A/N: Hello, this is chapter eight. Enjoy. If you haven't, check out the Hunters of the Sun, and The Guardians, and The Dissonant Notes of Fate. As usual, I hope you have a great read.
PERSEUS strapped his shield to his arm, inhaling deeply. He couldn't afford to be afraid. He couldn't baulk. Not now. Not when the Greeks were steadily approaching the Beach. The ships had been spotted on the horizon about an hour ago, and since then the city had been a flurry of activity, shouts and preparations for war.
He hadn't even gotten the time to speak with Hector or wish Aeneas good-luck when the order had come that the Generals were to prepare their troops and meet at the beach. As a recently promoted Stratigos, he was part of these Generals, and it had taken him just about fifteen minutes to make sure all the three-thousand men in his battalion were ready. And then he had retreated into his own barracks to fetch his armour—armour Apollo had had crafted for him. It was beautiful. Intricate. It was made of celestial bronze, like the god had explained, but it wasn't heavy as he'd expected. Moving around in it was quite easy and it came with a golden shield and a spear long enough to pierce through four men at once. His sword hung at his side, and he had strapped his helmet to his waist also.
He was placing his hands into the vambraces when he felt her presence.
Selene manifested from the shadows and air, a dull silver glow announcing her presence. As usual, she looked ethereal and majestic, dark hair cascading down her shoulders, bright eyes full of wisdom and beauty. He inclined his head in greeting at her arrival, and then smiled hesitantly. "Selene. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Well, I heard something about a war," She shrugged. "Why, did you not wish me to be here?"
He shook his head. "Oh, it's nothing like that. Seeing you is a surprise, but a welcome one."
She nodded, eyes lighting up with amusement. And then she tilted her head to the side. "Make sure to stay safe out there."
He frowned. "It's war, Lady Selene. I can't make any promises. And besides, no mere soldier can best me in battle. I've been trained by gods."
She rolled her eyes. "I have no doubt that many of the men on the Greek side shall run at the sight of you. But you're still going to have to fight against renowned heroes—like Diomedes, and Odysseus and—"
"Achilles," He finished for her. "I've fought him off before. Even though he has impenetrable skin, he can still be beaten. I just need to find out how to do that."
"And you will," She nodded. The Titaness smiled. "Good luck, Perseus. And may the gods be with you." Without waiting for him to answer, she melted into a fine silver mist, and vanished from view.
-X-
HECTOR drummed his fingers against the shaft of his spear in anticipation. He stood at the head of the entire Trojan army. Thousands of men were behind him, each silent, each waiting in anticipation. The ships were almost at the beach. From their elevated spot on the hillside, Hector could see the men—kings and Commanders at the prows of their ships. Many were dressed in armour befitting gods, but what caught his sight was the fair haired man standing next to another who Hector recognised as Odysseus.
That was Achilles. Hector couldn't help but feel nervous. If what Perseus had said about this iron-skinned demigod was true, then it would be almost impossible to beat him. But Troy was depending on him, and he couldn't let his city down. His father had put all his faith in him, to lead their armies and that of their allies to success against Agamemnon and his forces. Hector stood next to the five Generals he himself had handpicked on the order of his father. Perseus stood next to him, hand resting on the sword at his side. He looked calm enough, but his eyes betrayed his expectancy and slight nervousness.
This wasn't the first war or battle they had seen, no. Over the years the fighting had been plenty. But this...This was different. This was several kingdoms—thousands upon thousands of men, Kings and heroes coming onto them, threatening their way of life because of one woman.
Aeneas was at his other side, tense, waiting, a circlet with an insignia on it over his head, signifying his Kingship over Dardania. it completed his armour and made him look every bit the King he was. Hector glanced backwards. The beach was far from the city and the palace, but he could make out the figures on the balcony, watching as they waited for the Achaeans. His family was there—Andromache, Creusa, Cassandra, his many younger brothers and sisters, his mother and his father. The older advisors and priests and court officials also watched from next to them. Helen stood next to the coward, Paris. Hector scowled. His brother should be fighting with them, not hiding away in the security of the palace. But he had refused to fight, probably for fear of his life.
Deiphobus, Hipponus, Helenus, Perseus, and Aeneas were his Generals—the army would answer directly to the five of them in the coming war. The rest of his brothers who were of age were leading other battalions and troops. Several of their allies from the neighbouring countries had arrived in time, including Tenes from Tenedos, Eetion, Andromache's father, Mynes of Lyrnessus, Pandarus of Zelia, Ascanus from Phrygia, Glaucus of Lycia, Memnon from Ethiopia, Phorcys, and several others. More were yet to come and Hector hoped against hope that that wouldn't become a problem.
He prayed to the gods that their summoned forces would be enough to combat the Greeks and defend their city.
He watched, with narrowed eyes as the first ship touched the sand. There was an intake of breath from next to him, one from Aeneas.
Prince Hector licked his lips, flexing his finger muscles to get ready. He squinted to see. The Greeks had all perched on the edge of the beach, but...none of them were coming. None of them were getting off. The men at the prows—commanders—seemed to be discussing amongst each other. Finally, one of them, Odysseus, it looked like, threw down his flat rectangular shield. Without a second to waste he leaped down from his ship and landed onto it. That seemed to spark a reaction from the Greeks.
Another man came down, wielding a sword and a shield. "Do we move?" Aeneas asked.
"Not yet," Hector murmured. Now, several Greeks came down, each of them roaring. In a matter of seconds the ships had emptied and thousands of soldiers raced for them, screaming. They were disorganised as they ran, no clear formation visible, and Hector narrowed his eyes as he saw them coming.
"Do we move?" Aeneas repeated, voice harsh.
"Not yet," Hector insisted, shaking his head. He just had to wait...
"Hector..." Perseus called his name in warning.
"Now!" He swung his spear and yelled, "Forward!"
Their army surged forward. Hector led Troy as they crashed against the first of the soldiers. He reared back, dodging a slice from a spearhead. The son of Priam swung his foot in the sand, sending a stream of dust into the air. His attacker—the first man who had landed after Odysseus—backtracked with a cry as he was blinded. Hector let out a roar and thrust his spear through the man's heart. Without waiting to see what happened he was pulling it free again. He dodged a strike from a sword and swung around, slamming his spear into his attacker's face.
He leaped off the ground, swinging in the air and came down, jabbing his spear through the helmet of another man. He dropped down dead. Hector could hear the cries and screams already resonating across the battlefield. Men fell, heads rolled and blood flowed. Hector tried to clear his thoughts as he fought. He dodged a strike and stabbed through a man's thigh with his spear. And then he slammed the bloodied end into another man's shield, piercing it and impaling him in the chest.
He could see Aeneas, ploughing his way through men with twin swords, making a path towards Odysseus. Perseus was on his left, slashing and decapitating men like a maniac. He fought like he was mad, and blood dripped down his sword and shield. His best friend tore through men like they were rubber, cutting through armour, tearing throats and ending the lives of many. Perseus was heading for one of the larger men on the battlefield. A King, no doubt. He could see Menelaus, locked in combat with Deiphobus. Hipponus was duelling a dark haired man—Diomedes. Hector dodged another strike and spun to duck a sword. He dropped low to avoid a foot and shot to his feet again, impaling the assailant in the chest.
He spun, catching sight of the brown haired man approaching Perseus. Narrowing his eyes he reared back and hurled his spear forward. The spear sailed true, tearing through the chest of the soldier. Perseus spun as if he knew and swiftly decapitated the man. Hector sent him a nod and then joined the battle once more.
The fighting went on for what seemed like hours, but he couldn't have been sure. The sun burnt against his back. Dried blood coated Hector's skin. He swung his sword expertly, slicing through a man's throat. He blocked an attack with his shield and slashed through the attacker's neck. Their forces met again and again, men dropped like flies, blood soaked the sand. Suddenly Hector cried out. A gash had opened up on his bicep, where a sword had struck it. He spun, cursing, and sliced off the head of the soldier who attacked him.
After a while his mind shut down and his body started working on its own, cutting down men, killing enemies and slicing through armour.
The fighting got savage. Hector glanced around in worry. Trojan bodies littered the ground. And they were a lot more than the Greek ones. Blood flowed freely. Men were cut down in front of his eyes. They were trying, but it wasn't enough. They were losing the beach; they were being pushed back.
He continued fighting. He led his men against the might of Greece, but their lines
were being pushed back, and even he could see it. "Hector!" Aeneas called his name. "We have to retreat." Even as he said it, he dodged under a strike from a sword. They were losing, and that wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.
Hector could hear screams, and as he fought, he continued seeing flashes of golden armour and blond hair—the son of Thetis. He was the reason they were losing. He continued fighting, trying to kill as many of the enemy he could as they continued being pushed back.
And then they were at the edge of the sand.
He heard the yell then. Spinning, his eyes widened when he saw the sword coming his way. It was the fabled warrior himself—Achilles. Hector leaned back to avoid his strike, and then reared forward. Their swords met.
"Achilles," He grunted out. "I have heard a lot about you."
"Yes, of that I have no doubt," The man bared his teeth. "How is your little friend doing, Prince Hector? The ambassador of Apollo?"
"Oh, you remembered," A voice to his left started the son of Thetis, giving Hector the opportunity to push him back. He slashed forward, but out of nowhere a shield appeared, cutting him off. Achilles faced his friend. "Perseus."
"The one and only," Perseus said. A scowl adorned his face as he swung his sword. "Here for a rematch?"
"It would be a pleasure," The demigod hissed. He slipped into a stance. Perseus sent Hector a look which said, I can deal with this. He bent into a stance similar to Achilles'.
Suddenly a horn blared across the battlefield. Hector looked up in shock. The sun was setting. He saw the golden chariot come down from the sky, and then heard a muttered curse from his side, from Perseus.
"It is Sundown," Apollo's voice boomed across the battlefield. "The gods have asked me to deliver a message. All fighting ceases when the sun sets. Both sides must treat their wounded and bury their dead. Anyone who goes against this rule shall be punished. That is the will of Olympus." His golden eyes flashed as they flickered across the battlefield—the Greeks had pushed their forces all the way back, away from the beach, and so close to the walls. Too close for comfort. Without another word Apollo melted into mist.
"You're lucky this time, Perseus," Achilles said, sheathing his sword. "Tomorrow, by afternoon, you shall be dead."
"We'll see," Perseus placed his sword into his sheath. "I will find a way to kill you, Achilles. No matter how long it takes."
-X-
AENEAS was tired. He sipped wine from a goblet quietly as the court officials and commanders and kings argued. He was sporting a rather morbid injury, a cut to his side. Hector had a similar one on his arm, and although Aeneas' was bandaged and seemed to be healing, it hurt like Hades. Aeneas glanced at his side, where his brother was seated. Perseus was glaring, at the curly haired prince seated opposite him—Paris. The idiot didn't have the decency to look ashamed. All this was happening because of him.
The King of Dardania sipped from his goblet again. "We can still stop this!" Deiphobus was shouting. "Too many good Trojan men lost their lives today! Just give them back Helen." He whirled on his brother. "Do you want your own selfish desires to be the reason many more sons, husbands and fathers are killed?"
"Deiphobus is right," Hector drawled. "This senseless death can be stopped."
"No," Paris spoke. "Helen doesn't want to go back to Menelaus, and neither do I want her to."
"You think we care about what you want, boy?" A court official, Ennmons snarled. "My son died out there today, and you want your precious wife by your side so more people shall die?"
"Enough," Priam raised a hand. The years had not been kind to him. Priam was a strong man, yes, but now he was old, and time was taking a toll on him. "We must—"
The doors to the courtroom swung open. A soldier marched in, and bowed. "Sire, there are some people here to see you, just at the gates."
Priam's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"King Menelaus of Sparta and King Odysseus of Ithaca," The soldier kept his head down. "They have come to barter." Murmuring broke out among them. Aeneas sat straight.
"Are you sure this is not a ruse to get in here?" He asked.
"Have they been checked for weapons?" Helenus asked.
The soldier didn't answer, telling them all what his answer was. Everyone was silent. Finally, Priam said, "Bring them in. But first—"
"Don't worry," Hector spoke. "Perseus, could you check them for weapons? Make sure they're not a threat to anyone. And escort them in here yourself."
"Of course," His brother nodded, and then disappeared through the door. The wait was annoying and made Aeneas even more tired. After what seemed like hours, Perseus finally emerged, closely followed by Menelaus and Odysseus, and about thirty Trojan guards.
"I didn't know that you think we're so dangerous that you'll need thirty men to handle us, King Priam," Odysseus spoke up, smiling, although his eyes betrayed his true emotions. They had both cleaned up, and bore no sign of the recent battle.
"One can never be too cautious," Perseus spoke up, eyes narrowed.
"Enough," Priam repeated. "Come forth." The two men walked forward, heads held high, every bit of the Kings they were reflected in their walk alone. Finally, they stood at the bottom of the dais.
"What is the purpose for your..., visit," Priam spoke up. Aeneas pursed his lips in anticipation.
Odysseus spoke up. "We have come to barter with you, King Priam. We see no need for more people to die. We can end this here and now. We just ask for Helen to be returned to her husband and her kingdom, and the forces of Greece shall leave you in peace. We—"
"No!" Paris shot to his feet, eyes blazing. "Helen is my wife! She asked to come with me!"
"She was bewitched by Aphrodite," Odysseus said, eyes narrowing. "We all know that is true. She does not really love you and you must let her go. Needles bloodshed can stop."
"Helen is not leaving these walls," Paris insisted.
"Sit down, Paris," Hector snarled. "That is not your decision to make."
The Prince glared at his brother hatefully, but sat. "Go on," Hector turned to the two delegates.
"We have no wish to see Troy harmed," Menelaus spoke. "Just give Helen back, and all shall be good—" Aeneas tuned them out as they continued debating. He scowled to himself, staring into his goblet. Perseus had returned to his side some time ago, and his brother wore the same expression. Aeneas didn't like how they referred to Helen as though she was a prize—an object—that could be claimed by anybody who pleased. Talk of trading her...it made him sick. He also wanted to punch Paris in the face for refusing to let her go and break his mother's spell.
He continued ignoring the conversation, until he heard, "No. We're not giving Helen back." Aeneas looked up in shock. The words had come from old Priam and he could see the surprise etched on Hector's face.
"Father, what—"
"A goddess ordered her to be brought here," Priam reminded. "She prevented us from returning Helen eight years ago. What makes you think that she will stand idle if we try again?"
Aeneas's mouth fell open. Odysseus sounded cherry, but had an edge to his voice as he said, "Is that your final decision?" There were a few heartbeats of silence, and then, "Yes."
"Very well," Menelaus said. "Tomorrow, bright and early, we shall meet in battle once more."
Aeneas buried his head in his hands. They were fools, the lot of them. And Paris was the most foolish amongst them all.
-X-
PERSEUS huffed in frustration, leaning on the tree. He couldn't sleep. No matter how much he tried, Hypnos just wasn't coming for him. He had seen so much blood that day, and he was so angry that Paris and Priam had refused to allow Helen to be returned to her husband. He was sick of it all. He hated the fact that the son of Priam was so selfish.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. The son of Anchises slid down the tree.
"Perseus," Her voice made him look up, and his heart bounced a bit at the sight of her.
"Selene," Her name fell out of his lips like a prayer. "You're here again."
"I am," She acknowledged. "I was passing overhead, and I saw you. I could sense your distress from the heavens."
He snorted, but didn't respond. "Tell me, then," She said softly, taking a seat in the grass next to him. "What is bothering you?"
"It's just," He sighed, hesitating. "They could have ended this. They could have given Helen back."
"But they didn't, did they?" Selene said quietly. He shook his head. People he knew, people he trained with in the army, had died today. And instead of stopping it, Priam and Paris were refusing to give Helen back.
He turned to face Selene, his eyes wide and angry. "They could have stopped the bloodshed. People died, and they chose themselves. We lost the beach, Selene! The Greeks are almost unstoppable as long as Achilles continues to fight alongside them! And yet, Paris chose himself over Troy." He hated the fact that they were risking the lives of thousands of civilians, just because of Paris.
Selene tilted her head to the side. "I-It's just not fair. Do you know, Paris wasn't even fighting today! He hid behind his mother's skirts like a child! He was safe in the palace!" He stood. "It's not fair that he doesn't get to see what's happening on the battlefield too. It's not fair that he gets to sit on the sidelines while the rest of Troy dies for him and his sickly obsession with a married woman!"
"People have lost husbands, sons, and fathers!" He continued, eyes flashing. "And he sits there, refusing to let Helen go—refusing to end this!" For a second his eyes glowed green and he saw Selene look at him in mild surprise. He blinked and the glow disappeared. Perseus continued huffing, but his anger wasn't as great as it had been before. He inhaled, trying to control himself.
"But all is fair in love and war," Selene said, standing. "And this case includes both. Nothing will be fair, Perseus. Nothing ever is." She reached out hesitantly, and squeezed his shoulder. "You're going to have to learn to endure. You must be strong. Paris is a coward, but you, you are something else entirely. Fight for your city, Perseus. Do not let the cravings of a child prevent you from doing everything you can to protect your home—to protect the people you love." Her eyes flashed silver. "You mustn't break down now. This is war, and death is inevitable. You might not be able to influence the decisions made in the court of Priam. You might have no say in the choices the Royals make. But you can turn the tide in the field of battle. You can protect Troy, as long as you're determined."
He looked down, and Selene reached forward, grabbing his chin and turning it to her slowly. "Tell me you'll fight. Tell me you'll give it all you've got."
He mumbled something under his breath. "Louder," She said harshly.
"I'll fight," He said, voice hard, determination filling him..
She was silent for a few seconds, and then she said, "Good." Without another word, she melted into silver dust and was gone.
XMX
PERSEUS scowled at the lines of Greek soldiers from his spot in the trees. Below him the Trojans were forming their own ranks. It was a few minutes to dawn and he pursed his lips as he waited. Finally, a golden light flared from beside him and Apollo formed from it. Perseus turned to the sun god, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice, "You called for me?"
"I did," Apollo agreed. "Mother asked to wish you good luck." Perseus frowned, but nodded.
"Why did you stop the fighting last night?" He narrowed his eyes as he asked. "I could have taken Achilles."
"One of you would have died had you continued to fight him," Apollo cocked his head to the side. "I saved your life. You weren't ready."
"Then tell me," He began. "Tell me how to beat him."
"I do not know yet," Apollo shook his head. "But I will find out. And when I do, you'll be the first to know."
Perseus turned back to the lines of soldiers below him. "Alight, then. I have to go."
"I know," His mentor said, quietly. Perseus was moving down the path when Apollo called, "Have you eaten?"
He turned in confusion. "What?"
"Did you eat last night?" The god pressed. Perseus' brow furrowed. Why would Apollo want to know if he'd eaten or not.
"No," He said slowly.
The god nodded, and waved his hand. "Catch." Suddenly there was an apple sailing to him through the sky. He grabbed it. Perseus looked up, but Apollo had disappeared. Shrugging to himself, he took a bite of the reddish-gold apple and continued walking down the path, eating as he went.
XMX
THE FIGHTING felt a lot more real this time. They had lost the beach, and the Greeks were so close to the city walls it was discouraging. But they had to fight—they had to protect the thousands of people who lived in Troy, even if it was at the expense of their own lives. Perseus dodged a strike from an enemy soldier. He raised his hand in a slash, and cut out the man's throat.
Perseus slaughtered men as he went, stabbing through soldiers, cutting down any who dared cross his path. He felt a rush of energy inside him—he felt powerful and invincible. He didn't know why, but he felt as though he could take on every one in the Greek army and win. He cut a steady path through the Greeks, fighting ferociously. He could see Hector a few feet away from him, his spear sliding through breastplates and his shield bashing heads in. Aeneas was at his right, his twin swords flashing as he fought.
Perseus ducked under a swing from a sword and sidestepped another strike. He spun, slamming his shield into his attacker's head. The man, dark haired, fell to his knees in pain. Perseus ended him quickly, lobbing off his head. The battle raged on. They were still too close to the city walls and it was then that he started to search for Achilles. He listened as he fought, his sword ending the lives of many. He could hear screams—loud screams, of pure terror, coming from a place next to the walls. Perseus swore to himself and moved towards that direction.
He dodged under a swing, and slammed the hilt of his sword into the man's chest. Without waiting he ran him through. Perseus sidestepped a thrust from a spear as he went, and with a roar he cut it into half and drove his sword through the man's heart. The screams were getting closer now, and when he finally fought his way near the walls, he spotted the ferocious battle going on. Achilles was going head to head with a man—a boy, really, who hardly looked seventeen. Perseus recognised him from training—Cycnus. They clashed, sword against sword, stabbing at each other, slashing, hacking and trying to tear each other apart.
Cycnus was littered with injuries, but Achilles looked fine, refreshed even. Perseus heard a roar and then Cycnus raised his hand. Shock engulfed him as spears of water formed out of thin air. With another roar, Cycnus waved his hand and the water spears shot towards the son of Peleus. Perseus heard a shout from beside him and jerked to attention. He spun, just in time to see a sword coming at him. But he was too slow. Suddenly another sword appeared out of nowhere, blocking the strike. And then a spear tore through the man's chest from behind.
"Perseus," Hector snapped his name. "Stop getting distracted!"
"You're going to get yourself killed," Aeneas turned to him. Both men, like him, were soaked with blood and breathing heavily.
"What?" Hector asked him. Perseus just turned back to the battle, where Cycnus was forming more water spears.
"No way," Aeneas murmured.
"A son of Poseidon?" Hector demanded. "How?"
"I don't know," Perseus shook his head. "But we have to help him." He watched Achilles dodge and duck all the projectiles. He cut through several more as he raced for Cycnus. In a second Perseus shot after him, Hector and Aeneas following. He was racing for them, urging his feet to go faster. Achilles got to Cycnus, and the two were exchanging blows. But even from where he was, he could see that his newfound brother was being pushed back under Achilles' onslaught.
He tried to run faster. If he was too late...
Perseus slowed to a stop when he saw the son of Thetis run Cycnus through with his sword. The soldier spat out blood, and fell to his knees. Achilles ripped his sword out of Cycnus' chest and Perseus' brother fell limp, onto the ground.
XMX
HE DIDN'T know what overcame him then. The wind whistled in his ears and he let out a loud roar. Perseus jumped off the ground, hurling away his shield. He swung his sword midair and brought it down in an overhead strike, intending to cut the fair haired man in two. Achilles swore, then blocked his strike. Perseus landed on the ground, eyes alight with fury. He yelled again and clashed with the Prince.
Sparks exploded from the meeting of their swords. Achilles gritted his teeth, trying to push him back, but Perseus was angry. And he wouldn't allow anyone else to die at the hands of this demigod. Not anymore. He bared his teeth and pushed Achilles back with all his might. The son of Thetis stumbled back, surprise on his face.
Perseus lashed at him again, and they met, slashing, stabbing at each other. He parried a strike and returned one of his own, but although his sword connected with the man's skin, it didn't have an impact. Achilles grinned and they continued battling. Soldiers stopped around them, and people watched as their two forces clashed. They slammed into each other, dancing around one another, trading blows and stabs. They continued spinning around each other, dodging hacks and slashing, battling with the force of thousand men.
Perseus sidestepped a thrust to his side and slammed his elbow in Achilles' face. The man grunted and glared at him, eyes lighting with anger. With a roar they clashed once again. Achilles avoided most of his strikes and as they continued fighting, they both tried desperately to land a hit. Achilles couldn't get past his guard, and Perseus couldn't penetrate his skin. Suddenly the son of Thetis bent and slashed forward. Perseus was too slow. He felt mild pain flash across his torso as Achilles' sword cut a gash in his skin through his armour.
The wind was howling now, whistling, like bells. Perseus suddenly felt very dizzy and he shook his head, gritting his teeth to fight back the pain. He heard a gasp of surprise from in front of him and looked up. Achilles stood, stock still, eyes trained on Perseus' torso. Shock and astonishment were written on his face. Perseus' eyes travelled to his enemy's sword—gold ran down the blade, mixing with the red blood of the men Achilles had previously killed. The son of Anchises narrowed his eyes. He reached out, touching his chest tentatively.
It was sticky, and it felt like blood. So why...
He drew his hand back and stared. His blood was gold. The blood of immortals fell down his hand.
A/N: So, in one universe (The Dissonant Notes of Fate), Percy has lost his immortality and is a mortal Titan. In another universe (The Guardians), Percy is a semi-immortal demigod tormented by the gods and forced to do their dirty work. In another (The Hunters of the Sun), he's an Immortal being who is way too Overpowered now that I think about it (Will probably have to work on that in the future). And, in this universe, our resident protagonist has been unknowingly made immortal. I really have to dial down the immortality stuff lol. I hope you enjoy them all anyway.