A/N: Yo peoples. This is a rewrite of one of my first stories, The Impossible Demigod. It is set in an AU of HoO, right after TLH. I hope you like it, and for fans of the original, I hope you agree with me that this is better. Please review!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the ideas of the original fic.
Chapter One
J.T.
For the record, I didn't want to do this. This was all Juno's idea—I thought it was a bad plan from the beginning. I told her we should put this story in both our camps' records and leave it at that. I told her that by putting this out in public, the monsters might know what we're planning for our enemies—or worse, figure out what our enemies should plan for us. I told Juno that we should keep this story secret, for the safety of us all.
But she insisted. And so, if I'm gonna tell this story, I might as well tell it right. And from the beginning.
My name is James Troilus Treble—J.T. for short. I'm a musician—or, at least, I will be, after I stop being a demigod (which seems to keep becoming more and more of a full-time job). I'm fifteen years old, and yet I've been in more life-or-death situations than most people experience in a lifetime. Kinda sad, I know.
A few years ago, I was just a regular kid, trying to make a living. A living outside my mom's Tennessee mansion, with a $6,000 guitar across my back, but a living nevertheless.
You see, my mom's an actual musician—no demigodness included. I doubt any of you have heard of her. She's one of those musicians who had, like, one hit back in the '90s, and then everyone forgot about them. I was determined not to end up like that, no matter how rich that one hit made her.
I grew up as a rich kid in Nashville, living with my mom in a house twice the size of any of my friends' houses. My mom would alternate each night, sometimes singing me country songs as lullabies, and others telling me stories of the Greek tales my father "studied."
As a demigod, "studied" meant "lived."
When I was eight, my dad got me a guitar. I didn't know my dad was a god, and I'd never met him—my mom always said he was a professor in New York and didn't even know I'd been born. But on my eighth birthday, a package appeared at the door addressed to me. The only thing resembling a return address was a symbol—a lyre. I didn't know how at the time, but my mom said that meant the gift came from my father.
My innocent eight-year-old self probably would've wondered how a man who didn't even know I existed could get me a present, had the gift not been so cool. It was a bright red electric guitar, signed by the entirety of U2. It was the coolest thing I'd ever seen in my life. Then, four years later, it got even cooler.
When I was twelve, I was attacked by a monster for the first time. I won't go into the details, but I'll tell you this—when I held up my guitar by the neck, it transformed into a Celestial Bronze axe, and before the monster could try to hurt me, it didn't have a head.
As I walked home afterwards, holding an axe covered in gold dust, and having no idea what had just happened, a gold symbol appeared over my head, claiming me as my father's son.
My mom sat me down that night and told me everything—that I was hero, that my father was Apollo, and that it wasn't safe fore me to stay in Tennessee anymore. I left for New York the next day, with nothing but a small suitcase and my guitar. A satyr found me somewhere in Maryland and I soon made it to Camp Half-Blood.
Juno's reading over my shoulder and telling me to get on with the story, so I'll skip the backstory for now. I'll skip to when the real story started.
Because it all started… when a girl on a pegasus fell from the sky.
A/N: So there's that. I hope you liked it. Please review!