The Beginning
My name is Perseus, I have no last name. It was stripped from me many years ago. I have more titles than I can count and have lived long enough to see many civilizations rise and fall. I am a child of Sparta, an immortal warrior, a demigod with enough power to make even some gods quake in fear. I have traveled the world as the only demigod to visit different pantheons. I have befriended gods and mortals all over the world. But let's go back to the beginning around 2,800 years ago to Sparta.
The Spartan Capital was one of the largest and most well-defended places in Greece. We had giant turrets and walls built to withstand even the largest of battering rams. Outside of the walls was the farming district. I always thought it funny that our food supply was outside of the walls where it was harder to protect them, but that's just me. Inside the walls, some houses belonged to the upper-middle class and bigger houses belonging to high ranking officials. It may come as a surprise to some, but I was actually in line for the throne. Now there were like ten people ahead of me, but I didn't want to be the king of Sparta anyway. I was related to the king on my mother's side.
My mother is one of the kindest, courageous, strongest, and most caring I will ever know. She has long black hair, tan skin, and lovely sea-green eyes with a smile that lights up any room she walks into. Her name was Saliara. She was 19 when she had my older brother, and 21 when she had me, even after children, she was still unbelievably beautiful. She is the 2nd youngest of 5 children of the king of Sparta. She is also the wife of the General of the king's personal army.
My father is the General of the king's army. General Desmos. He is the highest-ranking official in Sparta second only to the king and heir themself. He has very short brown hair and hard brown eyes. His muscles are ripped due to years of training. In the middle of his face, he has a scar that cuts diagonally down from between his eyebrows to right next to his nose. He does not see my brother and me as children, he only sees us as soldiers.
Alexandros or Andros is a right dick. He is 2 years older than me and looks like an exact replica of his father except for his jawline, which belongs to my grandmother on my mother's side. He is power-hungry and cruel. As is customary Spartan children start training at the age of 4, he immediately gained the favor of Teacher Vasili. He created a group of those he deemed worthy of his presence. There were 4 of them. The first was a larger boy named Taras, who was considered the strongest, however, was the dumbest. The second and third were the twin sons of General Sador, the leader of the Second Battalion. And finally, there was my brother's best friend Pasi, our older cousin by a year. The youngest son of my mother's second-oldest brother Nikolai.
The king is oddly kind for a king of Sparta and also strangely old. I mean no disrespect to him. He is my grandfather, but it is odd for someone to live into their late forties in this day and age. He is very wise and someone I used to always go to for advice. We would walk in the gardens and he would tell me stories of his life as a soldier. With his wife, he had five children. His oldest Evander was in line for the throne. His second youngest was my mother, Saliara.
My grandmother was also oddly old. The average lifespan in Greece is 28 years, and my grandmother was 36. My grandmother was one of the most beautiful mortals ever. She had long black hair like her daughter and sparkling bright electric blue eyes.
I have spoken kindly of Sparta thus far. But that is not the case. Living in Sparta is a cruel existence. If I had not been a child of the royal family I would not have survived. At the age of 4, all spartan males must complete the Flame of Ares. A challenge built to determine who are the weak and who are the strong. The Flame of Ares takes place in a hidden cave on the outskirts of Sparta. A child is brought to this cave and forced to spend a week in a cell with nothing to eat or drink. If you die, you die. But if you survive when the week is over your cage will release. You are then to walk in darkness till you reach the great chamber. In the center of this chamber is the furnace of Ares. A child must willingly lay on the fire. If you show any fear you will be burned. If you show weakness you will be burned. Many have said how lucky I was that I came out unscarred, that is not the case. I just chose to hide my scars as a true spartan should.
I lost someone in Sparta as well. My little brother. I was 6 and he was 5. His name was Kyros. We were wandering outside of the gates when two men dressed in black came. They grabbed us and threw us on their horses' backs. I fought back and escaped by falling to the ground. I watched my brother be carried off and... I let him go. I did not give chase. Something I regret to this day.
As I said before had I not been of the royal family I would have been killed, you see I have a bad tendency of mouthing off. I have been whipped several times for it.
A.N: Sup guys welcome to my new story. I have had the idea for this story for a year and 1/2 now and I am glad to finally be adding it to Fanfiction. Now I know my other stories have not been worked on for a while and all I can say in I'm Sorry. I'm sorry because it will probably be a while before I work on them again. I may rewrite a few of them actually. But for this one, I am gonna work on it a lot and try and get you a new chapter every Thursday.