Kit was startled from his doodling sketch—the side of Cleo's face, her eyes focused on something and her nose wrinkled in thought—as a mug of tea was placed at his elbow before his mother sat across from him with her own mug.

"I don't know why I ever thought you'd be something other than an artist," his mother mused as she glanced between the piece of scrap paper in front of him and where Cleo was sitting against the sofa, casted leg stretched out in front of her with the book resting on her good leg and her casted arm holding it in place, her eyes were focused on the words as her nose wrinkled and she mouthed the words to herself as she followed the words with her finger. "You were always drawing or painting, though I hear that you've delved into sculpting recently."

There was a tone of reproach in his mother's tone and Kit cringed slightly as he once did as a child and teen though he was now a grown man. He knew he hadn't kept in contact as much as his mother would like, especially after Cleo arrived, but he had his reasons.

"Yes," he coughed and Cleo glanced over at him with concerned hazel eyes which made him smile at her until she looked away, assured that he was fine—for now. "I've been using clay, but I've been thinking of trying wood carving in the future."

His mother, Elizabeth, hummed as she took a sip of her tea, green eyes keeping him in place.

"I suppose I should finish cleaning out the garage," she said almost to herself and Kit frowned.

"Why?" he asked in some confusion and his mother's eyebrows raised in mild disbelief, like she couldn't believe he didn't know why.

"To become your studio, of course," she told him and Kit froze. "Though should we call it a workshop? Considering you'll be working with wood now."

"Why do we need to turn your garage into a studio?" Kit asked though he had a feeling he knew the answer and Elizabeth frowned at him like he was being silly.

"Because you're staying of course," Elizabeth replied in a matter-a-fact tone that made a grim smile curl his lips briefly.

Of course, of course she would think he would be staying.

"We're going back to New York," he told her quietly and firmly. "This is just a holiday."

"You let the lease drop on your apartment and placed all your belongings in storage," she frowned at him. "Why else would you do that if you weren't leaving that God awful place?"

"Maybe because I'm taking my daughter on a long holiday and don't see the point of paying for an apartment that will be empty for some odd months," he answered and she scoffed.

"Don't be stupid, Christopher," she told him in an irate tone. "It doesn't suit you. You're not going back, not after what happened with Cleo and that drunk."

"We aren't staying," he repeated. "We have to go back."

"Why? Because of that woman?" she scowled and Kit knew she meant Aphrodite. "She's not coming back, Christopher. She got what she wanted, got more than she wanted, and dumped you with a baby without so much as a warning and left."

"That's not exactly what happened and you know it," Kit scowled back at his mother and she scoffed. "I know she's not coming back for me, I'm not stupid Mother. But we have to go back, Cleo belongs there, needs to be there."

"She'll be fine here," his mother dismissed and Kit was reminded firmly why it had been so long since he had last seen his mother.

She didn't listen, she had never truly listened, and she was one of the reasons he had moved all the way to America to attempt to jump start his career instead of moving to London or somewhere in his birth country.

Why did he think she would listen to him now?

"We're going back to New York," he repeated, firmly as he met the angry stare of his mother. "We're going home."

Her mug clicked sharply as she placed it down to glare at him.

"You'll be staying here and that's final," she spoke like he wasn't an adult, like he wasn't a parent himself, and Kit bristled angrily.

"We're going home," he insisted. "And you can't stop us."

"That place isn't your home!" she snapped as she stood so she towered over him, using height to imitate him—something that stopped imitating him when he became taller than her at age fifteen. "This is your home and you are staying."

He opened his mouth to retort, to again insist that he and Cleo would be returning to New York, when a soft call broke through their argument.

"Daddy?"

His gaze immediately left his mother and turned to his daughter, he was up and moving towards her before he fully registered that Cleo was attempt to get to her feet with her crutch awkwardly.

It was second nature to sweep her up into his arms and perch her carefully on his hip.

"I told you to call me if you wanted to get up," he lightly scolded as he held her securely under her bum while her good arm hooked around his neck.

"You were fighting," she was frowned, almost scowling, before she pierced his mother with fierce and accusing golden eyes. "You were upsetting him."

"Only because he isn't thinking clearly," his mother dismissed and Cleo scowled. "Put her down, Christopher, we're not finished."

"We are," he said firmly and his mother scowled.

"Don't be stupid— "whatever else she was going to say, Kit would never know because Cleo snapped.

"Shut your mouth!" she ordered in a voice filled with command and power and his mother's mouth shut with a loud click making her stumble back with an almost frightened look on her face as she attempt to open her mouth in vain. "He's not stupid!"

Kit didn't know if he should laugh or groan, but he knew he had to get out before the power of Cleo's voice wore off and his mother regained control of her mouth.

It seemed their visit to his mother's was at its end, perhaps for good.

Quickly he swept from the room, his grip firm on his irritated daughter, and headed swiftly to their room to pack their belongings.

They needed to go, Kit knew that, even if the Mist made his mother forget exactly what Cleo did, he couldn't forget, and he also knew the Mist would still make it impossible for them to stay.

Of all the times for one of her mother's gifts to show up, he despaired to himself as he plopped her on the bed before reaching for the open bed on the floor.

Luckily they hadn't really unpacked and it was rather easy for Kit to collect and pack all their things quickly before packing their rental car and they were gone before his mother could do anything more than glare.

I did something wrong.

How dare she call Dad stupid!

I shouldn't have done that.

I should have done more; I don't like that bitch.

What did I do?

Kit bit back a sigh when he glanced over at his daughter's grimacing face, he knew he had to address what she had done but was at a lost to how.

Aphrodite had made sure to show him the horror of the world that faced their daughter, but said nothing on how Kit was meant to raise Cleo or the stand he should take on her godly-given powers.

"Cleo," he trailed off as her dark hazel eyes locked onto the side of his face.

"I did something wrong, didn't I?" she asked in such a downtrodden tone that Kit almost wanted to reassure her that she hadn't done anything wrong.

But he couldn't do that, it would send the wrong message. But what message should he send? That it wasn't alright to ever use the gift her mother's blood gave her? But he couldn't allow her to think she was able to use it whenever and however she liked, could he? This power, this Charm-speak, could so easily be abused if he didn't draw a line that Cleo shouldn't cross.

"Yes," he said slowly, "but also no."

He glanced over at his daughter and saw the confusion on her face. Great, how was he meant to explain?

"You were defending me," he began. "Defending someone you love should never be wrong," –but it could be, but he wasn't telling her that now, she was still young enough that she didn't need to know that— "but the way you defended me could be considered wrong."

Cleo frowned and he wanted to shift under her gaze.

"But I only told her to shut up," she said in confusion and Kit winced as yeah, that's all she did and it shouldn't be wrong to tell someone to shut-up when they said mean things, but not all people had Cleo's ability.

"It wasn't what you said," Kit said. "It's how you said it."

And the confusion deepened; he really wasn't making sense, was he?

"Cleo," he sighed. "Your mum had a gift, she could make people do things by saying things in a certain way. She got this tone, this power to her voice, and people would do what she wanted even if they didn't want to do it.

You have this gift, Cleo, and you have to be careful with how you say things, what you say, because it's wrong—bad even—to make people do things that they don't want to."

There, that was good, wasn't? That made sense.

And then of course his six-year-old proved him wrong just a moment later.

"Then why do you make me eat my vegetables?" she asked very seriously and he almost gaped at her, only the fact he was still driving stopped him. "Because I don't want to, but you make me."

"That's different," he said after a moment of silence.

"Why?"

"Because vegetables are good for you, you need your vegetables."

"Why?"

"They help you grow and stuff, keep you healthy."

"But I don't like them."

"No one really likes them."

"Then why do you make me eat them?"

"I already told you, to keep you healthy and help you grow."

Despite her question, Cleo understood what her Daddy was attempting to tell her. The thing was though, she was torn about what to do. It was best to distract him while she worked it out part of her whispered and she agreed.

I need to learn how to use this power, to control it.

But Daddy said it's wrong.

Could be wrong, he said it could be wrong. I need to learn to how to use this.

Daddy won't be happy.

Dad doesn't have to find out.

I can't lie to him.

I'll just avoid talking about it, I could use it to protect Dad. I have to learn this, to control this.

…Yes, I have to protect Daddy.

I'll protect him, both sides of her were in agreement once again.

It was decided that they would have a road-trip of Europe, starting in France after taking the ferry across the Channel. Kit had been convinced it was a good idea until he was holding the miserable form of his sea-sick daughter.

She only cheered up slightly when he bought her a rather large stuffed dog that she curled around for the rest of the journey.

Kit wasn't blind or ignorant to the changes in his daughter, but most could be written off as after-effects of the car-crash or her being a child.

The distance look in her eyes and the thoughtful frown that sometimes appeared? Effects from her head injury obviously, possibly related to her memories.

Her more quiet nature? Result from the trauma most likely. It wasn't like she was depressed or suddenly anti-social, she just preferred being quiet now which was fine and she still enjoyed talking with him.

Her almost protective actions towards him? Also a result from the trauma as they both almost lost each other. Perhaps he should be concerned of the hint of temper. The anger that made her use her 'charm-speak' for the first time against his mother. However, she didn't act out or throw fits of temper so he wasn't that worried, but he would keep an eye on it.

Her sudden fear of deep water which made her stay in the shallows of the sea whenever they went to a beach? (her cast leg wrapped carefully in plastic while her cast arm kept close to her chest) It was normal for children to have weird fears, wasn't it? And it made sense she didn't like it much as they had recently found out that she got terribly sea-sick when they took the ferry across the channel the first time.

Other things, some he could still write off like;

Her leap of reading skill? Well, she had been reading more as having both a broken leg and an arm stopped her from doing other things like running around and such. It would only help her in the long-run when it came to her returning to school.

Her startling grasp of the French language? Didn't Aphrodite say that French was the language of love? It was probably a child of Aphrodite thing.

Or at least that's what he thought until they went to Spain, Italy and Germany later on and Cleo showed the same startling grasp of those languages.

Kit knew something was off with his daughter, knew it deep in his bones, but Kit decided he didn't care because she was Cleo, she was still his little girl, and nothing would change that.

Disneyland, Cleo decided, was the best place in the whole world and nothing, and no one, would change her mind.

The only thing that dampened her happiness was the fact that she couldn't buy all the cuddly soft-toys that she wanted.

Kit bit back a laugh as he watched Cleo frown thoughtfully as she judged the soft-toys around her, weighing up which she preferred the most.

It was times like this that showed Kit that though Cleo had changed, she was still his little girl.

She was an interesting little thing, Thanatos mused as he observed his new interest—perhaps he should claim her as his Champion? If only to keep the other Gods at bay, he'd have to think on it.

All wide eyes and chocolate locks hiding the warring mind of an old warrior and a young child.

Aphrodite had done her best, yes, but unused and there for unskilled in sealing everything.

Thanatos found he didn't mind, it made this one, Cleo, more interesting as warrior and child clashed or agreed, it was more interesting seeing the bits of warrior bleed into the child so Thanatos wouldn't fix it.

His sisters had not stirred themselves to correct Aphrodite's attempt so Thanatos decided that they wanted things this way.

Though for what reason Thanatos didn't know, and truthfully? He didn't desire to know; he'd find out soon enough after all.

Though Thanatos did know one thing, it had something to do with a demigod child called Percy Jackson. Why else would he be the first demigod that Cleo ran into and befriend when she returned to America?

The whole trip to Montauk was set-up by the Fates though Thanatos could see the hand of Aphrodite in the connection between Kit Agate and Sally Jackson.

Cleo did make things more interesting, he almost smiled as he watched.

AN: Here is the first two chapters, I hope you like it. Some of you that read my When In Thedas have been asking about my Harry Potter story and are confused because they thought Harry Potter was going to be next, my Harry Potter was originally meant to be next but I decided to go for my Percy Jackson story instead as this Muse hasn't fled.

My Harry Potter story will be after this one, so please be patient as at the moment I'm working things out with the help of .

I hope you enjoy this story as you have the ones before.