Betrayal

He always knew this was going to happen, somewhere deep down in his sub-conscious, but he always pushed the feeling of the soon-to-be-betrayal out of his mind.

Now he wishes he could take that all back, and be more alert, keep his gaurd up. That way he would never have to feel this pain now, or ever perhaps. But that would be much too easy, and the fates also like to screw with him, it's kind of like he's their toy, they hype him up and then tear him down faster than he can even begin to comrehend what's about to happen to him.

It just so happens that every time he lets someone or something through his gaurd, thinking he can trust whatever he let through, that they betray, backstab and then leave like he was nothing. He should have known that this would happen again, but he thought once maybe just once he could have something permenant. Sadly that wasn't the case.

His 'friends' were standing there, outnumbering their target, 300 - 1. That was good, very good. The bad news? He was the one they were about to attack. The one and only Percy Jackson, about to be taken down by the weapons of the ones he could once trust his back to in a battle, who he would once give his life for one of them. Not anymore.

Now he would enjoy giving up on them, not saving their asses the amount of times he did, and maybe, just maybe he could have avoided this disaster altogether.

But no, Lupa had to trust him the most after the immense amount of skill he has shown in so little time at Camp Jupiter. He told her this would be a lost cause and would prove not to be useful in any way, shape or form.

Until he saw how his new friends treated him. Then he thought that he could let somebody in, one person, ten, hell the whole place could have had him on their side for the rest of their life if they would have given him the gradually increasing amounts of loyalty he would give them. And he thought they would.

He was wrong. Again. They showed him that he shouldn't let people in, they put him back in the state of mind he was in before he did this, where he wouldn't let anybody in. Ever. He learned not to expect things from people, that way he could never be dissapointed. But then he went back on that logic and thought maybe he could have friends. The word friend sounded foreign and bitter in his mouth, that should have been the first sign for him to never ever let them get this close to him.

But he did it anyway. He made friends. And now he regrets it, he wishes he could stab the friends he made, take back all the things he said and did for them, and just ditched them on the street when he could. Then he could be his emotion-less self, sitting in Camp Jupiter training for fourteen hours a day, and having no time for anything that he now thinks to be important.

His fatal flaw was loyalty. He hates himself for having that flaw, it's deadly to the wielder of it when you give somebody all the loyalty in your being, and then turn around and getting betrayed. Betrayal is always something that messed with loyalty.

He curses himself for pitying himself, and remembers he is suppost to be fighting like the mighty roman demigod he was. So he did the only thing he could do, he drew Anaklumos. Riptide. Riptide always made him feel like he wasn't a lone wolf, because Riptide wasn't suppost to exist, just like him.

He could see the suprised looks on his friends faces, and smirks just a little bit when he realizes that they didn't expect him to try to win a fight against them. Who would try to win when it's 300 to 1. Why, he would, of course but they didn't seem to realize that, even after the months he was sitting with them, training with them and even the occasional quest with them.

His fighting style was different from theirs, so he had an advantage in that aspect. He also trained for hours upon hours of his day to be better-no, he trained to be the best. He still has to worry though, considering the numbers. If only it was one on one, he could take anybody out in that type of fight. Hell, even ten on one in this place and he could still win. His stamina was pretty good, so he could probably fight for a while, or at least longer than most, or maybe everybody here.

Okay, so maybe he could win, if he tried his hardest. And if he used his powers, after all he was the only son of Neptune in, what? 500 years or so? Sounded about right. They wouldn't know what hit them, most of the campers didn't even know half of what he was capable of doing. Even he didn't know the full extent of his power, he never liked using his powers unless it was really necessary. He still trained using them in secluded areas, of course.

They were all in ready stances now, seeming to have no mercy for the young demi-god, only furocity in their eyes, ready to strike down their next target. Namely, him. He almost felt bad getting ready to kill them, almost being the key word in that sentence. If they never betrayed him, unsheathed their weapons and got ready to strike him down, he wouldn't-no-couldn't hurt them in the ways he was thinking right now.

He got in his defensive stance, ready to block, parry, and counter anyone or anything coming his way. After all, the greatest offence is a good defence as his teacher once told him. That didn't mean he never played offence, it just meant he knew going offensive against about three hundred other demi-gods was about as suicidal as you could get, but then again fighting three hundred other demi-gods in the first place was also suicidal. Oh well, he was always the act first, think later kind of person. This would be no exception.

Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself here, let's go back to when this shit-storm started...

Tell me what you think! Should I continue? R&R.