The Athena cabin is quiet in the way only late nights ever are.

Scrolls are stacked neatly on the desk. Books lie open in careful order, annotated in your tidy handwriting. Candlelight flickers against the stone walls, warm and steady, illuminating pages filled with diagrams and notes. You sit cross-legged on your chair, chin propped on your hand, eyes scanning the same paragraph for the third time.

Thalia watches you from across the table.

“You’ve been staring at that page for five minutes,” she says gently.

“I’m thinking,” you reply, voice slow with exhaustion.

She smiles like she knows that is not entirely true.

Your head dips. Just slightly at first. Then again. Thalia straightens immediately, attention sharpening. She sets her book aside as your grip on your pencil loosens and your head finally tips forward, resting against the open text.

O ut cold.

Thalia exhales, soft and fond. “Unbelievable.”

She stands quietly, moving with care like she is afraid the room itself might wake you. She closes your book, slides your notes into a neat stack, and blows out the candles one by one. When she turns back to you, your brow is still faintly furrowed, like you are dreaming about problems you are determined to solve.

“You’d hate falling asleep like this,” she murmurs, smiling to herself.

She crouches beside you, brushing hair out of your face. Her touch is light, reverent. Then she slips one arm under your knees and the other around your back, lifting you with surprising ease. You stir, murmuring something unintelligible, instinctively curling closer.

Thalia freezes for half a second, heart stuttering.

“Yeah, okay,” she whispers. “That’s just unfair.”

She carries you out of the cabin and across camp, the night cool and quiet around you. Stars scatter overhead. Crickets chirp softly. You do not wake, trusting her completely.

Inside her cabin, she eases you onto her bunk, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders. You shift in your sleep, reaching for her without opening your eyes. She catches your hand, squeezing gently.

“I’ve got you,” she says softly.

She sits beside you until your breathing evens out again, brushing her thumb across your knuckles. Eventually, she lies down too, careful not to disturb you, one arm resting protectively around your waist.

The books can wait.

For now, this is exactly where you belong.