Here's chapter 12 chicas!
I just wanna say I'm still trying to keep this monthly update going, but my internet has been so flippin crazy I haven't been able to write or edit.
Anyways, here's a pretty depressing chapter, with a few tense action scenes. You'll see.
This chapter goes out to all those 5SOS and MISSO fans out there :)
Chapter 12
Guilt
3rd Person POV
It was a beautiful location atop a sheer bluff by the ocean, waves crashing hard against the clifftop. But he turned back to the setting sun to catch the red rays on the page of his book, his callous fingers nimbly flipping a page.
The book was The Odyssey by Homer.
Men are so quick to blame the gods: they say-
that we devise their misery.
But they themselves - in their depravity,
design griefs greater than the griefs that fate assigns.
He looked up at the trees. His camp was in a small clearing, but the trees pressed close on both sides. They weren't as towering here close to the shore as they were further inland. These seemed friendlier trees than the ones deeper in.
"A man who has been through bitter experiences and travels far enjoys even his sufferings after a time," he read aloud. For his experience had spun into forgetfulness. The harsh life he had now lived in was less harsh than the reality he had left in Rome, in Greece. That was the real wilderness, the unseen sufferings he had vaguely been aware of.
Here, it was only nature trying to starve him, break his bones, cut and poison him. Nature was relentless but it was free of malice. Nature did not hate.
It was not nature that had driven him to sacrifice his happiness, to kill, to harm.
Perseus closed his eyes and then the book, and tried to calm the rush of emotion inside him. Guilt was a fascinating thing: it seemed not to weaken over time. If anything it grew stronger, as the circumstances faded from memory, as the fear and necessity became abstract. And only his own actions stood out, with crystal clarity.
Each man delights in the work that suits him best.
No, That was wrong. He hastily flipped a page. He felt no delight.
Yet the sacrifice had worked. He no longer felt anything, only the empty void that was eating him alive. Only there were no loving gods, seeing his faith had intervened to stop the killing.
The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.
And for that shoulder-shrugging indifference, it had taken him so long to finally realize why the gods were never seen. It embarrassed him. What kind of fool, in a mortal's point would believe in such a terrible world there were gods? A holy council of gods, paying attention, and caring about mankind?
He had murdered, slaughtered so many people. Even so, it was for a cause he was willing to be punished for. Didn't he get past this point? But in these circumstances, it had given him plenty of time to reminisce over past actions.
Murdered. He didn't want to dress it up with any nice words. His devil-deprived rawness wanted it harsh. He wanted the word to be sandpaper dragged across his raw conscience. He wanted to use that awful word to obliterate whatever was left of the naive, clueless son of Poseidon. Beating himself up would do no good.
His hands shook. He laid the book flat on his lap. Then he hesitated. A memory twinge. Something nagging at his consciousness, warning him he had seen something important and had missed it.
Scowling, he brushed dark locks of hair from his eyes and assessed the sky. Living in the wild for so long had taught him to estimate how long of sunlight he had left, and he wondered if he could make it there before night fell. Before darkness fell. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid of the dark. There. He had told himself, reminded himself of his one weakness.
Perseus frowned, tracing back his actions. He set aside his book and grabbed Riptide, in hairpin form. He had no clue how it could switch into a hairpin, but it was something for sure he would ask Zoe the next time they met. It was best not to remind himself about her now.
It was much too dark for his liking now. Briskly walking to where he had remembered, he knelt down, and yes, it was there. Next to a small birch - four shallow holes hole, and a pile of burnt sticks. All covered with sticks and leaves. And yet - a few clumps of dirt and coal to the side.
Brushing the bushes aside, a small clearing lay before him. It was empty, yes, but there was no doubt someone - many someones were camping here.
Perseus closed his eyes and stood there, swaying slightly.
He giggled, noticing the bronze spear stuck in the dirt and shuffled movement in the clearing ahead. A sign of what? Too drowsy and tired to remember.
The Piercer.
Coldness seeped into his veins, like thick liquid metal. Back into the darkness. Step. Step.
Something was squeezing his heart.
His teeth would fragment if he bit down any harder.
Darkness fully descended now, casting everything in a looming shadow of despair.
'It's just the same as it was,' he told himself. 'Same but darker.'
Nothing changes when the light goes out, my little hero. Mother had said that a thousand times. See? Blow. Light out. Sss-Crackle. Light on. The same bed, the same room, the same equipment and clothes you have strewn all over the floor...
Not the point, he had told himself. The threat knows I'm helpless in the dark. So that's really not the same.
It really isn't the same threat if I can't see it.
It's not the same threat when it knows it doesn't have to hide, and can make its move.
They all assumed a fear was a cause and effect, from a thing or place.
No, that wasn't the point of fear. Fear wasn't about making sense, fear was about the possibilities. New things that might happen, things that could happen.
And the threats could be laughing at him. The threats, holding their knives, spears, daggers, claws right in his face and he wouldn't be able to see. The threat could be right here. Right. Here.
His legs ached from the tension. His small camp, right ahead, yet that nagging feeling of being wanted. He couldn't even look back for long because the possibilities were all around him now.
The light of the day showed you the limits of possibilities. But through the dark, the absolute, total darkness and the possibilities were limitless.
Was he running too loudly, the crunching of dry leaves, or was that Iapetus behind him?
He shook with relief as he saw the torches at his camp.
And when night came, destiny, fate would find him.
He would run, straggling into the darkness. Not fast enough.
Never fast enough.
~xXx~
He considered himself an aesthete person when it came to nature. The smell of earth and rain - petrichor - enlightened his senses which had been clouded in fear.
Shakily getting to his feet, Perseus noticed wherever he had stumbled upon, the landscape was vastly different. He had fallen asleep in the glen of forests, the soft humming of birds lulling him to sleep.
Here, it was barren, harsh, and cold.
Dark mountains, superimposed over the horizon, surrounded him in a circle. The whole world seemed blackened at his mere waking, ragged pieces of stone blocking out the sun, locking out any semblance of warmth and life.
Exactly how he feared the world would be one day.
How did he end up in the mountains and such a desolate one at that?
His fingers clenched his blade, the unmistakable glow of Riptide illuminating through the misty smog ahead.
His camp. Where was his camp?
Taking a shuddering breath, he ran his hand through his messy hair. That man, the one shrouded with shadows was most likely the higher power at play. Almost like chess.
He could take five steps back and find out he'd traveled five centimeters or five miles. It was precise, methodical, and depended entirely on your destination. Yet in the back of his mind, he knew this was a dream. He begged it to be.
But the others don't know that, another part of his brain whispered insidiously.
And whoever this Chaos impersonator was, he or she had taken pains to keep it that way. To achieve victory, the sacrifice needed to be given.
Perseus dropped silently, crouching and shuffling like a crab. He may be silent, but this wasn't his dream. Dreams could be molded into any dimension, any reality the dreamer wanted.
Slow, deep creepy organ music started playing in the background. He hissed, blocking it out. Seriously?
He felt exposed without his hood, his mask. He missed the opportunity it offered, but really, nobody knew who he was. It made him infamous that way.
One hand grazed the ground before he had time to recover. His balance was nearly disrupted.
There was something sticky obscuring his vision, vapor - harder and more solid than the mist was forming. Remember, anything can happen in a dream, he reminded himself irrefutably.
Playing absent-mindedly with his dagger, he watched the sunset just dipping above the jagged mountains, hesitating, waiting for something to happen.
Everything's alright - he wanted to tell the sun. I'll be fine in the dark, Apollo.
After walking a few steps, he leaned against a tree, restlessly twirling Riptide around. Who knew dreams could feel so long, so weary? He finally let his tense muscles relax tightly. If anything, countless years in the wild and near the presence of enemies had taught him to be alert to any sound, until touch became sense, and hearing became observing.
You could say, he was even a hunter. He almost laughed aloud at the incredulous notion. If he had said that in front of Artemis... he shivered at the thought.
But now, the night was coming. Night, by dream standards could consist of a multitude of possibilities. He shivered, feeling more or less sleepier in the misty woods. Could you fall asleep in a dream?
It was probably his nerves acting up - halt - no... there. A sudden snap of twigs.
He sheathed his silver dagger, feeling for the other but recalled giving the second to Lucius. His hand lowered above the pommel until he spun-
Riptide passed through a milky white apparition. Fast enough to kill, slow enough to realize. Cold dread shuddered through the wry vexation.
"Percy..."
The voice was horribly familiar.
"Percy, look at me... look at what I've become..."
The body was riddled with deep cuts, each one gushing an endless fountain of crimson blood. If not for the color, he would've mistaken it for ink.
"Cassandra..." He whispered disbelievingly. Even in death, she looked flawless.
His last bittersweet memories of her during the fall of Troy, when he ordered her to run, run for the hills. Now here she was. A former shell of her past, forever haunting the living world.
It seemed so real though, and he knew his face showed ill-disguised shock that never faltered, staring intently into her pale sapphire eyes. Using every bit of willpower left inside him, he racked his brain at the pathways that led her to this. He came back empty-handed.
"Look at what they did to me..."
Cassandra's sun-kissed auburn hair, streaked with grime and ashes.
"And you didn't do a thing to stop them."
"I-" He struggled to speak, unable to grasp the fact that she was gone, that she was aggrieved.
His words almost came out as a whisper, low enough to conceal in lip movements. "Whatever did I do, Cassandra? Please, tell me-."
Her words tumbled out, an icy, intense, steely tone to her voice, accusing my very existence. "YOU could have saved me. YOU could have called off the attack with Clymenstra!"
Then, there was the silence that came after. The eye-piercing glare from her, as I reconciled over my memories. By the time he realized Clymenstra had somehow killed her-
And she changed.
Helen of Troy was wearing a white toga, her arms and legs bare. He could see the countless bruises and cuts littering the porcelain surface. Her eyes fixed on his, and her mouth twisted into a sardonic, mocking smile.
"How are you, Perseus?"
Perseus was shaking badly.
This was what he had seen after the war, every night, over and over for years on end. He thought he'd barricaded this part of his mind. Now, the barriers he had created to let go of these ever-so painful memories came crashing back. He never overcame it, he pushed it deep down as guilt.
"Helen... you're not real," he rasped. Their first encounter had shaken him enough.
Cold blue eyes fixed on him. Her slim fingers curled over the helm of a fold, pushing it up and pulling it to the side. Perseus could see a hold ramming through her chest, still oozing thickly.
"Whoever it is, creating these sickening visions, I will make sure your death as long, painful, and excruciating as possible," he snarled inwardly.
And from somewhere, anywhere within the dream, he replied.
"You might have to find me first, little cat."
"Can illusions hurt?" she asked quietly, letting her hand drift to the side. He snapped his head back at her, a mixture of fear and melancholy enveloping himself.
"Because it does. Every moment. Every breath. You told me we would be together forever and ever. You lied... you lied to me like you always do. And I believed. For a daughter of Zeus, I was foolish."
The Son of Poseidon squeezed his eyes shut, tears threatening to leak out, trying to banish the images of blood and battlefield and Helen's prone body, after he had killed her.
The voice was there again.
Do you regret it? Do you wish immortality was never achieved? You know, I can help you reunite once more, let you hold onto your promises...
"No, no I'm sorry," he croaked.
"Sorry doesn't bring back the dead, love."
The endearment was like a slap at the face, and he gasped breathlessly, images of her body lying haphazardly on the stone ground, quietly angelic.
"You're not supposed to be here... Helen."
Even her name was stinging to say.
A cruel smile.
"Ahh," she cooed. "You know all about that, don't you? So many precious lives you failed to save, so many comrades, left to die on the battlefield, I'm surprised you haven't fallen to insanity yet," she mused.
He exhaled slowly.
"What do you want?" he said, his slumped form radiating bone-deep weariness. Somewhere near him, he could sense an unknown force, chuckling slightly at his blandness.
Helen tilted her head to the side, making her blonde hair brush against her shoulders. Her hands, ghostly yet somehow corporeal, wrapped around his shoulders and clasped in the front, tracing circles on his chest.
"What do I want? Oh, no, it was never about me, was it? You were the one that killed me, Seaweed Brain." He flinched at the childhood nickname. Now, it fit him more than ever, being the son of the sea.
"You got tired of me and threw me out... like a toy. I would have forgiven you, had our situation been reversed. But you never thought of that, hm? You caused my death." Her fingers punctuated every word she spat. "You. Stabbed. Me. And yet, you could've also brought me back - oh, so easily. But you don't. You leave me to suffer slowly."
Her tone changed, dark and malicious. To anyone, it would be frightening, a ghostly woman's arms wrapped around your shoulders, making small talk about her death. But to him, desolation and tinges of regret had become so much he hardly noticed until it stared him in the eyes.
"Did you know, it took me hours and hours to bleed out? Death wasn't so kind to me, and only the fire did. Even so, you never bothered to check."
Something about that statement felt wrong, but he couldn't remember - his mind was cloudy and he couldn't think.
He has me hostage," she whispered, her fingers trailing along the neckline of her toga. "They have me, they want you. It's always about you... I'm only the means to the end... and it hurts..."
Perseus swallowed the heaviness down his throat. And everything, everything came crashing down like waves. His fifth birthday at the beach, the training in swordsmanship, every teasing, their last sunset together, before she was bound for Troy, with Paris. And every promise, every temporary goodbye, every milestone of friendship they reached together, crumbled. And now, he said to himself - what made you kill her that day? What made you kill your best friend in cold blood - with no sense of mortality?
"You're lying," he croaked out. "No one can chain the dead. It's impossible."
There was a slow, mocking pause as she subtly glanced behind him.
'For all your lauded intelligence, you're still stupidly ignorant. Tell me, Seaweed Brain, when's the last time you saw a peaceful death?"
Perseus opened his mouth to answer but closed when he couldn't think of an exact number. "Months? A few years ago?"
"See?" Helen smiled triumphantly, a small bit of her former self shining through.
Her eyes glowed with hidden power, especially when she was able to prove him wrong about yet another one of his notions. It was often tempered with humor and love, but the shadow of hate and sadness destroyed the image.
"The Olympians are ignorant. Gaea and the Titans are making their plans. And Death no longer controls, with a greater force dominating."
His head snapped up at the last one.
"What?"
"Funny how you aren't even aware of the things happening around you, instead only focused on what matters in your perspective, and what you believe. But when it comes to who you'll be facing, you're like a puppet on a string, so easily manipulated. Poor, deluded little Percy," she cooed mockingly.
Somewhere inside her, he knew that a small shred of dignity kept her from letting go to this unformidable force that kept her here.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Oh baby," she shook her head. "I cared for you, even after you betrayed me. But they took me, not the Trojans, but the Lord of Darkness. Gaea and he want to know you. It's personal, now. You can't escape them. No one can."
This wasn't supposed to happen. Perseus could feel his breathing race erratically, hitching in his throat. His mind couldn't concentrate.
A soft, cold touch caressed his cheek.
"Did I break you?" she purred, tracing one icy finger over his lips, poking him teasingly on his nose. Though there might be a hint of her old concern in her voice, he couldn't be sure. The image of her dead body continually replayed itself in his mind. He wondered how her icy intensity of anger before.
Perseus's eyes narrowed. Some semblance of coherence returned to his head, and he controlled his heartbeat down to a more steady rhythm.
"You're not Helen, are you?" he questioned stoically. "Ghosts, spirits, chained Death or not, cannot touch others."
His lips quirked.
"Even if I am Thanatos."
She faltered, and a wide grin pulled her rosy lips apart.
"So you figured it out."
The voice was deeper, raspier than the daughter of Zeus's. Her body remained the same, but her face changed into one of mystery, shrouded with misty darkness. From under the hood, he could make out the grey skin and gleaming white teeth, stained with blood. It looked like the siren had just been feeding.
He snarled in anger, in despair, his previous guilt dissipating. For now. It was sure to come bite back at him later.
How dare they use her form to goad him. She had been his strength, just as she was his weakness, but she had been the last shred he had hung onto when he left Troy. It was a relief they hadn't thought of Zoe.
But they couldn't have her. They already had everything else he cared for. The reign of all emotions.
"A greater siren, correct?" he growled, drawing his swords into a steady crouch.
"Good job, baby," it murmured sultrily, in Helen's voice. "But you must remember," she or he continued, "that this is my dream, and I have the control here."
He swung his sword around his finger, spinning it in a deadly arc of bronze, before he clenched the hilt in a downwards grip. A surge of anger seared his nerves, making Perseus's hands shake. His eyes glowed with an unearthly fire, promising death and torture at his hands alone.
The siren lunged at him, talon-like blades outstretched. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"I'm sorry, Helen, Cassandra," he whispered. "Forgive me."
The blades plunged, and the sensation of pain rocketed through his body.
~xXx~
Song Tribute: [ Dancing With Your Ghost - Sasha Sloan]
It wasn't the first time he had heard the sneering, nasal-like voice of no other than the Dark Lord himself. Thoughts, floating around in an endless swirl of flurry, broke like kaleidoscope glass and tumbled in his mind for a fraction of a second.
He had stopped searching for answers that had no questions.
"You see, I'm not the causes of mayhem, the depiction of mayhem lies within each and every one of us."
"I thought she was with you," he said softly, trying not to jump to rash conclusions.
It almost seemed as if the manifestation of darkness hummed in response. "With each coming day, they are restless. You and I both know what the Titans want, and what they will do. As for Helen, what can I say? Illusions are Illusions." He snapped back to reality. "Frankly, I could offer you endless pain, or unlimited power-"
"No." Perseus snapped back irritably. "Lies and deception may exist, but I know what you're scheming. I won't let you take advantage of power like that."
There was a slight undertone of uncertainty in his voice, making the Primordial's lips twist into an awful smile.
"Power? This is hierarchy, petty demigod. Here I am, trying to treat you almost as an equal -" He scoffed. "And you try to undermine my support? Accuse me?" His gaze was stony now, all traces of his sinister smile gone.
"I am giving you the opportunity to escape from my wrath after I'm done with the unaware Olympians. Your declination may as well be the end of you."
Perseus scrutinized him for a fraction of a second, before exhaling heavily, allowing his hot breath to fan over his face. "Don't you understand? In every civilization, a hierarchy exists. Without it, chaos reigns. Wars. Death. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't choose the right side, the right choices for humanity. Power may be in the grasp of all, but do they all use it for good? For the gods? You may think the Olympians are unfair - yet they have done better than any age before them, including you. Tell me, Primordial of Darkness."
He hadn't noticed they'd been walking in this trance-like dream until they made it to a small shore, the moon casting a soft illumination on Erebus, one side of his face in illumination, the other in steep shadows.
The Primordial gazed out at sea, speaking so quiet he almost leaned in. "For all, I've lived for, nothing had ever seemed so true. But I must do what even the Fates cannot control. The Olympians are corrupt. Help me destroy them, once and for all."
Taking advantage of his knowingness, he felt the urge to do what was right. Yet, what was right in this situation?
A thousand possibilities flooded his mind, each one as fruitless as the last. 'Let fate play its game. Let the fates play all night,' he thought.
"Then you must know why I'm doing this." He sighed, words unable to comprehend how badly he wanted to describe his inner pain.
Erebus glanced up questioningly, and he grasped the nerve to continue. "Not for humanity. Even in the darkest moments of history, humanity survives, perseveres, adapts. No, this is for everything I've lived for, everything all demigods lived through." He was on a roll now.
"Years ago, I wanted vengeance, vengeance for my fallen brothers in the Trojan War, and revenge against the corrupt family of Troy. Yet Revelation is pitiful, everlasting, and in my immortal life, nothing had felt so strong in my mind. I wanted retribution. But now, after seeing what violence and the cruel humanity did to the purest beings, I wanted to change not only myself, not to get vengeance, but to change history, alter Greece and Rome. This isn't for everyone that has stood by me, it's for the people who have sacrificed changing humanity for the better."
They walked in almost companionable silence before Erebus finally spoke. His usual confident aura was diminished, and for the first time, he seemed more down to earth, more human.
"The Gods have closed themselves off from the mortal world. That doesn't change my viewpoint, though. In the end, on the battlefield, we will be destined to be enemies."
Perseus stared straight ahead, not blinking. "Maybe. I don't know. Why did the Fates do that?" The question was aimed at himself, but he had spoken it aloud.
The demigod shook his head, frustration marring his eyebrow. He was so much like Iapetus; they both hated not knowing answers. "I don't understand. The closest I can figure out is that something has disrupted the flow of the Fates and the gods are trying to separate themselves from the problem. I-" he broke off, holding out a hand to stop Erebus from walking.
"What is it?" His remark sounded almost comical - almost sarcastic.
"Do you hear that?" The son of Poseidon had walked slightly further ahead and was slowly checking the surroundings. "That - That sound..."
Darkness seemed to consume both of them as the Dark Lord grinned, his previous demeanor resurfacing. "The sound of the world ending, little cat. The sound of humanity dying."
Fade to Black.
~xXx~
He groaned as his body refused to get up. It was morning again, the smell of fresh dew and campfire smoke filling his lungs. The last few illusions and visions had been hectic - his mind was still processing what was real and what was not. Final conclusion: everything was not a joke. It was not a game.
The rustle of bushes dampened his somber reflections, and he jolted as he remembered where he was. On the ground, right outside his tent, weaponless, save for Riptide.
Hades!
Voices could be heard - concealed whispering but with his enhanced demigod hearing, he could decipher. The words, however, were clearly female.
There would be no time to pack - only to run, almost blind into whatever direction seemed safe. They were the predator, and this time, he was the prey. He had forgotten what was real and what was dream whilst in the realm of Morpheus.
The Hunters of Artemis.
Time would be of the essence now, each move had to be calculated, enough for him to snatch his supplies and not be caught. The tent had to be left behind - his satchel of ambrosia and nectar along with extra daggers and cloaks already over his shoulder as he turned to leave.
Only to come face to face with Artemis.
gulp.
She was grinning widely, her golden bow and arrows - khryselakatos - notched. All around him, the Hunters of Artemis appeared, behind shrubbery, leaping down from trees, all notching their respective deadly arrows.
The Predators circle the prey.
His shoulders slumped slightly, but he wouldn't give them the satisfaction of victory. And for a particular reason, the Goddess of the Hunt had here divine weapon notched, enough to send even an immortal to an unpleasant trip to Tartarus. The thought almost made him laugh aloud - the great Olympian was using her divine weapon to intimidate a lowly son of Poseidon.
"Once again, we come face to face, son of the sea," she hummed, acting as stony and passive as possible. However, the hunters were much different. Where was Zoe?
When she was rewarded with his silence, she began speaking, ignoring the ever-hostile hunters with their bow-strings stretched to the maximum.
And in turn, he raised Riptide
"It had come to Lady Lupa and my attention that on the command of your father - for you to be brought to Olympus to accept your fate as an unlisted immortal. Lower your sword, or my explanation to your father on how you were sent to Tartarus will be gruesome."
The Predators, creeping in for the kill.
"If that's how it is. Then fine. I surrender." Perseus sighs, placing Riptide gently down.
The rebuff did little to dampen her ardor. In short, Lady Artemis was surprised.
"That's it? You surrender?" She frowned uncertainly, her bow dropping slightly. Around her, the hunters lowered their bows, and frowned, equally surprised as their mistress. They must've expected a bloody fight. Was now the time to strike?
The clouds were looming ahead now, and the sky started raining, a coffin lid, slowly suffocating them.
Without warning, a huntress leaped forward, her hunting knives whipped from their sheaths.
"Phoebe!"
Artemis was the first to react, yet her godly powers were out of range to stop the attack.
He clenched his jaw, and crouched, Phoebe's knives swishing over his head as he rolled to the side. Surprisingly, the Hunt had lowered their weapons, watching intently as their fellow huntress began the onslaught on the male.
It was a test of honor.
Taking a deep a deep breath, he flicked Riptide off hairpin mode, knife scraping against sword sending a clash of sparks as they redoubled their efforts.
The Huntress's face was twisted into a gruesome snarl, her lips pursed tightly. "Surrender, boy - surrender or I'll wish you were dead after I'm finished with you, murderer."
He snorted in response. "No way in Tartarus am I losing to you, even if you're backed up by a goddess."
Phoebe blinked in surprise, awed by the sheer aggression in his voice.
"Then die, monster."
The ferocity in her demeanor wiped every trace of the stoic hunter she was, as the Huntress continued her attacks with more feverish.
He grunted, falling to one knee as she kneed him in the stomach, before landing punch after punch at his face. It hurt, yet he found the blows more fueling to his anger, than to his defeat.
It wasn't worth fighting back to a lower being.
The winds were picking up now, and the majority of the hunters had taken shelter beneath larger trees, while the goddess of the hunt herself was situated a few steps in front, watching intently.
"Just -"
Seeing stars.
"DIE!"
The last punch she would throw.
And it all went to Hades.
His throat burned as he screamed, with pure animosity and fury, all traces of human dissipating. He let go of his ties to life, his past, his vengeance, and his hate. This huntress would never experience not even a piece of what he went through. He let it out.
"I hope you're in the wrong state of mind, huntress because you'll know my answer."
Perseus's words reverberated in the wind, echoing in each and every huntress's minds. He stood languidly, watching as the storm flashed with lightning, and the ground trembled almost angrily.
Artemis watched intently, almost silently as his power almost seemed to grow with every second he was unbothered. It wasn't the fact she was overconfident Phoebe could win this fight, she wanted to see the true extents of this young immortal's power. His aura seemed to flare, he just didn't particularly care.
The ones he'd trusted to be his friends thought him as heartless and cruel. Never had they been so wrong.
Sometimes his guilt was so strong that in those empty moments where fear and anger clouded his monotone mind, a sob would escape his empty throat, quickly stifled as he shoved a fist in his mouth and tried to focus helplessly on anything other than the burning pain in his heart.
Perseus gritted his teeth as breaths barely rattled through his clenched lungs and throat. Every pulse of his over-racing heart seemed to burn like poison in his veins, making his muscles seize.
He would always give himself three seconds of weakness, before he banished the hurt and pain from his heart, and replaced it with a cold, stony mask. It was how he survived solitude. For these hunters would never understand, and after honing himself mentally, he knew he surpassed them in everything.
Voices haunted him constantly, laughing, jeering, mocking, beleaguering him on his weaknesses. It had all been a lie. An artfully twisted lie that sickened him to the pits of his stomach.
And so he trained.
What better way to let out pent-up anger building inside his chest. There was no one to talk to, and the idea alone was too absurd to consider. He had become a foreigner to himself, and there was no point to bring back the familiarity. Sometimes, it had been moments where he had marveled how far he had come to survive for so long, without even being halfway decent.
Luck, pure luck was the answer. But sooner or later, luck runs out. And without skill, everything runs south.
His mind worked on autopilot. He'd long since felt anything, heart blissfully numb and frozen, and not at all there. Dried blood trickling in crescents across his forehead, resembling a grotesque tattoo.
You can take a warrior out of battles, but you can't take the battle out of the warrior.
He let out a bitter laugh as the hunters gave him mistrusting looks and moved away in both unease and disgust.
"Do you know what it's like to kill?" He whispered, letting his aura flare, Riptide circling a downward arc, twisting on the hilts of a knife and easily disarming her.
He leaned back to dodge her kick, before ducking, Riptide smoothly slicing across her chest before punching her in the face. "To have the blood of thousands staining your hands? Do not judge things you don't understand, huntress."
Throughout the years, he had learned to trust his instincts. Natural selection had ensured the ones who survived would be the ones who could sense danger before it came. And ever since living in solitude, the cold nights - and fear of everything around him at night had filled his sense completely.
He turned, ducking instinctively as two golden arrows whizzed over his head, one slicing open a cut on his cheek.
When had the world become so cruel?
But deep in his heart, Perseus understood it had always been so.
In a world of gods, they were the ones that decided your fate.
He'd just been too blind to see.
~xXx~
She came up fast, sending away her divine weapons in a flash before casually whipping out her twin silver knives.
"You've gone too far this time, boy. That I cannot overlook." She glared, before leaping towards him, feigning an uppercut and kicking the son of Poseidon in the groin.
The goddess advanced, her silver eyes gleaming in the ever-growing storm she hardly noticed.
He twirled a finger, and a geyser of water sprouted from the ground, pushing the furious goddess back as he changed tacks. Her hunting knives were obviously for close combat and were meant for fast-paced dueling, therefore he needed a way for her to open up her defenses until he struck under her guard. With her speed, it seemed almost paradoxical.
In a way, this was karma. He'd basically asked for this fight by hurting her huntress.
He stretched his senses tenfold, ignoring the huntresses and Artemis's overpowering aura, before feeling for the ocean behind. It was too far.
By the time he had recentered his focus to the fight, she was already there, leaving deep gashes across his chest, arms, and legs. She came up again, but this time, he was ready. As her knives glanced off Riptide, he rolled with the strike, digging his feet into the ground and thrusting his hands downwards.
He'd meant for an earthquake but had switched to drawing the water from the ground, a hazy cloud of moisture solidifying into a set of armor that covered his entire body.
She smirked, twirling her knives in her palms.
"Impressive, sea spawn, but you won't survive this fight."
He gave her the same, mocking grin she had formed, before charging towards her.
"And neither will you."
Knives against Riptide sparked against each other, creating a sonic boom that blew the huntresses off their feet. He remained calm, however, expanding his sense until he felt the blood and water pulsing through each and every huntress. No, he couldn't do that unless absolutely necessary.
"With all due respect Milady, but -"
Her lips twitched into a simper. "Save it for later, if there is a later."
He raised Riptide in a perpendicular level, never breaking eye contact with her.
With his other hand, his fist clenched, before feeling the cold metal of a ring.
Judgement? (A/N I- yeah. Totally forgot about this.)
Instead, he stared into her eyes, unwavering as Judgement broke out of its ring form for the first time in years. The lade was as pearly and pristine as ever, it's Atlantian metal glowing. If Artemis was mildly surprised, she didn't show it, her fingers tightening its grip until drips of ichor stained the blades.
Without so much as a hiss or grunt, both leaped forward, each move precisely calculated as they twirled - almost a dance - weaving in and out through every blade and cut. It was Dimachaerus against dual knives.
The world around him became silent, as the similarity of the duel became all there was to him, a challenge for superiority. Deep down, he knew she had more chance of winning, yet he couldn't help but smile.
He stepped back at yet another strike, morphing Judgement into ring form whilst punching her in the stomach. Taking advantage of the winded goddess, he drew three daggers from respective sheaths on his chest, before flicking them towards her.
She had gotten up already, nimbly using momentum from her roll to leap and attack his arms. He had no shield, yet years of playing around with hydrokinesis had given him a new pathway in combat.
His heels shuffled back, dropping into an Achaean foot soldier stance, Riptide raised defensively as he lifted more water from the trees around him, thousands of droplets of water solidifying into a round shield of ice. In this position, he was almost crouched, not very versatile but highly outplaying the offensive.
He missed his greaves...
Normally, out of respect for his opponent, he would've fought somewhat competitively yet by the rules, never creating unnecessary openings to weaken the opponent unfairly. Yet here she was, the goddess of the hunt trying to exploit every weakness and opening he had -
She came down again, swiping in a circular motion before roundhouse kicking his shield, forcing him to retreat. He pushed back, her arms straining as Riptide and her knives pushed against one another. Her body dropped to the ground as his ice shield came back up in an uppercut, grazing her shoulder and he advanced, throwing Riptide aiming at her left hand - forcing her to drop it. Riptide would return anyway.
It was time to showcase his powers before his stamina failed him. Gods could go on forever, yet an immortal wasn't fully capable of unlimited stamina.
So yes, the fight was awful but the tug in his gut reinforced the will to fight. Without a single war-cry or roar, he allowed his armor to heal his wounds, the remaining water forming an Achaean style icy helmet that covered the bridge of his nose, and his shield healing his arm wounds.
He felt for that tug in his gut again, grasping his powers once more for the final blow. Chiron had always reminded him that powers were only an additional bonus as a demigod, and the main priority was to hone his combat and weaponry skills.
Except he wasn't a demigod.
Song Tribute: [Twisted- MISSIO]
The ground erupted, moisture and water particles from the trees, grass, ground, all solidifying into a tornado - and at the same time, the winds had heightened again, creating a perfect environment for the eye of a storm. It was nature on all fonts - ground, sky, and water.
With another of his daggers in icepick position and Judgment in a defensive stance, he held back from letting all Hades loose, waiting for the apex, the climax of his power buildup at the brink- the tingle - there it was -
and let it all out.
Perseus relished the overwhelming fear in Artemis's eyes, as she fought to overcome the brutality of the storm. Of all his years, he realized - there was always another solution to the fight.
Without so much than a sneer, he progressed, the wind so loud it could barely conceal the sound of the Olympian's divine form charging up.
Every plead for both to stop fell short to deaf ears as he spoke.
"Yield, Lady Artemis. Unless you want to die, which I would rather not do. If the one thing living for so long has taught me, it was to accept defeat when you are truly done."
She glared, blinked. Eyes softening by a margin, she huffed defeatedly. "I don't think I will, boy."
He sighed, acknowledging her response. "Very well. I did tell you that I still have my respect for you."
By the time he flared his aura up once more, it had been too late. Her divine form flashed, vaporizing trees, animals, nature, and his storm.
His back ached at the impact of the ground, and he got up instantly, his jaw clenching so hard his veins were visible. She had materialized a new set of hunting knives, yet these were - if possible - sharper and longer. At least half the length of Riptide.
Her eyes flashed in anger as she feigned a left, rolling to the right before parrying at impossible speeds enough to rival Hermes. Perseus had expected it though, weaving under her kick and pressing both hands to the hilt of Judgement - and twirling it clockwise, a blur of metals clashing.
Both immortals were at a standstill, not enough to overcome each's defenses. Nevertheless, all combat required deceit to gain the advantage. Judgment was a blur now, a snarl emulating from the back of his throat that sounded vaguely animalistic.
Perseus tensed his legs, kicking off and vaulting into the air before twisting so he landed squarely behind her. He stumbled a bit, before kicking her wrist, causing Artemis to growl, slashing the air in surprise.
"Nice try, but not good enough."
She waited for a moment before she saw her chance. All the pent-up adrenaline and energy unleashed itself from her body, like a coiling snake, striking faster than the blink of an eye; She suddenly dashed forwards towards Perseus, all senses focused on him. She watched him smirk, readying himself. Just as she was about to come in range of his sword, she dug her heels into the ground, abruptly stopping herself, with dirt flying upwards in a spray.
Perseus recoiled, raising his sword upwards with a curse. Artemis didn't hesitate to react, as she lunged with her left foot with a high stab towards Perseus's right shoulder. Her thrust was met with a sound of bronze against steel, and she felt the shock reverberate throughout her arm.
A flash of steel caught the sun's rays as Perseus's counterstroke arced downwards in a diagonal stroke from behind his raised knives.
Just as expected.
Artemis felt the air rush down her neck as she threw herself onto her back, the grass cushioning her fall, dodging the strike. She gasped as the air in her lungs was driven out of her, but she gritted her teeth, and swept her legs out in a scything motion towards Perseus's own leg, taking him down with her.
She felt the heel bone connect with the back of Perseus's knee, and his leg instantly buckled. He immediately tried to regain balance, but Artemis smiled grimly, planting her other foot in a prone position, causing him to crumble to the ground, rolling onto his back.
Within a second, she was on top of him, Judgement unable to be of use in such closeness, and his knives discarded beside him. The short fight felt like it had lasted hours, not minutes, she puffed slightly, marginally displeased this demigod had nearly bested her.
His eyes fluttered open at the sight of Artemis beaming triumphantly knee positioned on his chest.
"I wonder who would be the one yielding now, hm?" Her voice mused, and to say he didn't trust himself to speak was an understatement, especially since Riptide was positioned behind her own neck.
The goddess of the hunt was especially dumbfounded, her eyes glazed over as she felt the cold metal of Riptide behind her neck.
She found herself yelling, due to the storm still raging around the two. "You yield?"
He let his aura ease, the tornado dying down to show the huntresses huddled under a tree.
"Milady, Perseus, stop!"
His head snapped to the side, eyeing the tiara above her pale forehead.
Releasing himself from her grasp, he clenched his jaw, arms tensed for an attack.
"How could you?" Zoe was yelling. His heart felt like it was being squeezed. "You... you killed...!"
A word came out of his mouth, but she couldn't hear it.
It was only now, he realized the situation. Perseus was standing across from her, blood-stained on Anaklusmos. With a cold look, he growled, "if you hadn't intervened, I wouldn't have had to do it."
From the corner of his eye, he saw the hunters tending to the gashes from Phoebe's neck to stomach.
Thunder shook the world.
"Every time we meet, someone dies," she found herself saying, desperation and sadness creeping into her voice. "You can't seem to hold it in, can you? All you think about nowadays is killing. Killing. Murdering. Slaughtering."
He clenched his teeth, fists curled across the hilt of both swords. "So you think I'm going to sit back and let the gods do what they want with me? You're not from Greece. You're not of the same species. You're a nymph. You were meant to be a guardian of a garden for your entire existence."
"When you promised me you wouldn't break what we stood for, this isn't what I meant as a means to express your anger and fury."
The wind grew stronger.
Artemis stood by like a statue, her expression stoically somber.
"I followed you into those forsaken lands and nearly died because of it. I just can't believe you blame me for finding a better life"
"No one asked you to follow me!" He stepped closer, raising a blade to his shoulder. He sneered, and she could see the contempt in his eyes. "You just don't understand how I feel! Just because you have a family, doesn't mean that all is right in the world. The gods are unjust. I was ordered to be captured for nothing!"
"You're pushing it too far now, Percy. Look at what you've become!" She nearly pleaded, tears streaking her face. Tears, or rain? "You promised me! You promised that you'd find me a better life, find safety for me! And now what?"
"Since when did life become about you?" he spat back.
She pushed him roughly with one hand. He stumbled back, surprised by her nerve. Stabbing Riptide into the ground, the world began to tremble. Perseus looked up at her, his eyes filled with unwavering hate.
"Goodbye, Zoe."
He turned to Artemis, expecting something, something to happen.
Instead, the goddess of the hunt shook her head, her glowing eyes unreadable.
"Tell Lupa - and my father -"
"Go."
~xXx~
In hindsight, Perseus cursed himself for his audacity, exhaling a small sigh. At least Artemis hadn't turned him into a jackalope. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing, not meaning to offend whatever dignity this dangerous goddess had.
Shaking his head, he pushed these thoughts out of his mind. From the bottom of the ocean floor, he looked upwards, where the light of day was smothered upon layers of water.
"Percy-"
He spun, Riptide and Judgement unsheathed and pointed at the man floating behind him.
It took a fool to not recognize who it was.
"Father."
Poseidon looked much older in the sea, his right hand softly squeezing his trident, and his grey beard floating in the lukewarm waters. His eyes ruined the image though, sparkling green, that held untold amounts of peace and calm. He could almost feel his muscles relaxing in the presence of him.
"I heard what happened."
"They don't like me, Father." He mumbles, biting his tongue to control the urge to blurt out a scathing remark.
"I'm sure they do."
The younger son of the sea lights up instantly. "That's the thing! You might care, but they don't! They're hunting me like some animal and you're not doing anything to stop it!"
The god of the sea sighs, creating a funnel of water. "You know what Lupa said after Artemis reported you escaping from her?" His mouth pauses, reading for the distinctive sign of question.
"Watch your child closely this time."
Their eyes meet, and he gives me a small, almost unmistakable nod. "Remember our last talk? In order to find full peace in a world of immortals, gods, and monsters, letting go of your past life is the only way."
Perseus scoffs, shaking his head sadly. "My Lord, father... you can't - you'll never understand what it's like to be human."
The lord of the seas watched a shark swim by, bowing his head in respect. "In all my life, I've had so much time to myself, time became a meaningless, pitiful thing. I may not have ever been human, but even gods have attachments, objects, people that become your anchor to live. Don't forget that."
He clapped his hands sharply, bringing back his attention. "Nevertheless, now is not the time to pity. War may not be raging, but war can be anything but peace. The elder Olympians are aware of the darkness rising, along with the Titans."
Perseus sighs in exasperation, his voice quiet. "I still haven't taken down Iapetus. His threat may become too great by now."
Poseidon shrugs a graceful movement, especially under the sea. "Threats are become ever-so consistent now, with the gods unable to help their children. I myself find it harder and harder to switch back to Poseidon from Neptune nowadays. I'm sorry to say I may not offer much guidance."
"Father... What about the darkness? I've been having visions of him - keeping Helen hostage..."
He rubs his beard, deep in thought. "It may not be my place to tell you, but Erebus -"
he cringes at the name
"- is a Primordial, and his force should never be reckoned with. Zeus - Jupiter himself would wet his toga if he ever met him on a battle."
Thunder shook from above the ocean.
"Oh shut it, big daddy."
A flash of lightning, thunder drowned out his words. But the apprehension and uneasiness in the old man's weathered face.
"Perseus," He intones.
"We're a long way from normal, but keep in mind that even in the biggest storms, it never rains forever."
And he knew this was the call to leave. War was raging, and even the gods could not stop this incoming force on the horizon.
At the edge of the shore, he half turned to face his father. He stood in silent vigil. His eyes seemed to sparkle a thousand different colors in the light.
"Do yourself a favor."
Poseidon smiles sadly, already morphing into his roman form.
"Forget me."
~xXx~
A huge thank you to everyone who made it this far! I'm your biggest fan ;)
If the last part seemed rushed, I know. It was flipping rushed. Probably my biggest chapter yet, with nearly 9k words.
This chapter was just a small taster for what's going on or happening in the next few chapters, so please review if there are some parts you'd like me to go over again, or change FFR. I sound like a preschool teacher ugh.
To sum it up, Perseus is suffering from depression.
I know I have a lot of work on nowadays and fanfiction isn't a big priority with things going on in life, but hey, I try my best. :(((
Anyways, you know that feeling to just write practically died during the holidays when I read this guy's story on Perseus in the Trojan War, which basically is THE SAME THING AND PLOT of my own story. He's just started his, and it's got like, 3 times as many followers as mine. Really motivating, huh. Depending on the reviews I get, maybe I'll keep writing for motivation, maybe not. The story is in your hands.
So feel free to review, favorite, follow, so all us writers can get that boost to keep going.
I hope to see y'all soon, and have Happy Summer holidays :)
Signing out,
L.S.
P.S - I know you're watching, F.J :0