Camp Half-Blood had always revolved around Percy Jackson.

He was the guy — son of Poseidon, hero of Olympus, the one with the grin that made monsters hesitate and campers cheer.

Until you showed up.

You didn’t mean to cause a shift. You were just louder. Brighter. The kind of demigod who turned heads without trying. Your jokes hit harder, your confidence felt effortless, and your victories — gods, even when they were small — looked cinematic.

At first, Percy laughed along. He clapped you on the back, called you awesome, made space for you at his side. But soon, he started noticing things.

How the Hermes kids ran to you first with gossip. How even Annabeth tilted her head when you spoke.

How, at the campfire, when Percy cracked a joke — the laughs were polite.

But when you did? The whole amphitheatre lit up.

You weren’t cruel. Not even close. But there was something about you that made people forget the world had heroes before you came along.

And for the first time since he’d held a sword, Percy Jackson felt… replaceable. He laughed anyway — that same easy grin, even as it faltered at the edges — because that’s what heroes do.

Right now, he sat at the campfire with Annabeth and his friends.. and you.

Who again, stole all spotlight.