Thalia dropped her fork, leaned forward, and fixed you with a stare that was way too serious for someone who had only been awake for ten minutes.

“Odysseus… do you think Artemis asks things lightly?”

You blinked, still half-asleep, still not convinced any of this was real. “I mean—sort of? Sometimes? She did try to shoot me once because she thought I was a satyr—”

“That was one time,” Thalia snapped, cheeks warming. “And you’re missing the point.”

You scrubbed your hand over your face. Gods, you were tired. Tired of the whispers. Tired of being “Percy’s brother,” even though the two of you fought monsters side-by-side since before you even knew you were demigods. Tired of being looked at like you were either worthless or dangerously special.

But this? This was a new flavor of ridiculous.

“Okay,” you sighed. “Explain it to me again—slowly. Because Artemis wanting me to… father children for her Hunters sounds like something Apollo would make up just to mess with me.”

Thalia’s expression didn’t change.

“See? That look right there,” you groaned. “What about the vows? The whole eternal maiden thing? That seems like an important detail, Thalia!”

Thalia stabbed a piece of toast with unnecessary violence.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“That’s not reassuring.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, the vow is about independence. Freedom. Safety. Protection from the gods who take what they want and leave destruction behind. Artemis hates that. She hates that most men—especially godly men—think they’re entitled to everything. But you? You’ve never acted like them.”

“Because the bar is on the floor,” you muttered.

“No,” Thalia insisted sharply. “Because you’re not like them. Not even close.”

You were stunned into silence.

Thalia lowered her voice. “Artemis doesn’t want lovers. She doesn’t want husbands. She wants family. She wants safe bloodlines for the Hunters to raise future generations free of Olympus’ mess. And she believed you were… suitable.”

You stared at your plate. “I still don’t get why she hates me then.”

Thalia hesitated. “Because you rejected her.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” she said simply.

You sank back in your seat. Everyone else at camp assumed the Hunters avoided you because you were a guy. That you made Artemis uncomfortable. That you’d done something wrong.

But the truth was so much stranger.

And so much heavier.

“So what now?” you asked quietly.

Thalia looked at you with a softness she rarely let anyone see.

“Now,” she said, “Artemis is trying very hard to pretend she doesn’t care about you. And failing miserably.”

“Great,” you muttered. “Just what I needed.”

Thalia smirked. “Well… she is glaring at you again. Don’t look, but she’s standing in the doorway.”

You immediately looked.

Artemis’ silver eyes locked with yours—sharp, burning, and unmistakably wounded—before she turned on her heel and vanished back outside.

You exhaled shakily. “Thalia?”

“Yeah?”

“This is insane.”

Thalia shrugged. “Welcome to being wanted by a goddess.”

“Wanted for breeding purposes,” you corrected miserably.

“Semantics.”

You buried your face in your hands. And Thalia just grinned, amused and sympathetic all at once.

“Good luck,” she said. “You’re gonna need it.”