Hello! This is my first story on this site, so please review and tell me to do more, tell me anything I've done wrong or if this is any good. Cheers!
I do not own Percy Jackson or any characters from Rick Riordan's books.
Percy was having a bad day. Well, not quite a bad day, much more like a bad life. He was constantly being used as the god's plaything for his whole life. He was fighting for his life in the greek world since he was 12, got caught in two great prophesies, and watched countless friends die in his hands. But Percy had been dealing with more monsters than greek ones, ones that a magical sword couldn't disperse. He was abused for most of his childhood by his first step-father, Gabe Ugliano, or Smelly Gabe, as he used to call him. Gabe was a putrid, disgusting drunk who would beat Percy unconscious at the slightest hint of sarcasm or balk talk.
During his trip to the land beyond the gods, Percy brought back home something he never thought possible. The fear of drowning. Every time Percy saw any body of water larger than a puddle, Percy was back in the muskeg, his lungs filling with mud, suffocating him slowly as Gaea whispered in his ear. "The son of Poseidon is scared of his father's domain?" She mocked, "You would have done well to stay in Tartarus."
Gods, just the name Tartarus sent shivers down Percy's spine. He and Annabeth had spent two weeks in the eternal pit of damnation, constantly tailed by all the enemies both demigods had fought, breathing in air that slowly killed them, and drinking fire to stay alive. Percy had discovered that his powers didn't just extend to water, anything that had water in it, Percy could control. Coke? Yup. Sweat and tears? Yup. Blood? Most definitely. Percy had killed a goddess when he first discovered this out. The two demigods stent the rest of the trip to the doors in silence.
Annabeth had broke up with him after the war. She said he changed too much in Tartarus, and he couldn't blame her. Percy did what had to be done to escape the pit, even if it meant losing himself in the prosses. But was Percy really there in the first place? He couldn't look around camp without seeing the carnage from the battle of the labyrinth. He couldn't go to manhattan without seeing the dead bodies of his friends that died defending the gods. He couldn't look at Festus or cruise ships without remembering Beckendorf. Every time he looked at the stars or his sword, he remembered Zoe Nightshade. Every time he saw Nico Di Angelo, he remembered his promise to keep his sister safe.
Percy was tired. Tired of the constant fighting. Tired of constantly killing and following orders. He just wanted to settle down and live a normal, mortal life. But the gods wouldn't let him. He was their golden boy, the so-called savior of Olympus. He had killed more monsters and enemy demigods than he could count. He was just so tired, but he couldn't sleep. There was always an enemy, and the gods wouldn't let him rest. Not until they were absolutely sure that every enemy of Olympus was put to rest.
Percy did bad things to a lot of people, the Arai reminded him of that. He abandoned Calypso to her prison, got countless demigods killed because he wasn't quick or smart enough, and (indirectly) killed mortals and nearly doomed Olympus by blowing up Mt. Saint Helens and releasing Typhoon. He was no hero.
Percy Jackson was a monster, and he planed and being ended like one, too.