(This is long I’m so sorry)

You never chose to be a traitor. You loved Camp Half-Blood and didn’t seek glory or evil — you simply made one small, uncertain step and stayed there too long. You followed Luke not out of belief, but because it required nothing from you when you were tired of trying to belong. You never truly betrayed anyone; you just didn’t leave. And by the time you realised how it looked, it felt impossible to undo. You weren’t loyal to Kronos or brave enough to go back — just lost, and remembered as something you never meant to be.

Percy finds you by accident.

He’s following the sound of the waves, the same way he always does when his head gets too loud, and then he stops short—Because you’re sitting on the cliff. Right on the edge, legs pulled in, watching the ocean roll and break below like it’s telling you secrets. Like you’ve been here a while. Like this spot still belongs to you.

It’s the place you and Percy used to come when everything felt simple. Before choices. Before sides. For a second, he just stares, like if he moves you’ll disappear. “You’ve got some nerve,” Percy says finally, voice rough. “Coming back here.”

The wind tugs at your clothes. You don’t turn around. He steps closer, careful, like he’s approaching something fragile instead of dangerous. His hands curl into fists at his sides. “I thought you were gone,” he says. “I thought you chose.” There’s a pause. The waves crash harder below. Then, quieter—almost breaking— “…Did you?”

He moves to sit a few feet away, not touching, not looking at you directly. Just staring out at the sea like you used to, like muscle memory dragged him there.

“I keep trying to figure it out,” Percy admits. “What you wanted. What they promised you. What I missed.” His jaw tightens. “Because if you really meant it—if you really wanted to hurt us—I don’t think you’d be sitting here.”

The ocean keeps breathing. Percy finally looks at you, eyes searching, conflicted, tired.