*Sighs dramatically *
I'm baaaaack... I know you've all be waiting -
So.
Did I intend to update last week?
Yes, I did.
Did Editing take way longer than usual?
Yes, it did.
Was it worth it?
Totes.
Did I leave all my holiday revision to hades?
Maybe...
Can I guarantee you this chapter will be better?
I kind of can!
Do I care?
Kinda... But not really.
Is PerZoe gonna become a thing?
Wait what - No! What the hell? Who even suggested that? Percy and Zoe have a mutual friendship now that they're apart. As all you PJO fans know, Zoe dies. *sobs* and I'm not gonna do that to Percy, gods that's harsh. So no. No PerZoe. Oh yeah - and no Percabeth. Too much of that fluff. Percy and Zoe are just healing each other's grief.
So allow me to repeat, they are just two friends being nice and having a bro-sis relationship.
Am I going to shut up and let you get on the story?
Yep. And thanks for all the reviews, they feed my soul :)
Gods, I'm ranting again, aren't I...
Sorry this update is late, but you all know by now, schedules never exist in my sarcastic life. Well, here you go. Some of you don't like me babbling in the beginning, so what can I say? Enjoy.
Chapter 11
Hurdles
3rd Person POV
Envying Naivety, Innocence, and worst of all, life.
~unknown author
For a moment, tranquility felt far-fetched. But that split moment became almost endless, slowly drowning him in quietude. Even that lie to himself brought no pity.
It seemed silent, yet the forest buzzed with constant anticipation. Another week had crawled by, constant scrambles of fleeing, running, stumbling as he disengages from each battle. He couldn't. He wouldn't.
His recent frivolities had surprised him, and it come down to the point that it ceased to bother him. His heart felt empty, and most of all, nothing. It was if nothing mattered anymore. He couldn't die, anyway, yet sitting under a rock doing nothing was worthless.
As he ventured deeper north of Athens, the weather became much colder, the bitter wind biting at his exposed skin. Ever since she had left, the weather had gotten colder, as if winter was calling.
It was late now, and the midnight clouds had dispersed, leaving a window to the skies, the moonlight acting as his eternal beacon. All around him, the boreal-like forest almost whispered to him in hush tones, the leaves rustling - almost as silent as his solitude. Nature seemed to pity his solitude, his need for congenial company.
He sighed, feeling his warm breath waffle past his face and into the wind. The night was chilly, yet warmer than the ones he'd experienced before. He was failing himself, his goals, his determination - they were slipping rapidly from his grasp. Vengeance was no longer in question yet one thing still nagged in his mind: His bittersweet departure with her. The former Hesperide.
His hands clenched tightly, his fingernails digging painfully into his palm. He refused to say her name - an infuriating internal oath. Suffice to say, he'd never get his wish. It was selfish, yet controlling, his thoughts were. Exactly the stereotypical male that she'd eventually come to believe.
He wouldn't. Thoughts never decide actions, right?
And he simply sat there, scowling at the beaming full moon.
[Song Tribute - Close to Hell - contrabandgotti]
"She really did adore you," She murmured behind me, and he snapped his head around in shock. She'd been standing there right behind him. The goddess of the hearth.
"Lady -"
"There's no need to bow, young one, nor the formalities," and he nodded in acceptance.
It seemed absurd a goddess had approached him, but he had come to expect the worst in this world. This was somewhat... comforting.
She came to kneel beside him and sighed. "Perseus... I may be a goddess yet I understand she loved you more than anything in this world."
Not true. Not true.
"I'm only certain she kept away from you was because of the pain of losing you again."
His words tumbled out, quick and low. "Yet she put me through hell," he whispered.
Flashback
He tumbles through the forest, Zoe right behind. Monsters pour and maneuver through, weaving past trees, gaining speed.
Then they stop. They all stop. Not because they reach the edge of the cliff. A new, overpowering presence engulfs the two. He almost feels the need to sink to his knees and bow his head in defeat. His eyes strain as he focuses.
"Prometheus..."
He materializes right in front of the monsters, Percy mentally taking note of the scar that ran from the left down to his stomach. Still healing.
"W-What do you want?" Zoe stutters, taking a step back. She recognizes him. Her voice is shaky and unlike the Zoe he knew - confident in every step she took.
"What indeed, niece. Your father wants you back, as he sadly cannot have such a valuable... asset on the loose. If the Olympians find out, even the Titans cannot save you from their wrath," his words hanging at the word 'asset' as if she were a possession Atlas required back.
Her expression was vexed as she shouts indignantly. "He- He abandoned me! Shunned me for having a love! Why should I return? Why should I return to that - that - restrictive life?"
And now, he sees the figure before him; not Zoe, but the broken girl that had shattered years ago. A thin veil of stubbornness and willpower that barely held her imposing figure together. 'This was what love does,' he reminded himself. 'Love creates an illusion, a temporary reality you indulge yourself in, and when it's gone, all you see is darkness, emptiness. Making you feel more alone and miserable than ever before.'
Perseus scans the imposing Titan, noting that he wears nothing but a white chiton. Prometheus manically grins and almost subconsciously nudges to his sides to the hordes of monsters ready to rip them to bits at his command. And he quickly realizes that the freedom of choice isn't present. And yes - he realizes her resolve is ready to crumble. Every word, every letter spoken.
Breaking a barrier.
The Titan pauses at her outbreak and grimaces. "You and I both know he cares for you very much. Your sisters beg for you to return and are disgraced to know you are with this... company," eyeing Perseus with undisguised disgust.
Instead, she frowns in response, conflict evident in her eyes. "I - he..."
"Do not worry niece. All will be forgiven." he nods calmly.
By now the monsters had begun getting restless, eager to tear them apart. Hellhounds paws the packed dirt in irritation, ready to pounce.
"Zoe... I promised. Remember our promise," the Son of Poseidon reminds her, emphasizing for importance as the words bringing her back to reality.
"Prometheus - Uncle, I- I can't leave him!" she protests, finally noticing the hellhounds inching closer. "I promised!"
Was she really showing - begging for forgiveness or burdened by the fact she had promised, on the Styx no less? That they would stick together and provide comfort and protection until she found a home? But going back to the Garden of the Hesperides and thus her father: wasn't that the home she would be returning to? In a way, it would complete the mission either way.
The Titan only sighs in response, feigning sadness. "I'm afraid I have no choice."
Prometheus's eyes glow brighter. "Family. Immortality. Forgiveness. Happiness. There is no decision from you. My orders are to take you back!"
Tears roll down her eyes, and she starts taking steps back. "I- I- the River - The river Styx - I promised!" she stutters, unable to make a decision. Reclaiming her old life would mean peace once more, yet she would break her promise and Perseus would most likely die. Choosing not to comply would mean certain death for the both of them yet promises would be forever intact.
"Choose, girl, or he DIES!" the Titan of Forethought growls, a spear now in hand.
She looks at him with pain, realizing this may be her biggest regret. "I - I acc-"
And the monsters rush forward, the Titan of Forethought's shouts going unnoticed in the chaos that soon reigned.
Flashback End
He never understood how they escaped alive, fighting off the monsters and simultaneously keeping Prometheus occupied until they jumped into the currents below. Her acceptance to reclaim her old life felt like a betrayal, broken promises that would never mend.
He hated himself for this. He hated himself.
With a gentle sigh, Hestia spoke softly and clearly. "When someone you love does something wrong, don't forget all the things they did right."
He caught his breath then it all hit him. Nothing had ever seemed so true in his life.
He was being irrational, stupid. She had apologized when she left when it should've been himself. She had every right to stay angry.
People do say that sometimes, when the mind chooses to forget things it doesn't want to remember. But he had clung onto it.
She had left because he had been too blind to see his mistake.
...
[Song Tribute: Rain on Me - Lady Gaga]
His throaty laugh was almost contagious, except for the fact the victim on the receiving end no longer chuckled. He cowered. Shrinking at the unmistakable glow of a celestial bronze sword, crimson blood flowing freely from his shoulder, having already lost all feeling.
"Justice must be served, child. In a world of lies, Justice always has its grasp - in life or death." There was an icy intensity, a steely edge to his tone, almost as if he were pushing down his bottled anger.
"Those were my orders - please!" the man begs. "I had no choice, I swear!"
The hooded man laughs again, sending shivers down the victim's spine. "Then go on. Carry your burden of the deaths and run along - back to Sejanus!"
For a brief moment, relief floods the man's mind - he wasn't going to die! He turns from the hooded man and stares down the rainy streets. An alleyway in the city, right under Palatine Hill.
He turns to go and a hand grabs his arm, startling him as he struggles to break from the hooded man's strong grip.
"Remember..." his mouth twitches, voice like a hiss from under the fabric. "That Perseus, the Destructor, sends his best regards."
And the hooded man is gone. He almost misses it but in the night sky, the victim sees the silhouette of a cloaked man jumping from house to house, almost invisible. A choked, strangled laugh escapes his lips. He had survived, for another day at least. How long would he play this game of cat and mouse?
Of course, the answer he knew.
The game went on, until one dies.
...
Perseus extracts his cloak, now lightly dampened with sweat onto the wooden table. The night had been exhausting, tracking down a mercenary who had been ordered to kill Drusus, an heir to the Roman Throne. The man worked for Sejanus, a man rising in power and influence throughout the city.
He draws the back of his hand across his brow, wiping the sweat off. His moves had been cautious, yet predictable, that mercenary. Crawling to the Palace from an alleyway to the gates? So predictable. And he had caught him in the act.
For a moment, he had wondered what emotion he would experience if he really did kill him. Pleasure? Guilt? Relief? Too late to tell now. Besides, it wasn't like he couldn't sleep well with a death hanging over his head. He has killed plenty of people, old and young, all of it, all of this, to reach his goal in the horizon.
The young man shut his eyes, leaning his elbows onto the table. He felt a vision coming. These days, visions controlled him, not the other way around.
The scene was rainy and even in a vision, he feels the raindrops seeping into his eyelids. Then it stopped.
Time slowed, and almost stopped.
The clouds came out, and it showed a young man cowering, the youth is no more than fifteen to sixteen.
"You must know who I am then," the man with wings smirks. He towers greatly over the boy, darkness almost spreading from his fingertips.
"I-I don't know."
"Then boy, I will give you one hint. A repayment of your curse, I suppose."
'Curse? What curse?' he thinks. 'What kind of vision even was this?'
"I - I need to know," the boy stutters, shivering from the cold.
The figure muses, "I see the pull of power you are drawn to. It seems you are addicted to power, little cat."
And then he sees the two figures, one leaning over a bloody, lifeless body, the other man, cowering.
The figure grimaces, lips pursing together. "Remember, little cat, killing without remorse isn't a delusion, it's who you really are."
Then he wakes, shuddering badly as his sweaty elbows slip against his cloak on the table and he crashes to the ground.
Perseus winces, feeling a sharp pain etching across his side. He struggles to stand up, just as the door flies open. Lucius, his messenger, barges in while ignoring the scowl his friend makes.
"Perseus-," he gasps breathlessly, leaning against the table. He gulps in the air like a fish out of water.
"What, Lucius?" the Son of Poseidon asks irritably, propping himself up. The sharp cracks and pops indicate nothing is broken.
Lucius finally regains his breath after a few moments, now steady. "Emperor Tiberius- he sent the cursus publicus to announce an empire-wide announcement that there would be a new Praetor."
A pause.
"And I think I know who it is."
Dread.
"Somebody who might use this power to hunt you down."
Terror?
"And kill you."
He knew who it was now. He knew.
...
Standing proudly at the railings of his ship, his dark, silky hair tied up in a bun, Sejanus's cold blue eyes scanned the horizon. He could just about see the shores of Rome - tiny pin-pricks of buildings proving him right. He sighed inwardly with relief. Pompeii had been a pain, really, the people arguing over the local senate which had run out of money. He scoffed. It was simple, really. After asking Tiberius for funds, the local senate now owed him after providing the city with prosperity.
It had been a pain, really, always regarding the prospect of status, fighting for control that was rightfully his. The Emperor's word meant everything. Though in life, there was always the tiny prickles, the tiny stones that besmirched all. His mother had called him a coward, all those years ago. And since then, deceit had taken over. His desperation to prove to someone, a dead someone, would eventually lead him tumbling for survival.
His arms folded over the railing and he remembered the last time he had come home successful. Everything was just perfect. The timing, the course of events lately, and the gain of respect from the Emperor, calling him home for a ceremony. If only mother was here. If only.
How he would love to prove her wrong.
The view was excellent as always, the ever-present enchanting sea air seeping through his toga, washing away all his worries. There was a certain atmosphere in the air, and if not for the breeze, it would've caught his breath. As he looked out to sea, the rolling waves and the sun shining down on the surface truly was art itself. He had never understood art, yet the few silent moments of peacefulness had given him time to think for once, what he was doing.
Brushing those thoughts aside, he tilted his head back to see a seaman approaching.
"Ave, Lucius Sejanus," A croaky, male voice called out, attracting Sejanus's attention as he turned from the railing to face the source of the voice. A pale-skinned, sullen young legionnaire holding a scroll as if it were his lifeline. Sejanus simply pursed his lips in response, his eyes boring into the scroll.
"What is it?" Sejanus asked brusquely, as he turned to him, pale blue eyes narrowing in irritation, even as he rested his hands on his hips. He did not like being disturbed, not without a good reason. The peace he had savored had dissipated so easily.
His expression softened ever so slightly when he realized who it was. Felix Marcellus, a legionnaire strangely loyal to him ever since he heard his plan to eliminate Tiberius. Perhaps it was acceptable, to have a man of his status to require a loyal servant. Of course, the establishment of a friendship was to be maintained, less he thought of betrayal.
But he knew, ever so often it was essential to exemplify and the manifestation of his power, demonstrating who was in charge here.
"Another messenger from a boat just came by, handing this. It's Emperor Tiberius ordering us to come to the Theatre of Pompey first - a statue will be erected in your honor," Marcellus said, almost bitterly.
Ignoring his jealous servant, he strode ahead, beaming with pride. A statue of HIM? Sejanus knew he most likely broke history. The first man - not even an Emperor or Consul - to have a statue of themselves in the Theatre of Pompey. It almost seemed absurd.
"Tell the Captain to change course due north. Sail for the Regio IX of the Circus Flaminius." And with that note, he nodded for him to leave. Yes, everything was coming together, he mused.
In his haste he turned too fast, bottles clinking loudly inside his cloak's folds. He froze, checking the perimeter before hastily peeking into his cloak's pocket. Still intact. For a moment, he wouldn't know what to do if the bottles were broken. Hades, nothing could go wrong.
The horizon was starting to approach, showing the grand palaces and small dots of citizens waiting eagerly at the water's edge. Allowing his mind to drown in the cheers, he felt victorious. For the first time, the passion of victory had sprung up, not when he won battles against Gauls, Etruscans, and enemies of Rome, but when he truly savored and indulged himself in being Rome's most inspiring man.
Was he having a big-head? No, merely tasting the finer delicacies for strategical victories yet to come.
The cheers were much louder now, reminding him of the colosseum battles he watched as a child, the ear-deafening roars of the crowd. But this was less crazed, more… passive, excited, and respectful. Exactly what he should be receiving for his efforts.
A massive crowd was coming into view, stretching from the port all the way up the hill to where his eyes lead him to the Theatre of Pompey. An unmistakable semi-dome arena with a grand entrance and a massive rectangular garden fenced with high sandstone and marble walls that held the statues of notable Romans.
"Senator Sejanus!"
"Ave, soter!"
"Hail Sejanus, ad victoriam!"
"Ductus Exemplo!" A short man laughed, and Sejanus frowned. Was that mocking or true praise? It was best not to ponder too long on that. He started taking steps down the wooden ramp, massive crowds on both sides parting to allow him and his companions to walk through and up the hill. This felt even greater than the celebration of Tiberius's triumph over the Gauls, even greater than any before him.
He set his mouth into a dazzling smile and began walking, keeping a modest smile. Breathe, step, breathe, step, step, breathe.
The crowd was roaring, clapping, cheering. Politely, yet crazed. He kept his head high, marching on up the hill, the sounds of the crowd on both sides quieting. Were they really? Or was his consciousness relaxing? Heel, step, breathe. Heel, step breathe.
Every step felt vital. Was he slouching? Was he walking sideways? Was his mouth slightly open? It was maddening!
And at last, silence reigned. He knew why. Tiberius, standing at the grand entrance of the Theatre of Pompey, leveling his hands for silence. From here, Sejanus could see just how massive the crowd was. Replicating shimmering scales wavering in the hot summer's heat.
"Salve, Imperator Tiberius."
"Salve." He remarked, almost sarcastically.
...
Perseus was bored. His eye twitched as he saw the pale figure that was 'supposedly' the new Praetor. He didn't have time for this nonsense. Deep down, his true motives were intact. Find Iapetus, vengeance on the descendants of Aeneas, and... Zoe. The last motive hung in the atmosphere for a moment before he dismissed it. Yet, Iapetus no longer seemed like a threat now, more like an annoying hindrance past a veil he couldn't see.
He looked up just in time to see this "Sejanus" give a crooked smile to Tiberius. He resisted the urge to scoff loudly and shout, what a snake! Couldn't Tiberius see this? The deceit and lies behind his placid mask? The way he grinned to himself and the suspicious movements towards his cloak pocket - as if he were hiding something?
The crowd around him has fallen silent as their Emperor raised his hands for silence. He's never had a grudge nor problem with the old Emperor. He was nice, friendly, and kind-hearted. An excellent commander and fighter with a passion for glory to Rome.
Besides, the only man who stood between Sejanus and Tiberius was Drusus, heir to the throne. A timid, young quaestor he had risen to popularity along with his adoptive brother Germanicus, a popular general. The Son of Poseidon could easily tell Sejanus loathed the heir. If looks could kill, he would definitely be riding Charon's boat by now.
Yet the only reason he had contact with Tiberius was because of Drusus. The two had met at a Gladiator fight at the Colosseum, both having similar interests in sword fighting, combat, and weaponry. A mutual but vital friendship for survival. Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he nodded to Lucius. His lips formed a grimace as he raised his eyebrows back. Tiberius was preparing a speech.
"Citizens of Rome, today we honor the victories of our fellow Senator Sejanus and to elevate him to the position of Praetor and my most trusted advisor."
Even at such a close range, he was surprised at how frail and quiet Tiberius spoke now. It seemed age had finally caught up to him.
The crowd was vastly speechless now, few people conversing in low voices about their opinions. It seemed everyone was surprised at the sudden elevation of power, or maybe just how decrepit the old Emperor sounded.
"Furthermore, I would like to invite you all to witness the statue of Sejanus to be erected in the Theatre of Pompey," he declared as he grins toothily.
And at that, the crowd finally roared with approval.
Sparing a glance at Sejanus, he noted that his expression was surprised, but the slight clench of his jaw and uprightness of his neck proved his expectations. He knew this was coming, he knew what was coming.
As if things could get worse, the newly elected Praetor slanted his head ever so slightly, before making eye contact with the Son of Poseidon. Perseus stared him down, unflinching, before Sejanus crossed his arms, his left hand fiddling with the outline of cylinder-like shapes in his pocket. A message he was fully aware of: Mess with me, and he dies.
Even now, the Praetor was foolish. Perseus was certain he had received the warning from one of his henchmen. Imprudent and incautious, trying to play with higher powers he wasn't capable of matching. Soon, it would lead to his fall. Slowly, but eventually. And when Perseus looked back, giving him the wolf-like glare, it would be the last thing Sejanus would remember about him; absolutely indescribable.
...
Between the rickety old shell of the Wolf-House and the forests around it, Neptune could see dozens of wolves, milling about. Some of them were normal animals, but the rest much bigger and much deadlier beings. Minor deities that served Lupa and Diana. He was an intruder here. He was an Olympian, a powerful one at that, but still an intruder. Regardless of how powerful he was, there still was the purpose of being cautious.
"What do you want from us, Lord Neptune?" one of the wolves, bigger than the rest asked as it changed from wolf form to that of a beautiful woman wearing an ornate suit of armor as if she was ready for war. "You never acknowledge us, never come to us, yet now you are here."
The sea god sized Lupa up and nodded gravely at her. "I have a need for you and your pack," he said as clouds gathered above them, making most means of spying and scrying almost impossible to perform. "My son is somewhere in Rome. He needs to be brought here, trained, and sent to the legion."
Lupa's eyes narrowed as she looked at Neptune, analyzing him. "Why didn't I know of his existence? Why must he be brought here if he is surviving outside? I know about every single one of your children that are Roman. Yet I didn't know about this one."
"I had reasons, Lupa. My son is in grave danger, yet I can do nothing. You won't question them, not now. Not soon, either," he stated solemnly, maintaining his deadly eye contact with the wolf goddess who glared back.
The tensions hung in the air and Neptune could see that the wolf goddess of Rome was unhappy. So was her pack, now restless and growling. Yet he knew that her desire to train the demigods would win, sooner or later, and that she would agree to his terms.
There was no other choice, really. Neptune knew that Iapetus and a greater force were still out there, and with the grudge the Piercer held against Perseus, he would no doubt be endangered.
He would need to pay for it later, but an angry, or even a mad Lupa was less dangerous than the Olympians angry at him for an unsolved Titan roaming around the Roman Empire.
"Very well, my Lord," the wolf goddess scowled, baring her elongated canines in anger. "My wolves will venture east to find him and bring him here. Then I will train him here like I have trained any other demigod since Rome was founded."
"Greek demigods may not be a problem, with most training with Chiron back in Greece. Monsters, however, may be an issue," Neptune mentioned stiffly and Lupa's golden eyes darkened.
Lupa growls in a dangerously low tone, "I cannot guarantee that the pack will find him before other foes do, but in the situation that we do not find him, only you are to blame, Neptune." The man in question merely harrumphs and seems is non-plussed by her thinly veiled threat.
"I do not trust you with his safety, not with how close the Greeks are and the ancient evils stirring. But be warned, wolf goddess. There will be consequences if Perseus is harmed. One day, your loathing of Greeks will blind you." With that said, the sea god walked away before disappearing in a spray of sea-foam.
Lupa let out a low growl and glared at the spot where Neptune had been. As much as she hated the god, he was powerful, and there was nothing she could do but carry out his orders. In a flash, a massive wolf was once again in the place of the human. Her golden eyes gleamed before she leaped off towards the forest, her pack right on her heels.
She was going to call the Hunters of Diana.
And nobody, no god nor goddess, could stop her.
...
[Song Tribute: DayDream - Ruelle]
Once again, he allowed himself to indulge in memories, his mind throwing him back to the past. Thankfully, his mind was still aware of his surroundings as he closed his eyes. One could not be too relaxed. At the very least, his brain reacted fast enough. Even though he was fast, he wasn't fast enough nor prepared to drown the range of emotions accompanying it.
He made his way down the well-trodden path, his eyes casually scanning the multitude of tents and Achaean soldiers milling around. Today's battle had hit hard, on their ranks and everyone was taking a well-deserved rest. His eyes focused on the men arguing ahead, the dusty Myrmidons unmistakable even from a distance. The sun made it hard to see, and Perseus was forced to squint.
Walking ahead, he found himself at one of the most eastern wall-sectors where the last sentry tower ended. Sand dunes lay ahead, sheltering a fraction of the tents camped nearby. Strangely, nobody was around except for the ten-or so Myrmidons arguing loudly. Two parties face to face, scowls etched permanently on their faces.
Their arguing was muffled in memory, yet it was becoming more heated by the second.
The sun was beating down harder now, shrouding their obsidian-like armor in a deathly shade. He had to clear up this argument, and now, noting the clenched grips on their swords.
"This is ALL your fault, Iasonas. Your carelessness led to his death!" a soldier practically snarled, right up to the face of Iasonas.
"What now, with Alcimedon and Peisander dead, we only have two running commanders, save Achilles!" He continued.
With a shove, the man Iasonas was on the ground, causing him to yelp as his back connected with a rock.
"Weakling! Where were you, when we were all fighting and Alcimedon needed help? Where were you when you could've blocked the spear imapling Peisander? Countless deaths that possibly could've been prevented, and you did NOTHING!" a Myrmidon practically bellowed.
By now, Perseus had arrived, glancing wearily at the two parties. "We mustn't fight in times like this. Wait for our victory against the Trojans, then settle your feuds."
He tried speaking as calmly as possible, keeping his level voice neutral. Just his luck, that they became ever more agitated.
The Myrmidon whipped his head towards the son of Poseidon. "And who are you to talk, lowly peasant? I don't see you trying to stand up for your dead commander!"
Shaking his head, he wondered how ignorant this soldier was. Here he was, face up close and bellowing at Achilles's comrade. "I wonder how you'd feel if-"
The Myrmidon didn't finish his sentence. An arrow was already punctured through his back, going all the way through his armor, and out his chest. Blood dripped slowly from his red-stained lips as he struggled to grasp reality, grasp life.
He was dead before he hit the ground.
With the Myrmidons confused, arrows began to rain down, most likely from the dunes. He was foolish to see the sentries already dead moments before. As always, he was much too slow.
'It seems confusion always is the key,' Perseus muses at the Trojan's antics. 'Surprise led to confusion; confusion leads to bloodshed. Bloodshed nearly always led to more confusion and on rare occasions, victory.'
[Song Tribute: Stronger - The Score]
Hitting the ground, Perseus rolled a few times before he made it to his feet, looking for safety. Nearly facepalming himself for his stupidity, he remembered how they were literally camping in a desert-like area, with the sea behind him. He'd have to move a considerable distance to reach the sea.
But for now, he had a few tricks up his sleeve.
Stretching his powers to his limits, he called upon the moisture around him, condensing it into a large ball of grey-looking water. There wasn't much, but it would do. It was a new ability he had discovered himself when realizing there was water in the atmosphere and being the son of Poseidon that he could call upon.
He stretched the water into a shield just as a dozen arrows rained down on him, rendering them useless. Around him, the ten or so Myrmidons were hastily retreating after the initial surprise.
Glancing at the dunes, he knew why. There were at least fifty or so Trojans approaching, attempting to infiltrate the Myrmidon camp that lay in the distance. The Trojans would have to pick off all the Myrmidons in time to prevent one from calling an ambush. Including himself, of course.
Growling at this, Perseus was forced on the defensive as he gave ground, moving further away from the dunes and in case one of the archers wanted to make a pot-shot. A second of hesitation gave himself the opportunity to look back for a split second.
Eight Myrmidons still standing.
He quickly leeched some of the water from the shield and added a thin layer of water across his skin. Protection, as always, was more vital than charging into battle defenseless. He parried a Trojan's spear, twirling on his heel as he stabbed him through the stomach and used the momentum to slice through another's neck.
A cry came from one of the Myrmidons, Iasonas. The disgraced Myrmidon was on the ground, clutching his stomach painfully as his face stretched into an agonizing silent scream. A Myrmidon tried to pull him away from the line of fire but was shot down immediately by an arrow. Pity.
"Get to the shores!" he roared, startling the remaining six Myrmidons still fighting. One looked as if he wanted to run towards camp, to warn the others, but subconsciously knew he wouldn't make it ten steps in that direction.
How pleasing it would look, Perseus thought, to see the fear on those archer's faces if I reappeared right next to them? Wipe the smug looks on their demented faces?
Shaking himself out of those perceptions, he glanced wearily at the shores. Not far. Once they got in range, he could protect them with his powers. Already, he was weakening from replacing his water shield again and again from the onslaught of arrows. At least thirty steps.
What could go wrong?
Another Myrmidon was dragging Iasonas now, making a beeline for the shores. Half a dozen arrows rained down near the two, but he quickly dispatched them with Riptide, slicing them through the air.
Twenty steps.
The Trojans were approaching steadily now. They had the advantage of speed and range, while Perseus and the Myrmidons could only fight close up. None of them was an archer or had a spear at the moment.
He was so distracted with his thoughts he let a Trojan in range, his spear jabbing at his midsection. He deflected that, but it only gave the opportunity for three more Trojans to engage close up with him. All three were dead on the ground in a blink of an eye, shards of ice through their necks. The longer he held the fort, the higher their survival rate.
Fifteen Steps.
Next to him, a Myrmidon stumbled, and like a cat on a mouse, a Trojan soldier stabbed down, ending the man's life.
Five Myrmidons standing.
Iasonas had reached the shore, along with the Myrmidon that dragged him. Calling upon his heritage, he summoned a sphere of hardened water, encasing the two under the waves as spears rained down upon the two. They would be safe, for now.
He'd let himself become distracted, again. A spear came down, and he barely had time to deflect it with his shield until another spear grazed his stomach. He grunted, kicking the soldier away and slashing his neck. He sighed inwardly. Another unnecessary life lost.
The blood from his stomach wasn't much, but it would be serious later if not treated.
Ten Steps. He could feel the moisture of the sand, the rush of the waves, the beating of the current behind him. Seawater rose upin his heels, circling his stomach and healing the wound.
The remaining three Myrmidons right next to the shore. Even more, Trojans were approaching.
Yet the Trojans were closing in. The archers had stopped firing, as they were already out of range, and the possibility of killing one of their own comrades. Taking a breath of the sea air, he looked straight into the eyes of the Trojans and roared.
Fresh, pure seawater swirled from the currents, freezing into icicle shards midair. To say he relished the fear on their faces was an understanding. Pure horror of realizing he was part-god and their inevitable death showed on their faces.
Five steps.
He knew the icicles wouldn't survive long in this atmosphere. Ice in such a warm environment would render it useless. He thrust out his hands, calling to the sea and to the icicles that shot towards the multitude of Trojans. He roared, and torrents water spread up onto his body, giving protection and his sudden outburst of icicles had impaled at least fifteen Trojans who lay dying slowly on the sand.
Zero Steps.
Right in the surf. How he missed the feeling of the sea. The beating of the sea, at his command.
To his left, Achaean soldiers could be seen streaming in their direction, read to engage battle with the Trojans. It would be a lie if he told himself the Trojans deserved it. Yet the consequences of killing another always had impacts on every aspect of life, yourself, another, and the society they lived in. It stained your heart forever.
He guessed it was too early to enjoy his home turf. But being prepared for the raining arrows was, suffice to say, successful.
Five Myrmidons living. Five Myrmidons dead.
...
"I'm leaving."
"What? For how long? " Lucius gaped, his eyes wide.
"Wha- Why?" he stuttered, unable to grasp the fact one of his only companions was leaving.
"Lucius, Lucius," he chuckled, donning his cloak with a shrug. "Sometimes, one has to find his own peace and solitude before moving on in life."
The younger man frowned, unable to form words.
Lucius leaned onto a wooden beam, frowning at his words. "It sounds like you have experience in this kind of stuff."
"Of course I do, my friend. It's time I reminisce forgetful memories before they're gone forever," Perseus sighed, recalling the Trojan War. It would be absurd to say he told Lucius he fought along with Achilles; he wouldn't believe him. Well, as they say, 'ignorance is bliss'.
Instead, his friend merely rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Always with the smart quotes and meditating."
"Then you'll know why I must go, my friend," the son of Poseidon stated bluntly, sheathing an array of daggers onto his chest.
"But what about Sejanus? What of him? Without you supporting Tiberius and Drusus, they'll be in great danger!" he called out desperately.
Perseus sighed, before facing his companion. "Some things you just don't get, do you? Some things in life are just meant to be left alone, some aren't things you'll ever face and deal with. So why bother?"
He winced a little at his words, hoping it didn't come out too harsh. It was the truth, after all. He needed this peace, this break from everything going on. And that dream of his father meeting Lupa... he didn't want to think about what would happen if he was captured by her pack.
It was silent now, except for the chirping of birds and the rustle of the old oak.
"You'll visit, right?"
In response, his mouth twitched, and he looked at him uncertainly. "We'll see," he replied sadly, taking out a silver dagger.
"Here," Perseus says, thrusting out his silver dagger, Lucius nearly jumped back in surprise, before realizing his actions.
"A silver dagger. If you meet wolves, monsters, or horrible people… do it for me," Perseus smirked, handing him the dagger.
"Monsters? Wolve-" Lucius coughs, faltering slightly.
"Hopefully, you'll never meet them," he cut him off abruptly.
He opened the door, appreciating the soft breeze that soothed his nerves. Going back to Greece was a big step back, and he needed the training ahead. He could deal with matters in Rome later, but finding Iapetus was the main priority. If he met Chiron, all the better.
"I'll see you later, old friend," he smiled grimly.
Lucius didn't reply, and he never would.
Without looking back, the son of Poseidon walked on and on, through a storm and anything else that crossed his path.
Ignorant to the body of his companion heaped on the doorstep.
...
"Lupa, may I ask, the status of your search for my son?" the sea god inquired, looking down at the wolf goddess.
Lupa wanted to punch the sea god for his snarky attitude, but that would most likely end up with her in a puddle of slimy seawater.
"My Lord... we haven't found him yet," eyeing his angered look, she hastily continued. "Our scouts are picking up a scent though, throughout Rome. We're close to finding him as long as he stays in Rome."
Neptune nods, rubbing his chin in thoughtfulness. "Good. Report back to me in a week. If you don't find him... the Hunters of Diana will work," he grunts stiffly, eyes stormy in concentration.
The silence stretched in between, both immortals pondering different scenarios.
"There's no need, my Lord. I've called Lady Diana and she is more than willing to help," she smiled wolfishly, baring her fangs. Lady Diana had struck at the opportunity to hunt and find a male, the gender majority that "dominated" the world. More than willing to help, especially for a son of Poseidon. Ever since the "Orion Incident," as most call it, Diana had become more and more aggressive towards males, either turning them into animals or punishing them with death.
Well, let's just hope she doesn't kill him, Lupa muses. Neptune is going to wish I found him first once his son dies.
Almost laughing at her own thoughts, she directs her attention back to the sea god who had been rambling the entire time. "-to notify her hunters that no maiming nor killing shall be done to him. She will have to deal with the council if anything happens."
"Of course, my Lord," her wolfish grin sarcastic as he dissipates into a whirlwind of water.
"I really do feel like letting Diana find him first," Lupa ponders, motioning for the pack to get ready for the journey ahead.
...
[Song Tribute: Apologize -OneRepublic]
In the horizon, a man hiked up the hilltop, overlooking the city of Rome. The sun was setting now, too early it seemed, yet the last beautiful rays of sunshine slowly ebbed away, leaving him more sorrowful than ever.
His goal had been ever too clear in his mind, distractive thoughts no longer clouding his mind. He had experienced his own inner peace, yet he understood that happily ever after was always short-lived. As if I ever had a happy ending, the Son of Poseidon scoffed, adjusting his sheath. He wouldn't bother with a boat, swimming down, deep into the depths of the welcoming sea would be far better.
"We're still a long way from normal."
He sat down, remembering the last time he'd gone hunting near the shores of Greece with Zoe. The day after the solstice. It had only been late December sun, but in memory, it was very bright, every rock and every pebble and every sand crab outlined in gold. In memory the waves were wonderous, almost living things, blue and green and white, calling to him, challenging him to leave all his worries behind and come out to play.
With bleary eyes, he sighed loudly, uncaring, knowing that not a single soul was nearby. That memory had relieved the worst moments of flashbacks, desperately trying to recall this particular memory in the darkest of times. He would've been too prideful to admit, but she was the light in his darkness. His hope.
Because hope could always see the light, despite the darkness.
Who cared about the threats looming over him, Wolf Goddess's and Gods trying to find him, Titans rising and death looming. He would find his own peace, without allowing the behavior of others to destroy his own.
How he felt to be the hero, to always have the spotlight in the gods' eye.
To be honest "I never really liked it, I hated it. Always having judging, suspicious fearful looks, always in constant danger and nearly dying, always feeling the pressure and fear that I'd mess up. But I just sucked it up. I wasn't doing anyone favors by whining or complaining. I fought just friends, my new family, every time I picked up my sword, fought an enemy, I did it for them. It's not about being the hero, it's about protecting the ones you love, and doing what's right."
He smiled faintly at that moment, the argument with Artemis back in Greece. Her stereotypical beliefs of males had changed ever so slightly at what he said. It surprised him. It had surprised her.
'It may be stormy now, but it never rains forever.'
...
Yep, I'm done.
How'd I do? Was it really bad? 7.9k words, huh...
I'm terribly sorry if you thought there was too much angst, as a certain someone reviewed, and I just felt we deserved a big angsty, chapter to sum up his memories. There'll be more of this, hehe.
I've made some last-minute changes, including the last part so please excuse me if it makes you cringe.
And of course, I'd like to thank ShadowThanatos my beta for helping me get through these depressing times.
Oh yeah, shoutout to Suzaku Mizutani for being an AWESOME grammar checker, ILY!
The next chapter will pretty much pick up from where we left off, so don't worry, nothing happening much for now :)
As for my updating schedule, I used to originally post twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays, but I cut out Monday, and then it was Friday. And then I switched Friday for Saturday. And now I'm basically posting every month. Screw me.
It do be the holidays now, so I'll be able to mass write and update "slightly" more frequently. *laughs nervously*
So see you all in Gods know when.
Signing out,
Lil Scar :)