I don't own PJO.
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He was in the arena when she approached, carrying with her a spear, an ugly shield and an expression of distant arrogance. The lesser campers gave her a wide berth, further contributing to her ego.
Percy couldn't get behind her significance, given that Zeus had other daughters that were prodigious gods and not lofty mortals. Annabeth had sacrificed a portion of her precious time to narrate her backstory that happened to coincide with Thalia's. It was uninteresting and did not shed light on the origins of her friend's misplaced glory.
"Son of Poseidon, huh. You any good with that sword?"
The words were employed as strategy. An unnecessary mention of the eternal hierarchy. It showed how little she knew. Parentage did not determine skill or power but he nodded his consent to engage in a spar despite his thoughts and feigned vague awe when she made exaggerated thrusts with her spear and lured spectators with noise from rebellious electricity on both of her arms.
Anticipation took substance as murmurs surrounded them, the louder and vitrolic ones certain of his defeat. He didn't blame them. His rise and reputation was abrupt, conceiving generous envy among the other campers who applied the same methods only to be met with disheartening improvement.
He had never proclaimed to be the best. His private capacity alluded to it. Which led to this, facing the object of their combined retribution.
"Prepare yourself, Jackson."
She readied her spear and assumed a stance. His grip on Riptide became steadfast to substitute mercy, because just like the others, she'd learn from error.