Ask and ye' shall receive... in two to three shipping days(lol). So, I wanted to humanize some of the villains and give them a different array of emotions because they just seemed too one-sided in the books, so who better than the main villains.

Krono's POV

I had finally found my mark. The person I had been hunting with my legion of followers after hearing about how the infamous Percy Jackson was currently enjoying the hospitality in Tartarus. I saw him cutting apart my forces, but I wanted to make sure that when we fight, it'll be the end of him.

It may be cowardly of me, the Titan Lord to wear down an insignificant demigod, but I was cautious of him. After meeting him and fighting him, I will admit he is powerful and someone to be cautious of. Deep inside though, I may admit that he has gained my grudging respect. For someone like him, who is powerful yet humble, and also loyal to those who he believes is right and does not follow blindly; I lament that he was not on my side from when I last risen. He would've been a leading figure for my cause. I am sure back when I reigned, he would've been a high ranking member of my army purely because of his personality. Maybe if we had him, we wouldn't have been overthrown by the Gods.

I still frown whenever I think about how my own children overthrew me. Sure, I may have deserved it, but when I think about how painful it must've felt when you are cut up into little pieces, the raw emotions that emerges, the look on their face that cuts more deeply than any physical wound; like when I did that to my father, they would understand with how I did not wish to go through the same thing.

Nowadays, the only reason I still fight against my children and their own is because it's all I know. It is all I remember from my time. The world has changed so much, that I wouldn't know much of what to do. Fighting against my kids is something that I know. If I didn't, then I would be lost in this world. In truth, I grow numb to my actions. It is something that I've always known, and so to stop now would change who I am. So I keep up my scowl to play my act and sell my ploy.

Nowadays, I would reminisce the days when I was with those that I love. My precious Rhea. Whenever I was with her, I always felt grounded. it reminded me of times when I would take her out for walks to talk about inane things just to spend time together. Her enchanting voice. Her melodious peals of laughter whenever I would try to impress her by doing something but just made an ass out of myself instead.

I remember her face when we learned that she was with child. The pure elation and happiness was something that I will never forget even if I fade. I remember crying out loud in joy and spinning her around until she whacked me hard enough to put her down. I remember the times when she would have mood swings of happiness and sadness. How she made our siblings run for the hills whenever she was in a mood. I remember the looks she would give our siblings as their children ran around and frolicked without a care in the world. I remember whispering sweet nothings to her and to talk about how we were going to have a little one of our own running around being adorable and complete pain in our butt.

I force back tears as I recall the visit of the Fates. Those abominable wretches. I could still hear their insane cackles as they foretold that my children would overthrow us. I recall the look of worry and trepidation on my sweet Rhea as she looked at me. I remember her begging me not to do anything drastic. My wholehearted promises that I would be understanding and try to raise our children as best we could.

Alas, t'was not to be. As time passed, I began to recall my father's look of shock and betrayal in his single moment of clarity as he was passing. I still see the look in his eyes; eyes filled with shock, anger, betrayal, sadness, acceptance, but most of all: regret. I knew at that moment that he was truly sorry for what he had done. His siblings all looked to him, and it just became too much for him.

He met my gaze as I felt the scythe cut into him. His eyes shone with emotions as he passed on a silent message to me. I am sorry you have to do this. I hope you have a good life in the future. They said. And with that, he put on an act to convince the others as I felt guilt constrict my chest as I committed patricide.

When she finally went into labor, my mind had been muddled with emotions that I wasn't thinking straight. Yet, when I learned that it was a little girl, I nearly cried out in joy. Instead I forced it back down and gazed down at her, tufts of small brown hair and adorable doe-like brown eyes. As soon as I saw her, I immediately knew that she would have me wrapped around her little finger. Her little gurgles of innocence and wriggling of childhood made me even more enamored with our little firefly. I would hum the same lullaby my mother did for me, for her and the children that followed after each time. My precious Hestia.

I still tear up and reminisce about those days about everything that I felt made me who I was at the time; my whole world: Rhea, and the light that brightens my world: Hestia.

Weeks passed blissfully and I thought everything would be alright; but as if a viper waiting to strike, I soon recalled the Fate's warnings. Paranoia soon overtook my mind and in a fit of insanity, swallowed my first-born whole. Immediately, I recognized what I had done as it tore me up inside. The hurt and betrayed look on my Rhea's face hurt deeply. I would try to console her, but soon learned that I should give her a few days. Afterwards I would console her and try to make up. The ever loving and faithful(and merciful) wife she was soon acquiesced. What a pair of fools we were for believing in me, even when I was having random bouts of insanity around the time.

This only led to repeated events, something that drove me mad every time. I remember the last time she looked at me after our sixth child was recently born, she had turned away from me in disgust and wouldn't even look at me anymore.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. And the rest is history.

I felt a hand drop onto my shoulder, breaking me out of my reverie, as I looked towards my mother's face. A look of determination and sorrow mixing as we joined the fray.

Gaia's POV

I had learned of the fall of Perseus Jackson from an communication device that was found by some upstart son of Poseidon. After I was sent back to sleep, my brother Tartarus gave me enough power to reawaken me in his realm. From then on, I had lived in moderate comfort, but still, I had a grudge against the sea spawn.

Even if he has my regards, I am not one to go quietly into the night. When I learned there was a half-brother of his, I set in motion a chain of events that would lead to his downfall. I thought at most, he would be ostracized or at worst hated. The boy who had given his all for the Gods would at least be given some leeway.

Right?

But the abominable traitor of Poseidon had did worse than I thought. Even more horrifying, the Gods were so quick to cast out Young Perseus as if he was yesterday's trash. And from what I heard, was because of not only my influences, but also the attempted rape of my grandchild, Hestia.

Now, I may not know my descendants that well, but I can say for certain that Perseus would never do such a thing. Why he would even be seeking comfort with a God rather than his own mortal family or girlfriend that he fell into Tartarus for baffles me. I know that he had a good relationship with his mother. Something that I envy. My children have always been a little distant with me. The Titans wanted to grow up too fast, while the Giants are almost meat-for-brains with no thought process past what I tell them to do sometimes.

From the time from whence he fell according to the traitor to now, he should've been in here for almost fifteen years. Fully mortal and without any powers after his banishment. Topside, he should've been gone for almost five years.

Now, we've finally found him, and I have to say, he has seen better days. Since he was partially immortal, meaning he didn't really age. But that couldn't mean that you don't look like shit. His body is adorned with blemishes of past and recent injuries, facial hair is splotchy from his 5 o'clock shadow, and he has rags for clothing with whatever he could scrounge up down here. More than half of his life spent fighting in Tartarus and the time before in the service of some petulant Gods.

After killing all of the monsters, he looks at Kronos and I. I give my son the signal to join the fray after noticing the IM towards Perseus. I can hear something about apologies and redemption and about how someone will help him. Ironic, there's no help given freely to those trapped here in Tartarus, only masked agendas by using others.

I stand down after seeing Perseus pinned against the wall. After a lengthy battle against him, we were right to try wearing him down first. Since we're in Tartarus, we weren't at full strength, something that young Perseus nearly capitalized on. I cradle my chest as there is a large slash wound from his sword when he got my son and I to collide by accident. I had only barely been able to save my son by holding Perseus back and allowing Kronos to impale him.

It would've been mutual destruction though had I not noticed last second his sword drop from his hand and kicked towards my son's chest. I raised him on a platform before it could skewer him, which saved his life as it went through his rib cage and not his throat.

Kronos gives me a grateful look as he relaxes slightly from our post-battle adrenaline. The demigod is struggling against the scythe pinning him to the rock wall, feet kicking weakly as he futilely tries to pull it out by the only part he could reach, the blade. His hands would try to grasp the flat part of the blade, but his strength would fail him every time as he would slip and cut himself on the edge. His blood coated the surface of the weapon, giving it a sickening ethereal sheen. After a while, I saw his eyes light up, causing me to instinctively tense. He had put one hand against the rock wall while bending his knees to push his feet against the rock while his other arm reached out to grab the edge and hold it as tightly as he could as he pushed himself deeper onto the scythe. It worked though as I saw and heard the scythe move outwards inch by inch. I corrected that as I dashed forwards, slamming my hands against the top half of the handle and drove it even deeper into the rock wall and him.

A strangled sob escapes him as he is smashed back again, but not before getting in a good headbutt on me, breaking my nose which allowed ichor to pour down. I gaze at him as I ensure he is going to stay put, only to recoil back as he coughs out his blood, some of it decorating my cheek. Yet even still, he tries to pull it out, only he no longer has the strength to do so. His feet hang there limply, as if he no longer could control his lower half, no doubt crippled as the scythe had undoubtedly cut his spine in two which at least made him into paralyzed from the waist down. If the scythe's width had been even a quarter-foot longer, them I no doubt believe that it would've bisected him in two from where it is pierced, a little but lower from where his pectorals meet his abdominal muscles.

It is a saddening to see someone I hold in high regards as Perseus trying desperately to survive his predicament, especially after such a distasteful way of defeating him. He is only just someone trying to play the hand dealt to him. His whole life he struggled, and this is the fate dealt him. It truly saddens me to think that for someone as great as Perseus would meet his end in such a way.

I guess his namesake didn't give him the same luck he had.

Krono's POV

I sat there, listening to the story of this... child. I saw him as a great adverary and what not, but I only now realized that he was also a child when he had to go through everything he did. He had no happiness or innocence growing up. He had to mature before his time due to the life he had to suffer through. I never though of what this would do to him. In the back of my mind, I recall the fact that he wasn't even in his second decade yet and he had already been through so much.

I remember that when I was his age, I was still trying to figure out my powers and training with my family in blissful innocence. I had a father who was there for me and loved me. My family and friends were together and I thought that if I ever died and went to the Underworld, this is what Elysium would be.

He was beaten and taken advantage of since he could remember. And that had occurred from since he was a child to when he was banished. The only difference was who was doing it. I sense that he knew of what I am thinking but didn't care, so long as he got some semblance of happiness where he was okay and was able to open up to someone up above. I assume that he didn't get such a thing if he was only breaking down here amongst his killers in hell at his death.

I finally see how hollow he looks and the mask that he had so carefully crafted was cracking open under the pressure. A child who all he knew was abuse, punishment and unrest concealed behind his act of happiness and joy. His first time here only accelerated his instability.

All he wanted was someone to see through his mask for what was really going on with him so he had someone there for him. Depressingly enough, it seemed as if he almost had someone like that, but she declined him which probably drove him over the edge.

The most important demigod, the ever powerful demigod: Percy Jackson was just a child like the rest of the ones before him, only he had never got to be at peace. He was the one who had to keep it intact.

A pitiful tale indeed. It is heart-wrenching for someone like him to wind up with a fate such as this. While I feel that my story may be sad from my perspective, his is tragic in the grand scheme of things. Something that I no doubt the Fates had a hand in.

When I saw the light of his eyes slowly flickering out as he was reaching his end, reaching out for someone or something to hold onto, I couldn't keep up my scowl as I hurried over to him with my mother by my side. As we held his hands that grew evermore clammy and cold, I felt something fall down my face.

Tears, something that I though I would never see anymore after running out when Rhea had deserted me and left me broken. This child looked so feeble and weak because of the actions of us immortals, and now he is paying a price for it. I could hear his words and each one broke me down every time.

Is this what it feels like to lose something important and never get it back due to your actions? I was so distraught that when I heard my mother singing the same lullaby that I had sang to Hestia to comfort her when she was young, I couldn't help but sing along.

Sadly, I don't think he could hear as he didn't seem to register it. I saw tears fall from Gaia's face as well as she tried to comfort him. It didn't seem to help much because as if on reflex, he put up that damnable mask as if it were natural.

The life left his eyes as his evermore present and haunting lopsided grin mocked those who could never recognize it for a cry for help. I couldn't help but shudder as I lamented my actions due to my pride and ignorance. Something the I hope the Gods up above are regretting as well. I couldn't help but whisper to myself, as if asking for some reassurance from someone.

"Are we the ones at fault due to our pride and ignorance and he was just a child that got wrapped up in our messes? It this what we've come to? Is this what we've become?" I called out for someone to answer me.

I'll probably have another chapter or two before I decided I'm done with this story since that's where I feel it would be a good place to leave off at. Until next time.