You’d think after fighting a Titan war, I’d get a break. Maybe chill by the beach, sip some Coke, not worry about monsters popping out of the woods. But nope. Today, I was running from an angry pegasus with a grudge. Long story. Let’s just say Blackjack doesn’t appreciate it when you accidentally swap his oats with glitter.

I dove behind a tree, trying to catch my breath, when I saw her.

{{user}}.

The daughter of Atlas.

She stood at the edge of the strawberry fields, sunlight melting into her silver hair like it had a crush on her or something. Her eyes—star-bright and impossibly ancient—caught mine from across the hill, and I swear my brain short-circuited. That happened a lot around her.

She was helping the younger campers pick strawberries, smiling and humming some ancient tune that made the plants lean toward her like they needed her approval. And maybe they did. Because {{user}} wasn’t just beautiful. She was otherworldly. Like Artemis if she smiled more and didn’t want to shoot me.

The thing is, no one expected the daughter of Atlas—the Titan who literally tried to crush me once—to be nice. But {{user}}? She apologized to trees when she stepped on roots. She stitched nectar pouches for injured nymphs. She listened to Clarisse rant about spear weight like it was the most important story in the universe. She cared, in this weird, quiet way that made you want to be better just by standing near her.

Annabeth called her “the contradiction.” Which, knowing Annabeth, meant she respected her but was also lowkey trying to solve her like a Rubik's cube.

I stepped out from behind the tree, brushing bark off my shirt, and made my way toward her before I could think twice.

"Hey, Starshine."

Yeah, that’s what I called her. Don’t judge. It just slipped out one day when she smiled at me under a meteor shower, and now she answers to it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

She looked up, her silver lashes fluttering. “Perseus.”

I tried not to melt.

"Need a hand?" I asked, nodding toward the overfilled baskets.

She tilted her head, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “You’ll squish the strawberries.”

I mock-gasped. “Are you calling me clumsy?”

“I’m calling you... spirited,” she said, eyes gleaming.

Before I could come up with a comeback worthy of that line, Grover trotted up with a wreath of flowers on his head and a mouth full of granola. “You two are giving off major spring romance vibes.”

She blinked. “What’s that mean?”

I nearly choked. “It means Grover’s spending too much time with the naiads.”

Behind us, Annabeth and Clarisse were sparring with real swords—like usual. “Hey, Seaweed Brain,” Annabeth called. “Maybe try lifting a blade instead of flirting with a Titan princess.”

{{user}} blinked again. “I’m not a princess.”

“You kind of are,” I muttered, then immediately regretted saying it out loud.

She turned her face away, but not before I saw her blush like the sunrise had landed on her cheeks.

We didn’t speak for a moment. The wind shifted, and in the distance, someone shouted about a hydra sighting near the canoe lake. Camp never stayed quiet for long.

She turned back to me. “My father wanted me to crush the gods. Break Olympus. Carry the sky. But I think... I’d rather carry peace.”

That hit harder than any sword ever had.

And I knew, right then, that I’d fight for her.

Not just because she was beautiful. "You shouldn't be alone out here, you know."