Tyrant King - A Percy Jackson FanFic

Chapter 22

Thalia's scream rang in Percy's ears as he slowly pulled the sword from Jason's stomach. Red blood covered the golden blade, and pooled around Jason's body. Percy stood from where he knelt, dropping the sword to the ground with a clatter, watchin Jason slowly die. 
"I hate you!" Thalia shrieked. Percy turned to her with narrow eyes. Her eyes were red-rimmed and angry, her cheeks wet with tears. 
"You were supposed to be good!" she cried, "You were supposed to be the best of us!"
"Sorry to disappoint," Percy said dryly before walking up towards the throne. Thalia kept screaming insults at him, but he ignored her. 
Until she yelled, "You were supposed to be better than Luke!"
He froze. She continued, "You were supposed to be better than him! But your just the same. Just a selfish, just as arrogant."
He turned slowly to face her, "Get out."
She took a step back at the malice in his voice. 
"I said, GET! OUT!" Percy roared. She turned on her heel and ran from the throne room. Percy sat down on his throne with a humph. Thalia was right. He was just as bad as Luke. He was worse than Luke.
A cough from the side of the room brought Percy out of his thoughts. Jason was still alive, somehow. He was looking at Percy, blood dribbling from his mouth, his purple shirt stained crimson. 
"I forgive you," he whispered, before his eyes slowly shut, and Jason Grace died.

***

Later that day, a body was hung on the gates of Olympus, visible to anyone who came up the elevator. All the demigods who wished to leave were sent back to their respective camps. The King of Olympus shut himself away in his rooms, not leaving even for dinner. The demigods who had chosen to stay had tried to visit him, but his doors had been locked. 
Even though the King had triumphed, he had lost something at the same time.
At the camps, word quickly spread of the son of Jupiter's demise. Fear spread across the country faster than a disease. Everyone was afraid. Those closest to the King began to distance themselves from him, scared that they would be next.
He had become a monster of legend, someone they would talk about for years to come on dark nights to scare young demigods. 
Even the mortals began to realise that something horrible was in the process of happening. The streets of New York became less inhabitted, especially at night. Police patrols occured more often. 
All the while, the King remained cooped up in his room, keeping away from all eyes. For he agreed with them. He was a monster. He was something they should fear. And all feared him.
Except one...