ᴾʰᵒᵇᵒᵖʰᵒᵇⁱᵃ [ᴶᵃˢᵒⁿ ᴳʳᵃᶜᵉ]

bonus chapter #1

a/n at the end cause ik most of yall don't care

AZA'S BIG-ASS BRANCH OR AZA PUMMELS A FEW FRIENDS

AZA-EVERETT Malin's sword destroyed the training dummies in the sword-fighting arena; each precise blow filled the air with straw, which flurried around her and decorated her hair like snowflakes. After every particularly nasty blow, which would have incapacitated her enemy instantly if it weren't simply a dummy stuffed with straw, she instinctually smiled at the spot her best friend occupied each time. The curly-haired blonde's eyes reflected the stormy sky, and from her comfortable position she called, "I didn't know it was possible, but you've gotten an even bigger head."

Annabeth had long since stopped feeding Aza's ego, even when she clearly strove for compliments and drilled the most difficult sword plays she could think of. Even Clarisse had difficulty with the precise strikes Sherman Yang had taught them the day before, though Aza thought it was because he was an abhorrent teacher; he was nowhere as good as Luke, who had taught Aza nearly everything she knew.

But Luke was gone, as Aza had to remind herself more often than not. The boy that had taught her how to handle a sword and how to discern each of her enemies unique weaknesses had betrayed them and abandoned the camp - and the people - that had once been his family. Aza knew her head was big, but sometimes she felt as though Luke left a spot for her to fill, as the camp's best swordsman. Very few people had been able to keep up with him, and after Luke had left there was a power vortex; and though most campers avoided her like the plague, they knew Aza's swordsmanship was above them all - but who would let the unclaimed demigod fill his shoes?

Aza chuckled, and she skewered the final dummy. It took her a moment to wedge her sword from its chest, but once she did she sheathed it with a satisfying ring of metal, which seemed to purify the arena. She turned to face her best friend, her lips curving towards her cheeks, "I don't think that's possible. It's a Malin thing," Aza tapped her knuckles against the top of her head, "We have big heads and thick skulls."

She had heard her aunt - her mother's sister - say it a long time ago at the only family reunion she'd ever been to. Natalie had hated that her child was flocked and adored; though it was partially because Aza's sunglasses safely covered her eyes during the outdoor gathering.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. As she stood to her feet, she scoffed, "You're ridiculous. One day that attitude's going to get you–"

"In a whole lot of trouble, I know," Aza, too, rolled her eyes and made a face as she crossed the field to follow her best friend up the path towards the dining pavilion. "But you also say that about racing Clarisse up the climbing wall, and look at me," Aza stretched her fingers, "I'm fine."

"You've broken your arm twice," Annabeth grumbled, and she crossed her arms over her chest, "But whatever you say, Az. But, you know what I'll say? Even–"

"Strength has to bow to wisdom," Aza mimicked, "But I'll tell you what. We'll see who wins tonight. You and Clarisse are captains. Athena versus Ares. If we win, you have to polish my weapons. All of them."

Annabeth's eyes sparkled. "When we win, you have to help me reorganize my cabin exactly the way I've been wanting it."

"Anna," Aza groaned, stretching out the last letter. But when she realized the challenging glimmer in her friend's smirk, she couldn't back down. Aza didn't plan on losing. "Fine. You've got yourself a deal, Owl-Eyes."

"Whatever you say, Nightmare Fuel," Annabeth rolled her eyes and nudged Aza's side. The dark-haired girl stiffened and shot her a half-hearted dirty glare. she knew that if anyone else called her that, she would have whipped out her sword in a heartbeat. But Annabeth had always gotten away with it, and since both girls knew she certainly didn't mean it, there was no tension in the air as they split at the dining pavilion.