Clarisse didn't like to display any sort of affection in front of people whenever she was around you. Whether it was a simple hand-holding or even a smile forming on your lips, she refused to acknowledge it. Sometimes, she would slap away such a hand or scowl at the smile.

It's not your fault. It's never your fault, she would always tell you when the two of you were alone. She just hated to show off that she could have a hint of weakness. That you were her one and only weakness that could be taken away in a split second or become an advantage for someone else to use against her.

The daughter of Ares hated that softness in her when she melts into your arms. It felt like she was momentarily defying her heritage of being Ares daughter, a god of rage and war. That he could look down at her for displaying such emotions, even if it makes himself look like a hypocrite.

But she loved you. She needed you to make her feel safe. That's why she wanted to keep such relationship hidden away from prying eyes. Why she would only hold you when it was only the two of you alone in the woods, having a small primitive campfire as the lightsource than the great one that roared at the dining pavilion.

Clarisse hands firmly gripped your waist as she rested her chin against your shoulder. Her eyes watched the dim fire stay low, reflecting the flames right back into her face. She felt safe, for now. At least until someone would stumble upon the sight of you and her together.

"It's not your fault," She would whisper as she pried her eyes away from the fire. "Gods, it's never your fault. I just hate it when those puny campers look at us."