𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐚; percy jackson

𝟎𝟒 | teasing on and on

As they approached the door of Cabin Eleven, Annabeth's voice rang out with practiced authority. "Percy Jackson, meet Cabin Eleven."

From somewhere inside, a voice called back lazily, "Regular or undetermined?"

"Undetermined," Annabeth answered, her tone crisp.

A collective groan rippled through the cabin, a chorus of discontent from the campers who clearly weren't thrilled about adding another face to their overcrowded space.

"Come on, guys. That's what we're here for," came a calm, steady voice from the doorway. A tall boy with dark hair and an easy smile stepped into view. Luke Castellan, always exuded an air of effortless control, as if no situation could ever rattle him.

He offered Percy a friendly grin.

"Hey, I'm Luke. You can have a spot on the floor, right over there," Luke said, motioning to a bare corner of the room.

"Thanks. I'm Percy, Percy Jackson." Percy said as they shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you." Luke nodded.

Before Percy could respond, Luke's attention shifted, his sharp eyes landing on Meara. "Hey, Mea," he said, his tone light. "Missed you at practice today." He gave her shoulder a playful nudge.

Meara rolled her eyes, but a small, reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "Yeah, I'll be there tomorrow. Right after we capture the flag."

Percy stood between them, glancing back and forth like he'd missed a key part of the conversation. "Practice? What kind of practice?" he asked, his confusion evident. "And wait—are we playing Capture the Flag?"

"Sword practice," Luke explained, clapping Percy on the shoulder in a way that was both encouraging and firm. "You'll probably be there soon enough—especially since you killed the Minotaur. Nice work, by the way."

At the mention of the Minotaur, Percy's expression darkened, his shoulders hunching slightly. "Oh," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

Meara, who had been quietly observing, felt a flicker of sympathy.

She'd overheard Percy muttering about his mother in his sleep, and though she couldn't fully grasp the depth of his pain, she somehow recognized the weight he carried, though she wasn't entirely sure how.

Luke, noticing the shift in Percy's demeanor, gestured again toward the corner. "Make yourself at home."

Percy nodded stiffly and moved toward the spot Luke had indicated, dragging his backpack behind him like it weighed a thousand pounds.

As soon as Percy was out of earshot, Luke turned back to Annabeth and Meara. "Thoughts?" he asked, his voice low and curious.

Annabeth hesitated, her gaze flicking to Meara as if inviting her to speak first. Meara simply shrugged before speaking. "I think he just needs a friend," she said, her voice surprisingly soft. "You should be that for him, Luke."

Luke and Annabeth both blinked, clearly caught off guard. Meara wasn't exactly known for her warmth or compassion.

Her reputation leaned more toward icy detachment—with the exception of the few friends she made.

"What?" Annabeth said, her surprise slipping out before she could catch it.

Meara raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to question further.

She wasn't about to explain herself, not when she wasn't entirely sure why she'd said it in the first place.

Percy irritated her, sure, but there was something about him—something raw and unresolved.

"You were just teasing him earlier," Annabeth pointed out, folding her arms. "And now you think he needs a friend?"

Meara sighed, the sharpness returning to her tone. "Our personalities clash. We're not going to be friends. But him and Luke? Maybe could be."

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, okay. Did something happen earlier?" He glanced at Annabeth for clarification.

Before Annabeth could answer, a new voice cut through the tension like a burst of sunlight. "M! You're finally back from the stinky infirmary!"

Meara turned just in time to see Isla Curran, the ever-bubbly daughter of Aphrodite, bounding toward her with a grin so bright it could've blinded someone.

"Oh my gods, your hair is a mess. Come here," Isla declared, already reaching for Meara's two simple braids.

The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Meara exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, grateful for the distraction. "Isla," she said, her tone a mixture of exasperation and relief.

As Isla started fussing over her hair, Aire Mintz, daughter of Apollo, joined them, her movements as fluid and graceful as sunlight streaming through a window. "Spill," Aire said dramatically, waving her hands for emphasis. "We heard things. Crazy things."

Luke, catching the conversation, stepped in, his tone a little more serious. "Yeah, I've heard something too. Meara, you're the best sword fighter at camp, but the Ares kids—they don't respect that. You need to be careful."

Meara frowned slightly, looking up at him. "They just can't handle the fact that some people are better than them."

"Humble." Luke chuckled softly. "Did you at least have your sword with you?"

Meara shook her head, a small smile forming. "No, I don't exactly carry it with me every time I'm wandering in the forest."

"Fair enough," Luke muttered while giving her a gentle pat on the back. "Just stay out of trouble."

With a wave goodbye to Luke and Annabeth, Meara eagerly followed Aire and Isla out the door.

She was grateful for the escape, but even as they walked, a nagging feeling lingered.

It felt like someone had been listening in on their conversation earlier.

•

The trio finally made it to their favorite hangout spot beneath the tall tree.

Aire leaned against the trunk, while Isla and Meara sat on the grass. Isla's fingers quickly worked through Meara's hair, rebraiding it into two neat plaits.

"So," Isla began, breaking the silence, "how did things go in the nursery? Did Chiron put you in charge of that Minotaur kid as a punishment? And what about Grover—did you have a chance to talk to him yet?"

Meara sighed. "No, not a punishment. Chiron hasn't even mentioned the Ares' kids incident, which is weird because Annabeth was convinced he knew everything. And as for Grover, no, I haven't had time to talk to him either."

Aire shrugged, biting into an apple. "That's strange. Oh, by the way, care to share the details of the forest fight?"

Meara let out a snort. "Okay, nosy."

Aire laughed. "They said the children of war ran off like little—" She was cut off by Isla's interruption.

"You get the picture," Isla said with a grin.

Meara smiled to herself. The Ares kids wouldn't be too happy about the rumors swirling around, but she didn't mind. After all, they weren't just rumors.