Run From the Demigods

Run From the Demigods

Status: In Progress

Genre: Young Adult



Status: In Progress

Genre: Young Adult



Being a secret twin sister of Athena was never easy. I was kicked off of Mount Olympus then hunted by my sister ever since she decided that she must stay in the spotlight of the mortals and be daddy's precious favorite. Oh well though.
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Being a secret twin sister of Athena was never easy. I was kicked off of Mount Olympus then hunted by my sister ever since she decided that she must stay in the spotlight of the mortals and be daddy's precious favorite. Oh well though.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Sun and Son

Author Chapter Note

Azalea Weld

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 18, 2017

Reads: 61

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 18, 2017




“Run, your sister will kill you when she finds you...” My closest friend uttered.

I shook my head. Scared. Uncertain. Frightened.

“Please,” She whispered, hugging me, “For me.”

Reluctantly, I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“For me, remember. It’s for me.”

I nodded again as I fled her slowly dying body.


I dart up in my bed. Breathing quickly and my heart racing. Memories. Nightmares. My life was a nightmare. “Act like a mindless human,” I mutter to myself. But the thing was, I couldn’t because in truth, I was nowhere near normal. Truth be told, I was sister to the one and only, crafty, intelligent, strategic, war goddess; Athena.

Yay, me.

See, Athena and me we’re twins. But what did humans do? They didn’t give us both glory. Nooooooo, they picked Athena because she made her move to be liked first. She was popular. Me? I wasn’t even mentioned in ONE myth. Not even one! Plus, since Athena was more valued, I was thrown off Olympus to the mortal world as a child and wasn’t even given a name!

I had no name. And it sucked.

To live in a family where you were hunted down by your own sister to ensure that she stayed daddy’s favorite. Zeus. And your father encouraged your twin to kill you! It was messed up, but I was a goddess.

A weak and pathetic one, but a goddess nonetheless.

 I was worse than the minor gods. I had no favor nor supporters, and the only thing I had that I had inherited was my immortality. The thing was, my sister had come from my father’s brain. Me? I had magically popped out of his head after her, but I had no brain smarts. I was a mistake, a misfit, a freak, a pathetic idiot goddess. Go me.

I got up out of my bed, which was a soft and comfortable human invention and I hurry to my bathroom in the apartment. A dizzy sensation fills me and I stumble over, I hold on to the sides of the sink and shivered, my vision swarming. I was almost as weak as a human. But another thing that went with the immortality was the looks.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, I noted that I didn’t look a day over seventeen, my skin was lightly tanned and my dark chocolate brown hair brought out my stormy silver eyes. I forgot how old I was, I’d stopped counting the days when I realized I could never go back to Olympus. That being a true goddess was hopeless.

I snap my fingers and my pajamas turned into mortal clothes. I examine my outfit. Dark jeans and stylish leather boots that laced up to my knees and a jean jacket over a simple black shirt. Today, I’d blend in with the humans.

 I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder and hurry out. I never stay in the city too long. I pose as a photographer that travels the world to take photos. My fake name is normal as any other. Azalea Weld.

 As I amble along the crowded sidewalk, my stomach tingles. Something isn’t right, something is off... I bump into someone and I turn to convict the person, “You-,” but I didn’t. No. He was the most gorgeous/handsome man I’d ever seen in all my years. He was just... wow... Alarm bells rang in my head.

 I tilt my head to the side. He had something familiar about him. Something that I remember when I still sat on Mount Olympus with my family. Something...

“Yes?” His voice was harmony itself, low yet musical. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-three. I couldn’t remember. Stupid forgetting goddess, I chided myself frustratingly.

“Who are you?” The question pops out of my mouth bluntly.

 He gives a small smile, “I’m James Ashen. And you are?”

 I shrug, “Azalea Weld.”

He blinks in surprise, “I was just about to meet you. I’m a journalist and I was wondering if we can set up a meeting of some sort because I need a photographer.”

I blink, “Uhhh... I mean, why of course. We can do it now if you want to.”

He nods.

“Is this a professional thing? Because I’m not good with dressing fancy and dining at a rich place to eat.”

 He gives a grin, his olive-colored eyes twinkling, “I hate being professional too. I know a place though.”

He takes my hand and we bustle into a coffee shop that was almost empty. “Is this okay?”

I nod, smiling, “Perfect.”

His hand lingers on mine and I shivered. He seemed so familiar yet not. Who could he really be? Then he says as his hand pulled back, “So. Anyway, what I need is...”

He goes into a descriptive, long, and boring detail about what he needs. Yada, yada, yada. Some photos of this and that for his career. He’d pay well. Yes, yes.

When he finally finishes, I gave him an assured smile, “I can do that for you.” He nods gratefully, “Thank you.” I thank him for the opportunity and leave.

 We’d already planned what we needed to do. Tomorrow at 6 AM, he would pick me up and we’d go on a road trip to some town in Colorado. How could I trust him? Immortality had many advantages to it. The looks, endurance, the strength, no illnesses or sicknesses, if you get injured you healed quickly, and staying alive forever.

The thing was, I’d agreed because I hated unsolved mysteries. And he was exactly that.

Plus, he was the greatest looking guy I’d ever seen, and that’s saying something because I’d seen Hercules shirtless once.

I left the coffee place with an extra spring my step, knowing that’d I’d be going on a road trip with a guy who looked better than a shirtless Hercules.


It’s early 7 AM and we book it out of the city and are on the highway, driving toward Colorado.

“James, roll down the window I gotta do something.” I say.

He gave me a weird look but nods and complies.

I pop my head outside the window and scream at the slowly disappearing city, “BYE SALT LAKE CITY!” And then plop back down on the passenger seat.

He stares at me, partly amused, partly stunned, “Tell me you did not just do that.”

I gave him a wild grin, “Do what?”

 He grins back, “That 5-year-old thing where you scream bye at the city as if it’s actually alive.”

 “Maybe the city is alive,” I counter.

 “And what? Did I hurt the city’s feelings by not saying good bye?” He asks playfully.

 I sat up on my knees and put my hand to my ear as if I’m listening to something, after a few moments I turn back to James, “Salt Lake City says that you’re a meanie and that you’re now cursed.”

James grins as he drove and addresses me, “Oh mighty oracle, make the Salt Lake City forgive me.”

I shrug, “The Salt Lake City does as it pleases.”

And that’s how we pass the time. Chatting, listening to the radio, laughing. I learn that James wasn’t just a journalist, but a poet too, and he played the guitar, piano, violin, trumpet, and could blow a few notes on the trombone.

What he learns about me?

I told him I’m an orphan, had dropped out of high school, worked as a photographer, and that I was eighteen.

James says that it would take at least 8 hours if not more so I dozed off and on. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until James shook my shoulder.

I perk up groggily, “Yea?”

“We’re here.” He says in a cheery voice.

 I stretch and yawn, “Where exactly again?”

 He snorts, “Why, at the grand town of Crested Butte.”

 “Crested Butt?” I ask, giggling.

He rolls his eyes, “No. Butte.”

 “I like Crested Butt better,” I say.

 He gives me this you’re-such-a-5-year-old look but he ruins the effect with his shining smile, I grin back.

 Most girls would’ve fainted by James, but I wasn’t because I must find his purpose. I must see what puzzle he was a part of.

We enter the town of Colorado. It’s peaceful and normal. Nothing at all like the city. I like it. The autumn colors blend in well with the town. The leaves slowly meandering to the ground passively, pushed by the soft yet insistent breeze. We slowly drive through the streets and into downtown, James then parks at a hotel that seems awesome. I stare at it contently, we were staying here for a week. It must’ve cost more than a bit of money. But I don’t say anything, he told me already he had it covered.

So, we go in, get our rooms, and we hold up in there for a bit.

By the next hour, he pops his head into my room and asks, “Wanna go out and do something?”

 I look up from a book I’d brought, blinking slowly, “Sure.”

 More time to figure out who he really is. So, we hurry down to the car and drive around town. Trying to figure out what to do.

It’s about 4 PM so I suggest, “How about ice cream?”

He smiles and nods and he takes us to an amazing ice cream shop. He gets some complicated flavor while I get vanilla. We leave the store and sit on the curb and watch cars pass us.

He sits a little too closely, but I study James better than before. As I’ve noted before, he has curly blond hair, tan skin, and dark green eyes that sparkle with pride. He’s more than simple handsome. He’s better-than-hot-shirtless-Hercules handsome. He seems familiar, he reminded me of someone. Back on Mount Olympus. When I was a true goddess for a short period. He couldn’t be a god, I’d have realized already, but-

My thoughts are broken when I realize that I’m being watched. I turn around and see a man in a trench coat watching me from a bench. He gets up and slowly drags closer to me. I start to breath heavily, I’m being watched. How? One of my sisters’ or brothers’ spies, I must get out of here, I got to...

“Woah, you okay, Azalea?” James asks me, concerned.

 I look up at him. What kind of company have I been staying with? He obviously doesn’t realize who -or what- he is.

And I’m scared, because I haven’t been spotted by one of the other gods since 1666 during the Great Fire of London, which my great brother Hephaestus gladly started to try to catch me. And they’ll try as hard as ever to get me this time. I’ve slipped through their fingers to many times.

 That’s when the creature in the trench coat puts a hand on my shoulder. I shriek with pain and fall. Whimpering. I vaguely hear James shouting at the man. The man tilts his head to the side then vanishes. James is confused and more than a little afraid for me, “Azalea?” He says softly and falls to his knees to tend to me.

 I groan, and get back up, him helping me. His hands are warm and homely, and they get hotter and hotter as he helps me up, until I feel like I could run miles without stopping.

Healing me.

Oh gods no. No. Freaking. Way. I give an involuntary scream and leap up. My nose flares and my eyes widen.

How could I be so blind?

How could I roam around with... with him without realizing what he truly is? I can see the hurt that crosses his face as I step back.

 “Azalea, what’s wrong?” He whispers, and before I can step back he lays his hand on my forearm.

And I hear the voice of a god whisper to me, “Gotcha ya, sis.”

Apollo’s voice.

I get a flashback of listening to my sister Athena lecturing me, “Gods and goddesses can speak and see into their minds of their sons or daughters. So, never contact a demigod, they’re like tracking devices. Besides, they’re trouble anyway.” And James doesn’t know his father is the sun god. I pull away from him. Fear fanning through me. My thoughts running in a circle.

Over and over.

 But it all comes back to what James is.

A demi-god. Son of the great god Apollo.

 “No,” Dread thickens my voice like honey, “Impossible.”

James’s hand is still on my arm, I can hear Apollo’s deep voice whispering in my mind through James’s touch, “Not so, sister. Not so.”

My hand snaps back from James’s grip. “I’ve gotta go. I can’t do the job.” My voice is scared. Hoarse. Fragile.

“What happened?” James’s asks.

 I shake my head, “Give me the keys, James.”

 “What happened?” His voice lowers.

 “Nothing. Give. Me. The. Keys. NOW!” I demand. And an oh-so familiar feeling simmers through me. Power. I could take it, I could use it to make James bend to my will. But I couldn’t.

It could kill him, even though he was a demigod. But I don’t have a choice. The power pushes into me like a flood breaking a dam.

My words are smooth and demanding. Cold and heartless. Ice with heat. “Give me the keys.” Dazed, he hands them over with no reluctance. Then he crumples to the ground. I whisper, “I’m sorry.” And then I’m in the car in a smooth motion. My power dims, and I feel weak and tired, as if I hadn’t slept in days. But right now, I had to drive. Where? I don’t know, I just knew I had to drive far, far away. To a hidden land. To a land where I could live alone and unnoted. Where I could live in silence.

But one thought nagged in the back of my head. One thought echoed over and over.

Why am I so lost?


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