Daughter of Cupid (Luke Castellan fan fic)

Unwanted visitor

I, Carys Rose Harlow, have never been normal.
No, really. I'm not kidding.
How many normal people do you know who have Cupid as a father?

Well, maybe "father" is too strong of a word. I never spent much time around the guy. In fact, the most I've ever seen him is on my birthday or during one of his occasional appearances at Camp Half-Blood. But now that I'm nineteen and free to leave camp on my own, I doubt I'll see him much at all anymore.

The Greyhound bus jolts over a pothole, and I grab the armrest to steady myself, trying not to spill the half-empty bottle of water in my lap. Outside, the Carolina countryside whizzes by, all green trees and distant hills. Heading back to Charlotte feels weirdly comforting—like slipping into an old sweater you thought you'd outgrown.

It's been a year since Percy Jackson saved Olympus from Kronos. One full year since the chaos settled and the world stopped ending every other Tuesday. Things have started to feel... normal. Peaceful, even.

At camp, everyone made their plans after the war—some left to pursue mortal lives, others stayed to train the next wave of demigods. With fewer monsters hunting us down, it's been a nice change of pace. For once, I can act normal. Or at least pretend to. Starting college in a few weeks actually sounds fun.

The bus hisses to a stop, and I grab my bag, stepping out onto the sunlit pavement. Waiting by the curb is my aunt Moira.

Well, "aunt" might be the wrong word. She's raised me since I was four, but we're not genetically related. At thirty-two, Moira feels more like an older sister than an aunt.

"Carys! You have no idea how much I've missed you!" she says, pulling me into a tight hug.

I smile. "Missed you too! How's everyone been while I was gone?"

Moira chats animatedly on the car ride home, filling me in on everything: Uncle Henry's new obsession with gardening, Kylie's swim team triumphs, and their plans for a family trip to the mountains.

"Count me in," I say, grinning.

Then she smirks. "So, how was the epic battle for Olympus?"

We spend the next hour dishing about the war, the camp gossip, and—of course—the big news: Percy and Annabeth are finally dating. Moira's giddy reaction is hilarious, and by the time we pull into the driveway, twilight has draped the sky in soft purples and golds.

Inside, Uncle Henry greets me with his usual warmth, but there's a weird look on his face that stops me mid-hug.

"What's wrong?" Moira asks, frowning from the doorway.

"We... have a visitor," Henry says, jerking his thumb toward the living room.

"Visitor" is code for "one of the gods is here." Henry has always been kind to me, but I know he secretly resents my father for not raising me himself. Honestly, I don't blame him.

"It's not my birthday," I say slowly, my stomach tightening. Cupid only ever shows up in person on my birthday.

"It's... not him," Henry mutters, looking visibly unnerved. "I wish it was."

I glance at Moira, who looks just as confused as I feel, before heading toward the den. As I step into the room, I stop cold.

Sitting casually on the couch, like he owns the place, is Ares—the God of War.

Tall and broad-shouldered, with thick black hair that brushes his shoulders, he's dressed in faded black jeans and an equally dark leather jacket. The air around him practically buzzes with tension, and his smug expression is enough to make me nauseous.

"Oh, great," I mutter under my breath.

Ares looks up, his dark eyes gleaming like embers in a dying fire. "Hey there, kiddo," he says, his voice gravelly and sharp, like steel scraping against stone.

This is Ares, my grandfather. And I already wish he wasn't here.