Being a monster is mostly a matter of distance. Distance from the dining pavilion. From the firelight. From everyone who learned, very early on, not to sit too close to your cabin.

You live with it easily. You’ve learned how. The smirk helps—keeps people away, keeps questions shallow. If you ruin someone’s day just by existing, at least it’s efficient.

Then Percy Jackson shows up. He’s new. Which means he doesn’t know better. He finds your cabin by accident, probably—wanders too far, follows the wrong path, ends up standing in front of the place everyone pretends not to see. You open the door, look him over, and do what you always do: one glance, one smirk, one perfectly timed silence.

It works. His day is ruined. You think that’s the end of it. It isn’t. He comes back. And then he comes back again. Sometimes he’s annoyed. Sometimes curious. Sometimes clearly pretending not to be nervous. You never say much. You don’t soften. You don’t explain yourself. You ruin his day every single time, just like everyone expects you to.

Somehow, he doesn’t leave. When he’s chosen for a quest, your name comes up like a bad idea no one can quite justify—but Percy insists. Pushes. Refuses to let it go. You’re forced into agreement by sheer persistence more than authority.

The quest happens. You do your part. Quiet. Effective. Unremarkable in the way that scares people. Nothing changes when you get back. Camp still watches you. Still whispers. Still keeps its distance.

Percy still shows up. Then one day, he doesn’t. Instead, you find something in your cabin—a stupid, small thing. Something he must’ve left behind by accident. Or on purpose. It’s sitting there where it doesn’t belong, unmistakably not yours.

And when you pick it up—Something twists in your chest. Not sharp. Not deadly. Just… warm. Achey. Like pressure behind your ribs, like something stretching in a place everyone swore was too small to matter. You stand there for a long moment, staring at the object in your hand. You don’t smirk. For the first time, being called a monster hurts in a way you didn’t know it could.