Prologue -Amor Omnia Vincit

The Future

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena and accomplished magic-science developer, had likely the most important task she had yet: To analyze the rapid rise of the Third Roman Republic . . . it was a mockery of the name, for one person had succeeded in getting himself elected dictator for life.

He was the one that ruled now -when he bothered showing up, that is.

Most of the time, the man was nowhere to be found, vanished off the face of the earth. Some said he returned to the hells -or heavens- from whence he came.

It wasn't that -Annabeth had been a researcher in the bomb that destroyed hell, and the device severed the connection between heaven and earth.

Heaven fell, nearly leveling New York City. Some called that day Ragnarok. Annabeth called it progress.

The man called it justice.

It was with this thought that Annabeth cleared her desk of everything but a notebook -while it may have been more efficient to do it on a computer, books and paper were where her story started.

Note From the Author

All people, I believe, have a dream that they were birthed into the world for. Some do not know of their dream until late in their lives . . . some know from the very beginning. Everyone seeks to accomplish something, no matter how slight. This is the time Perseus Jackson took the stage, and saved the people of the world from their hidden tormentors and uncaring masters: The gods of all pantheons.

But that, I believe, was not his dream. Perseus Jackson was never a man of hatred and revenge . . . because, in an odd way, he was raised in an absence of negative emotions.

Perseus Jackson was raised to kill -or so rumors say. That rumored upbringing absolved him of fear, anger, and hate, for he found nothing to fear in death, and found hate as an object that gives the act of killing pleasure -something he could never condone.

His story is one of love, not hate. I do not know from whence this love has came, nor where it left, but I have known Perseus Jackson since the near beginning of his path, and he does not kill out of anger.

I used to believe that some people were born with a raging soul, an inferno inside of them that drove them to the top of what the world had to offer. That was certainly my case. But that role never fit Perseus. It never will.

Perhaps his soul was a pile of kindling that another lit, and blazed all the brighter once the energy within was released.

Was that spark love? I believe it was.

"This is all I needed to read to reject this manuscript." the publisher said, slamming it down, "It's a disgrace to His Majesty!"

"How?" Annabeth asked, determined to rip this person to pieces, "His Majesty himself said it was time for the truth."

"That is not the truth!" the publisher shouted. He was a man of fifty to sixty, with a balding head a thick glasses, "His Majesty would never approve of it! He'd execute us both for treason."

"No, actually, I don't believe I would." it was a new voice, one who opened the door.

Perseus Jackson walked with no bodyguards in sight -he usually didn't have visible guards. In fact, one of his favorite phrases was, 'I have nothing to fear from my people, so why would I need protection from them?'

It was a sign of absolute trust in the subjects he ruled . . . or rather, it was supposed to be. In reality, an army would barely make a dent in the defenses he had.

And even if they got past Percy's hidden guards, he'd lay waste to any attacking force himself.

The balding man paled, coming to his feet at once and saluting with a curled fist against his heart, "Your Majesty, sir!"

Annabeth, meanwhile, was on her feet much before the publisher, but didn't salute.

"It's good work, Ms. Chase. I've come to expect that of you." Percy said, putting his own copy down on the publisher's desk, "It is, however, too true. You must erase all mentions of C.C. from the text. You know as well as I that those secrets could mean the end of my reign."

"Yes, sir." the daughter of Athena replied, picking up her manuscript.

"Of course, that leaves a pesky fly here with too much knowledge." Percy turned to the publisher, who was sweating bullets and was as pale as a ghost.

"Please, my lord, please-"

The bullet went through the fleshy part near his chin, through his mouth and up through the top of his head, killing him instantly.

Then he winked out of existence as Percy's public image crew cleaned it up.

Annabeth didn't even raise an eyebrow, "Did you like it, my lord?"

"I did . . . it almost makes me sound heroic." Percy turned, "I took the liberty of editing your manuscript myself, so please review it and use it as a reference."

"Yes, my lord." replied the daughter of Athena.

"Relax. No one outside the room can hear or see us. And your adorable little bug isn't recording, either." Percy informed, "Now, Annabeth, I take it you have a few questions? Your text certainly stated you did."

Annabeth's stormy gray eyes calmed as she analyzed the situation. She'd known the dictator for years, as the first head of his research and development branch in the Organization. She didn't know Perseus Jackson, though. She could count on her fingers the people who did, though: Lancet Johnson, Zoë Nightshade, Reyna Arellano, Octavian Delozier, Hank Richardson, and the girl -C.C.

And the mystery person.

Was this her route to his inner circle? Either way, she couldn't pass it up.

"Do you really seek to win the world for love?"

"Yes, in fact." Percy said, taking the chair the dead publisher used to be in.

"Please, explain."

"You already know some of the story. Did you know I have a sister?" the dictator asked, leaning forward to maintain eye-contact with his most trusted -and valued- scientist.

"No."

"Because I don't. Not by blood." he shook his head sadly, "Tell me, have you ever heard of Gwendolyn Farin?"

"No."

"You haven't dug far enough, then." Percy stood, "Perhaps I was wrong to come here."

"The more I know about you, the more truthful what I write will be." Annabeth pointed out, "Isn't that was you want?"

"True. Very well, I'll humor you a little longer." the dictator sat again, "Gwendolyn Farin . . . I called her Gwen, of course. The Farins were the ones who most opposed my upbringing, even surpassing my father's -legal father's- protests. I suppose that's why he sent me to them so often."

"But the Farin family is gone." Annabeth said, "Their line ended in the fire that destroyed most of New Rome."

"Don't interrupt. I was Gwen's first friend, and she was mine. Her family adopted me, and I adopted them -all but in name. I loved her endless optimism -a stark contrast to mine. She always believed that the world could be better. But her life was taken too soon -or was officially. In truth, I arrived at the scene as her house was collapsing around her. A ceiling beam fell, pulverizing her legs and her left arm. They had to be amputated later. Falling embers burned most of her face, and destroyed her eyes by the time I could get her out."

Percy paused, and for the first time, Annabeth could see pain in them -not sadness, not despair, but pain. Pain long kept inside.

"She would be confined to a wheelchair her whole life if she even survived." the dictator sighed, "That was no life for the brightest, energetic, and happiest person I ever knew and ever would know. She was my little sister -and I let her down in the worst way. I needed to make that right."

"By remaking the world?"

Percy shot her a pain-filled glared, "I told you not to interrupt. Don't make me shut your mouth by force."

Annabeth actually recoiled -that was a tone he never took on before, not even with his greatest enemies.

"Continuing on, I wanted -no, needed- to heal her, make her whole again. I didn't know how, but I did know how to fight. If only one person in the world knew how to regrow her limbs and mend her eyes, I would take them and force them to heal her. Eventually, in eight years of searching, I found a way . . . but it would take at least a decade to complete. So, in the meantime, I started making the perfect world for Gwen." Percy sat back, "And that's where I am now."

"And C.C.? How does she fit into this?"

"That, you don't need to know." answered the man, "If you want to know more about me, then you are going about it at the wrong angle. Why do you think I let the Republic persist?"

"As a farce. To let people think they can influence the government."

"Why would they care if the majority of them love the man in charge?" Percy asked, interested in hearing her answer.

Annabeth pondered this, "There will always be some who despise your reign. If they elect their representatives, you can see exactly who they are and who their leader."

"But, as I've shown numerous times, any group of discontented merely need to seek an audience with myself or one of my advisers. There we will work out a solution that fits all." Percy said, "The take over and fertilization of the Sahara, for instance, and the African civil war that nearly broke out."

Annabeth cocked her head, deep in thought, "True. Why, then?"

"I believe, with one statement, I can answer all of your questions in one stroke: I do not wish to live forever." Percy said slowly.

Annabeth's eyes widened as suddenly everything clicked together, like pieces of a puzzle re-arranging themselves into a clear, bright picture.

"But you want this world to last forever." it was a statement, not a question.

Percy leaned back, "Yes. I want to fix the larger problems by the end of my reign and leave someone behind who's capable of solving any minor ones that crop up."

"And you want that person to be me?"

"No. I want you to write my biography. I can assure you, that will keep you busy for much longer than this." the man gestured to the manuscript she currently held.

Annabeth bowed out of respect and habit, "Yes, sir."

A/N: How's that for a start? It's a lot shorter than my usual chapter length, but since I also had another short chapter, I decided to release them both.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Anyone's welcome to use the idea, too.