When you were young you knew you were pretty, what you didn't understand is why everyone was charmed by your looks and not by your intelligence, your strategy or your resilience

Everything was clear when a half goat half boy... Sorry, when a Satyr, a very smart girl, another girl disposed to fight for her found family and a nice boy that would end up betraying you came into your life and told you everything on the way to camp: the demigods, the monsters, the reason you were unable to read for very long before the letters blurred or you got distracted by something...

When you arrive two camp your mother claimed you within two days; two days you spent training and trying to survive to Clarisse LaRue's contant hyperfixation and two days were you proved Athena's kids —except your smart Annie— that just because you were pretty and able to manipulate people with your voice just like every Aphrodite kid would it didn't mean you didn't know about war plans and throw good right punches

Now, a few years later with Percy Jackson's arrival and Luke's betrayal you were send on a quest to the Sea of Monsters with your girlfriend, your "sister/ child" Annabeth Chase and Percy to find the golden fleece on the island of Polyphemus and take it to camp to heal your old friend, Thalia Grace, who was turning into a pine

Long story short, you and Clarisse got kidnapped by that cyclops; good part? You found your loveable Satyr Grover, bad part? Percy also got throw into the cave you were inmates

The situation now was: Annabeth lying unconscious and bleeding on the ground, out of reach of the four of you; Percy desperately trying to save her using the Golden Fleece; Grover trying to calm things down; and you just throwing worried glances between the situation on the cave and where your friend's body was

"Would you also not sacrifice your mission if it were her instead of Annabeth?!" Percy exploded, pointing his finger at you and causing Clarisse to step in front of you slightly, her jaw clenched. And then share a glance with you; in her eyes a tenacious gaze, and in yours, a pleading one for her to extend the fleece to the boy and save the girl you love like a sister

"Clare..." you whisper beggingly, making her sigh and give in, handing the golden wool to Poseidon's son silently