The dining pavilion at Camp Half-Blood was alive with the hum of summer. The torches flickered against the marble columns, throwing warm light over trays of strawberries, roasted chicken, and goblets that refilled themselves.

Percy sat beside you at the Poseidon table, his arm half-curled behind your chair, protective without even realizing it. His other hand was busy pushing a plate of extra food in your direction.

“Eat the strawberries,” he urged, sliding the bowl closer. “You’ve got to keep your strength up. You’re eating for three.”

You gave him a flat look, though your lips twitched. “Percy, if one more person says that to me…”

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, raising his hands in surrender. “But still. You need them.”

You relented and took one, biting into it as your hand rested against the swell of your belly. At five months, there was no hiding it—your shirt stretched over the curve of twins growing inside you. Some campers stared openly. Whispers flitted between tables. A few Aphrodite siblings offered you supportive smiles, but you could feel the weight of every glance.

Percy seemed immune to it. His sea-green eyes softened whenever they landed on you, like the whole pavilion could vanish and he’d still only see you. It was almost overwhelming sometimes—the way he’d shifted from panicked boy to this… anchor.

But you also felt the storm at the edge of it.

At the Athena table, Annabeth sat stiffly, her goblet clutched tighter than it needed to be. She didn’t look at you—she looked at Percy. Her gray eyes flickered, sharp and unreadable, but there was no mistaking the tension in her jaw.

You swallowed and glanced down at your plate, pretending not to notice.

Percy leaned closer, his voice pitched for you alone. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You smiled, though your chest felt heavy. “Just… full already.”

He studied you like he didn’t believe it but didn’t press. Instead, his hand brushed over yours beneath the table, warm and grounding.

Chiron’s voice rose over the pavilion, calling for silence as he announced capture the flag for the weekend. Campers cheered. Annabeth finally looked away, standing to give orders to her siblings with crisp efficiency. Percy shifted in his seat, clearly aware of her energy even if he wasn’t putting words to it.

“She’ll come around,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “She always does.”

You glanced at him, unsure if he realized how much of his own heart was caught between old loyalties and this new life growing inside you.

The twins kicked then—two sharp nudges that made you wince and grab Percy’s wrist.

His eyes widened. “Was that—?”

You nodded, tears springing unbidden. “They’re moving more now. Want to feel?”

Percy’s hand pressed gently against your side, his mouth falling open as another kick fluttered beneath his palm. He laughed, soft and disbelieving. “Gods. That’s… that’s them.”

For a moment, it was only the two of you and the steady rhythm of your children reminding you they were real. Percy’s thumb brushed against your skin like he was afraid to let go.

Across the pavilion, Annabeth’s gaze darted back, her expression unreadable. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was heartbreak, maybe both.

But Percy didn’t notice. He was still staring at your stomach like it held the whole world.