Prologue - Half Blood Hill
Chiron, Trainer of Heroes, mentor to the likes of Achilles and Hektor, stood and watched as young children flooded past the boundaries of his camp, each youth running as though the hellhounds of Erebos themselves were upon their trail.
Knowing the luck of so many of his charges, it was likely that such was the case.
Surveying the group, he counted at least thirty, a considerable number for those with the blood of Olympus, and more impressive still considering their ages, the oldest appearing to be little more than ten years of age. No child would be alone like this, not even in a state such as Sparta.
They must have had an escort, surely. It was impossible for so many demigods to avoid monsters and make it to the safe space behind the Olympian wards and remain so healthy.
Looking up at the borders of his camp, Chiron finally understood.
At the top of the valley in which the camp lay, stood a man, clad in the most beautiful armour Chiron had ever had the pleasure to witness, a gleaming silver hunting knife in each hand and auburn hair seeming to burn like fire in the light of the setting sun. He fought like a man possessed in a style only exhibited by one other being in Greece.
The young man at the top of the hill looked down, and Chiron gasped.
His face, once handsome, a reflection of the one who gave him form, was now a ragged mess, one eye missing and blood dripping from cuts across his forehead. His broad chest was littered with injuries, his chiton little more than a bunch of rags to cover his body.
He smiled down at Chiron, his teeth stained a near-sickly gold from the ichor that he had shed that day. The immortal centaur, trainer of the greatest of heroes, could do no more than raise his bow in a salute, a final mark of respect for a true warrior.
The man nodded back, smile not leaving his face, not when the first blade pierced his stomach, not when he dropped to his knees, and not when the next one was rammed through his heart.
There he stayed, on his knees, smiling as his mother appeared before him, smiling as she wept, and smiling as he died in her arms. The Goddess, to Chiron, looked more human than ever she had done before, her form appearing to those looking on without any of the finery in which she was so often depicted by mortal artisans.
As the warrior breathed his final breath, nature itself came to a standstill, as the realms of Olympus wept for their finest.
Blood leaked into the hill atop which he had made his stand, and the name would be immortalised in time, for the blood he bled would stand as the ultimate example for all that followed.
No other feat the likes of this would be seen for millennia, Chiron knew, and he felt honoured to be able to witness the death of such a warrior.
Little did any of the onlookers appreciate that this was but the beginning of a story that would change the world.
A/N
A new story, though this is a slightly lower priority than my current main project, 'Even in the Darkest of Times'
This is tropey, yes, and it is something that I wanted to write, purely to see if I could do it. There are some factors that I'm going to change in canon, not just a bog-standard fanfic, or so I'd hope. A lot of what I want to go for is to really emphasise that the Gods are just that - they're beings of immense power, as are the monsters. Chiron taught Achilles and Hektor, so his charges throughout history should operate with the same honour and magnanimity as the heroes of old did.
Let me know what you think, and look out for chapters of both stories.