A/N: Was a lazy bum sorry. Not my proudest chapter, but it gets the job done I guess.
Percy walked through the city, his long strides purposeful and yet leisurely. He had to admit, Troy was a magnificent city, truly deserving as the pride of the Trojans. He looked up at the large imposing walls that towered over the city like a looming tsunami. A fitting comparison seeing as they were built by the god of the seas himself, Poseidon.
Although the city was magnificent, Percy was not here to enjoy himself. He was here because of his mother, who told him that something large was going to happen. He had arrived in the city a couple years ago, under the guise of a foreigner looking to settle down. He had quickly risen to power because of his "natural" prowess towards battle strategy and talent for fighting.
He stared at the happy families walking around, and he couldn't help but flashback to the very first city that he had ever visited. His heart still throbbed painfully, the centuries-old memories painfully resurfacing.
-Some 200 years ago-
He found himself surrounded by darkness, the inky shadows heavy upon his senses. He squinted, trying to see anything though the endless murky darkness. Suddenly, a pale hand shot out towards his face. With a swipe, his sword had materialized in his hand, slicing the hand right down the middle. Blood spurted out, a splotch of red against the murky blackness. He looked around carefully, trying to spot any more threats through the darkness. Suddenly, more pale white hands began to appear. And with them came the arms, and then the bodies. Faceless pale bodies swarmed him, silent as they tried to reach towards him. His dark sword hummed as it danced through the air, marking a trail of red as it ripped through flesh.
Percy couldn't stop the smile that grew on his face. He felt free, exhilarated as he hacked and slashed through flesh.
Suddenly, his sword stopped mid thrust, its bloody dance stopped. He frowned in confusion and pushed his sword forward, but could not pierce whatever was blocking it. He looked down at his sword, noticing that it was being blocked by a chest. He pushed harder, growling as he still could not pierce it. Gripping the sword with both hands, he pushed with all his strength, almost desperate to taste the bloodlust once more. The resistance gave way, and the blade softly slipped into the chest. A trickle of blood flowed out of the wound. Perseus grinned at the sight of blood, before a soft whimper drew his eyes upwards.
It was Chloe. He stumbled backwards. No, no, no. How could he let this happen? She looked at him with her large grey eyes. Why? She mouthed. Blood began to pour in obscene amounts from her wound, quickly filling the area. It was up to his knees, then his waist, then his chest. It reached his head, and finally he was submerged. He panicked, kicking his legs out and flailing his arms, trying in vain to escape from the blood.
'Why?' The blood seemed to whisper, echoing around him as he lost oxygen. Images of mutilated bodies flashed through his head as his vision began to dim. 'Why? Why? Why? Why?' it taunted him. Perseus was suffocating, drowning in his guilt. 'Why?" it echoed one last time before Perseus could hold his breath no longer, and he lost consciousness.
Perseus woke up with a gasp. He was breathing heavily, greedily inhaling the oxygen into his lungs. He sighed in relief, realizing that it had been just a dream, before he realized that he had no idea where he was. He started to look around frantically, before realizing that he was in his room in Hestia's palace.
He sat up slowly. His sheets were soaked with his sweat. He heard a light knock on his door before it opened. Hestia peeked her head in, and upon noticing that Perseus was awake, she made her way over to his bed and sat down.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"I… I'm not sure mom."
She didn't reply, and instead took his hand, rubbing gentle circles along his palm. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and he relished in the comforting warmth that his mom emitted.
"Nightmare?" she asked after a while, breaking the silence.
"Yeah."
Silence enveloped them once again, although it wasn't quite the same as earlier.
"Chloe is still okay right?" he finally asked.
"She still fine, the hunt is treating her well."
"I mean, does she hate me?" he asked uncertainly.
"I cannot answer that, Perseus." she replied, turning to look him in the eyes.
"I know that you feel guilty for killing her father, and I can't say whether or not it was deserved, but the fact that you still feel guilt shows that you have compassion."
"But I killed him!" Perseus exploded. "Chloe was scared of me! I killed him just because I was angry! And he wasn't even the only one I killed! I killed the king! I killed tons of guards! And the worst part was that I enjoyed it!" he shouted.
Hestia looked at him sharply.
"No Perseus. Do not fall into that hole. You lost control once, and there is no need to beat yourself up continuously. What you need to do is accept it, and use the experience to learn to control your powers.
Perseus looked at his mom with wide eyes. He had never been scolded so harshly by his mother, and the sheer surprise helped to clear his head.
"Thanks mom. I needed that." he said, squeezing her hand thankfully.
Hestia smiled at him, her warm comforting demeanor returning. She squeezed his hand as well, before letting go and ruffling his hair.
"If you need anything, just call," she said as she walked out the room.
Perseus smiled at the memory. He loved his mom. She was always his pillar whenever he needed her, especially after his first visit to the mortal city. After that incident, it had taken him a few decades and many of Hestia's Counselling Sessions before he was once again willing to venture out into the mortal world again. After that incident, he had adamantly stopped using his full name, Perseus, and instead used Percy. It helped him control his emotions, reminding him to never lose control like he did before.
It had been another few decades before he had comfortably gotten used to the mortal world. He had come to accept that true and pure love was almost non-existent in the world. It had taken him many years to reign in his anger every time he saw people in loveless relationships, people cheating and playing with other peoples' hearts as if it were a game. Honestly, what was that pathetic excuse of a love goddess Aphrodite doing? It disgusted him to no end at the so-called love that Aphrodite stood for.
The children he saw were no better. Although there were of course many children who were loved and cherished by their parents, which warmed Percy's heart, many children were left unloved by their parents, and they were often beaten or abused. He had watched these children grow up bitter against the world, their hearts filled with hatred towards everything. Most of these children were demigods, due to the gods and goddesses being unable to keep their goddamn pants on. Percy always felt a strong resentment towards the gods for abandoning their children (and lovers). He had eventually come to expect it, but it certainly didn't mean he had to like it.
-some 100 years ago-
Perseus was practicing archery. He had his magnificent golden bow, which he had named HeartBreaker in his hands. He was furiously shooting arrow after arrow at breakneck speeds, aiming towards a target that he had enchanted to move around in the air. Arrow after arrow flew, each one splitting its predecessor, thunking directly in the bullseye. Perseus finally stopped shooting, taking a break to admire his aim. Perseus was very proud of his bow skills, a skill he had trained ever since he learned to materialize his bow, which was quite a long time ago. He was definitely confident enough to say (or hope) that his archery skills were as good as the twin archers. He assumed that his natural affinity for archery had something to do with his father's stereotypical skill of shooting people in the butts with arrows of love.
He was brought out of his musings by a flash of flames. Hestia had appeared, and he quickly walked over her to give her a hug.
"Hey mom. What are you here for?"
"Hello Perseus," she said, ruffling his hair. "Am I not allowed to come see my son whenever I want to?"
Perseus pouted. "Of course you can mom, but you never visit me during archery for absolutely no reason."
Hestia glared at him playfully. "Fine, you got me."
She turned serious. "You know how you have always been complaining about the children who get neglected by their parents?"
"Yeah…"
"Well why don't you just help them?"
"What?"
"Demigods do not live easy lives, and without proper training, most of them die at a young age to monsters. I think that you should help them. You can find them, and bring them to Chiron, the centaur, who can train them enough to defend themselves."
Perseus stood there, thinking over his mom's idea. Slowly, he began to grow excited.
"That's a great idea mom! I can finally go around and help all those demigods!"
He rushed over to his mother and hugged her tightly. She smiled at him, before pulling away.
"I think, Perseus, that you will have to hide your identity when you help the demigods, so as not to attract attention and risk having your identity uncovered."
Perseus thought for a moment, before a grin slowly broke out onto his face. "So that means I get to have my very own secret identity…"
Perseus inwardly cringed, remembering how childish he had been whilst coming up with his identity.
He had set off on his first mission wearing a full black bodysuit that was designed for stealth. It was made quite redundant by the fact that he had worn a bright orange cape that flickered with flames. To top it off, he had worn an elaborate war helmet that was shaped like a phoenix head. Flaming Inferno, he had called himself. Suffice to say, he had scared the absolute daylights out of that little girl, before she had burst out laughing at his cover name. He had quite a few close calls with those Hellhounds trying to stop her from laughing. It was a humbling experience.
He chuckled under his breath. That girl had advised him to come up with a less flashy secret identity, and he had gladly complied, uneager to be humiliated by a child again.
Suddenly, he felt something bump into his shin, and he looked down to find a ball that had come across his path. A young boy with dark hair came running towards him, stopping in front of Percy as he noticed him pick up the ball. Perseus looked at the boy. He was a head of dark curly hair, and dark eyes that looked up at him with impishness. He reminded Percy strongly of that one demigod he had rescued…
Percy stalked through the forest, his boots padding silently on the ground. He was looking for a young son of Hermes. A simple brown cloak covered his body, and a plain black mask covered his upper face, leaving only his mouth and jaw visible.
He ducked under another branch. A couple decades had passed since he had started helping demigods. Luckily, he was now experienced and had a solid identity that did not inspire amusement from small children.
He moved with a practiced grace through the woods, every movement calculated to a maximum efficiency. He was nearing the small village where the child was located. Soon, he heard voices near the edge of the forest. Carefully stepping over a stone, he peered out from a bush.
He saw a small boy stumbling forward carrying a large bucket in his hands. Trailing him was an older man who was constantly kicking the boy's legs out and chuckling at the boy's misery. Percy observed the boy quickly. He had dark curly hair, dark eyes, and was notably thin and frail for a child. Yet, Percy could detect the faint hints of mischief hidden deep in the child's eyes. It was no doubt the demigod of Hermes.
Percy growled quietly under his breath as the man once again kicked the boy's legs, this time making the boy fall down onto the ground. The bucket splashed heavily onto the ground, and the boy cried out in pain as he fell. The man knelt down in front of the boy.
"Pick up the bucket boy!" Or are you too weak, you pathetic brat?" He kicked the boy in the side, eliciting another groan of pain.
Percy chose this moment to quietly slip out from under his cover, still hidden by the shadows of the forest. He made no move to draw any weapon, instead slowly moving closer as he kept his eyes trained on the man. By this point, the small boy was crying on the ground, his small grimy hands in front of his face as he pleaded not to be beaten. The man was looking down at the boy, contempt etched into his face and a sick smile adorning his features. He drew back his foot, likely for another kick, before Percy struck.
Percy had maneuvered himself a few metres behind the man. Watching the man raise his leg, Percy reacted quickly. He took two quick strides towards the man and struck the back of the man's head with a sharp blow. Immediately, the man instantly tumbled backwards, unconscious.
Percy looked down at the boy, still cowering in fear. He slowly sat down on the ground next to the boy so that they could be on about the same level. The boy, finally noticing something off, opened his eyes.
He gasped as his gaze landed on Percy, and travelled to the man's body. He looked back and forth between the two, as if trying to confirm that they were real.
Percy chuckled. "You'll catch flies if you leave your mouth hanging open boy."
The boy slowly closed his mouth, still staring at Percy with wide eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"You can call me Zestasia," Percy said.
The boy looked at him in wonder. "Are you a hero?"
Percy laughed. "No. I wouldn't call myself a hero."
The boy looked at him in confusion. "But you beat the bad guys," he said, pointing at the man's unconscious body, "and you wear a mask!"
Percy laughed again. "I like you kid. Say, I would like to bring you somewhere where you'll be safe. You'll also be able to train there."
The boy looked at him weirdly. "That sounds pretty great and all. I've always wanted to leave my stepfather. But why would I want to train? It's not like I'm going to fight people or something."
Percy raised his eyebrows at the kid. "You are a demigod."
"A what?"
"A demigod."
"Oh. But I'm not half god. My real dad is dead."
"He is actually a god."
"No he isn't."
"Yes he is."
"Nu-uh."
Percy sighed in exasperation. How could this one kid be so stubborn?
"Your dad," he started slowly, "is a god. You were told he is dead, but he is not dead. So you are a demigod."
"Nuh, uh," the boy responded slowly, pronouncing each syllable slowly as if he were talking to a child.
Percy slapped his forehead. "Look," he said, making a small flame appear in his hand. "This is proof that gods exist. Okay?"
"Woahh! Ok I believe you! Can I do that too?"
Percy extinguished the flame. "Erm, no…"
"Dang it! So my dad is a god… But why did he leave me and my mom? He left us to rot with my disgusting step-father!"
Percy scowled. It was something he hated about the gods as well. "Well, he probably didn't have time for you," he said bluntly.
The boy, instead of crying, just shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not surprised. I always thought he was a douchebag."
Percy observed the boy closely, and then shrugged. It wasn't his place to try to decipher the boy's emotions.
"Well then, are you ready to go?"
The boy nodded, and he pulled himself up. Percy stood up, ready to teleport away, before he heard a low growl from the trees. He snapped his head quickly in the direction, in time to see a large black hellhound jump out from the trees. Its blood red eyes were locked on the boy, and its growling seemed to shake the very ground.
The boy jumped in fright. "AAAggghhh! What the heck is that overgrown dog!" and he took off running in the opposite direction. The hellhound, sensing its prey run, pounced after the boy. Percy slapped his head. This boy would be the death of him. With a thought, he materialized his HeartBreaker in his hands. Nocking a red arrow, he quickly took aim at the hellhound that was running further and further away.
He released the arrow, letting it whistle quietly in the air. It hit straight and true, sinking into the hellhound's flesh. The hellhound didn't even have time to howl in pain, before it dissolved into golden dust.
Dematerializing his bow, he quickly ran forward until he caught up to the boy
"Boy! The beast is dead! Stop running!"
The boy turned around, the shock on his face slowly fading away and his raised arms falling back to his sides.
He scratched his head sheepishly. "Yeah, I knew you could've taken care of it…"
Percy sighed in exasperation. "Don't run off without warning like that again."
The boy nodded. "Wait, what even was that thing? And also why did it want to kill me?"
"That was a hellhound, a monster from the Underworld. It must have been attracted by your demigod scent and came to eat your flesh."
"Well," the boy paled, "that's just jolly. It's a good thing I am going to get trained eh?"
Percy chuckled. This kid was something.
"Well," he clapped his hands together, "Let's get going shall we?"
He motioned for the boy to come closer, and then he snapped his fingers. They both disappeared in a flash of flames (AN Percy can shadow and fire travel).
Reappearing in another forest, the boy clutched his stomach as he felt the aftereffects of the flashing.
"Wow," he retched. "Let's never do that again."
"Come on," Percy said simply.
He began to walk through the forest. The boy hurried to follow him.
"So, mister, why do you wear a mask? Are you ugly or something?"
"It's to keep my identity secret. And no, I'm not ugly."
"Oh. Also why is your name Zestasia? It's pretty hard to say, you know?"
"Well, it actually means-"
"How about I call you Zes. Or, Z for short. Sounds pretty cool don't ya think?"
"Sure."
"Hey, I wonder who my godly parent is."
"Mhm."
"Hopefully it's someone cool, you know? Maybe Apollo or something."
"Ok."
"I guess any one of the big three would be cool too."
"Sure."
"I wonder what weapon I'll be best at."
"Yep."
"I think something small and fast would be good, like a dagger or something."
"For sure."
The boy continued blabbing away as Percy's mind slowly zoned out. He wondered when his next mission would be. Hopefully the next demigod would be a lot less annoying than this current one. Maybe it was a Hermes thing. He scowled, his mind drifting to the infidelity of the gods. Before his mind could wander any further, the boy stopped, pointing excitedly at a small cabin in a clearing.
"Hey! Is that where I'm supposed to go?"
"Yep. Come on let's go"
Percy led the boy over to the wooden cabin. He knocked on the door twice.
The door opened and a kindly looking man poked his head out. Noticing the two visitors, he opened the door wider, allowing them full view of his entire body.
"Woah, are you a centaur?" the boy asked, amazed.
The man's gaze fell onto the young boy and The man chuckled kindly. "Yes I am my boy. You can call me Chiron."
The boy's eyes widened comically, and he was spluttering to form a sentence.
Percy chuckled, drawing Chiron's gaze to him.
"Zestasia," he said, bowing his head. Percy merely smiled, dipping his head in acknowledgment to the legendary trainer of heroes.
"Chiron."
Their mutual respect was obvious, as they had both come to respect each other greatly. Percy, however, had not told Chiron his real identity, and neither had Chiron pried.
"I see you have brought another demigod." Chiron stated, looking over to the boy, no doubt trying to assess the boy's capabilities. He ushered the boy into the cabin.
"Go on, I'll be right with you," Chiron said. The boy stopped for a moment, before turning to Percy. He smiled a genuine smile. "Thank you for everything Z." he waved at Percy before disappearing into the cabin.
Chiron turned back to Perseus, a smile on his face. "How was it?" he asked.
"Not too bad compared to some others. Definitely some abuse, although it didn't seem like anything too extreme. I only knocked the man out."
Chiron nodded. "That's good."
Percy took a step away. "Well, thanks Chiron. Make sure to train the boy well."
Chiron smiled and nodded, and Perseus flashed away.
"Mister, mister, mister, mister, mister,"
Percy snapped out of his memories, feeling something tug his sleeve. They small dark-haired boy was standing there, asking for the ball that Percy was still holding in his hands.
He really reminded Percy of that boy so many years ago. Although much time had passed, he remembered every demigod that he had helped. Vaguely, he wondered whether that boy was now a grown man, whether he had found a wife, whether he had children, whether he was happy. Percy hoped he was.
"Mister, can I have the ball back please?"
Percy handed the ball back to the boy, who thanked him and ran off to play with his friends. He smiled at the sight. Sometimes, he envied the ignorance that children had, oblivious of life's hardships and pains.
He continued walking through the city, slowly making his way towards the palace. He sighed as he was jostled by the many people around him. The sheer magnitude of liveliness in the city was seriously cramping his style.
He finally made it to the palace, and he stared up at the massive building. He had a hard time imagining war ever even brushing near Troy. He walked up the large marble stairs that led to the entrance. The guards dipped their heads in acknowledgement to him.
"General Jaxson."
He nodded to them.
"The king and the others are waiting for you in the war room."
"Thank you."
He entered the palace, making his way down the large corridors. He arrived at the war room, and he pushed open the doors. Inside was a large room. In the middle of the room was a massive wooden table that was littered with maps.
He bowed upon entering.
"King Priam."
"Rise General Jaxson," the man said. An older looking man sat at the head of the table. He wore a simple white set of robes and had a crown on his head. The man, known as King Priam, had dark bags under his eyes.
"Come Jaxson, take a seat. We have much to discuss."
Percy moved to the left hand chair directly next to King Priam, which signified his status as the Troy's general, only surpassed by the royal family. As he sat down, he took a moment to look around the room.
Directly across from him was Hector, son of Priam, widely considered the best fighter in all of Troy. The man's face was serious and his eyebrows were knit together, no doubt in serious contemplation. Upon seeing Percy, or Jaxson, he gave a friendly smile, which Percy gladly returned. Next to Hector was the younger prince, Paris. The young man's nerves were plain for all to see, his nervous expression, his tapping foot, and his fidgeting fingers. His inexperience was obvious, and Percy's hands almost itched to slap the nervousness out of the young man.
Next to Percy was Aeneas of the Dardanians, the demigod son of Aphrodite and Anchises. The handsome man was sitting there stoically, and gave a curt nod to Percy. Sitting next to Aeneas was Pandarus, son of Lycaon. He was renowned for his archery, the deadliest archer of all the Trojans. He led the group of troops hailing from Zeleia. Mighty Ephemus was also present, son of Troezenus and the leader of the Thracian Cicones, a strong group of warriors. Many other leaders were seated down the table, each one hailing from the surrounding lands allied with Troy.
Every single man in the room was a strong warrior, with the expectation of the old king Priam, and Paris of course. They each commanded thousands of warriors, and fighting together, it would be nigh impossible to beat them. And yet, Priam's eyes still held worry, a worry that Percy felt as well.
"We are here today," Priam began, "to discuss the implications of Prince Paris' actions."
The king simply turned a hard gaze to Paris, while many others had much less unrestraint and vocally voiced their anger.
"Foolish boy!" cried Phorcys, son of Phaenops and the leader of the Phrygians.
"You have dragged us to our doom!" spat Sarpedon. "Dragged us into a war against all of Greece for your foolish desires!"
Paris, at least, had enough backbone to grow angry. "I love Helen! And I would do anything for her!"
"Would you die for her? Would you see all of Troy burn for her?" retorted Archelochus.
Paris paused, and turned his head away in shame.
"You see," Sarpedon cried. "This fool does not even have the courage to die for her! We should just kill him here and then return Helen to Menelaus!"
Many men banged their hands on the table, roaring their agreement as Paris' face paled quickly. Percy simply sat there, stroking his chin.
"Enough." Priam commanded, raising his hand in the air, silencing everyone. "Paris will not be killed, for he is still a Prince of Troy. Kill Paris, and Troy will forever be your enemy. What's done is done, and the gods have willed it so. The best we can do now is prepare for the consequences."
The war council shifted uncomfortably, a few still casting angry glances at Paris, but ultimately relenting under the king's orders. Priam sent a meaningful glance towards Percy, who took it as his cue to stand up.
"Knowing Menelaus, I am almost certain that he will declare war against us. It is guaranteed that his brother Agememnon will aid him, and together I estimate that they will have almost 200 ships. It is also likely that Nestor, Odysseus, and the two Ajaxs will rally under the Greek banners, and will bring with them many more ships."
Percy noticed that Paris seemed to deflate with every word he said, and Priam seemed to grow older with every passing second. He continued.
"It is also very possible that the great Achilles will join the Greeks as well," a noticeable shiver ran through the room, "and he will bring along the Myrmidons, though they will be noticeably less in number than Agememnon's army. There is a chance that-"
The doors suddenly burst open, and a man ran in, panting and wheezing, with sweat dripping off his face. His bright golden robes, the signature garments of Apollo's priests, were crumpled and messy. All heads in the room turned to the man, who was still hunched over trying to catch his breath.
Percy and Hector immediately stood up to help the man, both men grabbing one of his arms to steady him. Once the man was able to regain some sense of composure, he quickly fell into a bow.
"My apologies King Priam," he said, his face still pale and sweaty, "but I have some very, very important news,"
Priam nodded. "And what is the news?"
He took a shaky breath. "We have received a vision from Phoebus Apollo himself and we have seen it with our very own eyes. The Greeks have declared war on us. Hundreds of ships are on their way right now, led by Agememnon himself."
The men in the room started to whisper amongst each other.
"Also, Achilles and the Myrmidons have decided to join the Greeks," the priest finished, before passing out onto the floor.
There was a beat of silence in the room, before it exploded. Men were shouting amongst each other, and the noise was deafening. Percy, due to his exceptional hearing, heard many sounds throughout the room.
"We are doomed!"
"Haha, those Greeks will never be able to take down Troy!"
Priam was sighing.
Paris was whimpering.
"Men," Percy began, his commanding voice cutting through the noise. "The Greeks have declared war on us, and we will not let them walk over us. If they want a war, we will give them one!"
He paused, looking every man in the eye.
"Our walls were built by the earthshaker, the god of the seas, Poseidon! Our people are blessed by Phoebus Apollo, bringer of plagues, slayer of Python! We are favored by Aphrodite, the goddess born of Ouranos' blood! We shall defend Troy and make the gods proud!"
The men began a steady thump, banging the table rhythmically.
"Those dirty Greeks think that they can come storm these lands, take our women and kill our children. We will not allow them to! We are the protectors, and we will protect Troy!"
The thumping grew in both speed and sound, and to the men in the room, it felt as if the earth was shaking along with them.
Percy had to raise his voice above the rising noise. "We will kill every Greek that dares to set foot upon our land! WE WILL SHOW NO MERCY!"
The men began to cheer and shout, adding to the thunderous beat.
"WE WILL FIGHT TOGETHER, AS COMRADES, AS BROTHERS, AND WE WILL WIN THIS WAR!"
The noise peaked, the sounds of men cheering and shouting was deafening, along with a deep rhythm beating that echoed through the room and sent tremors deep through every man's body.
Percy closed his eyes, letting the deafening roars wash over him, relishing the heavy scent of mounting bloodlust in the air. He felt something stirring deep inside of him as his excitement grew, and he grinned ferally in anticipation of coming war. Slowly, he once again opened his eyes, which flashed a deep crimson red.
It was time for war.
