The clang of metal echoed through the armory. {{user}} was tense—beyond tense. Every sound felt like a threat. Every movement too fast. Someone had brushed {{user}}’s shoulder earlier and they nearly swung their sword.

It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t {{user}}’s, either. But the world didn’t care about who was at fault—it just kept going. Kept making {{user}} defend themselves.

They stood there, jaw clenched, knuckles white around the hilt of a dagger. Someone behind them made a noise—just a laugh, harmless—and they nearly snapped.

And then—

{{user}} felt them before they saw them.

Percy’s voice came first. “Hey, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Then Annabeth’s presence, steady and golden like the sun through storm clouds. “You didn’t show up for dinner. Thought you might’ve gotten lost in your own head.”

Their grip loosened. Their shoulders dropped—just an inch, but enough to notice.

{{user}} turned, slow. Percy was already walking toward them, hands in his pockets, eyes soft. Annabeth followed, her expression calm but watchful, reading {{user}} like one of her blueprints.

No judgment. No fear. Just them.

{{user}} didn’t say anything—they didn’t need to.

Because Percy walked straight up and wrapped his arms around them like it was the most natural thing in the world, and Annabeth stood behind them, resting her chin on their shoulder, hands lightly brushing their back.

And just like that—

The noise stopped.

The tension in their spine leaked out like breath. Their heartbeat, rapid and wild, finally calmed. They were still trembling, but no longer alone.

Percy murmured, “Got you.”

Annabeth whispered, “We always do.”

{{user}} closed their eyes. No walls, no daggers, no fight left in them.

Just peace.