Miles away from the walls of Ilion, Akhilles paced in front of the ships. A feeling of unease had overcome him— a feeling that grew worse as noble Nestor's son Antilochos made way for him, shedding warm tears.

He told him the agonizing truth.

"Bad news, my lord prince! Son of warlike Peleus, you must hear this dreadful news—something I wish weren't so. I have very bad news for you, I am sorry to say. Pátroklos lies dead, they are fighting for his body, only the body, for the armor is lost—Hektōr has it!"

Antilochus finished speaking.

A black cloud of grief swallowed up Akhilles.

The world around him fell silent. Muted as if his ears had been stolen from him.

The world around him turned grey. Blurred as if his eyes had been plucked from him.

The world around him disappeared. Intangible as if his fingers and toes had been cut from him.

The world around him became acrid. Pungent as if his nose and tongue shriveled within him.

And then all at once, everything overtook him at once. His hands gripped the skin of Gaea, sweeping dirt and soot up with both hands as he poured it over his head, covering his handsome face with dirt, covering his sweet-smelling tunic with black ash. His fingers tangled within his hair as he tore at it, disfiguring himself as he fell to the ground. He lay sprawling—his mighty warrior's massive body collapsed and stretched out in the dust. A guttural scream clawed its way from his throat and the women slaves that he and Pátroklos had taken captive as battle trophies wailed in grief, ran out to where he lay, beating their breasts and almost fainted on the spot.

Across from them, Antilochus lamented, eyes full of tears, as he held Akhilles by the hand.

Yet he paid them no mind as Demented Penthos hath his stand in thy heart; at a touch thy breast heaves and sobs.

Akhilles' noble heart moaned aloud. Antilochus feared he might hurt himself or slit his throat with his own sword.

He cried out once more, quite terribly, aloud, and his Mother heard as she sat the depths of the sea at the side of her aged father, and she cried shrill in turn, and the goddesses—her sisters— around her gathered all the divine daughters of Nêreus deep in the sea— Glauke, Thaleia, Kymodoke, Nesaea, Speio, Thoe, ox-eyed Halië, Kymothoë, Aktaia, Limnoreia, Melite, Iaera, Amphithoe, Agave, Doto, Proto, Pherousa, Dynamene, Dexamene, Amphinome, Kallianeira, Doris, Panope, lovely Galatea, Nemertes, Apseudes, Kallianassa. Also there were Klymene, Ianeira, Ianassa, Maera, Orithyia, Amatheia with her lovely hair, and others, Nêreus' daughters living in the ocean depths gathered about her, all who along the depth of the sea were daughters of Nêreus.

'Hear me Nêreides, my sisters; so you may all know well all the sorrows that are in my heart, when you hear of them from me. Ah me, my sorrow, the bitterness in this best child-bearing, since I gave birth to a son who was without fault and powerful conspicuous among heroes. I sent him away with the curved ships to the land of Ilion to fight with the Trojans; but I shall never again receive him. Yet while I see him live and he looks on the sunlight, he has sorrows, and though I go to him I can do nothing to help him. Yet I shall go, to look on my dear son, and to listen to the sorrow that has come to him as he stays back from the fighting.'

So she spoke, and left the cave, and the others together went with her in tears, and about them the wave of the water was broken. Now these, when they came to the generous Troad, followed each other out on the seashore, where close together the ships of the Myrmidones were hauled up about swift Akhilleus.

There as he sighed heavily the lady his mother stood by him and cried out shrill and aloud, and took her son's head in the arms, then sorrowing for him she spoke to him in winged words: 'Why then, child, do you lament? What sorrow has come to you heart now? Speak out do not hide it. These things are brought to accomplishment through Ζεύς: in the way that you lifted your hands and prayed for, the whole army has been brought to disaster for want of you and huddled up under their ships."

'Yes, Mother, Olympian Ζεύς has indeed accomplished what I asked. But what pleasure's there for me, when Pátroklos, my beloved companion, has been destroyed, the man I honoured as my equal, above all my comrades. Hektōr killed him–Pátroklos. He stripped away the gigantic armour, a wonder to look on and splendid, which the gods gave Peleus, a glorious present, on that day they drove you to the marriage bed of a mortal. I wish you had gone on living then with the other goddesses of the sea. But now there'll be innumerable sorrows waiting for your heart, once your child is killed. You won't be welcoming him back home again. My own heart has no desire to live on, to continue living among men, unless Hektōr is hit by my spear first, losing his life and paying me compensation for killing Menoitios' son, Pátroklos."

Then in turn Thetis spoke to him, letting the tears fall: 'Then I must lose you soon my child, by what you are saying since it is decreed your death must come soon after Hektōr's."

"Then let me die, since I could not prevent the death of my companion. He's fallen far from his homeland. He needed me there to protect him from destruction. So now, since I'm not returning to my own dear land, and for Pátroklos was no saving light or for my many other comrades, all those killed by godlike Hektōr while I sat here by the ships, a useless burden on the earth—and I'm unmatched in warfare by any other Achaean armed in bronze, although in council other men are better. For all the pain I feel, I'll suppress the heart within my chest, as I must. So now I'll go to meet Hektōr, killer of the man I loved. As for my own fate, let it come to me when Ζεύς and the other deathless gods determine. For not even strong Hēraklēs, the man lord Ζεύς, son of Krónos, loved the most, escaped his death. He was destroyed by Fate and by malicious Hḗrē's anger, too. And so for me. If a like fate has been set, then once I'm dead, I'll just lie there. But for now, let me seize great glory—let me make so many Trojan and Dardan matrons weep, and with both hands wipe tears from their soft cheeks, and set them on to constant lamentation, so that they'll know I've long refrained from war. Don't keep me from battle. Though you love me, you'll not convince me."

"My child, what you say is true— it's no bad thing to protect companions when they're threatened with complete disaster. But now the Trojans have your lovely armour, all your glittering bronze. It's on the shoulders of Hektōr with the shining helmet— he boasts about it. But I do not think his triumph will last long, since his death is coming closer. But you must not rejoin Árēs' conflict until with your own eyes you see me in the morning here again. I'll return at sunrise, and I'll bring you lovely armour made by lord Hḗphaistos."

So she spoke, and turned, and went away from her son, and turning now to her sisters of the sea she spoke to them: '"Now you must plunge into the broad lap of Ocean and go find the Old Man of the Sea in our father's house. Tell him everything. I'll go to high Olympus, to that famous artisan Hḗphaistos, to see if he is willing to give my son some splendid glittering armour."

She spoke, and they plunged back beneath the wave of the water, while she the goddess Thetis of the silver feet went onward to Olympos, to bring back to her son the glorious armour.

Nêreus sat in his home, in the depths of the Aigaiôn Sea, listening to his daughters as they told him of the surface world. Great Nêreus for his daughter Thetis' sake, mourned, but he knew that the fate of Hektōr was no longer what she proclaimed as the Moirai and further beyond—as Anankê placed a veil upon the heroes of the Trojan War when Godlike Aléxandros had taken rich-haired Ariadnê, daughter of Poseidón, from her home.

If it didn't go against all of her morals and everything about her, Ariadnê would kiss Percy on the mouth.

(Instead, she turned to Annabeth and gave her a peck. She shared an amused giggle with Clarisse at the way Annabeth immediately blushed to the tip of her hair. Ariadnê may have been oblivious— something that she was reluctantly coming to terms with—but she remembered the one-time Drew had stated that Annabeth looked at her and Percy like they were the things of her dreams.)

Her brother had conjured a large typhoon standing almost in the same height as Typhôeus that he had let loose amongst the others—Αἴας had held fast to the boards of the ships as the raging winds tore through them.

Ariadnê snickered, switching to english as she looked at the others. "Guess we found the wood they'll be using for the Trojan Horse."

The rest of them broke into laughter also, drawing strange looks from those around them.

Nico's hellpup, which was a Tibetan mastiff, ironically named Paola—small in italian— appeared at their sides with what looked to be an official report from Castellan.

The Prince of Ploutôn took the report with an affectionate rub against the pups' head before his obsidian toned eyes became seeped with shadows. "It seems some owlets have decided to finally test the borders of Castellan."

The rest of them tensed rage appearing in their eyes. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.

"I suspect it's Mother's influence," Annabeth mused. "A way to nudge the war back into their favor since us being here blurred the lines of ally and foe."

"I can't go," Ariadnê pouted as she was always happy to beat anyone from Athens up since she was no longer fond of Theseus and she still held bitter feelings to the place for overlooking her Father. "I'm still the reigning Queen here." She had no plans to abdicate until after the war was won.

"I'm not letting you stay here alone," Travis and Percy stated immediately. They shared looks with each other, recognizing the other's place in the girl's life. Her blood brother and her foster brother slash stepson. Ariadnê was more than capable of taking care of herself, but she also had people in her corner to do it for her.

Also, it'd be a cold day in hell before they allowed her to stay in Ilion by herself.

(They couldn't allow her to do anything, but that was one thing they were putting their foot down on.)

"We also have to plan for the fact that Akhilles will be rejoining the war soon," Thalia pointed out from the small cloud that she was sitting atop of like it was the Flying Nimbus. It was barely two inches off the ground, but they had all come to understand that she was taking it no further and if anyone had a problem with her acrophobia, then a solution can be found in her fists.

"Do we have a plan for that," Chris wondered.

"Nothing can kill him except his heel," Katie muttered, sparing Will and Clarisse's looks because they knew the human bodies better than anyone.

Clarisse, however, scoffed, waving her hands. "Old ways. Let's set him on fire."

Absolutely no one liked the sparkles that appeared in Ariadnê's eyes at that statement.

They also did not like the makeshift flamethrower she pulled from underneath the fabrics of her dress which gave everyone an understanding on why she was wearing a dress that looked as if it belonged in the Victorian era. No wonder the seamstresses had been so confused.

A wonder she didn't pass out from overheating.

"Where did you even get that," Percy grumbled, snatching it and the weird combination of a dagger that spewed its own flames without the use of magic away.

"Princess Aria... Princess Ariadnê of Dardania. Aineías' elder sister. She's something of an alchemist."

"It's too many people with one name around here," Nico muttered just as a servant rushed towards them.

"Mi'lady come quick! Of these, daughters of Phoinodamas, one the River Krimisos, in the likeness of a dog, took to be his bride."

Ariadnê growled low and deep within her throat, snatching her flame thrower back as she stomped away. "Can't these people be normal for once," she exclaimed in english as she stormed within the kingdom, Stormbringer glinting deadly under the light that Apóllōn shone. "Kick their ass for me," she yelled behind her.

Akhilles was tending to his horses, speaking to them softly yet with reproach. "Xanthus, Balius, this time make sure you bring your charioteer back safely to the Danaan army, once we've had enough of battle. Don't leave him out there slaughtered, as you did Pátroklos."

From under the yoke, Xanthus spoke to him, ducking his head down quickly, so all his mane streamed down from underneath his shoulder harness beside the yoke towards the ground. Goddess Hḗrē gave Xanthus power to speak: "Mighty Akhilles, on this occasion we will bring you safely back. But the day you'll die is fast approaching. We won't be the cause, but some mighty god and a strong fate. It was not our laziness or lack of speed which helped the Trojans strip that armour from Pátroklos' shoulders. A powerful god born to Lētṓ killed him among those fighting at the battle front, then gave Hektōr glory. The two of us could run as quickly as the West Wind's blasts—men say they are the fastest thing there is— your fate still stays the same, to die in war, killed by a mortal and a god."

Once Xanthus had said this, the Erinyes removed his voice. Then Akhilles, in a fury, said: "Xanthus, why do you prophesy my death? There is no need. I know well enough I'm fated to die here, far from my loving parents. No matter. I will not stop till I have driven the Trojans to the limit of what they can endure in war."

With these words, he drove his sure-footed horses off, speeding forward to the front, screaming as he went. With these words, he drove his sure-footed horses off, speeding forward to the front, screaming as he went. Then, son of Peleus, Achaeans armed themselves around you, feeding your boundless appetite for war. On the other side, higher up the sloping plain, the Trojans did the same.

Nico and Clarisse with Katie and Chris and Connor found themselves back in Castellan pushing back the opposition. It had not been an easy decision to make as Clarisse had not want to leave the side of her best friend, but they all knew that the gods would soon make their way back to the battlefield.

But considering that she was much more susceptible to her Father's odikinesis than Ariadnê who almost always fell under its influence, then it was easy to see why she had been carted back off to Castellan. And she took that anger out on the invaders that had been very much displeased to see her while their own army cheered.

(Because they may have trained Rachel to defend herself— the girl was not prepared to lead an army. Wisely, the soldiers of Athens didn't try to make off with her. Not only would Castellan destroy the entire kingdom from the map because they were not dealing with that a second time—Apóllōn was not fond of anyone that tried to make off with any of his oracles.)

(There was also the fact that Clarisse and Ariadnê shared one brain cell and Clarisse tended to have custody of it.)

The rest of them focused on the other battles, calmly defending the wall. Percy, Ariadnê, and Will were much too offended to allow even the thought of it being allowed to fall.

"Our Fathers built that wall, fuck you very much," Will had pointed out, not noticing the slight smile Apóllōn gave him at his staunch defense. "The only way it's coming down is if it grows legs and Lady Gaea and Lady Thalassa help it get to Castellan."

As long as the gods were far away from mortal men, Achaeans won the glory, since Akhilles had come back, after staying away from war so long. For every Trojan's limbs were seized with trembling fear when they observed him there, swift son of Peleus in that blazing armour, like man-killing Árēs.

Frankly, they found themselves weaving under Annabeth's careful eye. Various scenes of victories that she planned to have Aineías and Hektōr hang around their respective kingdoms. Aineías had found himself curious about it—something Annabeth had theorize having to do with his Mother to which Ariadnê found an age-old anger clawing her throat when she snapped that the theory was prejudice and stereotypical and needed to be thrown out alongside the other bullshit that Annabeth had learned at camp and clearly, she needed remedial lessons.

Aineías had smiled bashfully as Annabeth had apologized furiously before offering to teach him. The two could then be found regularly knitting together as they regale each other with stories of dealing with children of the sea.

A little hypocritical if you asked the twins and Aineías' siblings as the prince was a child of the sea too. None of them forgot that Aphrodítē held the surname of Haligenes—Sea-Spawned— also.

The small group of them sat atop of the wall enjoying a cup a tea even as from on high, the father of gods and men thundered ominously, while Poseidôn shook the vast earth under them and lofty mountain crests, anger burning in his chest for the disrespect he faced from Laomedon and Aléxandros. All the lower slopes of Ida, with its many springs, trembled, as did the peaks, the Trojan city, and Achaean ships.

Under the earth, the king of the dead, Háidēs, was leapt up from his throne afraid and shouting, frightened that Earthshaker Poseidón would split up the earth above him and reveal to gods and men the dark and dreadful habitations of the dead, which even gods detest, so massive was the shock when gods collided in that war, with Poseidón matched against Apóllōn with his feathered arrows, glittery eyed Athênê going against a mighty god, Árēs Enyalius, and Hḗrē against Artemis, with her golden arrows, goddess of the noisy hunt, sister of Apóllōn, god who shoots from far away. Strong Helper Hermês was opposed by Lētṓ, and Hḗphaistos by that huge and swirling river the gods call Xanthus, but all men name Scamander.

But once Olympians mingled in the crowds of soldiers, then mighty Éris, who stirs men up in battle, went into action, while Athênê kept on shouting, sometimes standing by the ditch they dug beyond the wall, sometimes yelling out beside the roaring seashore.

On the other side, like a black whirlwind, Árēs kept shouting out his piercing orders to the Trojans, sometimes from the city heights, sometimes as he raced along the banks of Simois to Callicolone. Thus, sacred gods spurred both sides on, urging them to war, inciting cruel conflict.

"We should do something about that," Percy commented as he watched the warriors fight with renewed energy as the line between ally and foe was drawn clear in the sand once more.

Ariadnê hummed as she sipped her tea. "I'm not getting involved unless one of my chosen champions has to get out there."

Words she would come to slightly regret.

Akhilles was eager to meet Hektōr in battle. The demi divine child of Thetis wanted to glut Árēs, warrior god with the bull's hide shield, on Hektōr's blood, more so than on the blood of any other man.

But Apóllōn sent out Aineíās to confront the son of Peleus directly.

Aineíās who Ariadnê had more interest in keeping safe due to the fact that he had the sea within him. She knew he would be saved of course. He wasn't destined to die here, but Ariadnê and the others had already fucked the timeline up enough that she was not willing to risk it with his life.

Ugh, she was glad that her version of Aktis didn't exist because he had loved calling her a human fiddler crab for her tendency to hoard people. And she was appalled to realize that he was telling the truth.

The god placed great force within him. Making his voice like LyKaon's, a son of Priamos, Apóllōn, took on that prince's shape, spoke out: "Aineías, Trojan counsellor, where are now those threats you used to make to Trojan princes, as you drank your wine and promised them you'd fight Peleus' son, Akhilles, man to man?"

Ariadnê stared.

Aineías said to Apóllōn: "Son of Priamos, why are you telling me to fight the arrogant son of Peleus, when I don't wish to? This isn't the first-time swift Akhilles and I have come to blows. Once before he chased me away from Ida with his spear, but then Ζεύς saved me—he gave me strength and made my legs run faster. Otherwise, Athênê and Akhilles would have killed me. She went on ahead of him to make things safe. No man can face Akhilles in a fight— some god is constantly beside him, saving him and making sure his spear flies always straight, not stopping till it's hit some human flesh. If some god made sure our fight was equal, he'd not easily defeat me, even though he boasted he's completely made of bronze."

Apóllōn then said to Aineías: "But, as a warrior, you, too, should pray to the immortal gods. For people say that Aphrodítē, Ζεύς's daughter, bore you, while he comes from a lesser goddess. Your mother is great Ζεύς's daughter, but his a daughter of the Old Man of the Sea. So go straight at him with your tireless bronze. Don't let him hold you back with words, expressing his contempt or making threats. And besides—" The god shot an amused smile at Ariadnê from where she stood still staring in judgment with Percy at her side. "You are truly mistaken if you believe that no man can face him."

With these words, Apóllōn breathed great power then into that shepherd of his people.

WORDS: 3839

WORDS TO KNOW:

Árēs Enyalius - Warlike Árēs

Ploutôn - the giver of wealth, at first a surname of Háidēs, the god of the lower world, and afterwards also used as the real name of the god.

Prince of Ploutôn is being used as the Prince of Wealth considering that Háidēs was the god of the hidden wealth of the earth, from the fertile soil with nourished the seed-grain, to the mined wealth of gold, silver and other metals.