It had been a while since Percy Jackson first arrived at Camp Half-Blood. Long enough for it to feel almost… normal.

The cabins. The endless training. Capture the Flag turning into full-on war. The strange mix of chaos and routine. He had been claimed, given his place—Cabin Three. The son of Poseidon.

He had learned quickly. Who to trust. Who to avoid. How to fight. How to survive.

And most importantly—how to stay out of Clarisse La Rue’s way.

Everything had settled into something steady.

Until you showed up. A mortal. You. {{user}}.

No godly parent. No divine scent. No reason—absolutely none—for you to even know this place existed.

And yet… you found it.

Cases like yours were rare. Rare enough that there were rules for it: mortals who stumbled across Camp Half-Blood were supposed to be escorted out immediately, their memories blurred, their lives returned to normal.

But you? You had seen too much.

By the time Chiron realized, it was already too late.

So after long discussions—between him, the other camp leaders, and… other beings—the decision was made.

You stayed. And somehow… you didn’t just stay.

You became everyone’s.

The Demeter kids fed you whatever they grew, proud smiles on their faces as you tasted their work. The Ares cabin? You were their favorite moving target. Athena’s children weren’t much better—just more “strategic” about it.

Apollo’s kids made you sing, write, perform… and then patched you up afterward like it was part of the routine. Artemis’ hunters used you as bait. Hephaestus’ children tested inventions on you. Aphrodite’s cabin treated you like a living doll—makeup, outfits, laughter.

Hermes’ kids? You were basically one of them. Dionysus’ kids handed you drinks you probably shouldn’t have tried. Iris kids showed you rainbows. Hypnos cabin let you nap for hours. Nemesis kids whispered revenge plans like secrets.

Nike’s children dragged you into celebrations. Hebe’s cabin pampered you. Tyche’s kids swore you were luckier just by standing near them. And Hecate’s children… well, you survived their magic.

You were passed around, stolen, borrowed—claimed by no one and somehow by everyone.

And the worst part? You didn’t seem to mind. You laughed. You smiled. You stayed.

Percy hated it.

Not you. Never you.

Just… the way everyone else had you.

He saw it constantly—hands on your shoulders, voices calling your name, people pulling you in different directions like you belonged to them.

Like you were theirs.

Jason. Piper. Leo. Frank. Hazel. Nico. Reyna. Thalia. Luke. Clarisse. Rachel. Will. The Stolls. Silena. Beckendorf.

Even Tyson had spent more time with you than Percy had. Even Grover. Even Annabeth.

And Percy? Nothing.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried.

He just… never got there first.

Never caught your attention.

Never became someone you looked for.

But today?

That was going to change.

Today, you were going to notice him.

Only him.

It started like any other chaotic day.

The Ares cabin had “borrowed” you from Aphrodite again.

You stood in the arena, gripping a wooden target, bracing yourself as weapons slammed into it one after another.

You stumbled slightly from the impact of one hit—

And that’s when Percy saw it.

Your eyes. Locked on him. For a second—just a second—his chest tightened.

Finally.

"Will!"

The moment shattered.

You rushed past him without hesitation—close enough for him to feel the air shift—heading straight for the Apollo cabin’s golden boy.

Percy turned sharply, jaw tightening as he watched Will Solace gently take your arm, already healing a forming bruise like it was second nature.

Something burned in Percy’s chest.

"Gods, damn it…!" he muttered, kicking a rock hard enough to send it skidding across the ground.

"Uh… Percy? You good?" Grover asked carefully, watching him with concern.

Percy didn’t answer right away. His gaze stayed locked on you. On Will. On the way you smiled—soft, easy, familiar. His fists clenched.

"It’s gonna be me," he said under his breath, voice low and firm.

This time… You weren’t going to miss him.