A.N—Okay, question. And please, please, please, tell me what you think I should do. Don't ignore this author's note, I need your input.

Who do you think should win the war? Greeks or Trojans? Should I go according to the stories or switch it up?

"YOU ARE AWARE that the body is made of roughly more liquid—water—than anything else?" His mentor's words made him raise a brow and shake his head. No, he didn't know that. But he supposed it made more sense now. Perseus motioned for Galateia to continue, and the sea nymph continued walking in circles around him as she spoke. "In order to control the water, you need to awaken the connection that lies between both of you."

She spoke of the water like it was a sentient being. But after the many lessons they had had over the past week, he understood what she meant. Finally. They had moved their lessons away from the lake and now stood on the beach, the wind making his eyes water, the sound of the waves soothing, like background music. For the past week, after he had used two days to conquer the lake, Galateia's lessons had consisted of submerging him underneath the roaring sea. And leaving him there for hours on end.

He didn't know what that was supposed to accomplish, but he didn't question her. The one rule the nereid had given him was to listen and obey. And as much as he wanted to hasten whatever it was they were doing, he didn't want to anger the immortal any more than he had to. Sometimes she came below with him, and he had once asked how she managed to come on the land. She had only smiled knowingly and said someone big owed her a favour. And Perseus didn't think he wanted to confirm if it was who he thought it was.

"That's what we started with," Galateia nodded. "The next step was maintaining this connection. Keeping the pathway open and strengthening the link."

Again, he nodded. The nereid humphed. "You know, if you accepted your father…if you forgave him, then this would not be necessary. Your power would rise of its own accord, from where you unconsciously locked it away for years." Perseus didn't answer. They'd had this conversation many times before. And he wasn't in the mood to revisit the topic.

She sighed in defeat. "Okay, Perseus. If you refuse to see reason I shall leave you to it."

Perseus finally spoke. "What do we have to do today, then?"

Galateia's lips curled up in a smile, revealing her shark teeth. "I want you to raise the sea."

He blinked. "What?"

"Lift the ocean," She motioned with her hand. "Like this." With a flick of her wrist, the water in front of them rose, a full wave, towering above them. Perseus stiffened, stock-still, his mind being assaulted by memories. A roaring wind, a wave, larger than this one. A ship destroyed.

He could see the sea floor, and from the beach he could hear the shouts of Trojans and Achaeans alike as Galateia released her grip on the waves and it cascaded down.

Salt water sprayed onto him.

No. He couldn't do it.

"Something else," Perseus rasped, his voice shaking. He tore his eyes away from the water. This was what he wanted to do to the Greek camp. But he shook his head. Not now. He would freeze, he would falter, and loose control and the water would take him away too. "Something different."

"No," She frowned. "We have learnt to move the water. You have learnt to from orbs and shapes and all that nonsense. But the sea is a destructive force. And you are the Destroyer. Perseus. This is what it means." She motioned to the water.

"Please," He shook his head.

"You wish to end your enemies, and you are scared of a little wave?"

He winced at her taunting voice. Galateia scoffed at him. "You refuse to embrace your heritage, refuse to meet your father, and yet you want his domain to bend to your will—"

"Galateia," Selene's powerful but calm voice filled the clearing as she appeared in a swirl of mist behind the nereid. Perseus panted in relief at seeing her, blinking hard. He didn't know what had come over him. "You push too far."

"How does he expect to drown the Greeks when he's afraid of his own power?" The immortal snapped.

"Peace, cousin," Selene held up a hand. She passed Perseus a glance, and his cheeks flushed. Selene turned back to the daughter of Oceanus. "Is there really nothing else you can teach?"

Galateia rolled her eyes. "Okay, maybe I skipped a few steps. Like water solidification and hydro genesis and ice control and healing and summoning storms and earthquakes, mist travel…" She trailed off, seemingly listing the things she had to teach him. Perseus, his composure now regained, exchanged an exasperated glance with Selene.

He cleared his throat. "Any of those. The wave…later. I'll let you know when I'm ready." Galateia, looking thoroughly displeased, nodded.

Selene shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. She faced Perseus, making his heart stutter. Okay, this was getting serious. "I have to visit my brother today, but I will be back by tomorrow. Try not to get maimed while I'm gone, please."

"No promises," He smirked at her. Selene rolled her eyes at him and with a wave, vanished into mist. Perseus turned to Galateia, who had been studying them with an eyebrow raised. "What?" The demigod arched an eyebrow.

Smiling to herself, the nereid said, "Nothing. Okay, no wave. But did you know you can talk to sea creatures and horses?"

~ • ~

THE GODS HADN'T showed for an entire week, and Perseus knew it was because Zeus was angry and had raged about their interference during the battle seven days prior. He trudged through the sand and towards the field of bonfires, a perplexed expression making a home on his face after a rather confusing but enlightening conversation with a couple of hammerhead sharks. As he walked, Perseus grimaced. Even from where he was, he could hear the chatter of the sea creatures in the vast ocean which surrounded them. He'd need to learn to tune them out.

Unlocking the ability had been very easy, surprisingly, and he had felt very uncomfortable when he heard the fishes calling him, "The Lost Lord." They had been oddly reverent and had made him feel like a celebrity. A very uncomfortable one, to be honest. He couldn't believe he had gone more than thirty years without the endless drone of creatures whispering in his ear. As he entered the camp, Perseus heard a neigh, then blinked in surprise when the words registered in his mind, 'Something different about the Lost Lord.'

'Yeah,' Another neigh. 'Do you think he can hear us now?'

Perseus laughed to himself. His friends would call him mad. Running his hand through his head, the son of Anchises sent a small wave to the two brown horses and heard one of them nicker, 'Oh, shit.'

Oh, shit was right. Had they been calling him the Lost Lord for thirty-something odd years? Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

He shook his head and continued moving. As he marched towards his own tent, Perseus was greeted by several passing soldiers and generals. The fires burned low, but a lot of the men were still awake. The previous day they had pushed the Greeks all the way back to their wall and inside. And on Aeneas' advice Hector had ordered they set up camp on the beach. So by first light they would be there, waiting, before the Greeks crawled out of their encampment. So they would hit them immediately Apollo awakened, hard and fast, and ram that bloody wall to the ground.

He spotted his two best friends in front of Hector's tent and made a beeline for it. He had probably missed the war council. Frowning grimly to himself, Perseus hurried his footsteps.

~ • ~

ACHILLES perked when he heard the footsteps. It wasn't through any will of his, but instinct, and he turned, a frown making its home on his face when he noticed who was coming. He stood at the beach, right underneath the prow of one of his ships—ships on which his men had resided on for the past week, making preparations to leave. Waiting for his word.

Achilles made his displeasure known and he smiled internally when Odysseus winced at the look in his eyes. Ajax lumbered alongside the wise king, and Achilles' own General, Phoenix, marched in front of them with two heralds clutching a wooden box, white cloak billowing behind him. Achilles shot the older man a questioning glance, and Phoenix had the decency to look apologetic. The soldier bowed. "My Lord, these men sought an audience with you," He shot Odysseus a small glare. "They would not take no for an answer."

The King of Ithaca smiled slightly but Achilles' frown hardened into a harsh glare. He wasn't smiling with anyone here. He waved his hand to Phoenix, and the man straightened. The Phthian Prince spoke, voice harder than his expression. "What do you want?"

Odysseus clapped his hands and the two men placed the chest on the ground. The curly haired man popped open a few latches, and Ajax threw open the head of the box. Achilles stared, from the box of riches to the men he had called friends, who had all watched, useless and unwilling to support him as Agamemnon threatened his men and carted his lover away.

He shot them an unimpressed look.

Odysseus cleared his throat, and began addressing him with that silver tongue, no doubt the reason he was the one leading this embassy. Achilles scoffed beneath his breath. "Agamemnon has realised his errors, Prince Achilles—"

"Took him long enough," Phoenix muttered. Odysseus shot him a look. Achilles didn't have time for useless embassies. But he wanted to see how this would pan out.

"The High King has seen that he was wrong," Ajax spoke, an arm resting on his sword pommel. "For a week, since you withdrew from the fighting, we have conceded every battle, lost every inch, even with gods aiding us. We have been routed, pushed back to the walls and into the camp. At first light tomorrow the Trojans will attack and we will be subdued. Our numbers are dwindled, our men are tired. The gods do not interfere anymore and yet the Trojans continue to hit us with a force we have not seen these past ten summers."

"What our friend is trying to say," Odysseus cleared his throat. "Is that you were right, and Agamemnon was wrong. He offers you Briseis, and this chest of riches with more to come, if only you and your men join us on the frontlines once more. Forgive the old fool, he knew not what he was doing. His decisions have cost us greatly. But no more. Agamemnon apologises for offending you and the House of Peleus. You will have your girl, if you bring the Myrmidons and help us end this war once and for all."

Achilles sighed to himself, raising an eyebrow. "Is that all?"

The Ithacan nodded, stepping back. "Yes."

"Very well. Tell Agamemnon this. If he wants my forgiveness—if he wants me to participate in this war again, he's going to have to come to me himself. And beg."

~ • ~

PERSEUS' exasperation quickly turned to shock, and then anger as the guard who had burst into their war council finished relaying his information. Beside him, Hector looked stricken, and Perseus cursed the Greeks. A few hours had gone by, and they had been discussing the best ways to bring the Achaeans down since he had returned from his training with Galateia. During the meeting, Hector had sent a scout—a swift footed Trojan soldier named Dolon—into the Greek camp.

None of the others they had sent before had ever come back alive, and Dolon did not disappoint. The son of Anchises scowled at what the news the messenger had brought meant for them. Dolon had been caught and killed, and had most likely given out information on them. Along with that, King Rhesus, one of their newer allies from Thrace, and about twelve of his men had been butchered, and his legendary horses stolen. They all knew it could only be the work of the Greeks at the other side of the beach.

"Okay, meeting adjourned," Hector waved his hand. "Everyone gather here two hours before first light. We'll go over the strategy one more time."

There were murmurs, and nods of assent. Perseus remained where he stood, and at his side, Aeneas collapsed into his chair. The Heir Apparent rubbed his temples in frustration.

Fatherhood suited Hector. Granted, it had taken a toll on him—on each of them, whenever they went back into the palace. He doubted his friend was getting much sleep, with his newborn screaming his lungs out every few minutes. Perseus smiled fondly at the memory of Astyanax, and took a seat on the table. The worry that came with having an extra person to think about during battle was beating down on Hector as the days went by. But it also made his fighting more…vigorous. Ruthless. He had a son to protect now and he was doing everything he could to make sure Astyanax would never see this war.

Already, Aeneas' own ten year old boy, Perseus' nephew Ascanius, was taken with his new cousin, and spent hours in Hector and Andromache's room with his mother and aunt, swooning over the baby as the two armies clashed outside the city walls. Perseus was knackered, but he forced himself to say, "It could have been worse. Whoever snuck into the camp could have come while we were asleep and offed either of you."

"Rhesus was an important ally, Perseus," Hector threw himself into his seat.

"Not more important to this war than you are," He countered. His green eyes were full of weary as he said, "We're almost through with this. Tomorrow, gods-willing, perhaps we can end everything. They're backed to their camp. We hit them before they can get out, break the walls, maybe kill a few kings in the process." He was tired of the Greek commanders. No matter how many they killed more seemed to take their place. It was the godly favoured ones like Odysseus and Diomedes—who had eluded death so many times—who vexed him the most.

"They're expecting us," Aeneas pointed out.

"We can still work around that," Perseus insisted.

Hector groaned. "Enough of this war talk. We've been discussing this for hours now. Something different. Something else, please."

Perseus frowned at them, but shook his head and leaned back in his seat. Hector was right. This war…it had been too long. He couldn't remember a day in the past decade where he had just sat and…lived. He hadn't really been able to breathe well since the first ship had hit the beach ten years prior. Since Odysseus had thrown his shield onto the sand and jumped down from the sea vessel which carried the Achaeans.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Aeneas piped. He was scratching his beard—something which, Perseus realised with a start, he hadn't noticed before. Aeneas usually preferred to be clean-shaven. It pained him that none of them had any time to tend to their own appearances anymore. "Why are you in the forest or on the beach every time the sun sets?"

"Or coming from there every time the sun rises?" Hector queried, a perfect brow arched.

Perseus shifted in his seat, looking perplexed, and Aeneas barked out a laugh. "Did you really think you were being subtle about it?"

"Yes," He cringed. "Maybe?"

"Anything we should know, then?" Hector inquired, leaning forward. "Any new developments with your lady love?"

Perseus rolled his eyes at the teasing grin on Hector's face. "First, she's not mine. Second, I don't—" He faltered.

Aeneas grinned. "Go on."

"Blast you both," He growled after a few seconds of laughable silence. "It has nothing to do with that."

"Are you sure?" Hector teased. "You and Lady Selene haven't been—"

"I've been learning how to use my powers, okay?" He cut off the son of Priam, hopefully to divert his attention from the red which was spreading across his cheek. The mood changed and Perseus winced. He probably shouldn't have blurted it out like that. He studied Hector, then Aeneas—both looked surprised and astonished.

"Your powers," Aeneas said carefully. "As in, Poseidon's?"

The Heir frowned, drawing circles on the table with his index finger. "I thought you hated Poseidon."

"I did," Perseus shrugged. "I do. But…I didn't want to say anything…"

"Hey," Hector reached out and took his hand. The Prince squeezed. "We're not judging. You had your own reasons for keeping this to yourself. If you want to forgive Poseidon, that's your call. If you want to accept your powers, I don't see why we should have a problem with that either."

"Yeah," Aeneas nodded. "You're immortal. You can't ice him out forever. At some point, you were going to have to let go." Their words hit him sharply, making his chest feel like he had been ran over by a minotaur. Perseus scowled. These idiots jumped to conclusions way too often. But gods, they were lovable idiots. With friends like these, who needed armies?

"It's not about forgiving Poseidon," He said with a scoff. "I got an idea a while back. See, the Greeks are backed by the sea. If I can learn to command it—"

"You can flood their camp," Aeneas was the first to realise. He looked surprised. Impressed, even. Perseus felt warmth envelope him. "Destroy their ships and their armies."

"Drown the men and end the fighting," Hector blinked in shock. And then he let out a loud laugh—a whoop of delight and launched himself at Perseus in his chair. "You're brilliant, Perce! This—Wow!" He was crushed in a mass of muscles and armour as Hector hugged him, and Perseus coughed out a laugh, shoving the Prince off his body. "Any progress?"

Perseus cocked his head to the side and said sheepishly. "Well, I can shape water—not into anything solid yet. But I'm getting there. I can control it alright. I established the connection a few days ago."

Aeneas grinned. "That's great."

Perseus perked, and added, "And I can talk to horses and fish!"

His two friends stared at him. And then they burst into laughter, all thoughts of what faced them come morning vanishing from the tent and from their minds.

~ • ~

THEY STOOD in straight lines facing the Greek's wall, waiting for the first rays of the sun to hit the sand. After a night full of wine and meat and talking with his friends, Perseus was feeling well rested and alive, even though he had not had any sleep for next to a week. Truth be told, he didn't need it. One of the perks of being immortal, he supposed. His shifted in his horse, then glanced up when he heard the noise.

A caw. Perseus frowned as a crow sailed through the air above the Trojan lines. What god or goddess was going to interfere this time? Crows were evil creatures. Ill-omens. Perseus felt uneasiness pool in his gut. And then he stiffened as another loud CAW! rang out from his left. A second crow darted through the air, seemingly out of nowhere and began flying in a circle around the lines of the army. Around them, men were murmuring lowly. Perseus and Aeneas exchanged a glance as a third, then a fourth crow joined the first two. In a matter of minutes seven of the birds flew high above them, flying in a circle.

Like a crown.

Perseus felt his uneasiness grow. A feast for crows. Seven crows. The number was sacred. That didn't bode well.

"Hector," His brother said. "Maybe we shouldn't."

The Heir Apparent looked conflicted. To move back was to concede defeat and give the Achaeans breathing space. To move forward was to ignore the bad omen circling their heads as they stood. Hector bit his lip. At the east, the first rays of the sun broke through. The son of Priam exhaled, then said, "Sound the horn. We attack now."

Aeneas didn't argue further. Perseus drew his sound as the herald blasted the horn and the men picked up arms. His horse nickered from beneath him, 'Ugh! Another day of messing up my nails in blood and gore. These humans—"

Perseus chortled and rubbed the flank of the steed. "It's alright. It'll be over soon."

Impossibly, he felt the black stallion stiffen. 'I didn't mean anything by it, boss. I—'

"Don't call me boss. Or the lost Lord or any of that nonsense. It's Perseus." As one, the army surged forward, and the horse began to trot, then gallop towards the Greek lines hastily being formed at the other side of them. "What's your name?"

"Blackjack," The horse neighed. "It's Blackjack, boss."

Perseus laughed as the horse thundered across the terrain, right beside Hector and Aeneas. They probably couldn't hear him over the roar of the soldiers, and that was good. "Okay, Blackjack. Let's go do some killing." The horse neighed, and bolted forward.

~ • ~

THEY FOUGHT until they broke the Greek's gate and shattered a portion of their wall. Perseus pounded through the destroyed iron atop Blackjack, sword in one hand, a spear in the other. He had clamped himself around the horse like a vice, and only that and his trust in the horse kept him steady. His whirling spear pierced through throats as he went, his sword cutting off limbs and heads. Blackjack thundered through the blood and jumped over bodies and destroyed tents.

The day's battle had gone fast. Quick, precise and hard like they had planned. Hector rode at the other side of the terrain in his chariot, hurling spears as he rode past, towards the Greek ships docked on the shore. A horde of Trojan men followed him and Aeneas, who held two sword aloft and cut down men from the safety of his white mare. Apollo burned brightly overhead, and as the hours had dragged on, they had fought and clashed with their enemies again and again, the Trojans moving as one unit, breaking through the gates and the walls and then wrecking havoc in the camp.

They'd met some resistance when they had entered. The Greeks had held their line behind their walls, and it had taken next to two full hours before they had broken the lines of defence and the battered Achaeans had scattered. Men groaned and screamed and roared around him, women—slaves—ran around, trying to find refuge. Perseus' eyes burned with exertion. But he had to find her. Briseis would be with Achilles, and as he had torn himself away from his friends, they hadn't asked any questions, knowing where he was headed.

So far, no gods had showed up to meddle.

Perseus heard a cry from amidst the merged lines of Trojans and Greeks somewhere to his left. Then he felt it—that power, familiar and yet distant. Barely more than a memory—lashing through the Trojan lines, cutting down men. He had spoken too soon. With a yell, Perseus pulled the reins of his horse and manoeuvred Blackjack, throwing his spear as he did so into the chest of an oncoming Greek soldier. Dread pooled inside him, and in his war-focused mind, somewhere down below, he knew who he would meet when he went forth.

But that didn't stop him. Still swinging, he dashed forward. Around him tents burned, fire engulfing men and wood. And then there was a call from the soldiers as the strange godly power lashed out, a shockwave following it almost immediately. Trojans were thrown back, and more than two dozen melted into dust from the force behind the blast. "FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" Perseus gritted his teeth. The Trojans were being routed, and the Greeks let out a loud roar, the presence of the god fuelling them and making them fight harder than ever.

If Poseidon was trying to win his favour, battling against his city wasn't giving him any points.

Finally, Perseus tore through the throng of soldiers and drew Blackjack to a stop. The man looked exactly like he had the last time, with flowing dark raven hair, bright sea green eyes and that damned neat beard. He wore that same blue armour, with grieves and vambraces, expensive looking sandals and a collection of knives hanging from his side. A white cloak billowed around him. In one hand, he held the pulsing greenish-blue trident from before. His helmet rested in the crook of his other arm. Poseidon met his eyes as he came. And Perseus' scowl deepened. He saw himself in the other immortal.

The resemblance was uncanny. He felt as though he was just a clone. A carbon copy of the god of the seas.

His scowl deepened. Poseidon had been waiting for him.

"If you thought killing my men was going to get my attention," He called, bringing Blackjack to a stop. "You were right. But I'm possibly even more angry with you now."

"I support the Achaeans," Poseidon cocked his head to the side. "I hate your city, to be honest. It holds bad memories for me, from my time as a mortal, when my brother cast me off Olympus." He paused. "But no harm will befall you, whichever side you are on. Not from any other god. I have made sure of that."

"Gee, thanks," He snarked. "Great timing. Though, I wonder, where were you when I needed that protection all those years ago—"

"It wasn't me," Poseidon cut him short. The god grimaced, and Perseus stilled on his horse. He couldn't have heard right. The pain in Poseidon's eyes…he knew he looked like that whenever something went wrong. There was regret shining there too. Nervously, the immortal brushed his hair from his eyes and Perseus stared on, dumbfounded. He felt the surprise, and then hard heart-piercing shock hit him almost instantaneously. The battle seemed so distant now, and the wind was whipping in his ears, the sand forming a sort of barrier around the two men—a cocoon, shielding them from prying eyes.

"What?" His voice was steely, as he regained his composure. Ice. "You think you can come and lie to my face after killing my mother and —"

"I didn't kill her," Poseidon snapped. And then he relaxed. He took a step forward and Perseus recoiled, Blackjack rearing beneath him. Poseidon licked his lips and stepped back. "I'm sorry." The god looked hurt, wrecked. "I'm sorry," He repeated. "Sally was the best woman I knew." Perseus was shaking. His mind was reeling, and he blinked, furiously, pushing back the tears threatening to fall. Maybe it was all the sand. His fingers curled around his sword. Her name. He finally had her name. His mouth felt raw, like he had just ingested an entire goblet of the sand whipping around them. His gaze latched on to the sea king's face.

He knew immediately what he saw there. He had seen it many times—in the furtive glances between Aeneas and Creusa. Whenever Hector and Andromache held hands beneath a table. His own expression, whenever he gazed upon his ethereal companion, Selene.

Poseidon had been in love with his mother. And he regretted letting her go.

"Who?" His voice cracked.

The god looked up at him, and again, Perseus saw through him. He was just like the immortal, and not just in his looks. He couldn't hide his emotions any better than Poseidon could. He could see the hope flickering in the god's eyes. And he looked too devastated to stamp it out before Perseus saw.

Or maybe he wanted him to see it.

Poseidon's grip on his trident tightened. "My wife, Amphitrite. She found out about Sally. She sent our children—Triton, Rhode and Kympoleaia. She distracted me with court affairs that day. They caused the storm. They destroyed the ship."

Perseus deflated, curling in on himself. Blackjack said something, but he couldn't hear him, not above the roar in his ears. A roar he knew didn't come from the wind.

Poseidon took a step, then a few more, and then he was closer than he had been, standing at Blackjack's left flank and looking up at him. Perseus was sure it was the first time the god had had to look up to anything or anyone. Poseidon reached out tentatively, and he placed a hand on the side of the horse. Perseus didn't have it in him to pull the reins and back away. Not at the broken expression which had found a home on the god's face. Which no doubt was mirrored on his own.

"I loved your mother, so so much," Poseidon whispered. "And I am sorry I could not save her." Perseus didn't respond. He took in a stuttered breath. Curse him, this bloody god, coming when he was in the middle of a battle and disorienting him after killing his men. As though encouraged by his silence, the green eyed god forced on. "Do you remember where you were going on that voyage?"

He locked eyes with Poseidon then—his father, and saw it. The extended hand, the prayer for peace between them finally. The plea for forgiveness. He shook his head.

"I told her I would build a palace of gold for her on the beach of Thebes," The other man murmured. "I told her I would make you both immortal." His voice cracked. "Your mother wasn't selfish. I pushed her into it. I told her it would be better for you." He faced Perseus. "In a way, her death was my fault." Perseus let go of the reins and wiped a tear which had escaped. He would not cry. Not in front of Poseidon.

"You can cry," The god said, softly. "I won't judge."

He was grown man. He sniffed, running a hand through his hair to quell his sea of emotions. Now was not the time. Perseus faced Poseidon once more. "You never looked for me."

"I tried," He looked up to the skies. Perseus was sure he could see him blink back tears. Poseidon exhaled. This…this broken dam of emotions. This sob fest. It just wouldn't do. "I swear I tried. They told me you were dead. I looked. For so many years I looked, because I loved your mother. But I never found you." Not hard enough, the thought echoed in his head. As though he had heard it, the ruler of the seas shook his head. "How could I have found you when you were shielded? Your aura clouded, by that interfering bastard Apollo, and his sister and their mother. I tried." Perseus swallowed. He hadn't known Apollo had done that. But this time, he understood, and he didn't blame the god or his family. They had done it for his own protection, even if he hadn't known it then. And it had come back to bite him in the arse.

Poseidon continued. "Even at the start of this war, I watched often. But I couldn't have known. I sometimes wondered. But it never occurred to me that you were Sally's—" His voice broke at the name. "It wasn't until we met in battle that I realised. And I'm sorry."

Even in such an impossible situation, he burst out laughing. Perseus didn't think he had ever heard anyone use so many sorry's in less than fifteen minutes. Poseidon took his hand off the horse. "I want to…" He swallowed. Saying this…admitting this would mean forgiving Poseidon. It would mean he had let go of his hatred. It would mean letting go of his anger. Three decades of anger, festering, growing and writhing inside him. It meant he wasn't blaming the other immortal anymore.

But then Hector's words hit him. He recalled Aeneas' advice, the night before. They had been right.

Perseus looked at this man. This god. His father. And finally, he released a breath. "I want to know more about her."

"I want to know more about you," Poseidon's response was instant. But he stepped away. "I know…you still need time. I will give that to you." Perseus nodded. He felt that the god would know when he was ready. When the time came, he would be there.

Above them the clouds darkened. Thunder boomed. "My brother grows angry," Poseidon rolled his eyes. "For you sake, I am pulling out of this war. I will see you soon, I hope." Perseus bobbed his head, short, quick. As the god vanished into a sea spray, his last words hit Perseus, and a memory resurfaced, from the darkest depths of his mind—a glowing presence over a cradle, a soft hand with a shining blue vambrace.

'I love you.'

The wind died and the sand stilled. And it all fell down, in a ring around him.

~ • ~

HE WASN'T QUITE sure how he had gotten back to their camp and past the enemy lines once more. Hector stood at the edge of their camp, bathed in moonlight, his hands behind him. He didn't know where Aeneas was, or where Perseus had gone, but he himself had just returned from the city after seeing his wife and son.

The Trojans had been routed, the appearance of Poseidon on the battlefield scaring many of his soldiers and giving the Greeks the upper hand. He hadn't seen Perseus after the call to retreat had come from Helenus, but he could only assume that his friend had met his father once more. Hector pinched the bridge of his nose. They had come so close today…so close to ending things. But his mind was still on the omen they had received before the battle. The crows still soared overhead, their caws sending involuntary shivers down his spine. Hector bit his lip in frustration.

Helenus hadn't known what it meant—he hadn't seen anything of importance. Just that whatever was coming was bad, and Hector couldn't help the sinking feeling in his gut whenever one of the blasted birds released the cursed sound. Perhaps it had been a signal from one of the gods about Poseidon's coming meddling. That was plausible, because they had been driven back, essentially losing their upper hand although the Greeks had been too battered to give chase to the city walls.

Now, their enemies were hastily rebuilding their camp walls and restructuring the gate. It wouldn't hold.

Come dawn, Hector and his men would pound them down again, and slaughter everything that stood against them.

He perked when he heard the footsteps, and Hector looked up. The prince deflated when he saw the old man coming towards him. One of his fathers advisors, a seer—Polydamas. The man hobbled towards him and Hector nodded to him in acknowledgement.

"Greetings, my Prince," Polydamas said. The son of Priam gave him a forced smile. "Your thoughts are heavy, and your hands even more so." Gee, what gave him away? Hector wished he could roll his eyes.

"Today's battle was taxing," was all the explanation he gave. "Tomorrow will be different."

The Heir Apparent eyed the old man. "Did father send you? Anything you want from me?"

"I came to warn you." Hector frowned. And he motioned to the man to continue. Polydamas' eyes clouded, and Hector could swear the temperature dropped just a bit. "I have seen…things. Things I dare not speak of. Things I cannot change. But you…you are the future of our city, Prince Hector. You are Troy. And if you continue pushing…" Hector's eyelids fluttered. Uneasiness grew inside him. What was the man implying? His mouth tasted bitter, but Polydamas continued. "Achilles will kill you if you continue hitting the Greeks as hard as you are. Heed my warning, Hector, and draw back from the front lines for a few weeks."

Hector's breath stuttered. His mind whirled. He couldn't describe the emotion which overtook him.

Slowly, he blinked. And then blinked again. Despair slowly seeped into him.

The gods were so cruel.

Polydamas continued. "Leave the fighting to your friends and brothers. Stay with your wife and your son. Do not give Thanatos the chance to come for you."

Hector swallowed. He felt the heaviness settle on him then. "I can't," His voice was hoarse. "You said it yourself…I am the future of the city. If—If I don't fight, the men will lose morale." He paused. "The Greeks will overpower us."

"If you continue to fight, you will die, Hector," Polydamas snapped, clearly tired of beating about the bush. He reached out and grabbed the Prince's arm, making him wince and cry out. The seer's grip was tight, and Hector couldn't wrench his arm away. "Listen to me. The crows were for you. In a few days you will provide them with a feast. Do not give them that chance." His eyes flashed and Hector mustered enough strength to yank his hand away.

His blood was roaring in his veins. Horror and…that was fear, rolling through his gut at the man's words. His chest felt heavy. It couldn't be true. Not now. Not now.

He had just become a father…he couldn't. Fuck. He couldn't die. He felt the denial setting in. His wife needed him. His son…His friends. Hector's hands shook as he clasped them together.

But Troy needed him more.

Sometimes, he hated his selflessness.

"I have heard you, Polydamas," Hector forced a grim smile onto his face. "I'll try to be careful." The man hung his head. He bowed and hobbled away, shaking his head as he went.

Now more than ever, Hector needed Aeneas and Perseus. But where were they? He didn't know. He couldn't tell them…they would try to keep him from fighting. They would imprison him if it came to it. He didn't want to place the burden of this knowledge on anyone. Hector's bottom lip wobbled.

When he was sure the old seer was gone, the Prince of Troy sank onto his knees.

And wept.

~ • ~

PERSEUS felt her shimmer into existence at around midnight beside him. He glanced at her, his heart stuttering once more, and then turned to look back towards the horizon. Towards the sea. Galateia had just left about an hour earlier, promising to be back at dawn, after teaching him how to create and use weapons out of water and ice. He was tired, both physically and mentally, from the events of the battle that day.

Selene shifted on her feet in the sand, hair whipping around her perfectly structured face.

"You're early," He murmured.

The Titaness waved him aside. "Helios is annoying. Much like Apollo. I am surprised I lasted as long as I did." Against all the odds, Perseus laughed. Selene's face softened and her eyes met his. Those beautiful silver eyes, which made him feel like he was combusting and reforming all at the same time.

When had his feelings for her become so…aggressive? When had it become this serious?

Her lips pulled down in a frown as she said, "Also, I sensed your distress. And I could not bear to let you go through whatever it is alone." Her hand reached out and she took his. Warmth bloomed across his fingertips. Gods, he felt like a teenager, touching a girl for the first time. But Selene wasn't just any girl. She was his closest friend and confidant. She was his rock. She had helped him get through so much. She was always there.

If someone had told him twenty summers prior that he would fall in love with the ethereal and immaculate presence he had slammed into on Delos that day he would have laughed and called them crazy.

Was that what this was?

Was he in love with her?

But he didn't know her feelings. All that time back, after the peck, she had said she was glad they were just friends. Had that changed now?

Her very presence had chased away all his thoughts about Poseidon and Sally. Surely, that wasn't normal.

"If you want to talk about it," Selene whispered. "I am right here."

Perseus faced her fully. He squeezed her hands. He had been looking at her too long, but then, she had been looking back, and he felt like they were both trying to say something the other couldn't hear, though he could be imagining it. His heart was loud and her tranquil eyes were swallowing him whole.

"I don't deserve you."

"Oh, Perseus," She shook her head. "After all you have been through…You deserve the world." He almost didn't see it. But then she leaned forward, lifting herself off her feet.

Around him, the waves seemed to still. Perseus' breath stuttered and he leaned in. Selene connected their lips, slowly, sagely, and he felt the warmth spread through every part of him, his hands leaving hers. One went to cup her face in his palm, the other to rove through her hair. Selene's hands wrapped around his neck, and as he closed his eyes, he realised how much taller than her he was. She tilted her head up, and their contact sent fire racing through his body.

The kiss was tentative. Slow. Her lips were soft, and gods, she was magnificent.

They didn't need air, and he could have continued all night. But Perseus pulled away, and a small smile stretched across his face as his hands slid into hers. "I've been wanting to do that for a while now," He admitted.

"I got tired of waiting for you," Selene smiled, good naturedly.

Perseus' smile grew and he turned back towards the sea. "Poseidon didn't kill my mother."

She squeezed his hand. "That's good to know. What are you going to do about it?"

"He apologised," Perseus shifted. "He said he tried to look for me…after the wreckage. He thought I was dead. He wanted to make my mother immortal, and he wants to get to know me. What do you think I should do?" He shot off detail after detail, in a hurry to get the information off his chest.

Selene faced the waves. "You have an eternity to answer that question. You're both immortal. You're not going anywhere." She paused. "All you wanted from Poseidon was acknowledgement and an apology. You have both now." He snorted. "But," she shook her head, a small tentative smile spreading on her face. "I think, that deep down," Selene placed a hand on his chest, "Inside here, you want to forgive him. You want to let go of it all." Her voice was soft, and her hands pressed onto his chest, making his ichor roar. "Follow your heart, Perseus."

He nodded. She was right. She was always right. Perseus raised a hand. He was the son of Sally. He was the son of Anchises.

But he was also born of the sea.

And maybe, finally accepting Poseidon as his father wouldn't be so bad after all.

Before him, the waves rose, steadily. He felt a soothing tug in his gut.

'Long ago, in a kingdom long since burned to ash,' The words unconsciously surfaced in his mind. 'There lived a boy, who loved his people very much…' Before them, the sea rose, roaring, powerful. Unrestrained. The wave ascended, and Perseus smiled.

His name was Perseus, son of Poseidon. And he would not be afraid.

A.N—Last line courtesy of Throne of Glass. Amazing series, to be honest. Tell me what you think about this chapter. Thanks, bye 3