The Legend of Perseus: The Labors

Ch. 23 V2

Ch. 23

A.N: I rewrote the last part... Not sure its still the way I want it but it will do for now. I may change parts at some point, we'll see.

Perseus sat a few feet into the small pond located by the hut he shared with Heracles in Tiryns. He held his right arm under the water and let the liquid do its magic on the painful burn he had on the bottom half of his forearm. He'd had no time on their journey back from stealing the mares of Diomedes, King of Argos, to heal his wound. They had been forced to flee into the countryside with the man-eating equines, the soldiers of Diomedes hot on their trail.

After being cornered, Heracles had set to work on tethering the horses to a few trees while Perseus held off their attackers with his bow. He wasn't sure how many enemies he killed but by the time Heracles returned to the battle, the threat was nothing the duo couldn't handle within a few minutes.

It was easily the most men Perseus had ever slain in battle. His mind had felt numb, his body moving on its own accord, firing arrows with deadly precision as the soldiers tried to advance. His bow had become like another extension of his body, working in perfect sync with his arms, launching projectile after projectile, cutting down men like they were nothing but targets in an archery range. While he felt slightly guilty but he knew that it had been a life or death situation and the soldiers would have killed him without a second thought.

Still, he did feel bad. They had been attacking on the orders from their king and their king had been justified in ordering the attack. He and Heracles had stolen the king's prized horses. And even if they'd been of the man-eating, fire breathing variety, it still felt wrong. What had really bothered him was Heracles feeding a few of Diomedes' soldiers to the horses before the pursuit. He had been right about it calming the beasts and preventing them from attacking them, it was still a stomach turning scene to watch the men be devoured within seconds by the dozen ravenous animals.

He'd been burned when they first snuck into the stables to steal the horses in the middle of the night, after the king had offered them quarter. They'd claimed to be weary travelers and been shown kindness and hospitality that few kings would have offered. That was the other thing that bothered him. He felt like a criminal, taking advantage of the king's kindness to steal from him.

He pushed those thoughts aside, knowing they had done what they had to. It was Hera who was really to blame. It was her ridiculous labors that forced them to do it and the blame lay on her immortal shoulders and hers alone.

He pulled his arm from the water and let out a relieved sigh when he found it showed no lasting effects from the burns. He had been worried his right arm would be disfigured like his left. Like always, his damaged arm was hidden beneath the custom built leather vambrace that Heracles made for him, hiding his injured flesh from the bicep down. Only his scared fingers were visible, allowing him to avoid looking at the gift he'd gotten from battling the Hydra.

Perseus heard footsteps approaching and looked behind him to find Heracles making his way back from the palace of Eurystheus. To their surprise, the king had actually taken the man-eating horses, sending them off with a few of his servants. He'd then dismissed Perseus, only allowing an audience for Heracles. Perseus guessed it had something to do with his habit of calling out the king when he showed his cowardice in front of the heroes.

He'd left happily, not wishing to spend any more time than necessary with the king and his petulant little herald.

He rose from the pond and stepped out of the water, his clothes completely dry as he met Heracles in front of their hut.