Flaming eyeball: this is very good I like it so far / Thanks

lightwalnut64: lmfao this is too good, I can't wait omg! I love your works by the way, though I wish I hadn't stopped reading CbT (read a super buzzkill spoiler) but I'll resume asap. Keep up the good work! / Hhaha, that it was a gay fic?

Divergent Raven: I've never seen game of thrones but I'm still really excited for the chapters to come! It looks like it's gonna be a great story. / Yeah, though this takes place halfway through season 5. You'll probably be a bit behind.

CRUDEN: Its an interesting concept
Its usually Percy who is the main character so this is different
Keep it going / Yeah, but I always make Kronos a main character :). He's awesome.

thunder18: Great chapter Update soon / Eh, sure.

ShadowsClaw: ! So cool! / Thanks.

RPHoeben: great idea plz continue / Of course

Anonymous Fire Phoenix: good / Thanks

rhaella13: This sounds amazing. I've been waiting for this ever since you updated your profile:D And Kronos and his brothers were born in Westeros? Interesting twist. And I'll wait for the next chapter no matter how long it takes. I love Game of Thrones tooActually you sort of got me into it with a mention of direwolves in another story... I searched it up and then got introduced to Game of Thrones. This takes place in Essos right when Daenarys begins to free the Unsullied in Astapor and travels to Mereen to free the slaves (3 or 4th season) right? / Yeah, it's like they caused too much chaos in Westeros so left to earth and settled. Yeah, I love Game of Thrones. It's awesome. Nope, this is slightly different to the one I set up on my profile. This is a collaboration between me and my awesome friend Fates Moonlight Demon. This begins in season 5, before Tyrion meets Daenerys.

Chapter 2

Air whistles past his ears.

Kronos dares to open his eyes, to try to see where he is, but swiftly sees that he's dropping down from the sky with horrifying speed. Nope, he thinks, shutting his eyes again. He's not got the advantage of immortality now; a fall from… whatever height he was at would surely kill him.

Trust Chaos to kill him before he's even started.

There's a loud thud as he collides with the ground. He groans and curls up, cursing the Primordials and any other immortal he could think of to the depths of Tartarus and back. He takes several deep breaths, realising that Chaos had ensured that he wouldn't die from that fall. Slowly, painfully, Kronos rolls to his feet. Backbiter has landed next to him, point first and the blade quivering like a pendulum; he grabs the sword before shifting through the pack Chaos had seen fit to give him.

Fortunately, there's enough food to last several days, well... if he rations properly. But there's not much else other than an unstrung bow attached to the outside, a coil of sinew for bowstring and a dozen arrows. A dagger finishes the fine collection of items given to him.

Anger swiftly sets in. The Primordials had dared to pick him up from his sleep - despite the fact that Chronos had saved his life in the process - and then dump him in the one place he never wanted to return to. Kronos wanted to plunge his dagger into Chaos' fucking heart. No, he wouldn't finish just there, he'd shove it up his asshole for good measures and good luck.

Instead, he considers plunging it into his own - heart. Would Chaos really send him to the Fields of Punishment? Him? An immortal? One of the greatest immortals ever created, reduced to a mere mortal? It was beneath him. A hysterical laugh bubbles out of his throat, which turns into a cackle. Yet, here he was. Stuck in… this is Essos, he realises. Not Westeros.

"Fuck you, Chaos." Kronos hisses. He stands, directing an aggravated sigh skywards, pack and sword firmly in hand. Westeros. Essos. The land of his birth - how irritating.

Grumbling to himself, Kronos scans the area around him. The area is derelict except for the shrubs and vegetation littered here and there desiccating in the heat - now black and twisted. They resembled the silhouette of demonic hands, desiring to mutilate one's soul away from them - well Kronos had relished the feeling of that already, but that was the least of his concerns yet in order to survive. A horse would be useful if he was going to get anywhere quickly. But according to the bastards that had exiled him in this world, apparently that was a luxury he wasn't permitted.

He starts walking north-east, judging his direction by the position of the sun. He forces his tiredness aside, even though with every painstaking step he takes his body screams for rest, refusing against his own wishes. So this is what it feels like to be mortal, pathetic. Kronos sighs, helplessly dragging the mortal bag of meat he wears around with him like a tainted stain, decorating him for what eternity he has left to live. There's time to sleep later, but for now, he needs to move.

Hours passed, Kronos walking along a road cutting through high valleys on either side, his mind elsewhere. The valleys crawled up above him, their shadows looming across the road, warning him of their presence and their danger - rockfalls. The savage heat from the sun above was playing its game, making Kronos hallucinate as he crawled forward at an agonisingly slow pace. He passed a tree, one of its branches oddly longer than the rest. Though when he passed it, he was sure he saw he heard snickering coming up from the branches of the canopy - he turned to see Chronos and Chaos, smirks on their faces as they cackled with laughter at him.

Kronos let the wrath of his anger take over when he saw the two forms, moving at a blinding pace. He crouched to the floor to grasp a rock of any kind, or two - lobbing it at the pair to knock them out like a crow in its nest, plopping to the floor dead, presumably. The rocks took flight in mid air, Kronos shutting his eyes as he threw with all his vigour. However the outcome was disappointing - the rocks landing no more than eight metres away from him, not even reaching the height of the branch.

A sudden forceful breeze swept past him, blinding him temporarily. Naturally, he covers his eyes to protect him from further danger, or the two pricks in the branch. Moments pass and there's utter silence. Kronos uncovers his eyes opening them, observing the rocks that lay before him, a pathetic attempt indeed. His eyes then snap up to the branches looking for the pricks, not even finding them there. The mortal stands there, blankly staring up at the tree, then back to the rocks and then again to the tree, repeating in disbelief for minutes.

Then out of nowhere, his hand comes into contact with his face, an ear shattering crack echoes across the valley as he slaps the living daylight out of himself.

"Fuck you!" Kronos shouts, his profanities rattling across the airways in the skies above, hissing at the pain - like a thousand tiny irons scalding him in his cheek. He's thankful that he's woken up from hallucinating, but now he wants to send a death sentence to the Primordials.

Back at the pavilion, the gods and demigods are a mess, literally. Watching on in hysterics at the new miserable life Kronos has.

"Oh my gods!" Annabeth cries out, bursting into a fit of laughter, slapping her hand on the table, Dionysus choking on the wine he's drinking as they watch Kronos smash the lights out of himself. Zeus is the background snickering with laughter watching his father go mentally insane.

"Why the Hades is he slapping himself?" Apollo cries out in between his laughter, wiping his eyes from the tears that are continuously falling. If phones had a new crying with laughter emoji, it would definitely be Apollo's face at the present moment.

The room is suddenly filled with darkness, the shadows clawing at the light as the said god appears at the mention of his name.

"Don't you dare swear under my name," Hades glares at Apollo, before he turns and breaks into a fit of laughter when he sees Kronos on the screen screaming profanities at literally no one. "What the Tartarus?!"

"THIS NEEDS TO GO ON TWITTER!" Percy yells falling backwards off his chair in hysterics, a babbling mess from the circus act.

"You can't do that Seaweed Brain remember?" Annabeth rolls her eyes at Percy, still grinning.

To the gods and demigods, they couldn't see what Kronos saw through his own eyes. So they concluded that Kronos had officially lost his marbles…

And it hadn't even been one full day yet.

Just before nightfall, Kronos crests over the top of a hill, feeling immense relief when he sets his eyes on a city spread out below him. He soon realises that it's abandoned, ruined husks of former buildings blackened from the heat of the days and no fires burning to mark mortals living there. But he doesn't worry about that, he's only worried about getting shelter, no matter where it is.

As if to encourage him forwards, the sky opens its doors of misery and rain splatters over him. Kronos grumbles, cursing profanities at the Primordials and the gods as he trudges towards the ruined city. He doesn't know exactly where he is, but doesn't particularly care either.

Sleep, then he'll worry about where he is.

With whatever is left of Kronos' sanity, he vaguely remembers to grab some wood for a fire to keep himself warm, before nudging open a rotting door in one of the houses out the outskirts of the city. He drops his pack down, puts Backbiter beside it and arranges the tinder.

Kronos snaps his fingers to start the fire. Once. Twice. Three times.

"You little shit hole!" Instantly, curses fly from his lips when nothing happens. He was utterly powerless, no better than a mere feeble mortal. He lets out a long sigh, groaning as he ponders on how to start the fire by hand - if he's lucky.

Only a few minutes later he curses again and drops the tinder he'd been using, having no luck whatsoever.

"Fuck luck," Kronos hisses as he reaches over to his pack and grabs a chunk of the bread, forlornly chewing at the food, murderously glaring at the treacherous tinder, hoping it would spontaneously burst into flames like mortals used to do around him.

After his impromptu meal, he picks up the tinder and tries again.

Once again, he soon gives up, the tinder being an utter bastard to him. Kronos pissed, he retreats to a corner, dragging his pack with him and putting Backbiter at his side, the dagger hidden beneath his plain shirt.

How was he supposed to sleep? It wasn't like immortals needed to sleep, they simply kept their energy up with copious amounts of ambrosia and nectar, so Kronos had never really slept before. He drops his head back to rest against the wall behind him and shuts his eyes.

Though his brain wasn't done with him just yet.

The two Primordials appear in his mind, stood there in the darkness mocking Kronos' now impotent being. Kronos' face twists with fury as he watches their faces cackling in pure delight, their mangled laughs taunting him. And before you know it, Kronos snaps, his face is straining as he imagines hammering the pricks with his bare hands. His face begins to grin in his sleep, as he smashes punches into Chaos' face repeatedly, golden ichor splattering the Primordial's face, choking him. He considers whether or not on choking the Primordial to death.

"Kronos seems to be having pleasant dreams," Percy states, as a matter of fact, watching the mortal Titan's various expressions whilst he's sleeping.

"I don't even want to think about what he's dreaming about," Thalia says blankly, cringing at the awkward disturbing thought.

Chronos appears behind about to nail him in the back out of revenge, but Kronos is one step ahead, twisting a split second beforehand and kneeing the Primordial where the sun don't shine. He sees Chronos wither on the invisible floor beneath him, laughing at the Primordial's painful discomfort, to say the least. He's about to smash another kick into Chronos' ribs -

Kronos wakes suddenly, struggling to remember what happened before he fell asleep, but those thoughts are wiped from his mind when he hears voices. Kronos wraps his hand around the hilt of Backbiter, slowly making his way to his feet. His mind is groggy and scrambling to recover from just having been sleeping.

He slips his pack over his shoulder and nudges the door open, peering out of the house and noting that the streets are completely deserted.

Cautiously, he lifts his sword as he slips out of the house, intent on finding out who's in the city with him, even though his eyes are deceiving him. He shivers involuntarily, his body now cold from the lack of warmth he'd had during the night, but still, he follows the voices. Every step he takes, they grow louder, their laughter making his face slightly twitch out of anger. He hated laughter that wasn't his, he was the only one who'd be left laughing at the end of this.

He turns a corner, stumbling across a group of men sat around a blazing fire, the crackling of their tinder and their voices looming over the deserted city. He scans over the men, noting that they're armed, every single one of them with a sword. They didn't come alone, as Kronos spots several horses tied to posts scattered around and picks out a black stallion amongst them. His eyes narrow, suddenly alert as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end from the threat they pose to him now he's not immortal.

There's the whisper of steel on steel from behind him, then something cold presses against the back of his neck. "What's a boy like you doing out here in Bhorash?"

"Fuck," Kronos swears under his breath, slowly turning around. He keeps Backbiter down by his side not wanting to draw attention to it, for now. The man behind him grins and prods him with his sword, causing Kronos to step back into the light of the fire, into the line of sight of the men by the fire. He clears his throat. "I was just passing through," he informs them, struggling to stop his teeth from chattering in the cold. "Sleeping in one of the houses."

He's well aware of the other armed men standing up behind him, one of them making their way over. "That's a nice sword," he comments.

Fortunately, Kronos still has his instincts. He knows not to let them get too close. Kronos raises Backbiter, even as another man approaches.

The man snorts. "Put the sword down, boy. You'll just get hurt."

Kronos bristles, anger brewing in his stomach. How dare they? "Make me," he bites out, gritting his teeth.

Several of the men draw swords at his threat.

Well fuck.

Kronos tightens his grip, letting his pack drop to the ground - it would only slow him down. He's ready for the first man to attack, the one still holding him at swordpoint. Kronos ducks under the pathetic swing, throwing himself to the side and shifting the position of Backbiter so it tears a small cut along the man's side.

The man spins around to face Kronos, eyes now slits, the others moving in towards him. Kronos sets his back to a house, eyes narrowing as he waits for the next attack. He's not wearing any armour, so he has the advantage of being fast, but a single hit could take him down - he needs to be cautious.

The sound of metal on metal echoes around as Kronos blocks the next strike, grunting as the man pushes him back - so much for immortal strength. Kronos lifts his sword to parry the next cut into the ground, turning to slam the pommel of Backbiter into the man's nose in retaliation. Red blood falls out of the man's nose like a waterfall and a satisfying crack is heard of the man's nose breaking to Kronos' joy.

"Yes Kronos!" Hecate shouts, edging Kronos on as she's throwing punches in mid-air.

"You support this guy?" Hermes snaps, shooting daggers at the said goddess of magic.

"You wanna go?" Hecate rises from her chair walking over to Hermes, sizing him up. "Team Kronos all the way!"

"You little-" Hermes is cut short as he throws the first punch at Hecate.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Suddenly, chants echo across the pavilion at the two immortals now in a deadlock with each other on the floor, strangling each other and continuously brawling punches left, right and centre.

"Seriously?!" Annabeth facepalms at the two fights that have simultaneously broken out of hand.

Kronos holds the dozen men off for several more long and exciting minutes, his back to the wall, but then Backbiter gets locked with another blade and while Kronos struggles to disentangle them, a fist gets slammed into his mortal face. He feels his nose break, blood trickling down onto his lips and chin as his sword slips from his hand and he staggers back against the wall behind. Karma is certainly a bitch.

He growls and takes out his dagger as he throws himself at one of the men, unerringly plunging the blade into his throat. The pleasurable sound of the mortal screaming rings in his ears, slick crimson blood coats the dagger and his hand. When Kronos pulls it back, turning to face the other men, a sword's hilt gets rammed into his chin. Kronos' head is knocked to the side, blood splattering over his face, his nose also throbbing with pain.

The demigods flinch at Kronos getting slammed in the chin.

"Kronos!" Hecate's cry echoes out across the pavilion as she blocks one of Hermes punches to her ribs just in time.

Kronos determined not to back down just yet as he keeps himself on his feet, keeping the dagger up as the men circle him.

Each time one of them attacks, brazenly swinging their swords like mad men, Kronos counters with rapid strikes; though he doesn't last much longer.

Kronos is eventually tackled to the ground, landing with a grunt as blood, bone and dirt mingle in his mouth. He forces his hands beneath him, his blood coursing with pure rage and starts to lift himself up, until he feels a sharp kick into his side knocking the wind out of him. The man who'd tackled him pries the dagger from his grasp as he keeps Kronos pinned down.

The man above him grunts as Kronos tries to twist out of his grip. "Someone grab the rope," he orders.

Kronos snarls and turns, twisting his body until he has a free hand which he uses to try to tear himself out of the man's grip. In response, several more of the mortals pin him down, though he's now on his back. The former immortal spits at the mortal holding him down, causing the man to rear back and punch him in the face. One of the men has his knee pressed into Kronos' stomach and holds his own dagger to his throat, two others hold down his struggling limbs. Kronos grits his teeth as a mortal lumbers over with a length of rope, crouching and tightly binding his hands together.

Hermes stops, midway through his final brawl looking towards the screen at Kronos' puny defeat. He turns back towards Hecate watching her face dim at Kronos' loss.

"Looks like it's one - nil to Team Olympus," Hermes smirks, recoiling away from Hecate's body on the floor, dusting himself and walks calmly back to his seat.

"It's not over yet," Hecate wipes her nose of ichor sputtering out everywhere, before getting up and sitting back down in her chair sending death glares at Hermes. Hermes scoffs at her claim, turning back to watch a broken Kronos.

Kronos lets his head drop back onto the ground with a long sigh as the men get off him.

"So," one of the men says as he picks up Backbiter, waving the steel blade in Kronos' face, "where'd a boy like you get a blade like this?"

"None of your business," Kronos sneers. He gets a kick in his side at the attitude he shows to the men, making him hiss and curl up slightly. It's just his luck that he gets stuck with abusive assholes.

The man shakes his head, standing up with Backbiter in hand. "Alright," he says calmly, before nodding to his allies. "Move him over to the fire, the boy's shivering."

Kronos glares at the man who grabs him and hauls him to his feet. "I can walk myself," he growls.

"And risk you running?" he asks with a grin. "Why'd we do that?"

They left the man Kronos had killed lying on the ground, shoving Kronos over to the fire. Instantly, the heat washed over Kronos like a slap across the face - and he'd been slapped many times in his long life by a certain indignant Titaness - and he regrets giving up on his fire.

Kronos isn't expecting to be kicked behind his knees. He grunts, putting his hands out in front of him as he drops. His ankles are swiftly bound together, like his hands, the rope digging into his mortal body flinching at the pain. The man who'd dragged him over to the fire tosses the remainder of the rope to the man with Backbiter, the end binding his ankles.

Kronos' eyes narrow at the men. He would have slaughtered them in a billion ways making them beg for mercy if he had his immortality - but at the present moment, he didn't.

The man studies Backbiter with a critical eye. "This blade," he repeats, "where did it come from?" When Kronos doesn't answer, he sighs. "Look, boy," he says, leaning forwards getting a better look at Kronos' bloody and battered face, "it would be a good idea to answer our questions. We're letting you sit by our fire," he pauses briefly, lifting an eyebrow. "And you're not going anywhere anytime soon."

Kronos' jaw flexes when he hears his destined fate.

"How about this then?" the man says. "Where did you learn to fight like that? You're what? Seven and ten - eight and ten?"

"I taught myself," Kronos says, his tone flat. He's not an idiot and stuck as a mortal, with his hands and feet bound together, with his weapons taken and his food now also taken, he's at their mercy. And it stings deep inside to hear those thoughts - that he's at the mercy of anyone else, even more so mortals - but he'll have to survive.

The man seems suddenly even more interested. "Really?" he muses.

Kronos nods stiffly.

"Do you know who we are, boy?"

"Kronos," Kronos states, correcting him. He wasn't a boy, he was a supposed King.

"Alright, Kronos," he says sharing an amused glance with his friends. "Do you know who we are?"

"I can guess," Kronos remarks, nodding to the rope binding his wrists and ankles, to the length of rope linking him to the man talking. "Slavers."

The man grins. "Good in a fight and clever. But it's more like we sell to the slavers and they sell on. Lucky for you," he continues, "there's a ship not far from here. We'll get our money for you and hand you over." He smiles, looking expectantly at Kronos for a reaction of some sort - other than the calmness he'd been showing before.

Kronos, not the idiot the slavers wanted him to be, realises this and works to keep his expression calm, despite the raging storm inside him. So he would be sold to slavers, and they'd sell him on to whoever bid the highest. Vaguely, Kronos remembers slavers and slaves during Ancient Rome, Greece and the period in which he ruled. Kronos looks towards the man. "I can't imagine you'll sell me with blood over my face, and an obviously broken nose and cracked jaw."

The slaver's eyes narrow at Kronos, before he turns to the other slavers. "Get some sleep." He nods towards Kronos. "The boy's not going anywhere."

The slavers mumble their agreement, retreating to their rolls laid out over the floor, but not before a stray boot catches Kronos in the stomach causing Kronos to choke out blood and another in his back, knocking him over. Kronos hisses as his cracked jaw and nose collide with the ground.

"Don't worry, boy. You'll look presentable by the time we meet with the boat."

That wasn't Kronos' concern. It was more that the blood was still trickling down his face and he detested the taste of blood, mortal blood. The thought was dashed from his mind as another boot catches him in his injured, unprotected stomach. He forces himself to bite back a cry of pain.

At least, Kronos thinks, he's not shivering anymore.

Oh, I love abusing Kronos. A WARM WELCOME TO ESSOS! Yeah, this is going to be fun.

So, once again, thanks to the all-important Fates Moonlight Demon for making the chapter so much better. We're gonna have so much fun writing this!

So this begins during season 5, before Tyrion meets Daenerys. And we're going to have plenty of Kronos' ass being kicked as he gets used to the limits of mortality.