46Apologies for not updating anything for the last two months. Have been renovating a property and it has consumed much of my free time, as well as having a very stressful prognosis on a tooth that was ripped from my skull.
An adjective you never want to hear a dentist use to describe your tooth is necrotic. Headlock to brace the head and yanking that out is not a pleasant experience and I do not advise anyone to do it unless medically necessary.
Other than that, I'm alive and have a new chapter to deliver. Nothing else to say other than that.
This chapter was made available in advance on my discord server. If you want early chapters, some artwork pertaining to my stories, and other such things, feel free to join. This is the link, just remove the space: discord /2XN2rzuFpM
Server members also have access to the first chapter of my AsoIaF fic which is yet to be released publicly.
My dream was extraordinarily lucid, because it had to have been a dream. It was night, and I gazed at the stars twinkling above me that sparkled far more than I had ever seen in my entire life. The night sky unfolded above me in all its celestial glory, a bejeweled ocean of brightness.
My eyes turned towards the full moon for a mere fraction of a second, and in that instant, a peculiar sensation ignited within my bosom—a burning, almost visceral awareness. It was as if a weight had settled upon my chest, a palpable presence that stirred a primal instinct deep within me. In that fleeting moment, beneath the luminous gaze of the moon, I felt an undeniable certainty coursing through my veins—I was being watched.
The chilly night wind buffeted against my robed frame, nothing else underneath it, but I paid no mind to it. I just stood there as still and stalwart as a statue, almost as if I was contemplating something.
Suddenly, a rustling sound broke the silence, and the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed behind me. But I did not turn around.
As I took my eyes off the starry vault, a featherlight touch settled on my shoulder and I turned.
My eyes settled on the woman that had touched me and my eyes glanced at her up and down. Average height for a woman, just above sternum level to me, a pretty face, long chestnut hair, and she had a lithe, athletic build like a gymnast.
"Are the stars so great a marvel that they draw you from me?" She asked softly, her smile illuminating her face and features better than the pale moonlight.
My hand went up to her face and I traced her jawline and cheek with my fingers, my attention being drawn to my hands. I was extremely strong, and my hand was much larger than what it was.
And upon further realization, I felt strong. I was powerful, my body buzzing with power like I could crush a boulder with my own fists.
But my dream didn't care for my marveling. I spoke in a voice that was like burnished bronze; deep, steady. It was streaked with a softness though as I continued staring into her eyes with an intimacy that only a lover could have for his woman, a smile on my lips as I spoke.
"Against you, nothing can compare, ᾰ̓γᾰπητός." 1
"Then come back to bed." She smiled even wider, adopting a playful tone as her eyes told me everything I needed to know.
As if possessed by either a spirit of desire, elation, or perhaps both, I accepted her offer and scooped her up into my arms, lifting her up onto my shoulder with no difficulty, drawing a fit of giggles from her.
I walked back to my tent with my willing conquest and pushed the tent flap open with my left hand, my gaze going to the bed, then the polished bronze mirror beside a set of immaculately polished armour.
I caught a flash of myself in the mirror and I internally was surprised. My hair went down almost to my lower ribs, was a veritable lion's mane of tawny blond, and my eyes were a pale gre-
Summer of 1999
The dream abruptly ended when I heard a pound on my door and the painfully loud voice of Asmund tore me from my sleep.
"Lexi, time to wake up and train!" He shouted, chucking a plastic training sword at the foot of my bed from the side of my partially opened door.
"Stop calling me that!" I yelled, chucking my pillow at him angrily without even looking closely. This was the 8th day in a row where the dickhead woke me up at the asscrack of dawn for sword training and I hated it.
Just because I was saved from having to suffer half my day being in a school up until noon didn't mean I enjoyed getting woken up early. What I meant by that first part, I had been pulled from school when the school year ended about a month ago and was going to be homeschooled from now on.
It had been about two months now since I had arrived here and I had been told, very gently and with a great level of detail, that I was a demigod and the different things about the Greek gods. My mom probably had an easier job of it in her mind because I'd not been educated and needed to be 'uneducated' on the most prevalent faith system in the West because I was attending a private school that was not a Christian one.
Speaking of said faith system, I was none too pleased with it within the first week of me experimenting with literally every single prayer I knew, including the Orthodox and Catholic ones that I didn't even put the greatest level of reverence into. No matter what, every word strung together made me feel a painful, burning sensation that progressively elevated with each word until I nearly vomited from the pain. The only difference in certain words was that using terms like Almighty and Our Lord was a stabbing pain that nearly took my breath away.
So it seemed in all senses of the word that I had been ex-fucking-communicated for daring to frolic with the heathens to save innocent people. This world's Yahweh obviously wasn't the God that had delivered me from death the day I was born according to my mother, or had granted my moments to be born brother his life in exchange for our dying grandfather, or who had sent his greatest warrior son to safeguard our apartment from evil when wickedness in its truest sense was on all sides.
If I was wrong and was just too angry to 'connect' to my old faith, I'd be perfectly open to Michael arriving like he had in the other world and smacking me through a wall to show that it was the same one. If not, well, I'll accept the Christians of this foreign world as allies against those who would destroy the West and nothing else. From old England and Saxony my ancestors came to a new land, but I was an American. Same for this; I was a Christian and baptized before I died, but I was now a demigod and the faith that bore the same face wasn't the same one that had been mine and that of my ancestors going back over a millenia.
Surprisingly, I came to terms with that very quickly, like it was a natural thing. I had thought I would be struggling for months with it, on whether I would have split loyalties if I was received with open arms.
But the near torturous pain when saying the equivalent of a vassal pledge to their liege confirmed I was either meant to let it go and embrace my nature as a demigod, sticking to that new loyalty fully. Or I was given the equivalent of a spiritual 'fuck off' in which case it was functionally the same end result. My path was that of Elysium, glory, infamy, and the noble death found in dying for everything dear in the world.
At least I think that's what the part was.
Ruminations aside, my cousin shouted my name again and set a boombox in the doorway and set it off like a flash bang grenade and I heard North Germanic lyrics exploding my eardrums and having me leaping from my bed to shut it off.
"Vikingånd og fregdardåd um det er denna songen! Uta-" I jammed my thumb onto the pause button and stopped the ear damning screech. I then shoved the door open to reveal my grinning cousin, his hair tied up into a braid so it was out of the way and he was already wearing his hauberk and sword on his side.
"Oh well good morning, Alexis." He said innocently. "I didn't know you were awake this early. Get good sleep?"
"I'm going to hit you with a metal sword." I replied flatly, turning around and heading to my closet to grab my clothes I wore when doing training. "And I'm Alex, Assy."
Asmund just scowled at that and stooped down to pick up his boombox while I got dressed and turned away to give me a bit of privacy. "If you're going to make mom mad for swearing, at least make it a good one."
I just pulled a face and walked out of my room after finishing getting dressed and grabbing the training sword propped up against the doorway that Asmund had given me, before looking up at him with a frown.
"Where is mom anyway?" I asked, remembering that she mentioned something about selling some stuff last night and that she'd be leaving early today.
"Selling a few antiques and getting more feed for the chickens." He shrugged.
Ah, that was right. We were technically able to be self-sufficient on food because we had like half a dozen chickens and my mom used magic to keep the ground just a few degrees warmer to grow food like potatoes and other stuff in our backyard.
But the chickens occasionally needed a feed supplement for protein or something like that, I don't know, but my cousins in Indiana were farmers and talked about chickens and said that years ago.
"Okay." I said more to myself. "Am I going to have fun today or is it going to be more footwork?"
"Footwork is important, Alex." He rolled his eyes, walking in front of me as we went down the hallway and to the back door. "But we're going to work on some more of the movements, and no posts this time. You're going to spar with me."
Thank. You. I thought to myself, relief flooding me at the thought of a better routine as we exited the house and made our way to the portion of the backyard meant for training. It was about 50 yards from where the garden was and had a few poles placed in the ground that I had been using to train my strikes and edge alignment.
Asmund led the way, his stride purposeful and confident. I followed behind him, unable to hide the anticipation building with each step I made. When we reached the designated area, I stopped and waited for Asmund to give me instructions, eager to begin our training session.
"Alright, Alex, let's see what you've got," Asmund said, his tone encouraging as he assumed a defensive stance.
I nodded, tightening my grip on my sword as I prepared to attack. With a determined expression, I lunged forward, aiming for Asmund's shoulder with a swift strike.
But Asmund was ready. With practiced ease, he parried my attack, effortlessly deflecting my blow and leaving me off-balance. I quickly recovered, bracing myself for his next move.
"Be ready for a parry knocking you off balance." Asmund chided, but his tone was polite and he gestured to come at him again.
I complied and darted forward, trying to sneak under his guard and stab at his gut, but he didn't even make contact with my blade and instead slid back on his back leg, stepping outside of my reach and bringing his blade down with incredible speed at my face.
Yelping in shock, I ducked my head to avoid a face shot, but it never made contact. Instead, he stopped the attack just a few inches from my head.
"Nice attempt, Alex," Asmund remarked, his tone laced with sarcasm as he eyed me with a hint of amusement. "But let's try to make it a bit less predictable this time, shall we?"
Annoyed by his comment, I gritted my teeth and reengaged, launching into a flurry of slashes and stabs aimed at Asmund's defenses. But each of my attacks was swiftly met with a precise block or parry, leaving me frustrated and constantly off-balance. Despite my efforts, Asmund remained calm and composed, effortlessly countering my every move with ease.
Asmund's laughter grated on my nerves, igniting a fire of frustration deep within me. He didn't mean anything by it, but it struck a nerve and I started getting mad. Suddenly, something seemed to snap deep within my bones, a sensation accompanied by the popping of my ears. Instinctively, I reacted as Asmund moved, my body moving on its own as I slid under one of his ripostes and pivoted to be to his side.
For a brief moment, time seemed to slow as I almost managed to bring my training blade crashing down on Asmund's wrist. But just as quickly as it had begun, the moment passed, and I found myself standing face to face with him, our swords clacking as he seemed to blur when he shifted to protect his hand with a flourish that knocked aside my own blade.
Asmund silently stared down at me, his expression unreadable as he processed the close call. Without saying a word, he resumed our training, his focus unwavering as he prepared to continue our sparring session.
The longer I did the basic block and strike back and forth, the more frustrated I got because I could see that Asmund wasn't taking me seriously and was bordering on bored. It didn't matter that I was 6 and he had been trained to fight by his mom and mine since before I was born. It didn't matter that I had hardly used a sword until a month ago, or that he was taller and stronger in every way, or anything. I wasn't going to lose.
With a snarl that wasn't completely voluntary, my body moved on autopilot and I somehow managed to catch the edge of his blade on my cross guard, locked it in place for a fraction of a second by rotating my wrists downward, and kicked up at it with my foot. My shoe made contact with his blade and knocked it aside, leaving an opening for me to stab forward at his unprotected stomach.
Again, Asmund stepped back and out of reach, but his eyes were now wide in surprise and he was staring at me differently.
"Where'd you learn that, Alex?" He asked, gray eyes locked on my hands like they were some strange thing he'd never seen before.
"I…" Words failed me because I had absolutely no idea how the hell I did that. It was total instinct and felt almost completely involuntary, but it felt so natural to do like I had done it hundreds of times. I couldn't understand how I did it so fluidly unless I…
Oh… I was a demigod.
War and conflict ran in my blood. I remembered things from the series about mentions of something akin to blood memories when it came to fighting or survival, and that seemed to be the best explanation.
"Um, instinct?" I offered, not knowing any other possible answer to give.
Asmund nodded like he accepted it, a small smile playing on his lips as he recognized the potential in my newfound ability.
"Try to replicate that speed and movement, Alex," he encouraged, his tone supportive as he gestured for me to continue. "I want to see if it was just luck."
Eager to try it again, I nodded and attempted to recreate the maneuver, but despite my best efforts, I fell short. My movements were clumsy and awkward, lacking the fluidity and precision of before. With each failed attempt, frustration gnawed at me, but I refused to give up, determined to do it again.
After I don't know how long, Asmund called a stop to it and I lowered my blade. My hands shook from fatigue and I drew several long breaths, cursing my lack of endurance compared to Asmund who didn't look tired at all.
"Good effort today, Alex," Asmund said, offering me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You showed real progress. You're really talented at this even if it didn't feel like it, there's guys in my group that took longer to understand basic stuff."
I couldn't help but smile at his praise, grateful for his encouragement in spite of that burning ember inside that made me feel like I should have done better. Before I could respond, however, Asmund continued, his tone becoming a little more serious.
"We need to head into town for some stuff," He said, sheathing his sword and walking towards me and passing me to get to the backdoor of our house. "You're coming with me."
That instantly soured my mood. I didn't like going to the store. I preferred to try and figure out my heritage and plan more things out in my head on how to derail the plans of the Titans and ensure a total 'The West is the Best' level victory.
You know, the important things.
"Okay, Officer Murphy." I muttered just loud enough for him to hear in response to him saying that last part.
"Alex, you're not staying home alone. I don't want to be homeless."
"I'm not going to burn the house down, you di-" I abruptly paused at the warning look he gave me. Being 6 years old was bullshit! Why couldn't I fucking swear like a grown ass adult without getting scolded? If I wanted to call my cousin any and all euphemisms for a penis, I should be able to.
Besides, I wasn't a pyromaniac. I didn't enjoy fire…
I enjoyed explosions.
"Do I have to tell you to sit in the corner and face the wall?" Asmund warned, which made my glare intensify. "Don't give me that look, just don't swear."
That punishment was the equivalent of waterboarding for a kid that was, to put it politely, a bingo marker eater and fidgety little thing that could identify different brands of food by taste.
To all the gods and men that could read my thoughts, I didn't want to clarify how I happened across that knowledge.
"I'm not going to destroy the house, Asmund." I mumbled, feeling unbelievably insulted. It wasn't like a 6 year old could cause that much destruction anyway.
"You're 6, Alex." He sighed and shook his head as he got to the door and opened it. "Just wash your face and put on some clean clothes. Meet me in the car."
I just looked up and stared at him.
"Tyrant." I said defiantly. "Can't give a good reason why I can't stay."
With that and the look of annoyance on my cousin's face bringing a smile to my face, I walked into the house and I headed straight to the bathroom to wash my face. The cool water felt refreshing against my skin as I splashed my face, washing away the sweat and cleaning my face off.
Feeling cleaner than just a few minutes ago, I went to my room and changed into a fresh set of clothes, swapping my training gear for something more comfortable. As I emerged from my room, I found Asmund waiting for me and holding a blue hat in his hand.
"Uh, what's that?" I asked quizzically, eying it suspiciously. It wasn't one I'd seen before and I felt on edge just looking at it.
The evilest grin I'd ever seen on Asmund's face was my response before he rushed at me.
What followed was 5 solid minutes of kicking and screaming, threats of murder and bloody dismemberment, and me being bodily carried and thrown into Asmund's car while he laughed his ass off at the despair I was experiencing.
"Please just take the hat off." Alex nearly cried, groaning as he tried to yank the cap off his head to no avail for probably the twentieth time.
His Aunt Anastasia will probably give him grief over supposedly bullying and tormenting her special little boy, but Asmund knew better and Alex deserved it. The brat was being annoying on purpose and he knew his cousin was up to something, something he wanted to keep secret. But Alex wasn't as smart as he thought he was at hiding things.
It took only a little bit of thought to connect Alex's annoyance at his mom refusing to give an answer on who his father was and Alex's secretive nature to the lovable little shit trying to figure it out on his own. And it behooved him as the older cousin and surrogate brother to prevent him from sticking a fork in an electrical socket to see if it electrocuted him or not.
One, his aunt said it probably wouldn't hurt or kill him, but it would almost certainly cause a potential electrical fire and that would be what would kill his special little cousin. And it didn't matter that Alex was more attentive now than what he was a few months ago, he was still fidgety and prone to do his particular brand of stupid crap that a six almost seven year old or autistic person does.
But now, he seemed to understand how to antagonize and lead a conversation. Maybe it had been his awareness of the supernatural that shifted something in the kid and it had broken some typical behavior loose to the point that he wasn't so shut in. But that secretive stuff didn't work this time though, and now he was wearing the Sperg sombrero for the attempt at trying to stay home.
Asmund turned to glance at his cousin in the passenger seat, still struggling to remove the blue ball cap that had been magically stuck to the top of his head and suppressed a snicker.
It wouldn't be considered child abuse in his opinion if what the hat said was true about the wearer, which it 100% was, and he spared another glance at the words across the front as is cousin made another noise that sounded like a wounded wildebeest trying to get itself out of a trap.
Please be patient, I have autism.
"Behave in the store and I'll probably take it off." Asmund said as he pressed the brake as the light turned yellow. They were just a few blocks from the spice shop that he frequented to buy medical supplies for, and he had a pocket full of cash to spend.
They came to a stop and he looked at the 6 year old currently staring at him.
"I'm telling mom." He said petulantly, mismatched eyes narrowed in a glare before tugging one final time at the hat that ended with him throwing up his arms in resignation.
"Okay, that's fine." Asmund replied lightly. "I can just keep your training to footwork and nothing else."
That wasn't a full threat. He'd never handicap Alex learning how to fight early on, especially since his demigod scent would be more apparent because of his self awareness. But he would correct his petulant threats about crying to his mom.
Alex had a fuming glare that honestly looked adorable, but all he did was mutter again about something to do with a razor and long hair.
Asmund immediately responded. "You shave my head and I'll tattoo what that hat says on your forehead." He threatened.
Alex recoiled in horror, scooting away from him.
"You wouldn't." He said, eyes wide.
Asmund was pulled from his thoughts on that threat when he heard a long honk behind him and realized the light had turned green.
"Shit." He muttered, accelerating and turning right to go about a mile to the store.
Asmund navigated the familiar street like it was nothing, the engine of the car emitting a soft purring hum that he never failed to love the sound of as they approached the store. After a few blocks, he skillfully parked the car near the entrance and shut it off. Pulling the keys from the ignition, he unhooked his seatbelt and got out.
Alex just sat in the car, pointing at his hat.
"The hat will come off if you behave." Asmund sighed, which convinced his cousin to stop being annoying and he finally unbuckled his seatbelt. The 6 year old son of the God-King hopped out of the car and walked right past him and opened the front door himself, the bell chiming and the brass hinges creaking loudly.
Oh well. Asmund shrugged, entering in right after Alex and walking straight to the front counter and leaned against it as he got up close to it.
"Look around but don't touch anything breakable." He said to Alex, pointing at the different displays. "I need to talk with the owner."
"Okay." Alex replied, the youngest member of their family heading to one of the rows of supplies for fishing.
The store was technically listed as a store for the classic, homeopathic medicine or whatever it was called that had the added benefit of being more effective, but it also had other things for sale that included fishing gear, some hunting equipment, and typical stuff you'd need in rural Alaska. But for the medical part, Asmund found out the hard way after that nasty business with Whitmire that your normal pain meds meant for mortals weren't the most effective at pain management for an injury nursed by a demigod or Legacy.
And of course Eric didn't go into much detail on that when he'd first joined up with his group. But better late than never, and he was here to get the proper ingredients and materials for stuff that actually did work for a future altercation. Because by Odin it was going to happen regularly in the following years.
With that thought, Asmund tapped the bell on the counter.
"Bill, it's Oz, you back there?!" He raised his voice for good measure so it could be heard in the back, hoping Bill was here currently.
"Um, Mr Larrison isn't here right now, he took a late lunch." A quiet, feminine voice replied to his left where hadn't looked, the owner of said voice sitting in a chair by the register.
Asmund frowned at not noticing her, but pushed that aside and looked at her for a moment. She looked like she was probably a freshman in highschool, brown hair, and probably a foot shorter than him.
"Okay, then maybe you could help me." He said politely, deciding to engage in conversation all the while glancing at Alex to make sure he wasn't getting up to anything.
I was going to kill Asmund one day. That asshole straight up stuck an autism hat to my head and I couldn't get it off. I didn't know this stupid thing even existed outside of that idiotic meme years into the future. It felt like my brother from my old life was here in the flesh as Asmund, because he always found it hilarious to tweak me over that minor aspect of my personality and self.
It wasn't that it actually bothered me, because I was a perfectly functional human in both lives so far in spite of a couple idiosyncrasies. But I don't like the feel of the hat on my head and how it brushed against my brow unevenly.
Putting that thought aside, my eyes traced along the shelf of dies for reloading ammunition, noting that they only had ones for common rounds like 30-06 and other rifle cartridges.
Moving along, I looked at pretty much everything else and was quickly bored out of my skull because I recognized most of this crap and started fidgeting with my fingers, glancing at Asmund chatting up the girl at the counter.
Asmund was bored and was just having a conversation, but the girl was obviously giving him glances and playing with her hair as he talked about whatever, and a cruel idea started to formulate in my head. It would mean I'd have this stupid hat on until the evening when mom would remove it, but it would be worth it to get back at Asmund.
I kept looking around at stuff for another 5 minutes or so, then I pounced upon the opportunity when the girl laughed at something my cousin said.
Walking up to the counter, I stood next to Asmund and looked up at the girl.
She stopped talking to him and set down a jar of something that Asmund was either looking at for politeness or was actually going to buy, and she gave me a smile. It faltered for a moment as she looked at the hat on my head and looked surprised, but the smile returned.
"Well hi there." She said brightly. "What's your name?"
"Alex." I said happily, staring directly into her eyes and not averting my gaze. "Mommy and Ozzy said I need to look at nice people when I talk, and you're really nice." Somehow, I managed to plaster on a convincing expression that hid my internal cringing.
The girl looked flattered at the rather blunt statement and she covered her mouth as she laughed, glancing at Asmund for a moment.
"My cousin." He clarified, hooking an arm around my shoulder for a moment. "He's special."
I fought the urge to kick his shin at that. The tone made it indiscernible from him saying, 'Yeah, Alex is a dumbass.' I was a kid and my emotions always felt like they were near the surface constantly, and this was no different.
Before I could say anything to the contrary, I heard a door in the back open and close. A man then walked into sight, probably around middle age and Asmund evidently recognized him because he addressed him.
"Hey Bill, back from lunch?"
"Yeah, sorry to keep you waitin', kid. I got your stuff back here, ready to go," the man replied, acknowledging Asmund with a nod.
Before Asmund walked past the counter, he looked at the girl then to me.
"Uh, would you mind watching him for a sec?"
"Yeah, that's fine." She replied. "I babysit my younger brothers so I know how to keep an eye on him."
"Gotcha, and thanks." Asmund said gratefully, before turning to give me a look. "Now Alex, behave and be nice to Diane."
With that, Asmund went into the back with the guy named Bill to grab his stuff.
The now named Diane, thanks to Asmund, looked down at me and offered a bright smile.
"So Alex, do you like dinosaurs?"
It was such an obvious and easy question you'd ask a little boy that I knew with all certainty that she had brothers.
"Yeah, I like T-Rexs." I said, trying to act excited even though it was kind of foreign to me about this subject.
Diane spent the next 15 or so minutes doing her best to keep me occupied and entertained while Asmund was busy in the back, and she actually was a very pleasant girl to hear speak and was good at watching kids. Honestly, Asmund could have easily wooed her if she was older, because the youngest girl I'd seen Asmund actually talk up was never younger than around 16, at least until he graduated high school and then immediately shifted to college age ones.
That in the end confirmed what I was going to do, and my thoughts turned to how I was going to annoy him. Was I kind of an ass for being a toxic shit to my cousin? Yeah, I kind of was. Maybe it was because I was operating on kid hardware while having the mind of an adult, but I was more willing to do it.
But he had the audacity to magically glue a stupid autism hat to my head, so it was a fair turnaround.
A few minutes more passed and Asmund came out, carrying a box of small bottles that I couldn't read, but I heard the glass clack slightly with each step.
"Okay, got everything finished." He said, setting the box on the counter so he could pay. "He wasn't any trouble was he?"
"No, of course not." Diane laughed, shooting me a reassuring smile. "He was very well behaved."
Now! I thought, spotting the opening.
"She's really nice, Ozzy. Can she be your girlfriend?"
Asmund did the greatest spit take I'd ever seen in my entire life, looking at me like I'd just flung a bag of shit in his face, while Diane blushed completely scarlet.
"Alex." He hissed, glaring at me like I wasn't a 6 year old and instead was a friend his age that had just tried to jokingly set him up with a girl that was not legal to pursue.
"You said you like nice girls with long hair!" I protested, pointing at the terminally embarrassed girl for emphasis. "She's nice and has long hair."
"Ozzy thinks you're pretty." I spouted off to her, causing Asmund's eyes to widen further and looked towards me in alarm. "Can he have your phone number?"
"Alex, no." He demanded, looking like he was about to freak out. "Stop it."
"She's nice though." I whined, stamping my foot on the ground like my own younger cousin had done when getting aggravated at my aunt for not getting him a bottle of Big Red at the store. "You said you wanted a girlfriend and I found a nice girl! Mom will like her."
Asmund looked like he was conflicted on wanting to die on the spot in embarrassment or strangle me, while Diane continued to be beet red in the face.
"Alex, just go sit in the car while I pay." Asmund managed to say clearly, waving at me to go. But I didn't pay attention to his hand, I was looking at the spot of red on his otherwise white t-shirt that started at his bicep and went downward.
"Uh, are you bleeding?" I asked seriously, no longer playing up the excitable child.
"Huh?" Asmund looked puzzled, before glancing at his arm and cursing under his breath.
Diane really was a sweet girl, honestly. The first thing she did was reach under the counter and grab a first aid kit, followed by her demanding that Asmund take his shirt off so she could fix him up.
Given what I just said, Asmund refused and said he was fine, but the cashier refused to accept a no for an answer and grabbed his other arm, pulling to get him to sit down.
The last thing I saw of Asmund before beating a hasty retreat to his car was the look of resigned annoyance and refusal to look the girl in the eye as she rolled up his sleeve to put a bandage on while insisting he just take his shirt off.
I walked outside, opened the passenger side door, closed it, sat down, then started howling laughing at the stunt I just pulled on my cousin.
After the laughing fit that possessed me for several moments, I waited quietly in the car until Asmund emerged from the store carrying a box of supplies that he set in the back seat before getting in the driver's seat. I glanced at the bandage on his arm, noting the slight shake of his head as he settled into the driver's seat.
"What took you so long?" I asked, breaking the silence.
Asmund's expression remained emotionless as he started the engine, his glare directed at me before he shifted his attention back to the road.
"I ain't taking that hat off ever." He said, not saying a word for the rest of our drive back home.
But I didn't care. Mom would take it off tonight, but Ozzy was never going to one-up me on this for the rest of our lives.
"No, Alex, there isn't any spell to stop the letters from floating around." My mom said, looking at me with some degree of sympathy. "That's just the way our minds work."
The last several weeks were driving me up the wall in spite of everything. One was that my hair was now a stupid buzz cut. Asmund magically glued that hat to my head so much that even my mom couldn't get it off without cutting my hair off in chunks that required all my hair cut short to even out. I went from a nice length down to my lower shoulder blades when I died, to neck length when I woke up, and now it was cut short because of my dickhead cousin.
And I couldn't read for shit even when I wanted to because of my dyslexia making a jumbled mess of the English language and I was told that it would be months before I could even invoke a rudimentary spell like lighting a candle just from how magic worked. When I heard that, I was beyond pissed. My godly grandmother must've had some weak ass blood longevity or Greek sphere magic was hellishly difficult to learn, and it grated on me that I wasn't going to be able to become an adept at something while waiting for my body to grow.
But that was for magic. For swordplay, it was fun. My sort of study curriculum had me learning quite a bit more of the basics on fighting with a sword, understanding the importance of reach and footwork, and I even started spectating my mom and Asmund sparring as a demonstration of what I could end up doing.
To say it was unbelievable would be an understatement. Asmund was obviously holding back in most of his sparring with his mortal friends at that gym, because he moved ridiculously fast and my mom was a match for him in speed when they crossed blades. It was like watching old clips of Iron Mike Tyson in his prime move, but it was my own family.
That on its own had me reevaluating pretty much all my preconceptions about how combat would work in this world if my mom was a 23 year old, yes, she was 17 when I was born, single mom that was a daughter of a goddess not known for martial might and was moving too fast for me to track constantly.
With that list of thoughts out of the way, I was back to sulking about being dyslexic and not knowing who my dad was. I needed to learn what powers I could use so I could start my training faster and be prepared. I knew I should trust them, but I was the only demigod on this side of the fence that knew anything about the Great Prophecy and the steps that could be taken to stop it.
"Okay." I muttered, tapping my fingers against the book cover after closing it. Perhaps when Asmund got back, I could ask him to spar some more because I was bored at the progress bottleneck I felt like I was hitting.
My mom in response sank down to eye level behind the recliner I was sitting in and wrapped her arms around me from behind, setting her head next to mine.
"I know it's hard, but you're going to be such a strong young man and hero one day." She said gently, kissing my temple tenderly.
"Like Achilles?" I asked, raising a brow.
She just smiled. "Maybe, but I want you to be an old man telling stories to your grandkids one day, not fighting in a war."
"Then the one that cut off Medusa's head." I said instead, stifling my grin. "Flew on Pegasus and killed the kraken and married a princess."
I could feel her roll her eyes and sheet out a light huff.
"I wish your cousin didn't let you watch that movie. So many wrong things in it, like that owl and how the gods look."
Asmund was tired and wanted to laze around for the rest of the day when he was supposed to teach me some stuff about the Greek heroes and legends, so he just put on Clash of the Titans for the VHS and had me watch that. A blast of nostalgia when I watched it as a kid was roughly all that I got out of it since I remembered everything else both right and wrong about it, but I wasn't going to say no to relaxing with my cousin and doing nothing for a little while.
But I actually did get surprised at what she said, turning towards her with my eyes widened.
"Oh, that's right, you don't know." She smiled, green eyes that matched my left one sparkling with emotion. "I've been to Olympus and saw the gods. Camp Counselors have a yearly field trip there and I went more than once."
She never really brought up Camp Half-blood. Whenever I asked vague questions about it, she would get sad and change the subject. After the second time she did it, I stopped asking entirely. She obviously had some bad memories connected to it and I didn't want to dig up negative experiences.
"How do they look?" I asked.
"More than human." She said, shifting where she was at so we could face each other better. "They don't look old, they're only around my age and they are tall. Over 10 feet tall when they are on their thrones, but they can make themselves our size if they want."
"Do they have beards like in the movie?" I asked, keeping to the script of what the movie showed me.
"None of the goddesses of course." She laughed to herself lightly, making me snicker too. "But most of the men do. Lord Dionysus didn't and neither did Lords Hermes and Apollo."
I noticed how she referred to them all with the honorific of 'Lord' without even thinking about it, like it was second nature to her. There wasn't really any reverence in her tone, but she still paid her respects.
"Maybe I can go one day, when I'm a hero."
"It was a cool movie though." I added about the show, " "And Ozzy told me what was not true in the movie, but now he's sleeping."
"Of course he is." My mom laughed, before hugging me more tightly. "Try not to bother him and let him sleep, because I need to leave right now before it starts storming to get some more feed for the chickens."
I nodded my understanding at that and she let me go, grabbing her keys from the bowl in the hallway and I heard the door open and close that signaled her leaving.
It took all of 5 minutes of me struggling to read the stupid lesson book about magic still on my lap before I gave up and set it on the coffee table so I could get up and go outside. I rose from the chair and made my way to my room, grabbing the practice sword and putting on a cheap shirt that I wore when practicing my form.
A quick walk outside to the shed to pull out the striking post later and I was practicing my edge alignment. The post wasn't just a regular block of wood. Either my mom or Asmund etched a couple runes into it so it would light up green or red depending on if the edge of a blade struck it properly so I knew that I wasn't reinforcing bad habits on slashes and cuts.
I did that for a solid 15 or 20 minutes, hearing the distant sound of thunder rumbling that I didn't pay attention to.
Today was a much better day it turns out. It was constantly lighting up green and I was grinning as sweat started to form on my brow from the exertion as I transitioned into a single-handed diagonal chop that I leaned into, pivoted, and brought the blade down on the other side of the post.
It all came naturally and I happily continued the rhythm without interruption for several sequences as I didn't remain still and was circling around the post as nimbly as I could.
So sunk into it I was that I barely registered that a deep instinct in me told me to turn east, but I did look. Just as I paused for a moment to look, lightning flashed, followed by the thunder rolling towards me.
I shrugged and dove back into my training, feeling energized even more and continuing to make the post light up green.
Again, the instinct told me to look to my east, but more northward this time. Right where my sight was focused on, another bolt of lightning crackled across the sky and split the air around it to cause another boom to echo out.
I completely stopped what I was doing, an involuntary chill running up my spine at what just happened.
One was a coincidence. Two was a pattern.
West right now! I pivoted on my heel and looked in the other direction, feeling and borderline hearing the air hum right before another flash of lightning tore through the air right on schedule and I actually felt it now that I knew it was coming.
My sword slipped from my grasp and that was when it started raining, but I remained rooted to the spot.
As the realization sank in, a chill ran down my spine, causing me to freeze in place. The rain began to fall around me, but I remained rooted to the spot, my mind racing with thoughts and memories that I had long tried to bury.
Black hair. Electric blue eye. Living in a land beyond the reach of the gods. Refusal to name the father...
Sensing lightning.
The pieces of the puzzle began to click into place, and I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that washed over me.
My thoughts coalesced into a fine point and I was filled with a resolve that would have proven unshakable in even the most trying of circumstances and I ran into the house, wrenching open the backdoor and rushing to the kitchen. I walked quickly to the sink, reached into it and grabbed a butter knife that I got wet with a quick turning on of the faucet.
I unplugged the coffee maker to my left and, without hesitation, jammed the wet, metal knife into the electrical socket.
Sure enough, there was a flash of blue electricity and a loud bang as I felt it run from my fingers up to my shoulder and neck, but nothing else. There was no pain like when I'd been shocked by an exposed wire in my old life, nor did my hand spasm.
It didn't register to me that the lights winked out in the kitchen and the fridge stopped too. I just pulled the knife out and dropped it to the ground as I was temporarily overwhelmed with terror at what this almost certainly meant, and I just sank to the ground and pulled my legs to my chest as I tried to hold off a total mental freakout.
This really was a punishment. I was fucked, so horribly fucked. I wasn't supposed to exist, not like this. Thalia and Jason were supposed to be the only ones. Why would he fuck my mom?! What in the absolute fuck was Zeus thinking in having 3 goddamn children in less than 10 years?!
I didn't know how long I sat on the kitchen floor, but a particularly loud boom of thunder that actually rattled the house pulled me from the emotional spiraling I was trapped in. My mind stopped repeating the same thing over and over again, and I took several fortifying breaths to steady myself enough to think clearly.
After a sufficient amount of effort, I rose to my feet and picked up the knife, noting the chunk of metal scorched away by the electrical current. I just put it in my pocket and walked out of the kitchen, then to the loving room to make sure Asmund was still asleep. Sure enough, he was still on the couch, out like a light.
I didn't say anything and let him sleep. But I decided I needed to just sit in my room and think about the discovery that I was a son of Zeus, because there was no way I wasn't because no other god came to mind that had black hair, blue eyes, and was connected to the sky. Heracles would fit the hair, eyes, and strength, but not lightning or the sky.
But before that, I went back to the kitchen, checked the breaker box to make sure that they actually tripped and I could reset them. Sure enough, the main breaker blew and I pulled a chair to me to climb on to put it back in place. Instantly, the lights came back on and I heard the hum of the refrigerator.
Sighing in relief at the fact that I didn't just fuck up something that would taken probably 2500 dollars work for an electrician to fix, I hopped down and left the kitchen to stew about the major discovery.
Reaching my bedroom, I collapsed on my bed and looked up at the ceiling, pondering how I was going to make the best of this shit situation.
First, the pros:
I was a son of Zeus and would thus be one of the most powerful demigods in potential, being able to stand with Percy, Nico, and Jason whenever they showed up.
A son of Zeus would have great sway at Camp and I could make the proper reforms and changes to prevent kids from falling under the sway of Kronos.
I was freer in what the Great Prophecy entailed. Some people might think that being connected to prophecy inhibited your freedom, but I saw it as the opposite. I was actually less frightened about prophecy if I had the chance of holding the steering wheel. A man trying to not crash his car or guiding a ship to avoid an iceberg is in a lesser state of dread than the man cursed to be an impotent passenger and spectator, a slave to the whims of chance or other men.
But the cons:
My stepmom-aunt, Queen of Olympus, probably wants me dead and sees my mom as a wretched whore that was begging for Zeus to turn her into a teen mom.
Me being tied to a prophecy that determines the fate of Olympus means I'm on the top of the list for subversion or elimination, even more so since I'm the only known living demigod son of the king of Olympus instead of one of his brothers.
I was older than Percy because I was born in 1992, so I was the eldest between us all other than Tha-
I bolted upright, another jolt of fear running through me painfully.
I had a sister. I had a sister. She was all alone on the streets after her own little brother was seemingly murdered. She was just a kid, and Hades and Hera were hounding her.
Or maybe she was dead already...
Annabeth is Percy's age. 1993. She was 7 when she got to Camp, and was only with Thalia and Luke for weeks. It's 1999… She's still alive.
I could warn her. Get a drachma, Iris message her, and tell her to meet me somewhere. Tell Asmund and mom I know my heritage, travel to a rendezvous, and get to Camp.
There were so many issues with that half-baked plan, but I couldn't let my sister die. Fuck the idea of sacrificing family for the sake of preserving the golden calf shit that was 'Canon'. If the Fates want to keep the thread straight and proper, they're going to have to work for it because I was not content with offering Thalia up to the mercies of Hades.
Any other plans could wait, because those could only happen when I was at Camp. Now? I might be able to do something with Thalia.
The remainder of that day was completely wasted. Other than eating supper later and having to discreetly retrieve my training sword so Asmund didn't tear me a new one about leaving it out in the rain, I did nothing but continue to think about warning Thalia and trying to stop her violent demise via the terrible monsters of the Hell-pit.
End Chapter.
Nothing else to say, just that I hope everyone enjoyed the chapter and has a wonderful day.