The Fates (Book II)

10.2 - The Fight

Let's see what transpires now that Rider is finally arriving at Argos...

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Scene 2: The Fight

2020 B.C.

Argos. The champion and his company had finally reached Argos. The sun stood still, the wind holding its breath as they approached.

And now that he'd at long last reached his destination, Rider would not stop for anything, nor be hindered by anyone. Ordered his company to set up camp, some distance away from the city, to stay behind as he forged on - he was determined to confront the king alone. Given the recklessness of what he was about to do, if he were to bring others with him, that would only pose a danger to them.

For Rider knew chances were high that he might not emerge from this alive; this was his mission, worth pursuing even if he died, but he was not about to risk anyone else's life.

As he prepared to leave, he did not bother bidding farewell to his wife. She would have tried to stop him, but she knew he wouldn't listen. Rider addressed his followers once more before hefting his sword and heading toward the city: if by nightfall he had not yet returned to them, he said, they should presume him to be dead and leave this realm.

Lachesis shuddered at the thought but reassured herself with faith in her husband's invincible heroism. On the pedestal he occupied in her heart and her mind, Rider stood above everyone and everything, such that it seemed nothing could kill him.

Dictys watched with a desolate heart as the man he had raised and cherished for so long ventured off. By this point the old mentor had spent many tireless hours striving to pull Rider away from this path, to dissuade him from chasing these meaningless aims. All in vain. It was all he could do now to hope desperately that he'd see him again.

Rider strode forth into Argos, leaving everyone and everything behind. Went toward the palace, the site of royalty and power usurped by Proetus, and approached the first guard he could find. Spoke plainly, wasting no time. "Tell your king that his son has arrived."

The message was relayed from one man to the next, up to the ruler of Argos himself, and soon enough - though not nearly as soon as Rider would have liked - a host of the king's men came to collect him and escort him to court.

As his alleged son entered the throne room and stood tall before him, giving his name as Perseus when instructed to announce himself, King Proetus reacted to his presence with a chuckle and a snort.

"So you claim to be my son. Supposing this is true, though it cannot be proved, why should I even care, do you reckon?" he asked. "I've bedded many whores, who bore many sons of mine before, I'm sure - but to a king like me, none of those bastards ever mattered."

Rider flexed his jaw, fixing his blue gaze on the cold, callous monarch. "My mother was no whore. She was a royal of this land, the daughter of a man recently murdered by an assassin of yours."

It took a moment for Proetus to put the pieces together. His dark grey brows arched high into his wrinkled forehead once he did. "Ah, yes, good old Acrisius. I was most delighted to learn of my assassin's success. So you're the child of Danaë, the poor imprisoned princess?"

Affirmation came in the form of steady, seething silence.

"I must say, she was perhaps the sweetest of my conquests," the king recalled with a salacious grin. "Almost as pretty as she was stupid, you know - the daughter of my greatest enemy, so fun and easy to seduce, brainless enough to actually believe that I was Zeus."