Welcome to Lord of Alaska! Sorry if this fanfic has mistakes. I will try to revise and edit as much as possible. Disclaimer: The characters and places that you know belong to Rick Riordan, everything else is mine.
I really want to tell you guys that I have a writing schedule, but I don't. I don't want to make any promises that I won't fulfill, but I am definitely trying to get solid minutes of writing at least twice a week. I really hope that updates come faster!
Thank you so much for all the followers, favorites, and reviews!
Aster opened his eyes. The seat he was sleeping on was unfamiliar, as was the moving train. When did he get here? He turned his head to learn the train's layout, to find the right path to escape. A horned teenager––Grover––tilted his head as if to ask you good? Right, he was on a train with the demigod questers. He schooled his features and nodded back to Grover. Aster had just re-lived his third dream about his past in a month, where he met the primordial Æther in Tartarus. It had seemed so long ago, but with the dream, he could still remember those obsidian pyramids and white columns. A shiver ran down his spine.
The train slowed down into an urban area, cushioned by the mountains, and stopped at a station called Denver Union Station. In their previous stop in St. Louis, after being attacked by the Chimera and Echidna, Percy Jackson had been told to go to the Santa Monica beach in Los Angeles by a river nymph.
"Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said after disembarking from the train. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."
"We can't use phones, right?" Percy replied.
"I'm not talking about phones."
Percy's eyebrows scrunched up, and Aster was similarly confused. Was Annabeth going to use a payphone to talk to Chiron? Mail a message through USPS?
After walking to a car wash station, Grover hit the button Fine Mist and squeezed the nozzle, thick white mist rising in the air. The afternoon sun hit the mist, drawing a faint rainbow against the mountains.
Iris-Messaging, Aster remembered. Hestia had told him about it when Iris first sponsored this type of communication. Hermes had dropped his role of being the messenger of the divine world to the very naive Iris. She did not know how taxing the role would be. Very soon, she got very tired of the job but was too ashamed and afraid of broaching the problem to the Olympian council. Hermes staged an intervention and forced the gods to find a solution, which they did after seven weeks of debate––arguments, more likely. Hermes would be the messenger of the gods only, while Iris would use rainbows that allowed demigods to communicate.
Of course, Zeus was furious about the "mayhem" and "disorder" that Hermes had caused, so he sentenced Hermes to ten years of working as a mortal servant to the king of Marmara.
Aster would have paid thousands of drachmas to be in the Olympian throne room during those arguments, watching the council that banished him be plunged into chaos. He would have whispered I told you so and What goes around comes around in every god's ears. He didn't tell this to Hestia, although he suspected she knew about his feelings. She seemed to know everything.
"O goddess, accept our offering," said Annabeth, throwing a drachma into the misty rainbow. "Half-Blood Hill."
The drachma dissipated into golden dust. A second later, strawberry fields and the porch of the Big House filled the screen of mist. The back of the demigod son of Hermes filled the screen.
"Luke!" Percy called.
Luke jumped around, raising his bronze sword in anticipation. His eyes were wide, as if he was waiting for an attack. As if Camp Half-Blood had gotten more and more fights.
"Percy!" Luke exclaimed, grinning. "Is that Annabeth, too? Grover and Aster! Are you guys okay?"
"We're…uh…fine," Annabeth stammered. Young love, Aster thought. Annabeth straightened her dirty T-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—"
"He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you?"
"What kind of issues?" asked Grover.
A giant red convertible pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. The bass from the subwoofers vibrated so much that it shook the pavement. Aster lost his footing, catching himself on a nearby pole. Anger rose up his chest. Who was driving that car?
"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled.
"I'll take care of it!" Annabeth yelled back, looking very relieved to have an excuse to not have Luke look at her. "Aster, come on!"
Aster smiled at Annabeth's feeling of embarrassment and followed her to the convertible, leaving Grover and Percy to talk to Luke.
"Excuse me, sir?" Annabeth yelled to the man in the convertible.
The man, a black Rockies cap backwards on his head, raised his head slowly and took off his black sunglasses. "What?" he asked, a hand relaxed on the steering wheel. The music was infinitely louder, and the car was actually shaking. Not even shaking, the car was having a seizure. Aster could tune out sounds, but mortals could not. How were this man's ears not bleeding?
"Could you turn down the music?" Annabeth asked. "My friends are trying to talk but it's really loud."
The man turned down the music by half. The asphalt ground stopped vibrating, but the convertible continued swinging to the music. "Happy now?" he said, rolling his eyes.
Annabeth nodded, rolling her eyes at Aster. He agreed: the mortal was an asshole. Selfish too. If only gods could fix mortals' behavior.
"Fucking bitches," the man whispered as they walked away.
Annabeth's eyes widened. She turned around and marched to the car's right side. "What did you say?" she asked, putting her hands on the passenger seat's door.
The man turned the car's volume knob, making the music as loud as it was before. "I said 'Fucking bitches'," he said, smiling with a missing front tooth. Disgusting. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"
"Oh, you bet," Annabeth said. She was angry––rightfully angry. He was taunting them. Aster could see Annabeth's sharp eyes narrow, muscles tense, hands in fists, grabbing the door violently. If he gave her extra strength, she could definitely break it. But this was her fight, not his. He would just watch her demolish this pathetic excuse of a man.
Annabeth leant over, grabbed the Rockies cap from the man's head, and threw it hard towards the street. The mortal froze. His mouth gaped wide open. His brain probably short circuited, trying––and failing––to process. It took time. The man tilted his head to where the cap lay upside-down, back to where Annabeth stood, and back again. Meanwhile, Annabeth smirked and crossed her arms, tempting him to fight back.
The man finally snapped out of his shock. He stood up from his car seat, eyes narrowing in on Annabeth. "You will regret that, little girl," the man spat out. Literally. He spat towards Annabeth, but he didn't seem to understand gravity, because the saliva fell on the passenger seat, forming a clear liquid dome on the red leather seats.
The man's eyes widened, like he couldn't believe that his own arrogance could have ruined his own car. Aster chuckled. That seemed to set him off more than anything. The man lunged towards him with an extended fist. Annabeth quickly grabbed the bucket of water Aster had dragged over and hurled the water towards the man. He stopped mid-lunge, the cold water drenching him and his so-precious car.
The man wiped away the water in his face with his hands and pointed towards Annabeth. "You will pay," he growled.
"Sure I will," Annabeth replied in a tone that was verging on delight.
The man climbed onto the convertible's passenger seat and jumped towards Annabeth. The leather seat was covered in water, and when he lept from the seat, he slipped. His body rotated downwards, his belly hitting the passenger door. His torso continued rotating down, this time around the door. Before he could groan, his head plunged down into the bucket that Annabeth had put back on the ground. His body hit the gravel road with a thump! The mortal let out a loud moan––finally––through the bucket, which seemed like it was stuck on his head.
"Damn," said Aster. He relished the fall, from the moment the man's too-expensive Nike sneakers tripped on the red seat to the moment where all the air was forced out of his body. A perfect circular tumble for a perfectly terrible mortal.
Annabeth crouched down next to the man's lying body and said, "You could have just turned off the music. And, for the love of the gods, please take the car out of its misery and sell it. It doesn't deserve a terrible owner like you."
"Let's go, Annabeth," Aster said. "I think he's too knocked out to hear us."
Annabeth nodded. She stepped over the man to turn off the car's volume knob, and they walked away from the convertible.
As Aster and Annabeth neared the other demigods, they burst out laughing. "I cannot believe we did that," Annabeth said.
"Me neither," Aster replied. His stomach was hurting from how hard he was laughing. He could still see the replay of his fall in his head. "That was so fun, putting him in his place."
"Oh gods, that could have gone so wrong." Annabeth stopped walking. "Why did we even confront him?"
"But it didn't go wrong. And he got what he deserved."
"But demigods shouldn't be confronting mortals. We're more powerful than them. We could have killed him. That's why we separate ourselves."
"But if we didn't confront him, who would have? He obviously doesn't care about others. Maybe he acts this way to other mortals. We did the world a favor."
"But it's not our place." Annabeth bit her lips, seeming stuck on this.
"Whose place is it? The gods don't interfere. Mortals do what they want to whoever they want because the gods don't stop them."
"Demigods shouldn't stop them either! We have to leave them alone!" Annabeth shouted, her hands in fists.
Aster knew something else was behind her opinion. He could dig around in her mind, find out why she thought this way, why this topic was so personal. But he didn't. He wanted to be her friend, and mining for secrets was not the correct way. She would tell him when she wanted to. Friendships needed trust and honesty and time, and he would not violate that trust. He would not treat Annabeth the way he was treated.
Right now, she was stressed and needed him to agree with her. "I agree that demigods' power is dangerous for mortals," Aster said, "but he deserved to be put in his place. He called you a bitch!"
Annabeth sighed. "I've handled a lot worse. From mortals and from monsters. But I guess you're right."
"It's not like I believe that demigods and mortals should intermix. I love Camp Half-Blood. It's just that we shouldn't let mortals knock us down."
Aster, in reality, supported demigods and mortals intermixing, but he had to act and think like a demigod. He had to lie. And he knew exactly how to lie to Annabeth. She had a superiority complex because she thought demigods were superior to mortals––and that children of Athena were superior to other demigods. He just had to spin the situation into one where mortals were beneath demigods.
"That's true," Annabeth said. "You give a lot of helpful advice, Aster. I didn't expect that. What's hiding in your brain?"
"What does that mean?" Aster could help but get irritated. "I'm not dumb."
"That came out wrong," said Annabeth, shaking her head. "It's just that you were claimed recently, so we don't know your abilities or strengths. We don't know anything about you."
"Whatever," Aster replied. "Let's go back to Percy and Grover."
But it was not 'whatever'. He could feel the anger rise to his chest, bubbling silently and waiting for the right time to strike. He was pissed. How dare she underestimate him? He was a god. A god who had defeated Kronos! He wanted to destroy her, make her regret underestimating him, but he couldn't. Not while he was on this quest. And he still wanted to be her friend. He glared at a nearby black sedan until its two back tires popped and its alarm went off. The anger cooled down to his stomach. He took a deep breath. The anger slowly dissipated to nothing. There. It was gone.
He could imagine Hestia's voice in his head: Good job with your anger management, Percy. He had gotten better at regulating emotions. His sister would be proud. You de-escalated the conflict well, she would say. Be careful, brother. Ares is coming to meet you. He was happy to have her as a sister. Without her, he would be a much worse god.
Percy? Are you listening! Well, other than her reprimands. She could be threatening.
PERSEUS!
Aster felt his sister's yell vibrate bouncing throughout his head. He let out a quiet scream. Quickly turning his pain receptors off so he wouldn't feel the blast, he smiled at the other demigods. Right, walking towards the diner for dinner. It was hard to focus his eyes. His ears still rang with echoes of his name. Residue pain still stung his head and arms like thorns. He almost forgot what pain felt like.
Why did Hestia have to bellow at his ears with his name at full blast? He had been this close to slicing off all the branches of nearby trees.
Hestia, what do you want, Aster grumbled irritated, or as irritated as one can show when telecommunicating with another god.
Well, hello. Nice of you to reply. Ares is coming to meet you, Hestia replied.
Ha ha. You do not have to come up with an excuse to talk to me, you know. I doubt Ares appreciates being used as a joke. And next time, don't scream into my ear.
Then, next time, listen to me. I'm being serious, Percy. Ares will be joining you as soon as the demigods get settled in the diner.
Aster stopped walking. Hestia normally didn't make jokes, and her ones were usually funny. Are you serious? he asked.
Yes. Don't worry, I don't think that he is suspicious of you. But you must not use any of your powers, or he will sense a godly aura.
Are you talking about those car tires? I will tone it down. I'll be safe. He probably wants to speak with the forbidden child, the son of Poseidon. I will just fade into the background.
Thank you, Percy. We'll talk soon.
See you, Hestia.
"Aster!" Annabeth called. The god looked at her, raising his eyebrows to ask why she called him. "Come on, we're going to eat here!"
"Coming!" Aster replied, jogging towards the demigods as they sat down on red leather seats.
A waitress came to take their order, but was clearly skeptical that four 12-year-olds could pay for dinner by themselves. Never mind that one of those 12-year-olds was multiple millennia old. Aster was about to convince her that money was not a problem when a rumble shook the whole building.
A large motorcycle pulled to the curb. Aster's first thought was that it was an obnoxious and arrogant mortal like the one in Denver. But the biker must be a god, given that all conversation in the diner stopped. Everyone, including the demigods, were attentively focused on the man on the motorcycle. More accurately, the god on the motorcycle. Ares. No wonder everyone was drawn to him, like how people are drawn to guilty pleasures. Aster didn't want to imagine the terrible thoughts going through the mortals' minds or those of his fellow demigods.
Ares picked up the shotguns from the bike and put them in holsters attached to his black jeans. He then turned off the motorbike, the headlight stopping its red glare. Everything became silent.
Aster took this moment to realize that he had never seen Ares in his adult form. Before Aster's banishment from Olympus, Ares had always taken the form of a young, handsome, and violent general. Like Alexander the Great. But Ares had aged up since then, instead showing the muscled body and firm face of a thirty-something man, like the men leading wars of today. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and a black leather duster. Above his knife-scarred cheeks, he wore red wraparound shades, protecting mortals from his war-mongering gaze.
As Ares walked into the diner, Aster wanted to stand up, to say hello, to speak to him like a god. To talk to him like they were old friends. Yes, Ares had voted to banish him, but the young god of war was easily persuaded by his father Zeus. Aster did not blame Ares for being naive. The only one to blame was Zeus.
But Aster stayed silent. He muted his powers completely, storing them and excess energy in a sparkling white ball in his chest. The past was the past was the past, and they had to deal with its consequences in the present. Ares would remain a stranger.
Ares slid into the entirely too-small booth, squeezing Annabeth against the window.
"You kids have money to pay for dinner?" the waitress asked, now that everyone and their chattering had returned back to normal.
"It's on me," the god of war replied.
The waitress continued staring at Ares, like he was her best dream and worst nightmare all at once, like she'd worship him, like she'd be his slave.
Ares looked up at her and said, "Why are you still here? Shoo." He pointed at her. The waitress stiffened. She turned around her heel as if she'd been spun around, then marched to the kitchen.
Ares turned his gaze to the son of Poseidon, ignoring Aster and the other demigods. He gave Percy a wicked grin. "So you're old Seaweed's kid, huh?"
Don't make Ares mad, Aster wanted to tell Percy. "What's it to you?" the son of Poseidon shot back.
Aster sighed.
Here is my fourteenth chapter of Lord of Alaska!
I didn't want to regurgitate Percy's conversation with Luke in the car wash, and since we don't know how Annabeth and Grover made the subwoofer car stop playing its music at the car wash, I decided to tell that story. And so Aster can have more bonding time and friends (although he would deny ever having friends).
The tl:dr of Luke's conversation with Grover and Percy: Luke tells them that Camp Half-Blood is more violent and that he suspects that Hades stole the bolt. Annabeth and Aster did not hear about this, so they will find this supposed betrayal out from Ares next chapter.
Have a great day and let's all Mystify!