Although knowing too much could be dangerous, Leander still knew—after learning from his mother—who he was and who his real father was. He still remembered him, even as a baby. He remembered the disappointment, the cold gaze, as if evaluating a defective product and discarding it without a shred of pity.
To survive, Leander learned he was a Greek demigod, son of the king of Olympus. He learned to fight using his strength, his hammer, his martial arts, and his shapeshifting abilities. To stay in control of himself and not become like his brother Hercules, his mother encouraged him to learn how to cook. In the kitchen, he would need discipline, control, and precision to avoid ruining a dish.
And it was a headache. It really wasn't easy to control his overly strong hands to do such delicate work. Judging by the determined look in his mother's eyes, it seemed Leander would have to learn every cuisine in the world just to master control over his body.
He also had to study a lot of animal biology and human and animal anatomy for his transformations, as well as mythology, and kill the monsters that were drawn to him simply because he was a demigod—which sucked.
Leander didn't know how many monsters he had slain since he was four, always with his mother. But with so much battle experience, both mother and son improved in combat. His martial arts and weapon skills advanced quickly thanks to his instructor, a son of Ares.
As he grew, Leander lost his fear. He would spin and crush heads with his hammer, yet he maintained a calm mind thanks to his teacher and his mother, who repeatedly taught him that arrogance was the beginning of downfall and death—in tragic form.
Leander sometimes had nightmares remembering Hercules' story, how his end was miserable because he thought he was invincible—only to be betrayed by the woman he shared his bed with, who soaked him in poisonous centaur blood.
And Leander never forgot his greatest enemy. Not the monsters, but his stepmother—the peacock queen. The queen of Olympus was the worst enemy of all Zeus's offspring, and he didn't want to draw attention to his mother. So, even frustrated with learning to read and write because of damn dyslexia, he studied everything in Greek and Latin first, and only afterward transferred it to English, learning slowly to read and write again. Thanks to his ADHD, Leander always needed to be doing something, so he chose to work out constantly. Even as a child, his physique was that of a hero—he healed faster and more easily than a mortal child.
Leander grew up in a routine of learning to fight, battling monsters, growing stronger, and learning to cook cuisines from different countries—starting with North America, then Central and South America—mastering the gastronomy of the entire continent. As a precaution, Leander always offered something to Hestia at the hearth in his home, asking for protection for his house, his family, and himself—offering his dishes to his divine aunt, who seemed to like them, as Leander felt his house was always cozy: cool in the summer and warm in the winter. He could see a thin red layer like a barrier around the house and felt grateful.
As he grew, Leander learned many cuisines from various countries—not mastering them all, but getting to know a little of each. But one day, his mother stepped up his training: she made him start learning to make sweets. If cooking already required discipline, patience, and care with fragile ingredients, baking was pure hell.
Not even fighting monsters was as torturous for a demigod like him as trying to make complex desserts like cakes, pies, and sweet decorations—his final training. If he could control his body and strength to the level of a professional pastry chef, then he could trust himself never to use his strength outside of his conscious will.
The good news? It looked like his instructor—the son of Ares—and his mother had started dating. Leander was happy for them. His mother, always lonely and constantly working, never got to enjoy life—on top of her double life as a warrior princess and monster slayer.
Considering the number of monsters she had killed by his side, she might be able to go to Elysium—becoming a mortal heroine, something rare in modern times.
When Leander turned 10, his mother, Jessica Walker, married her fiancé—now husband—Franklin Richards, the son of Ares, who became his stepfather. Leander got to know him as a person and as a father figure, and he liked having a real father around.
His dad Frank was a tall, big, muscular man—chiseled like a Spartan soldier—handsome, and covered in scars across his tanned, muscular body.
With short black hair in a military cut, fierce amber eyes that were also protective—as if always ready to leap into battle—Leander felt safe having a son of war as a father.
So, Leander started offering gifts to his new adoptive grandfather. And for some reason, he felt he had been blessed with a natural talent for weapons and combat. His father Frank explained that Ares had blessed Leander as his grandson, officially claiming him. When he arrived at camp, he would go to Ares's cabin.
Leander was kind of happy that someone other than his current parents wanted him. Another strange power he noticed growing up was his instinct for judging situations and people—knowing who was right or wrong—and his ability to detect lies. When he explained it to his parents, they told him he had inherited one of his father's epithets: Zeus Themis, the judge of law and order, and Zeus Horkios, guardian of oaths, who always enforced law and promises.
So, awakening as a kind of "nerfed" judge, Leander had a lot of work to do to master his fatal flaw: tyranny when it came to power. Whenever power literally went to his head, he stopped, meditated, and always reasoned through the pros and cons of arrogance—and the tragic fate of almost all Zeus's children when they gave in to their fatal flaws.
In two years, when he turned 12, he'd have to hurry to get to camp. Leander didn't like the idea of leaving, but that way his mother could finally rest, and his stepfather would protect her too—especially since the scent of a demigod weakened after the age of twenty, making them harder to track.
Lying in his bed in his room, Leander looked out the window at the vast night sky, counting stars—and strangely, knowing the names of all the constellations, predicting that it would rain in the morning. It was strange not to be able to control wind and lightning, but still be able to forecast the weather.
Leander closed his eyes, falling asleep while staring at the Pegasus constellation in the sky, remembering the bizarre fact that the winged horse was, technically, his cousin.