(A/N) Welcome back, everyone, and here is my second story! This story is based on a quote by Vaas, a video game character from the game Far Cry 3 by Ubisoft Entertainment. I hope that the plot is original enough for you guys, so please enjoy! And let me tell you now itself that this is not your typical Percabeth. It will be very dark and depressing, no happy ending here (maybe :D). But you can hope, can't you my dear reader? And please remember this- more reviews = faster updates! I really wanna know your thoughts on this one, please! (A/N)

Disclaimer: Nothing 'cept the plot belongs to me. The definition of insanity in the upcoming chapters belongs to Ubisoft Entertainment.

Annabeth shifted uncomfortably in her sleep; her skin was clammy and her forehead was beaded with sweat. She shifted from side to side and unconsciously threw off her covers; deep in the realm of Morpheus. . .

~oOo~

London, England, 1857

The ballroom was large and magnificent. Velvet drapes hung on the walls and tinkling chandeliers hung precariously overhead, their crystals reflecting the glow of the dim lighting. The soft carpeting was soothing to the feet; the guest's shoes sank into the soft material. Poker faced waiters in starched white jackets wove swiftly through the crowd, serving drinks and platters of mouth-watering food. All of the guests were either chatting quietly in groups or sitting at the tables and scarfing down plates of food. The gentlemen were resplendent in their black suits with coat-tails and top hats and the women glowed in their dazzling gowns. Smoke curled off in waves from pipes and cigars, clouding the room and muffling any sounds produced in the room. All in all, it was yet another pathetic attempt at recalling England's former power and might.

Annabeth was muttering mutinously to herself in a shadowy corner. She had been forcefully dressed up by her servants and bundled into a carriage headed for the party. Her mother, a sweet old woman with stormy grey eyes had insisted on her daughter's attendance. 'Think of our honour, dear. We do have a reputation to uphold, don't we?' She had smiled at her daughter while saying the words but her eyes warned that she would not take no for an answer. Her daughter could not be more bothered about her family's reputation. All she wanted was to roam free in the lands surrounding their mansion, fishing, playing, running and even hunting with her father's old rifle. Her mother was- to say the least- disappointed in her.

While she sat bored at the table, cloaked in darkness, she thought of the local fisherman's son. Percival- or Percy as he insisted- had been her playmate since they were toddlers. After Annabeth's father died when she was young, she often sneaked out of the mansion and explored the village at the bottom of her hill. One day, in a dusty old lane, she had found Percy playing with a few friends, all of whom were clad in rags and little else. She identified Percy as their little ringleader and had been fascinated to see another child her age. Her mother had strictly forbidden her to play with anyone else except for her cousins, but that did not stop her when she walked up to him and greeted him. 'Good day, my friend! How do you fare today? Please may I play with you and your friends!' she had pleaded. Percy and his friends had been startled to hear her voice, and when they turned around and saw her, a wary light glinted in their eyes. 'Now who be you, miss?' One of them had said. A couple of them shook their heads in warning and had slowly edged away, a disgusted look in their eyes. Annabeth had been puzzled to see them react to her in such a way and had asked them, 'What is the matter, everyone? Can we not play together?'

At these words, everybody except for Percy had run away, their bare feet shaking up clods of mud and dust. Percy calmly walked over to Annabeth and stuck out his hand the way he had seen noble gents do when they greeted one another. 'I'm Percival, Miss. And what is your name, if I may make so bold to say so?' He had had a grave expression on his face and had stood up stiffly, the way his mother had cautioned him to behave in front of the nobility.

Annabeth chuckled, grabbed his hand and started pumping it up and down, eliciting a yell from the surprised boy. 'I'm Annabeth, Percival, and you don't need to act like one of those stuck up old grown- ups at home. I see enough of them every day. Can we please play together?' at these words, Percy's face lit up and he nodded eagerly. This proved that not all of them were all posh and stuck up. Percy said, 'Yeah sure, mate, we can play together! And you can call me Percy, I hate my full name.'

Annabeth smiled and they ran off together, playing hide and seek in the corn fields and going for fishing afterwards. It had been the start of an enduring friendship, one that had often suffered attempts at destruction at the hands of their parents. For once, both sides had been in agreement that their children should not be involved with each other. It had the potential for great scandal, one that they could not afford. Percy and Annabeth were forced to take to discreet methods of meeting each other. They were still the very best of friends, of course. They had promised each other that they would remain so for the rest of their lives, no matter the circumstances.

But lately, Annabeth had started wanting. . . more from their friendship. She had started giggling at his compliments, blushing when he grabbed her hands ran for the fields, and had felt sharp stabs of pain when girls from the village flirted with Percy. He was really good-looking, nobody could deny that. He was tanned and muscular from working in the fields all day, and his sea green eyes sparkled playfully at everyone. Annabeth knew all this, but had still felt awful at knowing that practically all the girls in the village fancied him. She knew in her heart that she could never scale the divide between them in terms of social status. Annabeth felt painfully aware of the fact that the girls had far more in common with Percy than she ever could, and this always prickled at the back of her mind.

Annabeth leaned back in her chair sighing. Percy was so different from all the other men she knew. There was Percy; solid, dependable, good-looking, reliable, down-to-earth; and then there were her suitors, pale, wan, sickly looking creatures who had delicate, feminine airs about them. She had been horrified to learn that her mother had wanted to marry her off at seventeen, but then that was the custom of the day and age. When she had told Percy about them, he had chuckled and playfully ruffled her hair, joking about how they would run off when learned about her true self. And this was something she took to heart as a good way to discourage suitors: Whenver she was alone with them, she would freely use the local slang, prop up her feet on the table and generally behave very crudely as they put it. Annbateh rejoiced whenever another suitor withdrew his petition, and enjoyed watching the puzzled look on her mother's face while reading their letters giving various reasons for their actions. And yet she felt irritated, annoyed at the fact that Percy was not jealous in the slightest of her suitors. Once or twice she had thought she felt a spark of annoyance in his eyes when she discussed her marriage, but she had quickly dismissed them as tricks of the light.

But maybe she hadn't dismissed them. Maybe, just maybe, she had allowed herself to hope against hope, to dream against reality, to wish for something that could never happen. She sighed once again and tried to get up. She frowned when she saw someone blocking her way. She couldn't make out the person's features in the shadows and through her veil, so she impatiently demanded, 'Who are you? Kindly let me pass, I am feeling rather stuffy, I would be most obliged if you would move your person out of the way. She scowled when the person did not move away and instead motioned for to sit down once again. Annabeth huffed, but she sat down, just in case it was in important message. With her luck, she would be labelled a brat and a troublemaker along with her other titles.

She put on her most haughty expression and said, 'Yes? What is this most important of things you wish to tell me?' She sensed that the man was smiling, and made to stand up, annoyed that he had taken her so lightly, but he replied, 'Really, Annie? I thought I could converse with you without having you run away!' The man shifted in the darkness and stood in a small beam of light cutting into the gloom. Annabeth raised an eyebrow. 'Luke? What is it now?' she said. She mentally groaned, not wanting to talk to him.

Luke was a handsome man. He had blonde hair pulled into a pony-tail , blue eyes and was muscular from long hours of fencing and hunting in the woods of England. But Annabeth thought that he was just like her other suitors: attractive, but in a pale, washed-out kind of way. He did not appeal to her in the slightest.

But he was also the most determined of them all; and persisted in his efforts no matter how many times he was spurned. Because of the way civil, polite way in which he treated her she just managed to tolerate him. But she knew in her gut that he had an inherent darkness about him. Something was always. . . off. Percy had always told her how Luke could be seen making discreet deals with well-known thugs in the village. At first she had scoffed at his claims, but seeing him now in the darkness, his face half-hidden, she could imagine a cruel glint in his eyes, and a certain unnerving quality on his smile.

Luke started to say,'Annabeth, I just wanted to tell you-' She cut in before he could continue, 'Spare me the pain, Luke. I don't want anything to do with you. Good day.' She managed the barest of curtsies and stalked off, muttering under her breath. She missed the amused smile playing on Luke's lips, and the cruel light shining in his eyes.

~oOo~

Annabeth sat up on her bed, gasping and panting. She blinked sweat out of her eyes and fell of the bed. She sat up, groaning, and sat on her bed in a meditative posture.

For the past few weeks, she had had the exact same dream, but the weird thing was that they always occurred in different places and times. Colonial America, Medieaval India, Feudal Japan: All of them, with her being a rich, sheltered girl, attracted to a man called Percy and having the exact same incidents repeat themselves , over and over again. Even Luke. She shuddered at the thought, recalling the cold expression on his face. She was destined to fall in love with Percy across time, across the ages and have her heart broken again and again. Because no matter where the dreams took place, no matter what setting, they always ended with the same result.

Death.

(A/N) So, how was it? I hope y'all enjoyed reading that! And remember, more reviews=faster updates! Chill, mes harmanos! And please review! P.S- If there are any Far Cry 3 players reading this, let me know via either the reviews or a PM whether I should include Vaas as a character in this story. A recurring character in Annabeth's dreams, like maybe Luke's right hand man or something. Cheers!(A/N)