You Promised, Annabeth

Prologue: Descendant into Madness

Percy Jackson wasn't insane.

Quite the opposite actually.

He grew up with a kind hearted, amazing mother that never wavered from his side. Sure, his step father was an asshole and the kids at school, equally so; it just wasn't in his nature to be outright rude unless the person deserved it. He had one best friend he could always count on, and that's all Percy really needed.

He was perfectly sane. Perhaps even a bit content.

Until he wasn't.

Like most things now, his perfectly normal life was ruined by the Greek gods and their never ending squabble. The revelation of his godly heritage was exhilarating, unraveling the mysteries behind the peculiar events that had dotted his life. However, this newfound excitement slowly soured, giving way to an undercurrent of misery. The allure of being a half-god with remarkable powers and a sense of belonging lost its luster as the costs became apparent.

He was one of the lucky ones (if you could call him lucky), because Percy was still alive. However, there were many others that were not as fortunate. He'd seen more than enough burials in his lifetime. Still, it was part of the "job": of being a hero. But Percy didn't sign up for this. Who would?

Fatigue gnawed at Percy's spirit as the death toll rose, the gods' indifference painfully evident. War waged in their names, monsters pursued them incessantly; Percy's endurance reached its limits. Attempting to maintain faith in his divine lineage, he clung to the notion of family loyalty, though the gods' reciprocity was dubious at best.

He tries to look the other way. Tried to give them the benefit of doubt. Because at the end of the day, they're family and he never turns his back on family.

But then again, when have they had his back?

Percy didn't truly grasp just how excruciating little that the gods actually didn't care until one of his friends died. And even then, he still held hope. A poor, idiotic minuscule of hope that somehow, somewhere in their black hearts that they were loved.

He laughed at the thought of that now.

Because the ugly reality was that they were only created for the gods personal gain. To be little pawns in the grand scheme of it all. But no one wanted to have that conversation because just like the old Percy, they too held hope. They were too naive to see the truth, like he once was.

He wasn't always this pessimistic. Of course he had the occasional thought, but he wanted to stay blissfully unaware because if he didn't face the truth, then it simply wasn't there.

So for a while, he decided to stay like that. Ignorantly in the darkness of the truth, letting it consume him slowly without being aware of it.

But just like any other facade, he'd have to face it one way or another.

Percy just never realized just how much the truth actually affected him and festered something awful within.

So no. Percy Jackson wouldn't call himself insane. But if being insane means that he's the only one who can see the truth, if it means that it makes him the villain, then so be it.

He'll be the villain.

The one that will destroy the gods.