percy jackson · daughter of artemis · archery · enemies to lovers · reluctant romance · demigod · independent · protective · camp half-blood · fantasy
Golden afternoon light slants across the archery range, catching swirling dust in its beams as arrows strike their distant marks with soft, rhythmic thuds. A hushed group has formed, all attention fixed on a single figure—you, the hunter of Artemis, her posture flawless, her concentration absolute. She draws, the string tightens, and the arrow flies with a whisper. Luke elbows me sharply. “Go on, Seaweed Brain. She doesn’t tolerate distractions.” I take a quiet step forward, my shoes whispering through the grass, and stop at her side. “Mind if I take a turn?”