A/N Hey guys! So, here's an update for the Prince, the last one for a bit unfortunately, I have finals. I'll start again in April, I promise. I have my pinky out and everything. One last thing I would like to say. This Chapter is dedicated to user Death Fury. If you're reading this, you've been reading and reviewing all my chapters on both my stories for as long as I've been writing, and it's such a huge motivator for me. This one's for you mate!
Percy was still a prince. And in a war, princes, and kings, were expected to lead. Of course, Percy couldn't exactly bring the Atlantean army to the walls of Troy. Nonetheless, he was certain that with enough spectacle, most of the lesser princes, and a good few among the greater, would willingly give him command. He was, after all, a veteran of more wars than anyone or anything outside of the Elder gods themselves. On that note… Spectacle. He was not supposed to end the war early, but that didn't mean he couldn't maul his fair share of Trojans. As the Greek ships reached the shores of Troy, Percy floated in the seas behind them. Not a single man moved off the boats, which confused him. He thought they'd be trampling each other for the honours of first blood. But… nothing? Silence for a minute. Then, suddenly, a prince from the small Phylacean islands, Percy couldn't recall his name, pushed his way forward, raised his blade, and charged. As soon as his foot touched the ground, an arrow flew over the horizon and found purchase in his throat. He sputtered once, blood spurting from his neck, and fell to the ground. There was a split second of silence, and the greeks charged. The gates of Troy opened, and her army flooded out before the gates shut behind them. The two armies charged at each other and clashed with a monstrous roar. Percy observed from the shore. The first thing he noted was that Hektor was easily Troy's greatest warrior, as Achilles was the Greeks'. Well, he was for now. Soon, the armies began to withdraw, the Trojans to their walls, and the Greeks to the shore, where they began to set up camp. That was when he took his cue.
Prince Hektor was surrounded by his honour guard, as they fell back to the walls of the city. Suddenly, he heard a massive roar from his side. His eyes widened, as the single largest wave he had ever seen came towards him and his army. He thought the gods were not allowed to participate directly in the war. But what else could this be but the work of Poseidon? As it approached, the wave was suddenly pulled into the sea, and a singular jet of water shot upwards.
Hektor looked upwards, till the sun blinded him, and he was forced to look away. He heard a loud whistling noise, followed by a boom, as a figure crashed into the front of his army, screams of fear and pain echoing out from his men. As the smoke cleared, a figure in black armour, with a dark green trim, holding a long, jagged, black sword, stood in the clearing. There was a moment when none could think of what to do. And then the figure's off-hand shot outward, a clawed gauntlet burying itself into a soldier's throat, muffling his last scream as the man's vocal cords were pulled out of his throat. The army was stirred, and yelled out a warcry, charging the figure. The man spun, whipping his blade and gauntlet in an arc of blood and death. No Trojan was able to get close to the man, as he slowly tore through their numbers. He seemed to be looking for something. Which he then found. One of Hektor's brothers, Trolius, and his own guard, positioned at the front of the line. The man crouched low, before vanishing in a puff of mist, and appearing directly above one of the guards, his blade angled downward.
Hektor heard a sickening crunch as the blade slid into the man's spine before the wielder pulled it outward and swung it into the chin of another guard. The trojan army formed a wall behind the combatant as Troilus and his guard began to engage. Seven men in total. A prince, his five guards, and the assailant. They walked in a circle for a few moments, before the man in black dashed forward, faster than Hektor could blink, swinging his blade in a downward arc, slicing one of the guards in half. Another took a swing at him, and the man used his gauntlet to grab the blade and wrench it towards himself, pulling the soldier towards him, and throwing him off balance, as he stepped backwards, and pulled his blade towards him, driving a deep cut across the soldier's heel, causing the man to scream and drop to a knee. The remaining three soldiers charged, with Trolius holding back. The men swung at him, and the man ducked and weaved backwards, dodging around the blades. Suddenly, when he looked like he was on the back foot, he threw his sword into one of the soldier's heads.
The man's neck snapped backwards, and he fell. The man in black ran forward, sliding under the remaining two soldiers and grabbing his sword from the man's head, and swinging it in an arc, cutting across the neck of one of the other soldiers. The Army slowly closed in, as it seemed more likely that Trolius was in danger. The last guard was trembling, visibly shaking at the knees. The man looked at him, and raised his blade, pointing it at his head. The soldier broke. He turned and ran. The assailant turned around to face Trolius, who had gone white but had his blade up nonetheless.
This time, he didn't hesitate. Hektor blinked, and the man was right in front of Troilus. His brother barely had a chance to stumble backwards in fear, before he went rigid, as the man's cruel, spiked gauntlet was in his throat. He pulled his hand upward, and Trolius' head was taken from his body. Nobody moved. The man spoke. "Troy. Today I take one of your princes. It is by my mercy that it is not all of them. Thank the fates that I am not permitted to end you here. When you next come to the fields of war, remember. I will be here." A soldier yelled and charged. The man looked at him and tilted his head. The entire army ran towards the man who had killed their prince, but once again, he was gone.
Achilles was overseeing the construction of the Myrmidon camp when a meeting was called between the kings of Greece. As he reached the great tent in the centre of the camp, other kings began to approach. Agamemnon was about to speak, when there was a sudden pressure in the tent. A man in black and green armour appeared in the centre of the room, covered in blood. A sword was strapped to his back, and he held a head in his hand. The guards and kings drew blades and screamed for him to identify himself. The man held up the head, and Achilles recognized it. One of the Trojan princes. The head dropped to the table, and the man removed his helm, revealing hair just as dark as the armour, and eyes that matched the green detailing on his armour. His features were regal, seeming almost too perfect.
"Hail. I am Perseus, son of Poseidon, and the first Demigod. Consider this as my swearing allegiance to the greeks in the war. Let us discuss."
Olympus was silent. Every throne was filled, and Hestia was seated at her hearth, quietly. The iris projection in the centre of the room that had been showing Perseus at the war slowly flickered out. Apollo was the first to speak.
"Father, you can't possibly allow-"
"I already have. Don't take this as an invitation for you to intervene. You are a god. He is not."
Athena spoke- "As far as the mortals are considered, he might as well be! Certainly, he is weaker than any of us, but he is still far mightier than any mortal."
"He is a mortal. He may take part. Do not. Question. Me."
Zeus' eyes were sparking blue, and arcs of lightning were flying off his fingers.
"If we include Perseus in the law that gods are not permitted to take part, we are putting him on our own level. I respect the boy. He has done good for Olympus. And he is one of us. But he is not a god. If we put a mortal, even a Demigod, on our own level, what will the rest of the mortals think? We cannot allow it. Perseus is allowed to take part in this war. But he cannot defy the fates. They have ordained the end of this war. He cannot override their will. That is the end o this discussion. Do not interfere. Dismissed."
Apollo looked at Poseidon. He had never seen anyone look so smug. He would not stand for this. Troy would survive. If that meant Perseus had to die… A worthy sacrifice.