." My lungs burned. I gagged. Dad  pulled me close to his side, softly hushing me, placed his hand on my forehead, and tapped it with two fingers. "Not fun," I rocked myself, even in his grip, drew my knees to my chest. Over and over, I repeated myself. Clawing at my neck, clawing and dragging just to be able to breathe. A steel grip wrapped my wrist, and it pulled away my only hope. 

"You're not drowning." His aura swamped me. Like a wave washing around a post, everything else was gone. No fear, no panic. Just...an uneasy sense of calm that clung to my skin. I sucked in a deep breath, and I blinked up at Dad. He sighed. "Why didn't you tell me this was why you're afraid of water?"

Shrugging, I looked back at my lap. "It's stupid." 

Dad's hand tightened. He tugged me against his side. "You are my child, Perseus. I would rather like to know about things like this. I would've never..." He brushed a piece of hair away from my face. "Do you want to go back to the surface?"

Did I? I'd be away from water, which would be nice. The lack of protection, however, wouldn't be. As much as I knew things weren't right, that Dad shouldn't bother with me, his words still hung fresh in my mind. I was under his protection so long as I was close to him. Being here was perhaps the safest place for me, even safer than Camp. Power and blessings woven into the stones kept hostile monsters from getting near, never mind stepping inside. No monster would be dumb enough to attack here. Few gods would risk Dad's temper either. 

I shook my head, relaxed into his side, and welcomed the warm blanket he tucked around me.

"This isn't something you should be ashamed of," he said. I snorted.

"Do you have any idea how many people will make fun of me? Oh, look, the high and mighty daughter of Poseidon is scared of something she can fucking control." The words were the stones that sank the bucket. More spilled past my lips, dissolving into a jumbled messes of syllables I couldn't understand. I didn't know what I was saying or what I was even trying to say. 

Tears dripped down my face. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, the fear and panic bubbled up past the lid Dad's aura had forced on them. Soft fabric wrapped around and around my hands as the blanket stretched taunt. I pulled it tighter around me, needing something heavier. Dad pressed his palm against my forehead, and I leaned into it. Safe. Safe. 

Please just let me actually be safe.  

Hours seemed to pass, the pressure behind my eyes growing and morphing into an ache. A shudder wracked my entire body, followed in turn with a broken sob. Dad never moved his hand. 

"Táta," I mumbled, looking up at him.

He hushed me. Using his free hand, he stroked my hair. "I'm right here. I won't let you get hurt."

"You can't."

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean I don't have the right to." Dad gathered his arms around me. With a simple movement, he pulled me up onto his lap and allowed my head to rest on his shoulder. "I'm your father, and I'm supposed to protect you."

"I'm almost an adult."

He exhaled. Wiry hair brushed over my skin when he pressed a kiss to the side of my head. "Say that all you want, little one."

"Why-- Why are you calling me that?" 

"You're small," he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. A fact of existence like storms or earthquakes. As much as I wanted to press on, to ask why he decided I was worth calling that, I had a feeling I wouldn't get anywhere. Dad wasn't exactly known for being upfront and helpful, even in myths painting him in better lights. With a soft breath out, I relaxed. One strong arm settled around me, Dad said nothing else, but a rumble did echo through his chest. Idly, he brushed his thumb over my cheek. I pressed into the touch without a thought or care. Every muscle in my body stiffened once my actions settled in. He didn't notice, only continuing the gentle soothing motion. If anything, he added to it: a gentle rocking added in. I swallowed the panic threatening to rise, before relaxing. 

He hadn't yelled. That had to count for something, right? He couldn't secretly be upset, right? My hands clenched. No, it meant nothing. How many times had Gabe played his part as a loving step-father in front of some of his poker buddies only to snap later? I just had to play the part Dad wanted, and hope it would last. Be seen not heard, and only seen when wanted. 

So when he shifted and moved me over time, I kept my body loose and pliant letting him arrange me however he wanted. That ended up being laying against his chest as he reclined on my pillows. It was almost normal in a way. Mom would let me do it on occasion, sometimes doing it just to hold me close. 

"I love you," he mumbled, words almost lost to the air. Deft fingers undid the braids, pulling out beads and putting them who knew where. Time once again passed at an altered rate. Laying there sapped my energy, drawing my eyes closed, but it was far, far too soon to fall back asleep. I knew that, I really did, so why was it so hard to resist? 

I groaned when Dad slipped away. I held onto him for a moment, just until I could press a kiss to his cheek.

He gently ruffled my hair. "I'm going to finish up my meeting. Just keep the horse with you if you go anywhere."

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