Chapter Twenty-Two

The beginning of the end started with a blunder, as was to be expected. Since the death of Patroclus, Hektor had remained off the battlefield. While it did very little to temper Achilles' rage, it meant that it was a more generalised rage rather than a focused one. For nearly a week, Hektor was able to stay away from the fighting, though Percy had no doubt that it killed him to do so. But the Fate's song played ever onwards, and he was able to see it coming to its conclusion. So Percy acted. Aeneas, overwhelmed by the responsibility of managing the battlefield on his own, had been easy to lure into a trap, and even easier to wound. Not enough to take him out of the war for long, but long enough that it would force Hektor to return to the field of battle.

And return he did—Hektor had come storming out of the gates of Troy, catching the Symians nearby completely off guard, and driving them back with a fury. He pushed, and pushed, and pushed them back, each wave of Achaeans breaking as they threw themselves into his path. Never let it be said that Hektor was a bad general, because the moment he blundered, he recognised and attempted to correct it, but at that point, it was far too late. From the left flank the Athenians swarmed Hektor's Companions, buckling them inwards. Not long after the Mycenaeans struck the right. Both were incredibly damaging blows and would have ended the offensive. But Percy had held the best in reserve, and with a blood curling war cry, Achilles led his Myrmidons into a head-on charge against Hektor's position.

The Trojans broke immediately. Men turned tail and fled back towards the walls of the city, and to Percy's great surprise, Hektor was among them. Then again, with the Myrmidons nearly losing their minds at the chance to avenge Patroclus, he supposed he couldn't blame the Trojan Prince for fleeing rather than fighting. But therein lay the problem—Percy needed him to fight, not flee. The Song of the Fate's was a loud buzzing in the back of his mind, and this was not some personal desire of theirs to see fulfilled, it was the primordial pull of destiny, Ananke at work. For that, Percy was willing to let his grudge with the Fates be. He was a reasonable man, after all…and Patroclus had been his friend.

Percy snatched a spear up from the ground and launched it in Hektor's general direction. It landed in front of the prince, forcing him to veer away from his cadre of bodyguards, who either didn't see or didn't care, for they kept sprinting for the city gates. Cut off from his men, Hektor began moving towards a second gate, further down the walls. Percy snorted, summoning a chariot which quickly took off in a parallel path to the prince. Achilles did not bother with such, letting his men continue their assault as he took off after Hektor.

Thus began a great chase. The armies pulled back from the field of battle—the Trojans inside the walls, the Achaeans to their camp, but Achilles followed Hektor on foot around the walls of Troy. They circled the great walls once, but Achilles refused to give up his pursuit. Hektor had no chance to stop, and instead started a second lap. Percy remained on the chariot, but gave up the chase after the first loop of the perimeter. Instead, he simply leaned against the side of the chariot and watched. Both men were panting as they came back around. Hektor was clearly hoping for some chance at escape. The son of Thetis refused to give it to him.

He held in a snort as they began circling the city walls a third time. Knowing this needed to come to an end, Percy made his move. He hopped down from the chariot and ambled over to a spot not far from the gates of Troy. The walls above were filled with men watching, and likewise, a crowd of Achaeans had formed far enough away that they could not be seen as a threat. Of course, not everyone was willing to simply watch. The quiet stillness Percy had been enjoying was interrupted by the smack of a bowstring. He caught the arrow shot at him just moments before it entered his neck, and glanced up to only confirm what he already knew to be true. Paris was scowling down at him, a bow held in his hands. Percy only laughed before flicking the arrow up so hard it embedded in a post right beside the prince's head, the man flinching away as he just barely escaped death.

Not long after, Hektor rounded the walls again. His strength was failing him, and as he came closer, he looked ready to collapse. What little hope remained in him seem to flee his body all at once as he saw Percy standing in his path, spear planted in the ground. He came to a slow halt mere paces away from him, panting heavily.

"Cowardice does not suit you, Hektor." He told the man. "Better to have stand and fought at your best than to die tired now."

"I do not wish to die." Hektor told him. "My son was born not weeks ago."

"My congratulations to you and my condolences to your wife. At the very least your son will grow up with a mother. You have my word on that."

"You will not let me pass into my home?"

"Every mortal has a song sung about them by the fates. All songs must come to an end." Percy explained, peering over Hektor's shoulder. "Yours has reached that time. One moment."

Percy reversed his grip on his spear, ignored Hektor's panicked look, and launched it over his shoulder. It flew directly into Achilles' shield, stopping his charge short before he could get any closer. The force of the impact brought the rampaging demigod to a halt, and he slowed long enough to see Percy glaring at him, which made him stop in his tracks.

"You are likely going to die today, Hektor." Percy told him. "Achilles will almost certainly kill you. I am not going to prevent that. Nor will I prevent whatever follows your death. But I promise you this—on my word, on my honour, and on the Styx—your wife and child will survive this siege. I will make sure of it personally."

"There is no other way?" Hektor asked him quietly.

"There is a chance, however, slim, that you kill Achilles and your song lasts longer still," he shrugged. "Personally, I do not think so. His rage at Patroclus death would result in him killing you no matter what, even if it cost him his own life. Face it with courage and you will find yourselves in the Fields of Elysium. I am told it is the best that any mortal can dream of. Take a few moments to gather yourself. When you are ready, fight."

With his piece done, Percy withdrew, holding a hand up to Achilles to let him know to wait. The King of Phthia huffed, and paced back and forth, but he waited nonetheless. While waiting, Nestor made his way over to Percy, accompanied by Antilochus. They helped the elderly man up onto the chariot, but to Percy's great surprise, the prince departed afterwards, giving him a nod before rejoining the larger crowd.

"It is not an easy thing to convince a man to go to his death," Nestor noted, "and yet I just watched you do so in very little time at all."

"All men are afraid of death in their own way. Hektor was not afraid of dying, but that his family would not be safe after he was gone. I swore to him they would be, and so he goes to his death. It was not a matter of convincing him to die, but convincing him that his death would not be the death of his wife and newborn son."

"Hektor is a father now?" Nestor seemed…pleased with the notion. "It is good that his blood goes on beyond him. Despite his dogmatic loyalty to a family that does not deserve it, he is a good man."

"He is," Percy agreed. "That is why I made the promise I did. Better that his bloodline lives on than to die with him."

"But not for much longer," Nestor raised his chin towards the two great warriors, who had concluded whatever discussion they were having.

The duel started the way most did—a clash of spears at distance as the two men got a feel for their opponents. Achilles, Percy noticed, was fighting with a restraint he did not normally have. It took him a few moments to realise why it was so familiar to him, and when he did, it still did not make sense, for Achilles was fighting like Patroclus, using his shield and armour to great effect to protect his invulnerable skin. It was a drastic change from how he normally engaged in combat, and Percy couldn't place a reason for it in the slightest.

The two men collided with such force that dust shot up around them, trying to aim spear jabs around their shields to no great effect. Hektor managed to take a step back, and then drove his foot into Achilles' shield so hard that the son of Thetis stumbled back a half dozen steps. If he had not spent nearly a decade with the man, Percy would have missed the change in his posture as he came to some sort of realisation. He had no worldly clue what Achilles could possibly have discovered from that—admittedly impressive—kick, but he was interested to see what would emerge from it.

The next five or so minutes included more brief clashes, more disengagements, and then more brief clashes. Neither man seemed at risk of flagging, and Percy was starting to worry that this would simply devolve into a back and forth. But then, there was an interest development. Achilles goaded Hektor into a lunge kick that sent him back nearly a dozen paces, and he backpedalled another dozen. Hektor, out of instinct, launched his spear towards Achilles, who simply caught it with his shield, the shaft snapping under the force of the impact suddenly stopping. Just like that, Hektor had lost the range advantage. He could see the man cursing himself as he drew his sword, Achilles already charging back into the fray.

But losing his spear did not mean that Hektor had lost the fight. In public, Percy said that there was no greater warrior amongst both armies than Achilles, though Hektor was a 'close second.' In reality, he was unsure who was the better warrior. Arguably, Hektor himself was, but Achilles held the Curse of the Styx, and that invulnerability gave him an advantage that very few could match. The truth of the matter was that it was too close to tell, and Hektor was still a large threat, even with just a sword. The Prince of Troy proved that quickly, deciding to even the playing field. Achilles launched into a trio of jabs with his spear, so fast that most men would have struggled to follow them. Not Percy, however, and certainly not Hektor, who let the final jab fly past him before trapping the shaft of the spear between his body and his arm. His shield came down on the mid-point, snapping it in half, and just like that, Achilles was also without a spear.

That did not stop him, of course, and his shield snapped upwards into Hektor's face, his sword drawn from its sheath on the back of it in one smooth motion. Once again, the two men began circling each other. But the song of the fates was getting louder. The fight would come to an end, sooner rather than later.

"It was rather arrogant of Hektor to wear Achilles' old armour, was it not?" Nestor asked him.

"It was," Percy said. "Although by all rights he has earned the right to wear it. I'd not have done so, of course, since I'd—oh."

"Perseus?"

"I see now why the Fates are so confident in their song, now."

The two warriors collided again once more, but this time, Achilles moved with such speed and force that there was nothing Hektor could do but die. The exact moment that their shield crashed into one another; Achilles had executed a lightning-fast overhead stab. Hektor's body jerked, and he stumbled backwards one step, two steps, three steps, a half step, and then he fell to the ground. He heard a scream from the walls and saw a woman being held by two of Hektor's brothers. Andromache. How unfortunate for her.

Achilles held Hektor's hand as he died, another quiet exchange of words between them, but once the life left the Prince's body, he dropped the hand, signalling someone in the distance. Percy then watched in disgust as Achilles proceeded to desecrate Hektor's body, cutting slits into his heel.

"What is he doing?" Nestor asked. "Is he—"

"Yes," Percy answered simply. "He will pay for that. I have no desire to see what follows. Do you wish to remain here, or…?"

"No, I also have no desire to witness this." Nestor shook his head. "Would you return me to camp, Perseus?"

"I will," he nodded, taking the reins of his chariot and flicking them.

The eyes of the gods were upon Troy. He could feel them. Let them watch—this was all a result of their own doing, and so long as they only watched, he had no issue with them.

He should have known that they would not simply limit themselves to watching. Not so close to end.

XXX

For two weeks, Achilles attempted to further desecrate the body of Hektor. He dragged it around the walls of Troy on his chariot on a daily basis. When he wasn't doing that, it was merely tossed into a corner of his tent. Percy had snuck in on that first night to weave a protection spell over it and found Hecate preparing to do the same. She had panicked, but Percy had simply stared at her for a moment before nodding and leaving the tent. She'd not have acted without orders from Zeus, and in this situation, he was willing to allow her presence.

But Percy's patience and understanding with Achilles had reached an end. His grief had driven him too far, and so Percy began planning. He'd commissioned artefacts from Hephaestus, struck a deal with Hermes, and with a disgusting amount of ease, he infiltrated Troy's palace, seating himself, once again, in Priam's throne. It took very little time for the King to arrive, his face older, more tired, and thinner than it should have been.

"What do you want, Perseus?"

"Assemble a ransom," he ordered. "You will retrieve Hektor's body tonight."

"What?"

"Achilles has gone too far. I will not enable him further," he explained. "He will not simply give the body to you, but he will ransom it. I will take you to him and make him listen."

"But…after all this time, surely his body—"

"Undamaged." Percy promised. "Powerful magics were weaved around it within an hour of his death. Hektor will be ready for his funeral."

"Thank you, Perseus."

"Don't." He shook his head. "There is one more thing. I will not force it of anyone, but I must ask for my own peace of mind."

"Ask it, then."

"I would like to meet Hektor's widow and son."

Priam hesitance was clear to Percy, and he could not blame the man.

"May I ask why?" The old king asked eventually.

"I swore an oath to Hektor before he died." He said. "I intend to uphold it."

After several more moments, Priam nodded, quietly retreating from the hearth room. He eventually returned, Andromache and her son in his presence. Hektor's wife was barely holding herself together, that much was clear, and her eyes were filled with fear. Not for herself, but her son. Again, Percy could not blame her, but she had nothing to fear.

"Be at peace, daughter of Eetion," Percy held a hand up. "I swore an oath to your husband, and I will swear it to you right now. You and your son are under my protection, no matter how this war ends. I swear on the Styx that I will not allow any harm to befall either of you, and to bring the full might of my fury down upon any who may try, no matter who they are."

The sky rumbled above them. Percy procured the two medallions he'd had Hephaestus make for him. Like his armour, they were stamped with all the symbols of the gods. Unlike his armour, they were warded to inform him of any threat that approached those who wore them. He'd be there before anyone could even raise a hand.

"Troy is going to fall. That fate was sealed. But your lives will not end with the city. I will protect you and I will ensure that you and your son live long, fruitful lives." He said, handing one medallion to Andromache. He then motioned towards the infant in her arms. "May I?"

Reluctantly, she handed the boy over. He had Hektor's eyes, he noticed, and Hecuba's before him. His nose came from Priam, but his lips belonged to Andromache. He would grow up to be a handsome man, Percy had no doubt of that. "His name?"

"Scamandrius," Andromache said quietly, "though the people have been calling him 'Astynax.'"

"Both strong names," Percy praised as he placed the medallion around the babe's neck. "You have no cause to trust me, Andromache, but I admired your husband greatly. In another world, I'd have called him friend. I do not swear oaths lightly, and yet I did so for Hektor, because he was a good man. I hope to see his son grow up to be one like him."

He handed the babe back to his mother, and did not say anything when she nearly snatched him from his arms. Oaths or not, a mother's fears for their child would always trump anything else. With that task done, he turned to Priam.

"Let us retrieve your son, King of Troy. It is time for him to come home."

MMXXII

Sorry for the slight delay, I was finishing up school the past couple of weeks. I meant to finish this chapter yesterday but it was my birthday so I was not able to sit down and write much. Anyway, we're getting closer to the end now. I don't have much more to say other than I hoped you enjoyed this chapter.

I have a discord! The code is aQyrha34Pu

Cheers, CombatTombat