Day Three hundred and eighteen
"Where are they?" Paris murmured as he rode to the beach. A scout had reported that the Greek forces had retreated, sailing out to sea, leaving only the remnants of their came behind. His father was already there, along with Helenus, Deiphobus, and Aeneas. With the death of Hector, the King of Dardania had taken command of the Trojan forces, against Paris' protests, and had promptly ensured that Paris never left the megaron.
They blamed him for Hector's death, he knew. Andromache wouldn't have him anywhere near her, and the one time that Helen had gotten close, she nearly got her face raked off by the grieving widow. Even his father, Priam, was stiff around him. Hecuba was the only one who didn't treat him any differently, though she still mourned for her eldest son.
When he arrived, Paris found his father and Aeneas interrogating a solitary Greek.
"They've just left?" Aeneas asked the man, who was sitting and poking a dying fire.
"Yes," the man confirmed, "Perseus and the Myrmidons forced them to. Any king who wanted to remain fought him. The deal was, if any of them beat him, they'd see the siege through. If he beat all of them without a break, they'd sail off. I don't know why they took such a stupid wager. Apollyon destroyed them. The son of Achilles challenged him. It wasn't even a fair fight—Perseus simply slammed his head down on the boy and he crumpled. Not that I'm complaining, that Neoptolemus is a monster. Nothing like his father."
"And why are you here?" Priam asked, "Sidon, was it?"
"Ah, Odysseus wanted to sacrifice me to Poseidon for good winds," the man waved his hand dismissively.
"He wanted to what?" Helenus blinked.
"Sacrifice me," Sidon repeated, "we've had a rivalry since this war started, Odysseus and me. I've always been a firm supporter of trying for peace. Odysseus never liked that. He's tried to kill me in battle before," he lifted his arm, showing a long gash that went along his side, "that was a gift from him in the last battle we fought."
Paris winced at the memory. They had awoken to find the Myrmidons lined up outside the walls, a man wearing the armour of Achilles at their lead. At first, they had thought it was Achilles, returned from the dead. Aeneas had led the sally out, only for the trap to be sprung. Diomedes and his men had buried themselves in the sand, letting the Trojan run over and around them, before shooting to their feet and attacking the flanks.
Paris learned that it was Perseus wearing Achilles armour when he watched him slaughter three of his brothers with a single stroke of his sword. Priam had collapsed next to him at the sight, though his mother looked just a tad pleased at seeing more of Priam's bastards gone from the world.
"They've returned because Perseus demanded it?" Aeneas asked. Sidon nodded.
"Aye, the Firstborn became sick of war. Antilochus, Achilles, even Hector's death tipped the scale for him," Sidon explained, "so here we are. I'm sitting on the beach with this stupid horse, and you're here interrogating me."
"How did you escape Odysseus?" Paris asked him, making his presence known, "if he wanted you sacrificed, how did you escape?"
"Ah, Perseus warned me in the dead of the night," Sidon said, "so I fled to the marshes and hid in the reeds," he motioned to his neck, which was plastered in mud, "still got some leftovers. Haven't bathed yet."
"And the horse?"
"An offering to Poseidon," Sidon nodded at the behemoth, "supposedly it was built to be too large to cross through your gates, so that you couldn't take it for your own. It was built by Greeks, for Greeks."
"Then we must take it," Helenus said, "if we dedicate it to Poseidon instead of the Greeks, he may seek their fleets!"
"How will we get it through the gate, brother?" Deiphobus mused, "it can't come through the east gate, it's too large for that."
"We shouldn't take it," Paris heard himself saying, "it's a trap. It must be."
"Don't be absurd," Helenus scoffed, "this is a blessing from the gods! The Greeks are gone, and now we have our own offering to Poseidon!"
"Why would they just give up?" Paris asked, "it makes no sense!"
"They've been bloodied too much," Priam said, "Aeneas has cost them too much."
The king of Dardania was staring at the horse. He ran his hand along one of the legs, before pulling a knife out and jamming it in. He withdrew it, and grain began falling out.
"What's this, hmm?" He asked Sidon.
"Well we couldn't just build a horse now, could we?" The man responded defensively, crossing his arms, "we stuffed the lower legs with grain to serve Demeter, hoping she would assist Poseidon in keeping the winds calm."
"It's a trap," Paris said again, "we shouldn't take it in. This is what they want!"
"And how would you know that, brother?" Deiphobus sneered, "you haven't left the city since Menelaus beat you in that duel—do you remember? The one that could have saved thousands of lives? How would you know what the Greeks want? Have you talked to any recently?"
"We take it in," Priam declared, "the gates on the Skanian entrance will have to be removed to let it through. We'll dedicate it to Poseidon inside the walls."
"Father—" Paris tried, but Priam cut him off.
"I have spoken, Alexander, and so it will be!" He snapped, "The horse enters the city. Alexios, send riders back to have men start on the gates and send more to help pull the horse. Get this man some fresh clothes and a pail of water. The celebrations begin tonight!"
The men around them let out a loud cheer, and riders shot off to relay the orders. Paris couldn't help but feel this was all horribly wrong. Priam wrapped an arm around him.
"It's alright my boy," he said, "we've won. Our sacrifices have not been in vain."
Paris hoped it was true.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sidon laughed as he was handed another mug of ale. This was his thirteenth one, and he had yet to imbibe any alcohol at all, not that the Trojan realised it. They thought he was just as drunk as they were. Even more amusing were all the women who threw themselves at him for 'outfoxing the wily Odysseus!'
Outfoxing Odysseus! The idea was ridiculous. Along with Perseus, Odysseus had masterminded this entire plot, and it was only due to his brilliance that they would get into the city. Outwitting the favourite of Athena—the notion was laughable. He could see large spouts of flames from the performers in the megaron, and he spotted Helen watching from the balcony. He raised his mug to her. The others around him, soldiers, prostitutes and civilians saw what he was doing, and who too, and they all joined him in raising their mugs.
Oh, if only they knew what was coming.
By midnight, the only man other than Sidon standing was the guard who watched the horse. He stumbled his way over before dropping his breeches, pausing in front of one of the legs.
"Gotta take a piss," he said loudly. The guard scoffed in disgust and turned away. That was exactly what he had been waiting for. His dagger slipped into his hand and he covered the guard's mouth before slitting his throat to the bone. The guard collapsed to the ground. He tapped the leg of the horse three times, then two, then three again. There was some shuffling above him before a false panel was removed, and a rope dropped down.
Perseus was the first down, and he appraised Sidon before grinning and clasping his shoulders. Five Myrmidons followed him, and then Odysseus, Diomedes, Ajax the Lesser, Menelaus, Agamemnon, and Nestor all dropped, each one bringing two or three men with them.
"Get to the gates," Perseus ordered the Myrmidons, "Ajax, Nestor, get to the walls and light the signal. The rest of you, help me clear this courtyard."
There was no response, just men rushing off to do their jobs. Odysseus patted him on the back before handing his sword back.
"Fantastic work, my friend," he praised, before stabbing on of the guards passed out on the floor.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
By the time the Trojans realised they were being invaded, it was far too late. As always, the Myrmidons led the charge into the city, Phoenix and Eurodos cutting a path directly to where Percy was. He had just finished off two nobles who thought they could stop the rampaging Achaeans.
"Find the Temples of Apollo," he ordered, "leave the priests alive, but take it all. Take it to the cliffs, and sacrifice it all to my father and Thetis, do you understand?"
"Perfectly, my lord," Phoenix nodded, "and what of you?"
Percy raised his sword towards the megaron.
"I've a meeting with a prince of Troy, and the Queen of Sparta," he said, "gods be with you. May you return to your homes without issue."
"And you, Perseus," Phoenix nodded, "Achilles made the right choice with you, my lord. I am glad I lived to fight with you."
Percy smiled in response, before starting up to the Megaron. That would be where the fiercest fighting was. Even if all of Priam's court was drunk, the many, many guards stationed inside would not be. That much was certain.
As he crested the hill, he found himself to be correct. Menelaus was leading the charge trying to break through the defences. Agamemnon was standing further back, nursing a cut to his side.
"Pull your brother back," Percy told him, "I'll break through the line. Just… be ready to follow my lead."
Agamemnon stared at him for a moment before nodding.
"Menelaus!" He bellowed, "to me!"
The king of Sparta roared out in anger, but obeyed, killing a man who thought to follow him. The other Spartans pulled back in a more orderly fashion, reforming their lines with their Mycenaean cousins.
"I almost had them!" He complained.
"No, you didn't," Percy said, "but I'm about to."
He took in a deep breath before the familiar tugging in his gut began. It had been many years since he had used his powers to this extent, but not too long that it was difficult. The earth began shaking as the ground tossed and turned, a line heading straight for the walls of the megaron, the men defending it outside being swallowed by the earth. The line impacted the wall, and nothing happened—for a moment.
The wall exploded inwards, an entire section of the megaron vanishing. Percy grabbed Agamemnon's arm.
"Andromache lives," he said, "I will kill Paris, I will kill Priam, Helenus, Deiphobus, Aeneas if I have to, but Andromache and her son live, do you understand?"
Agamemnon nodded, though his eyes flashed for a moment. Percy didn't see it, as he was already moving back towards the newly formed hole in the defences. He raised his shield to deflect an arrow before leaping over the rubble into the inner palace. Men were fighting and dying around him, but he had one objective to start with—Helen and Paris.
It didn't take him long—he spotted the prince ushering Helen away through a side door, before bolting it shut. Percy sighed. Why he thought that would stop him, he did not know. He marched straight to the door and planted his armoured boot in the centre of it, the wood shattering as the bolt bent in half before breaking. Paris fired an arrow at him, but it glanced off his helmet. Another five arrows saw the prince run out, and though Percy had to pull one from his eye, he didn't care much.
"I've waited long for this day, Paris," Percy said as he stalked closer. The prince shakily drew his sword, "I knew the moment that I arrived at Agamemnon's camp that I would be the one to kill you. There was no other option—not for you, and not for me. Someday, people will crow about fate, and destiny. Perhaps they are right, but I have never let it dictate me. You couldn't even give Achilles the honour of a proper death. Instead, you hid on the walls and let Apollo guide you. Such a shame. I was planning on making this quick."
Paris let out a war-cry as he charged forward. Percy slammed his head down, just as he had to Neoptolemus during the mock fight. Paris fared no better, collapsing to the ground in a pile of limbs. He grabbed his by the scruff of his neck before lifting him. His sword cut the straps on Paris' chestplate, and the armour fell to the ground. He opened a long, deep slit along his stomach before tossing him aside.
"Paris!" Helen cried out, but she didn't move. Not with Percy's focus on her.
"Let's return you to your husband now, shall we?" Percy asked, before pausing. There was something different in the air. A lack of… eyes, so to speak. The gods weren't watching, though whether or not it was their choice, he didn't know.
"Kill me!" Helen suddenly begged, "I cannot return, Perseus! Agamemnon will have me raped and tortured, and Menelaus will let it happen! Just kill me, please! Do not subject me to that fate! Please!"
Percy hesitated. He hadn't been expecting this. A vision flashed before his eyes—a war, fought by children, a boy who looked like him standing in the throne room of Olympus before a golden-eyed figure. The vison shifted, showing himself in Tartarus, standing before a giant, who eyed him curiously. A battle amid the ruins of Mount Orthys, Atlas standing over… Zoe?
His mind cleared, and Percy knew what he had to do.
"I truly am sorry," he said as he stepped forward, "you should have stayed with Menelaus."
And then his sword went forward. Helen gasped as she looked down, her dress stained crimson. He withdrew the blade and turned, letting her collapse to the ground. He had other places to be.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Andromache ran, Astyanax clutched tightly to her chest. The Senate house would be safe—it had to be! Priam stumbled behind her, but she paid her good-father no mind. He wasn't her priority, her son was. They entered the Senate house, and Priam slammed the doors shut behind him, before lowering a hinged slab of wood on the door. They wouldn't be able to lift it now, she a woman and he and old man, but at least they were safe.
"Oh, look what we have here," a low voice laughed, and Andromache turned to see a young boy, armoured like the Mycenaeans, stalk out of the shadows. "Agamemnon thought you would come here. I've been ordered to kill you all, you see, so that I can retake control of the Myrmidons from the usurper Perseus."
This was Neoptolemus, Andromache realised, it had to be. His cruelty was renowned in Troy, and if they had just locked themselves in with him…
"Let them live," Priam begged, "kill me, but let Andromache and Astyanax live!"
Neoptolemus laughed again, a cruel, high sound. He truly was a boy, Andromache realised. Before she could even blink, the door shattered open, fragments of wood flying forward and spraying the room. Somehow, it all missed her entirely. Expecting to see an army charging in to slaughter them, she instead saw a single figure, blade dripping with blood, an angry snarl on his face.
"I warned him!" He roared, stalking into the room, "and yet he still sent you, the lapdog. It matters little. You'll die like any other man."
"These are Trojans!" Neoptolemus exclaimed, but there was nothing he could do. Perseus smacked his blade aside before running his sword directly through the boy's heart, right through the thickest part of his armour.
Perseus wrenched the blade out and let Neoptolemus fall to the ground. He turned to Andromache and Priam, his eyes softening as he saw her clutching the babe.
It was at that moment that Aeneas ran in, not even armoured, a sword in each hand, both bloody. He paused as he saw Perseus, blinking when he saw the body beneath him.
"Is there a secret way out of the city?" Perseus asked Priam, who was shaking. "Priam!"
"Y-y-yes," he stammered, "to the west, but there are too many—"
"I'll deal with the Greeks," Perseus spat the word, turning to Aeneas, "rescue as many of your people as you can. Leave Troy, sail west, past Greece. Find Latium. Settle there! Priam, take Andromache south, to Egypt, you'll safe there."
And then he was gone.
Andromache heard a surprised 'Perseus?' which was quickly followed by death cries. Aeneas grabbed her by the arm.
"We must go!" He hissed.
Andromache did the only thing she could. She followed
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ajax had been raping a woman in the temple of Athena when he found him. The sight infuriated him so much that he tore the man off, stomping his throat under his boot. He cut down the other six men who had been doing the same. Cries of surprise and protest emerged from the Greeks, who ran as fast as they could from him.
Percy hated what he was doing, he really did, but he needed to prompt a response from the Olympians.
Agamemnon and Diomedes found him next.
"Perseus! What are you doing?" Diomedes asked, swearing when he saw Percy crush the throat of one of his men in his spare hand. He let out a war cry and charged.
It was admirable, Percy supposed, but it wouldn't do him any good. He struck out, opening Diomedes from collar to hip. It wouldn't kill him if he had a good surgeon, which he knew for a fact that he did. Agamemnon on the other hand…
"Perseus stop!" the king demanded, his two guards cut down as they tried to stop him, "we are your—ack!"
Percy grabbed him by the throats and lifted him off the ground.
"I warned you," he said quietly, "and this is what happens when I am betrayed."
He squeezed, the cracking of bone followed rapidly by the cessation of struggling. He dropped the body before spitting on it.
"Here you are, Agamemnon," he spat, "the ruin of your pride!"
He looked up. There were more men to kill.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The haymaker hit him with the force of a stampeding herd of bulls, lifting him clear off his feet and sending him flying out of the city. Percy slammed into the foothills of Mount Ida. He rose to his feet only to have his father's trident impale his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Poseidon said, "but I cannot allow this to continue!"
An arm wrapped around his throat and began squeezing. For all that he couldn't be killed, not being able to breathe still had the desired effect on him. His vision began to darken as his father removed his trident. His last sight was of the tears building in his father's eyes.
When he awoke, he was on Olympus, staring at Zeus, who in turn was studying him. He became aware of the arguing that was going on around him. But the moment he shifted, it stopped. Zeus leaned forward in his throne.
"You're awake," he rumbled, "good. Let's get this started."
"Get what started, exactly?" Percy asked, even though he already knew. It was better to get confirmation while he could.
"Your trial."
MMXVIII
So no trial. I weighed the pros and cons of writing it, but decided that in the end, it doesn't matter. Eternal does a great job of summing up what happened. Now, as to what I did here. Percy is entirely aware of what he's doing. He receives a vision showing him parts of the future, specifically, the beginning of Eternal and the confrontation with Kronos in the Throne Room of Olympus. I was asked if Percy and Athena are 'together.' They are not. Percy raised Athena as a child, taking on the role that Triton has in Mythology, which is also why Pallas is alive in Eternal. Someone asked if this story would have a sequel, to which I respond thusly—this is the prequel to a story I am already writing. I think I stated at the beginning of this story that it was a prequel to Eternal, and I'm pretty sure I've said so since, but just to clarify for those who don't read these notes, yes, this story has a sequel, and it's already published.
I'm going to rest for a day or so, and then I'll continue writing Eternal. As for the rewrite of Son of Neptune, I've written the first chapter so far, and I have a working title for you guys. Vas Bellicosum, which is Latin for 'Instrument of War.' Let me know what you think.
As always, feel free to comment or send me a PM, and I hope you enjoyed The Perseid. I certainly enjoyed writing it.
Cheers, CombatTombat