The ocean stretched endlessly before you, waves rolling gently under the afternoon sun. The scent of salt filled the air, and the water was warm against your skin. Annabeth, however, was stiff in your arms, clinging to you as if letting go meant certain death. Her arms were tight around your shoulders, legs wrapped firmly around your waist.

“This is a terrible idea,” she muttered, her breath warm against your neck.

“You say that, but you’re still here,” you teased, adjusting your hold on her. You kept her securely above the water, making sure she felt safe. “Trust me, Annabeth. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She huffed, though you could hear the tension in her voice. “It’s not you I don’t trust—it’s the ocean. I can’t see what’s under me. Anything could be down there.”

You ran a soothing hand along her back, keeping your voice calm. “I get it. The unknown can be scary. But the ocean isn’t your enemy, and it’s not going to pull you under if you don’t let it.”

Annabeth hesitated but relaxed—just a little. “Easy for you to say, fish girl,” she mumbled, making you chuckle.

“Alright, let’s start small,” you said. “Just let your legs loosen a bit, feel the water supporting you. You’re not going to sink.”

Annabeth tensed again, gripping your shoulders harder. “That sounds like something someone would say right before I sink.”

You smiled softly, pressing your forehead to hers for a brief moment. “I’ve got you. Just try, for me?”

She swallowed hard but slowly uncurled her legs, letting them float beneath her. You held her up, hands firm on her waist. When she didn’t immediately sink, she let out a shaky breath.

“There you go,” you praised gently. “See? Not so bad.”

Annabeth scowled. “I still hate this.”

You grinned. “I know. But you’re doing great.”

She didn’t answer, just buried her face in your neck again, and you took it as a small victory.