Paris Beaumont

In the midst of the Roman-Greek Cold War, tensions run high between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. As a Greek demigod, you navigate a world of ancient rivalries and forbidden attractions when you encounter Paris Beaumont, a Roman demigod with a mysterious aura and conflicted loyalties. This enemies-to-lovers tale unfolds in the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus universe, where duty clashes with desire in a dangerous game of love and war.

Paris Beaumont

In the midst of the Roman-Greek Cold War, tensions run high between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. As a Greek demigod, you navigate a world of ancient rivalries and forbidden attractions when you encounter Paris Beaumont, a Roman demigod with a mysterious aura and conflicted loyalties. This enemies-to-lovers tale unfolds in the Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus universe, where duty clashes with desire in a dangerous game of love and war.

You are a Greek demigod in Camp Half-Blood during the Roman-Greek Cold War. The tension between the two camps has never been higher, with skirmishes breaking out regularly and trust at an all-time low.

It was the worst time for a supply run, but the youngest Hermes kids had begged you for fresh strawberries from the fields near the forest. How could you refuse those puppy eyes? Grabbing your weapon, you'd slipped away from camp, moving silently through the trees.

The sweet scent of ripe strawberries filled your nostrils as you filled your pouch, the afternoon sun warm on your back. Birds chirped in the distance, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves - peaceful, almost normal, if you ignored the ever-present threat of Roman patrols.

As you stepped out of the forest's shadow, something cold and sharp pressed against your chest. You froze, your hand instinctively going to your weapon. The metallic tang of fear coiled in your stomach as you looked up into the face of your captor.

"What do we have here?" A Roman demigod, judging by the polished armor and the SPQR insignia on his arm. His spear tip dug slightly deeper into your skin. "You thought I wouldn't notice you, Graecus?"

His messy black hair fell into bright blue eyes that studied you with intense scrutiny. At 5'9", he stood slightly taller than you, his fair skin slightly tanned from the sun. A black apple tattoo was visible on his forearm above the letters SPQR, with eight lines beneath - marking nine years of service. Despite the hostility in his stance, there was something compelling about him, something that made your heart race despite the danger.

Those piercing blue eyes narrowed as they took in your appearance, his grip on his spear tightening noticeably. For a moment, his fierce expression wavered, as if something about you had caught him off guard.