A/N: This is my first Percy Jackson fanfic and one-shot.
Aaron Razon: Rage; hatred; betrayal directed at one individual.
Perseus Jackson: The hero; the savior; the leader of Camp Half Blood.
Aaron, son of Morpheus, scowled as he glared up at the azure sky. The seventeen year-old boy's icy eyes blazed cobalt flames, and his thoughts lingered on the Titan War. Sure, Camp Half Blood had triumphed, the gods won, but he was furious.
Percy Jackson had received the title as "hero" while no one had even spared him a single glance. Aaron felt as though he had had as much to do with the victory as Percy Jackson and his friends, but he was overlooked once again. Perhaps it was because his father was Morpheus, one of the minor gods, or maybe it was because no one cared for the previously unclaimed demigod that had resided in the Hermes cabin.
It was his turn to be in the spotlight; it was his turn to actually gain some recognition. And he would gain it, lots of it, with the next stunt that he was planning.
Aaron stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he made his way to the beach where he knew that Percy and his girlfriend, Annabeth, were. The young demigod had gotten a tip from a friend he had hired to watch the couple, so he knew they were alone.
The dark haired boy increased his pace to an easy jog as he continued toward his destination. Before he had been near his cabin, lost in his own thoughts, but now he was on a mission. Unfortunately, for some, it wasn't a very good mission.
On his way he pondered a new dilemma, one that he had not thought of before: weapons. Percy had his trusty sword Riptide, and Annabeth no doubt had her dagger with her, so what was he going to do about that? Suddenly, a cold, sly smirk plastered itself upon Aaron's face as his magnificent idea popped into his mind, a devious one no doubt, but it was perfect.
Before the boy hit the beach, he stopped and took a deep breath, his cobalt eyes closing for a brief second. Aaron was mentally prepping himself for what he was about to do, and he questioned if he was really wanted to complete and carry out this task. By the time he resumed in his walk once again, he had made up his mind, and there was no changing it.
He slipped silently toward the beach and spotted the couple there. The two of them were just sitting next to each other in the warm, grainy sand, and they both wore content and happy expressions on their faces. As Aaron neared Percy and Annabeth, he called out a friendly greeting, his voice carrying out across the beach.
The two turned their heads and got up before starting to walk over to greet him. He could see Percy's green eyes glowing like they usually did, and Annabeth was smiling.
"Hey," Percy greeted him, stopping a few feet away. "Aaron, right?"
Aaron responded with a simple nod, for he was trying to quench the anger the threatened to rise up in him. Of course the great Perseus Jackson wouldn't be sure of his name; he had been insignificant compared to the wonderful hero. "Hey, Percy, Chiron wanted you up at the Big House. He said it would only take a minute," the son of Morpheus lied easily and smoothly; his voice nonchalant and his face a perfect mask, fully composed and revealing nothing. Step one of plan: complete.
"All right." Percy nodded and turned to murmur something to Annabeth before taking off at a sprint.
Aaron pretended to take a step away as if he was going to leave, but he then turned quickly and executed the next step of his plan by pulling his sword out in one swift, lucid motion. With a flash of steel, the celestial bronze blade had made a deep incision on an unsuspecting Annabeth's shoulder before he plunged the weapon into the poor girl. Satisfied and smirking, Aaron made no move to remove his blade. Instead he watched, quite pleased, as Annabeth writhed in pain, her crimson blood staining the yellow sand and her mouth parted in a cry of pure agony. No, Aaron was not about to leave, though he had the perfect opportunity to escape, but he didn't want to. If he fled now no one would know him; he would always be the insignificant. But committing a murder would surely get him noticed, and that's the only thing that he wanted. His name would be on everyone's lips. Poor Annabeth didn't even know what hit her. Children of Athena were supposed to be smart, but Aaron had had the element of surprise on his side; she hadn't expected that.
Footsteps and a mournful cry alerted Aaron that Percy had returned. Either he had heard Annabeth's scream and had come sprinting back or he was already finished talking to Chiron and figured out the whole thing was a hoax before having to come back anyway. Either way, it didn't really matter, for the son of Morpheus had achieved his goal and executed his vile plan.
The son of Poseidon scrambled to his fallen girlfriend and wept because he knew it was too late. No amount of healing or nectar or ambrosia would save her. Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena; hero and architect of Olympus; girlfriend of Perseus Jackson; and head counselor of the Athena cabin was dying.
When the grey-eyed demigod took her last shuddering breath and died, Percy whirled around to face Aaron, his green eyes ablaze. "Why?" his voice was filled with anger, hurt, agony, and some other emotions that Aaron could not place.
An evil smirk presented itself upon the blue-eyed boy's face. "Because I'll be remembered," he replied simply. "I fought in the war just as hard as you, Perseus Jackson, and I deserved just as much credit for saving Olympus as you, but I never received it. I was still the regular demigod from the Morpheus cabin that no one noticed or paid attention to!" With each word his voice had been growing louder and angrier, and his azure eyes had begun to blaze in a cynical way. "Even you, the supposed "hero" never spared me a second glance. Face it Percy, you just didn't care! And I'm not the only one. No." Aaron paused to snort once, his eyes still aflame. "Others too. Others who fought just as hard as you never got credit. Others that gave their lives, others that watched their friends and family die so they could back Percy Jackson in the war. Those demigods were forgotten, just pawns in your army!" The son of Morpheus glared at the powerful son of Poseidon, his hands balled into fists as he trembled in rage.
To say that Percy was infuriated was quite the understatement. There was not a word strong enough to describe the young hero's emotions, and he felt his hand slip subconsciously to his pocket where Riptide was located. The demigod pulled the ball-point pen out and uncapped it, the celestial bronze sword growing in his hands. Without a word the hero swung the blade, killing Aaron in a single blow. Perhaps the green-eyed boy should have let the other camper die a slow, painful death as Annabeth had, but the deed was already done; he was dead.
The last thing Aaron heard was the footsteps of other campers coming to see what all the noise and commotion was about, and the last thing the young demigod saw was the swing of a bronze blade that ended his life.
Aaron, the son of Morpheus, was dead, but he had no regrets; he'd do it all again if he had the chance. It was true that he would have loved to take Percy down as well, but with the curse of Achilles, that was impossible. It was also true that the boy knew that he was basically committing suicide after carrying out his plan, but the son of Morpheus didn't care. So the demigod chose Annabeth Chase as his victim and didn't mind, for she too had been seen as a hero, a savior. The most important reason why he was satisfied, however, was because he would be remembered. His name, Aaron Razon, would forever be remembered as the one who committed the heinous crime of murdering Annabeth Chase. It was true that the name would not live on in the Hall of Fame, but it would be in the Hall of Infamy, and that was good enough for him. Just as long as he was remembered; that's all that mattered.
For once, between Aaron and Percy, their feelings and emotions would be reversed.
Aaron Razon: the hero; the savior; the leader in his own mind.
Perseus Jackson: rage; hatred; betrayal directed at one individual.