Summary: Perseus, first-born child of Poseidon and Amphitrite, God of the Stars and Constellations, of Navigation and of the Astral Plane. Patron of Heroes and Mentor to the Goddess Artemis. Sitting upon the ruling council of the Gods for thousands of years – and now facing the end of Olympus.
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Chapter Eighteen
The lowlands of Thessaly stretched on for miles ahead of him, waist-high grasses which marched right up to the foothills and base of the surrounding mountains, only to curve beyond sight and continue their journey south. The area was bordered by Mount Olympus, as well as the Khasia and Cambunian mountains to the north, and Othrys to the south, with Pindos to the west and Ossa to the southeast. Overhead, a sky rich with vibrant, pulsing stars like a blanket draped over the world, and each of the points of light seemed to glow white, or blue, or red, or yellow – all of them twisting into a colorful nebula of cosmic wonder.
There was no light from the ground below to interrupt their magnificence, and the tapestry they wove was breathtaking in its beauty. They appeared close enough that someone could reach out and touch them, and were so bright that even were the moon not so prominent, they could likely light the way of a weary traveler looking for shelter beneath their endless scope.
Across the plains, a rippling wind which carried the faint scent of the Aegean rustled the grass gently, and as Astraeus walked slowly through the rich valley – Mount Olympus a beacon behind him to the north and the ruins of Othrys to the south – he allowed himself to breathe deeply of his beloved homeland.
Greece had fallen.
It was with a sick, heavy feeling in his stomach that Astraeus acknowledged the inevitable truth which lay before him. There was no denial he could comfort himself with, no more lies he could cling to that somehow, someway, Greece would stand eternal. He could no longer convince himself that the foundation of everything they'd built and everything they were would never be conquered. His feet took him over lands he knew and loved for thousands of years, the very dirt beneath him feeling as if it were a part of his own being, and he mourned the loss of it.
The grief he was experiencing was foreign and unwelcome, and yet it held him within its crushing grasp all the same. His steps took him through territory that he'd known his entire life, and Astraeus allowed himself to feel the weight of time itself press upon him. The weight of eternity which he'd always imagined would lie here, in this place.
He'd fought here, bled here, and everything he was and would ever be felt as if it were inexorably linked to this small piece of the world. He'd given everything to see it thrive, and the people loved him for it. They were his people, and already Roman boots stomped their history into the mud and the shit, taking only what they thought worthy and burning the rest. They were like parasites, like sponges soaking up everything which would benefit them – including the Gods – and leaving the rest as ash and dust.
He'd be damned if he allowed his name to be included in the list of Gods who fled to the west. The weak-hearted and the faithless, the oath-breakers and the Gods who were willing to forsake their motherland and take up new names and new faces for a people not their own. He'd shouted and roared and fought against it, but ultimately he was out-voted.
Preparations were made, and Zeus – or rather, Jupiter as he now preferred – was soon to move the city west, and take with it the very heart of Olympus. The hearth fire of Greece which was sworn to never burn out would now burn within the heart of Rome. They called it the flame of western civilization now – a new name to disguise the fact that they were recreating their own oaths as they saw fit.
He had half a mind to erase that fucking place. Burn it to the ground for daring to usurp what was not theirs to claim. This land was his land, her people were his people. They couldn't just take what they wanted and name him something else, force him to conform to their bullshit ideologies. The stars were not theirs to claim, and he wasn't their God to remake in their image. He was born of Greece long before humanity had set foot upon the world, and he was now expected to simply adopt these people who conquered and put their men to the sword, bathing the soil of his home with Greek blood.
His anger was a smoldering thing, and he had to take a breath and calm himself when he noticed the faint smoke rising from the grasses he walked through.
Astraeus didn't want to leave, and only his own position was forcing his hand. His throne on Olympus would go whether he wished it or not, and should he not follow, then that throne would be replaced with one who was more willing. He'd been very tempted to allow that, uncaring for power over loyalty, and willing to stay in Greece until his very name faded from memory. He was not so attached to his desire to rule that he would abandon those who still knelt at his temples – all of them pleading for him to save them from the expanding Roman Empire, to guide their steps to safety and freedom once more.
The people of Greece had been begging them – pleading to Zeus and to Ares and to Athena to save them and to spare them. Offerings and sacrifices, free men with knees lodged firmly into the dirt in servitude and prayer, and they were abandoned.
He'd already told them once to just go – that he alone would stand with Greece while they left to explore this new horizon which seemingly called to all of them except him. Then, she came to him. Diana, the new Goddess of Rome. The girl he'd raised as a daughter had come to him pleading and begging him to go, claiming she still needed him even after all this time. Perhaps it was a ploy by Zeus, but even if so he couldn't find it within himself to turn her aside.
Still, the grief he'd felt as she agreed and took her place in the hearts of the Romans was a knife to the chest, and the worst part was that he couldn't blame her completely for her choice. The people of Greece loved her and her brother, but they still remembered Helios and Selene, and the duality of their loyalties created a looser bond between themselves and the Greeks. Rome was ready to embrace them fully, and already built temples in their name.
She and Apollo hadn't fought for Greece, and they didn't understand the sacrifices made in order to take their place as rulers. The blood and agony which paid for the right to sit upon their thrones, and the loss as brother turned on brother and sons on their fathers. The Titanomachy was the most brutal war the world had ever seen, and the prize at the end was the world, yes, but the true prize had always been Greece.
Everyone said he was being too sentimental – that his fading human memories were skewing his judgment. He challenged them to pry those sixty-one years of memories from his cold dead hands.
The others only wished for him to cast aside the perspective he'd gained as a mortal man, and fall more closely in line with their own beliefs. They were fully prepared to follow wherever they held the most influence and worship, and as the flames of Rome swept across the world, they seemed like a beacon calling to the Gods who couldn't understand why he simply wouldn't fall in line.
Astraeus didn't owe them anything, and he gave the earliest years of his life so that they could enjoy the freedom they now had. He gave everything, and at the time he hadn't really understood what that meant. It wasn't until later, when he was traveling beneath the stars and teaching Artemis the ways of the world that he realized he was often learning just as much as she was. He'd always tried to play it off, but it had been a sobering experience. Astraeus realized along the way that he'd become something that truly didn't have much of a place in the world. The wars were over and they'd won, and the world was moving forward but he hadn't known how to follow.
His mother and father married and built their kingdom, and Zeus did the same. Hades went to a place where he didn't have to try and fit in, where the cruelty that he'd honed to a razor's edge during the war could be given purpose in the Fields of Punishment. Hestia and the others became more peaceful and settled into their roles as somewhat benevolent immortals, and Astraeus found himself drifting alone in the endless Astral Plane which had been full of empty and dying stars, ravaged by their previous master.
It was centuries before their rule was secure enough to begin adding seats to the Council, and in that time he'd found himself an outsider. His iron loyalty to Olympus had meant nothing when there wasn't anyone to fight, and the work he put in to rebuild his realm into something great was unimportant and unappreciated. Back then, the stars were nothing besides twinkling lights in the night sky, and it was why Zeus had once attempted to replace him on the council with Dionysus.
The ages turned while the spark of humanity ignited itself within the heart of Greece, and finally – finally – he found purpose once more. The solace he'd searched for was found in the people who looked upward in wonder and reverence at the realm he built. It was Greece who gave him a home when he hadn't had one, and it was to Greece that he owed his loyalty. Olympus and Greece had once been one in the same, but now…
Now he was supposed to discard all of that, and for what? For Rome?
No, he didn't owe his family anything more than he'd given, and he owed nothing to Rome. What he did with his existence was not theirs to decide. He'd been put aside and rejected too many times for him to ever fall in line and do as they wished. Rome...Rome couldn't have him, not all of him. He'd never abandon Greece so thoroughly.
"So you actually mean to go through with this?" came the soft, female voice from behind him. "You do realize that this has just as great a chance of failing and causing you to fade completely, as it does of actually doing what you wish?"
He turned to regard her silently. The pale form of Themis stood starkly against the shadows, her blonde hair and white chiton standing out brightly compared to the night around them. Gold eyes glittered outward, and she was staring at him with a forceful intensity.
"Balance is not so easily attained as you think," she continued. "This is foolish, and no good will come of it."
"I didn't ask you for your opinion, though that hasn't stopped you from sharing it," he said quietly. "And besides, if I should be destroyed in the attempt, then it will be here. Beneath the beauty of the realm I created, and upon the plains of Thessaly where my life truly began."
"And why can you not simply do as the rest of us will do?" she asked. "Why can you not give yourself to Rome, and allow their prayers to wash over you and erase the scars that this land has given you? The people of Rome love you, they adore the stars and they look to them for guidance, to give them a wider perspective on the world as a whole. They study them endlessly, and they give names to each and every one they can see."
"Why would I ever want to erase my scars?" Astraeus asked, ignoring the latter half of her words. The people of Greece loved him as well, they always had. "The Romans march through the land I helped build and they pillage or destroy everything that my scars bought. When you and the rest of those who refused to stand against Kronos cowered in fear of his rule, it was my scars which paid for your freedom."
"This isn't forever," Themis said, and there was nearly a pleading quality to her voice. "One day, Rome too shall fade, and on that day perhaps we will return to these aspects. Or perhaps we will assume another as we follow the expansion of the civilized world. In all things, there must be Balance. Please, do not do this."
"You should go," he said, ignoring her words and turning his eyes upward. "At dawn, Olympus moves west and you wouldn't wish to miss it. The King wants everyone there for the ceremony."
There was a silence between them as she no doubt realized that he would not be swayed. He'd made his decision, and her words wouldn't change it no matter how pleading or forceful she became.
"And you?" she asked.
"Well, perhaps a part of me will be there," he said, shrugging. "Who's to say?"
Themis was silent for another moment, and when she finally spoke her tone was different. Sad, almost. "You recall before I passed the rights to Apollo, that it was I who oversaw prophecy," she said quietly. "I've seen the outcome of this choice. I've done the very best that I can to turn you from this path, because I have seen the results."
"Oh?" he questioned, glancing at her.
"I cannot say for certain if you will survive to see the sun rise once more," she said, her golden eyes pinning him in place. "However, know this. Whether it is in this very moment, or perhaps another...if you follow this path, it will be the death of you. I owe you at least some for your efforts in the war. I would repay you by saving your life, if you would but listen."
Astraeus couldn't help it, he laughed quietly. "I've faced death before, as a mortal man with no hope of salvation and nothing to look forward to besides the cold grasp of Hades. I do not fear death, and I fear the depths of Tartarus even less so. Should I open my eyes to a vision of the Pit, then I will only slaughter my way to freedom once more. No, I'm not afraid to die."
Themis glared at him. "You should be," she said. "The death of a mortal is a much kinder fate than the death of a God."
She was gone with a rush of wind which nearly flattened the grass around them. Astraeus shrugged at the empty space. Prophecy was such a broad system within which many things were skewed and unclear. He wouldn't live his life in fear of it. He'd seen men driven mad trying to flee from it, and driven to the same madness trying to seek it.
Instead he resumed his walk and took his final look at what was left of his home. Rome wanted him and Diana claimed she needed him. Jupiter ordered him to comply, and his throne would be taken whether he willed it or not. This was the end of an era, the death of a civilization, and while he'd seen many come and go, it wasn't something he could welcome so readily as the others.
His love for his people would stay – that was non-negotiable. His memories of his life as Perseus, of Andromeda and of his beloved Rania. Of Atlanta, of Kallias, of Taras, and of Linus. They would remain in Greece, never to leave and never to fade. His devotion to the heroes who gave their lives for Olympus, his oaths to protect and defend them where he was able.
Rome wanted war, and they could have all of it. Greece no longer needed that part of him. The wars were over and there was no fight left to be had. The qualities which his family seemed to miss from before his human life weren't gone, he'd merely tried to suppress them. His desire for battle, his wrath, and his ability to see the fight through to the end, no matter the sacrifice. They could take that side of him to Rome, and they could keep it.
It's all he'd ever been useful for in the past, and if that's what they wished, then who was he to deny them?
His wandering feet seemed to know where to go, and before long he felt the earth dip – an ancient crater which was slowly filling itself in as the ages passed. This was the spot, the very first place where he'd clashed with the Titans at the beginning of the war, and it was the place where he would perform his final act.
Whatever happened in the next few moments, this was the end for him. If he survived, whatever emerged on the other side of his choices would no longer be him, and he was fine with that. He could devote a part of himself to Greece and hold to his oaths, and the rest of him could become useful in Rome, as his family wished.
If his loyalty was to be split, then so too would he be split.
Without hesitation, Astraeus assumed his full divine form – a massive well of nearly limitless energy which seemed to illuminate all of Greece. A towering figure of light and life, and an entity which could perhaps even rival the greatest of the immortals.
He gave no thought to the sudden alarm which rushed through the world from the other Gods, as all of their realms seemed to hold their breath in surprise at his sudden assault upon their senses.
He ripped, and the world seemed to fade around him in a wash of agony and torment. Light and sound and memory jumbled together, and then split apart. His children laughing and his enemies screaming, the crash of thunder and the fall of a king. Stars, burning so bright that they flickered and died, only to be replaced by the face of a young girl bathed in starlight and looking upward with glee. Kneeling before a throne of silver, and his blade shearing through a throne made of stone.
The fall of a mountain city, and the creation of another. The hum of a brilliant crystal palace hanging high above the world, and the flash of a dark haired woman with sharp gray eyes. He held a small boy with black hair and his mothers eyes, and then that boy was a grown man dead on the battlefield, the same eyes wide open and clouded.
The death of Titans, Gods and Giants, of the fabled Golden Race fading to nothing, and the wrath as he unmade the world to begin anew. It didn't work, and so he did it again.
Time seemed to pass by at a crawling pace, and slowly the images faded. Some of them were lost to him, and others were so bright and brilliant in his memories that he knew he could never lose them. He felt a creeping weakness, an absence of strength that he didn't entirely understand. He knew he was stronger than this, and yet...there was an aching weakness which was taking root deep within his bones.
Slowly he opened his eyes to find himself naked and face-down in the grass and the dirt. He was in familiar territory, which was good, he supposed. Ever so slowly – and painfully – he rose to his feet, taking in the plains of Thessaly.
There was no way to tell how long he'd been out, but the sun was high in the sky and Olympus was gone. Far to the west it flared like a beacon above Rome, and yet his connection to that place was severed. In his place, in his throne, was another – another god, another him.
He tried to ignore the brief flash of another vision overlaying his own – of a throne room full of Gods staring at him. Of the faces who looked at him warily, and of Diana who looked as if she'd been crying, but was still next to him in solidarity. Of Minerva, who looked as if she were a shattered and hollow fragment of what Athena once was, wearing an expression fit for a funeral.
Perseus took a deep, shuddering breath, and allowed his limited strength to shape the world around him. A plain wool robe with a hood wrapped itself around his body, and he turned to the north. There was a village at the foot of the mountains there which hadn't been overrun by soldiers just yet. It seemed like a good place to start.
Perseus blinked slowly, focus returning gradually to reveal him not on the plains of Thessaly at all, but instead standing within the western barracks on the outer edge of Atlantis. He could still feel the tall grasses brushing across his skin, still smell the faint hint of the Aegean upon the wind – an odd sensation which was being replaced with the feeling of sea water pressed against him from every direction. It'd been so long since he thought of that day, and he'd forgotten entirely the conversation with Themis.
He hadn't seen her except in passing since that night, and so far as he could remember she hadn't acknowledged his presence since then either. Her disregard for him made a little more sense now, given the nature of their last interaction, though he still found himself of the opinion that she was better off minding her own business anyway.
Still, the memory...he'd forgotten nearly all of that, somehow.
He'd forgotten the crushing weight as Greece fell and the sharp sting of betrayal as the other Gods allowed it to happen. He remembered some of his reasoning for the decision which ultimately ended up with him as two separate beings, but many of the finer details escaped him. Many of his relationships had never recovered after that night, as the others moved to Rome and he was left alone to wander Greece for so very long. While they'd embraced Roman culture and lived their lives separate from the destruction of their homeland, he'd wandered and watched its crumbling fall.
The peoples of Greece slowly lost their faith in the Gods who'd abandoned them, and the destruction brought by Rome's attempt to conquer the world caused enough issues on it's own, to say nothing of the spread of Christianity which exploded through the region. Eventually the division of religion forced the Gods into a very specific choice.
The first option was the one they'd taken before – more than once – which was to destroy humanity. However, history told them that this option solved nothing. They could cleanse the earth and start again, but the results would always end in the same way. The people would eventually turn away from them and look to other sources for meaning and religion, for faith and for guidance. It was a repeating cycle which gave no signs that it would change with future attempts.
The other option was to try something new. To withdraw, rather than impose, and see what it is that humanity could become if given the opportunity. Give them freedom and choice, and allow them to find their own way in the world.
It was decided in Rome, and so Jupiter ordered the creation of the Mist and suddenly the Gods disappeared. Rome was labeled a Christian state, which still pissed the King off, and the rise of the Catholic Church swallowed all that they'd built. The Gods moved west once more, returning to their original Greek aspects and hiding themselves away. There were signs – symbols of their history which lived on through the ages – but aside from the most minor interactions they withdrew from the mortal world.
Olympus moved as well, this time to hover over what would become the conquering British Empire, and once more Perseus was called back to sit upon his throne. It wasn't the same, and neither was he. The others weren't the same either, and he'd found himself more of an outsider than ever. Slowly, he remembered pulling away until he'd immersed himself more into the obscurity of the human world.
He began overseeing the demigods as more of a mentor rather than a God by establishing the first Camp Half-Blood there, which at that time catered to both Greek and Roman demigods. That turned disastrous eventually, but it'd set him on the path that he now walked, and he'd never looked back.
Now, as he stood across from his father, waging war against the Titans all over again, it nearly felt as if he'd come full circle – only this time he wasn't the same.
It was obvious that he wasn't the only one to notice. His mother was standing next to Poseidon and she tried to hide the sadness in her eyes with a bright and welcoming happiness, but he could see it all the same. He could see it in her eyes that she was saddened by what she saw when she looked at him, and he figured she would've likely been better off to think of him from a distance, rather than have it shoved into her face. She knew, as everyone did, that he wasn't really the same God she gave birth to.
Perseus wasn't sorry for what he'd done, despite the fact that everyone thought he should be. They'd never been able to decide what they wanted from him, and they never thought to ask what he may want for himself. His mother wanted a doting son, his brother wanted him to take his place as a prince in the sea, Kym wanted him to stop their father from giving her away like a prize to Briares, and his father wanted a soldier willing to bow to his rule.
Even now, Poseidon and Zeus looked to him only in what capacity he could be useful to them in war.
Athena...he didn't know what she wanted, only that it wasn't him. There was a time when that wasn't the case, though even then she'd changed her mind and made certain he and everyone else knew it. She used him to get her way, in a sense, and he'd complied. The fight he and Zeus had afterwards was perhaps the closest he'd ever come to actual treason, and all of it in order to give Athena what she wanted – freedom from him. He gave her that freedom and more, and she didn't seem to mind the price he paid in return.
No, Perseus didn't owe them anything more than he'd given, and what he did with his existence was not theirs to decide. And so as he looked at the disappointment in his mother's face, he offered her a small smile. She didn't have to like what she saw, nobody did. That was the beauty of having his own realm and his own independence. He didn't have to take his position in the sea beneath Poseidon's control and be the good son they always wanted. He'd fought and bled for the right to rule just as his father and uncles did, and he would stand as their equal or not at all.
And if he wanted to cut out the very essence of who he'd once been, then that was his choice as well.
Still, he needed to focus on the present meeting instead of the distant past. Triton was standing to his left alongside Delphin while Athena stood to his right. Alcaeus was to her right – a cyclops who Perseus knew had served his father for more than three-thousand years as a general in the Atlantean armies – and next to him was a large merman who was apparently an officer of some type over the city guard, though Perseus didn't know his name.
The eight of them were looking over the map Alcaeus produced and discussing the battle which was still ongoing outside the city. They were gathered around a makeshift table which was newly set into the center of the main room, the hanging, hammock-like beds removed and shoved to one side where they floated lazily like clumps of seaweed.
Athena was tense, he noticed, and avoided Triton as thoroughly as her position would allow, while Triton himself didn't seem pleased about the fact that she'd chosen to stand next to Perseus over him. There were likely issues there which the two of them would have to sort out on their own – the death of Pallas hanging over them like the Sword of Damocles.
Meanwhile Delphin was giving his report, which Perseus thought he should at least attempt to listen to.
"-pressure on the southern front. We need to keep them as tightly packed as possible and not allow them to encircle the city fully."
"That's assuming we don't have another force inbound from the east," said Triton, his voice carrying a surly and biting tone. "I find it hard to believe, but if they were capable of moving this many without our notice across thousands of miles, then it's possible there are more."
"Ships," Athena muttered, her eyes locked onto the map and avoiding Triton completely. "Look here – these movements would've been nearly impossible to mask so thoroughly if traveling on the sea floor. They would've had to cross occupied territory, and while it's possible that they did so, it's very unlikely that they would've been so successful as to do so without raising an alarm of any kind even if they used the ancient gateways. However, if they were able to mask their movements on ships traveling on the surface, and then dive overboard when they got into position…"
"They could sink to the seafloor and completely evade the scouts," Amphitrite agreed. "The larger sea creatures couldn't travel that way, but the foot soldiers absolutely could, and once they were in position Oceanus could bring the greater aspects of his forces in without any issue. Of course, that leaves them vulnerable to an attack from the rear."
Poseidon grunted. "It doesn't, much as I wish it did," he countered. "The soldiers stationed that far from the city could amount to a large force if they could all be rallied together, but even so they would be forced to attack the rear of the enemy lines where Oceanus himself hides. He'd decimate them before they could think of launching a counter offensive."
"Either way, if Athena's right and they're using ships to evade us, then-" Triton began, but Poseidon interrupted him.
"Then they'll wish they hadn't," he said, his eyes tilting upward. There was a hum throughout the room, and a deep green glow surrounded the Trident held in Poseidon's right hand. "If they are hidden from my sight up there, they'll be coming down here one way or the other – either by choice as they flee the storm, or by force as it destroys their vessels."
"I'll send Kym, then, when we've finished here," said Triton, giving a sharp, shark-like grin at the thought. "She'll be happy to shed her restrictions and join the battle."
Perseus snorted. "I nearly feel sorry for the bastards," he muttered. "Still, that leaves us with the task of drawing out Oceanus and whichever of his brothers or nephews hides with him. He wouldn't have come alone, not after what happened to Krios and Koios."
"Not Hyperion or Krios, certainly," Poseidon said quietly. "They'd both find themselves at a heavy disadvantage so far beneath the sea."
"We can't afford to be reckless in our counter attack, whomever it is we face" Athena responded. "If we overextend in an effort to draw them out, we risk leaving the city undefended. If Oceanus isn't hidden at the rear of the enemy lines as we believe, then he could attack the city directly while our focus is elsewhere. It wouldn't take him long to overcome the defenses, and he could wreak havoc before we could respond."
"If we mean to draw him into a direct confrontation, then there's only one of us he'd willingly risk exposure to face," Perseus said thoughtfully. "While both Athena and I would make excellent targets, neither of us would move him closer to command over the sea."
Poseidon grunted his acknowledgment. "It's me he'll want to defeat, but I can't leave the city undefended in order to draw him away for the same reason. If I try to bait him and it doesn't work, it's likely that he could turn on the city anyway. While you and Athena will be of some aid to us in this war, neither of you would be wise to face Oceanus in this realm – you'd be very unlikely to survive without some control over the sea."
Triton seemed to bristle at the insinuation. "I can defend the city in your absence. The sea will answer my call, should he not take the bait."
"He has the relic, the same as Krios," Perseus disagreed. "It'll enhance his already formidable control over the sea and you wouldn't stand before him long. I faced Krios while he used his ring, and he was relatively new to its strength then. I imagine Oceanus is much more careful, and so facing him while he wields a similar weapon would be akin to facing him if he had control over the Trident – a foolish idea."
"Spare me your sentiment," Triton hissed. "If you – half a creature more mutilated than whole – could face two of them, then I'll find no difficulty."
There was a heavy pause in the room, but Perseus merely snorted. "I see you're still holding onto your youthful immaturity. The best comparison, perhaps, would be if you were a seal and he was a white shark – he would devour you as if you were the child you sound like, little brother."
"Enough!" Poseidon snapped sharply. "I have better things to deal with instead of listening to you bicker like children. Neither of you are capable of standing against Oceanus while he resides in the sea, and if you've nothing worthy to contribute then you know exactly where the battlefield is. Make yourselves useful instead of a nuisance."
"Gladly," Perseus agreed immediately, eager to leave the room. "Tell your soldiers to keep their distance, and I'll make certain the enemy can't circle to the south."
He turned sharply, fully prepared to leave when his mother called, "Wait!"
He gave a brief thought to just leaving, but while he knew he was often an asshole, his mother really hadn't done anything to deserve that kind of treatment. Instead, he turned to look at her. She was smiling at him, thought it was slightly shaky, and she looked uncertain.
"I…" she started, before shaking her head and gifting her husband with a nasty glare which Perseus found was amusing enough to warrant waiting for her to speak. "The city will hold, and the battle is still young. The soldiers are fresh and we have reinforcements which haven't even seen the battlefield yet. I want you to accompany me to the palace...please...just for a while. We may not have time to speak later."
It was a terrible idea, really, and everyone knew it. They should push the counter offensive as hard as they could before they lost any ground. Still, she was nervous and tense, and to be honest he'd rather be a little useless to his father for a while. He hadn't missed his parting shots about making himself useful, and to Poseidon that usually always meant 'follow my orders and do as I say'. Fuck him.
"Sure," Perseus agreed, shrugging lightly and ignoring the muttered scoff from his brother. "Triton's a big strong God now – all grown up and everything. He can take my place for a while."
Triton crossed his arms defiantly. "Hmph," he grunted. "What place would that be? There certainly isn't one for you here."
Perseus nodded. That was true enough. The only place he'd ever had in the world was the one he carved for himself.
Travel from the western edge of the city to the center at the base of the palace was quick. Accompanied by the King's Guard, they used his mother's chariot to sail over the tops of the streets and buildings, most of which were deserted with the city under siege. The residents would be taking shelter, he knew, just in case of a failure of the outer defenses. They would be near the gateways which could see them scatter to the far corners of the sea in the event that Poseidon's armies were overcome.
That wasn't a likely outcome unless the Titans attacked the city directly, but his father took their safety quite seriously.
As they approached the palace rose above them to a towering height, the blue domed roof shining high above, while the pale walls inlaid with intricate carvings and sections of coral and pearls displayed themselves in beauty and wealth. The doors to the palace were covered with a dark mother-of-pearl which glittered like a rainbow beneath the dim light, and they opened easily on their approach with no need for direct interaction – merely the presence of the Queen.
They'd been mostly silent on the brief trip, but once inside the Guard took positions around the entrance and they were left alone. Only then did his mother decide to speak.
"You shouldn't pay any attention to Triton's words," she said, floating slowly across the entrance hall. "Triton...he always looked up to you, and he isn't so much younger than yourself. He remembers the way things used to be just as we do, and he…"
"It's fine, Mother," Perseus said, truthfully. "I'm used to his generally sour disposition. I can take his brand of sarcasm and his harsh mannerisms quite easily in small doses, though I find it beyond me to explain how Libya puts up with it."
Amphitrite smiled at him gently. "Mostly, her own sunny disposition and a lot of wine," she joked. "Honestly, though, Triton rarely shows that side of himself around her. She smooths his rough edges quite well, and by this point she's used to the fluid nature of our family. She and Rhode get along well."
Rhode was, outside of Amphitrite, perhaps the most 'normal' of their family, if such a thing existed. Poseidon was often gruff but easygoing, though his temper could rise quickly like a storm at sea, and Triton was often harsh and biting. Kym was...violent, tempestuous and a general handful, though much of her own nature was due to her taking on the traits of her domain.
It was also due to the fact that, as the youngest daughter, she'd been given to Briares as a wife for his aid against the Titans in the first war. She found that to be entirely unacceptable, and while Perseus didn't like to imagine his siblings' personal life, he knew that she'd never birthed children to her husband and found it unlikely that she'd even consent to consummate their marriage. She loathed Briares, who likely didn't wish for the marriage either, but was too agreeable to risk offending Poseidon by turning her away.
If there was one regret Perseus could claim in regards to his family, it was that he hadn't listened to her pleas for his help and he hadn't done more to stop his father from giving her away like a possession. She hated Perseus for it, for allowing it to happen and for not fighting for her when he should have, and he knew that he deserved it.
By comparison, Rhode had found herself happy and content with her marriage to Helios. Their history was a romantic one, and Helios even gave up his opportunity for a seat on the council – before Apollo was in a position to take it – in order to spend his nights on her island. He'd, quite literally, made the sun set for her, and they'd enjoyed many thousands of years together, tucked away from the rest of the world with their own worshipers and disciples.
Perseus was unclear as to why exactly he'd begun to fade, as he'd found himself busy with his own endeavors at the time. All he knew for certain was that Helios had slowly groomed Apollo to take his place, as Selene did for Artemis, and they'd both disappeared from the world.
The Protogenoi had something to do with it – Perseus knew that for a fact – but he wasn't in a position to demand answers from them. Their ways were not to be questioned really, not even by the Gods.
"I…" his mother started, and he noticed she was still nervous, though not as much as she had been in front of the others. "There is so much I want to say, and to ask...I'm not sure where to begin."
"You can say or ask whatever you like," he said, smiling at her slightly. "I assure you, I won't be offended or angry."
She nodded, hesitantly. "There's something I'd like to show you first. It's on the upper level, north wing. We can talk there before your father demands your presence once more."
Perseus snorted amusedly. "He can demand all he'd like. Before the attack on the city I'd planned to come here and see you anyway. It's been a very long time since he had any say at all in what I do."
There was no need to mention the fact that Poseidon had given him the coin to do so. It wouldn't help anyone, and it would only hurt her feelings. Poseidon didn't likely need or want the credit, and Perseus felt even less like giving it to him. He and his father didn't see eye to eye on most issues, even less so since Neptune left for Rome, and so as far as he was concerned, Amphitrite deserved to believe that he wasn't quite so much of a worthless son as was likely accurate.
Her answer was a beaming smile, and she began to lead him through the palace to whatever it was she'd like to show him. They passed through the decorative halls, lined with murals of ages past and scenes of beauty from across the world. The rich and vibrant depictions of the Mediterranean coastlines and the beautiful glow of sunlight shining through turquoise waves rolling against tropical islands. The dark swells of the sea at night, the faint edges of their waves showing under moonlight, and depictions of Atlantis before it was sunk beneath the sea.
There were others which had nothing to do with the sea, but they were fewer in number.
Eventually they traveled further and upward across stairwells which looked to have been carved from raw sapphire and trimmed with jade, and through arched hallways which were exposed to the sea outside – the windows merely open holes in the walls with their edges carved intricately. The ceilings had small, glowing orbs of greenish light which gave everything a slightly colored tint, but they worked well with the aesthetic of the palace.
They arrived soon enough at a comparably plain door carved from coral which was locked. Amphitrite flicked her fingers, and suddenly she was holding a large key, though she didn't immediately use it. Her nervousness had returned, and she glanced back at him.
"I...this is a place I like to spend some of my free time," she said, and her fingers were trembling slightly. "I have a room like this for each of my children. The others have seen theirs, but…"
"But I haven't been around," he finished for her, as gently as he could.
She nodded a tiny fraction. After only a slight hesitation, she slotted the key into the lock, and quickly opened the door, disappearing inside. Perseus followed, and darkness was the very first thing he noticed. However, once his eyes adjusted, the view which greeted him was shocking.
The room was nearly completely black, and from the ceiling a soft white glow seemed to bathe the walls. Stars decorated the roof, each of them glowing with a slightly different tone, and he could see the faint outline of Pegasus and Andromeda, as well as Perseus – the constellation which represented his own presence in the stars. The detail was immaculate, though they weren't moving at all.
It caught his focus so thoroughly that he nearly missed the portraits lining the walls.
The one front and center captured his attention immediately, and it was slightly larger than the others in the room. It was a highly detailed portrait of Atlanta, and was obviously painted in the old world, as she was wearing a long chiton and had gold bands around her upper arms and wrists. Her face was lifelike, eyes staring outward with an intensity that mirrored his own.
Peeling his eyes away from her likeness, he caught sight of her brother, Kallias, and it was nearly like looking into a mirror. He'd been a strong man, with dark hair and a beard, and standing next to him in the portrait was a young blonde woman with a swaddled baby held to her chest. Galene and their son, Philon.
There were others, as he turned. Many of them were either teens or young adults, and all of them were his mortal children over the span of countless years. Some of them he didn't recognize by sight alone, and he approached one that was fairly modern – the depiction of a young girl in Roman clothing, with black hair and pale skin. Set behind her was a place he hadn't seen, but that he knew of. New Rome, the city built for life after service in the Legion.
The girl was a part of him, but she wasn't.
"Chloe," his mother supplied quietly. "She was a brilliant girl. She studied astrophysics and advanced mathematics in Rome, and married a boy who was a legacy of Venus. They had children, and grandchildren."
Perseus turned to her, and she was smiling sadly at him.
"I've watched over them all, as much as I'm able," she continued, glancing around the room. "Each of them are my grandchildren, and so I try to learn about them and help them when I can. It's one of the only demands I've made of your father." He watched as she approached Atlanta's portrait and ran her fingers across the edges of the frame. "But this one...she is the only child left of you. The real you, before time and history forced everything to fall apart. I won't deny that she's my favorite, as cruel as that is to speak aloud."
The room she'd built was a testament in many ways to his history, to those he'd loved and lost, and for a moment Perseus found himself off-balance and speechless. He didn't really know what to say. What could he say? 'Thank you' didn't feel quite right, and yet he was thankful. While he cherished and remembered each of his children, he hadn't ever believed he'd see their faces again except within his own thoughts.
"Hav-" he cleared his throat. "Have you met her?" he asked, referring to Atlanta.
"Once, though I was Salacia at that time," she responded. "I met her on the shores of the Adriatic, late in the night. I spoke to her about many things, and she told me some of herself. It was during the height of the Empire, and she confessed to me that she...that she didn't feel as much of a connection to the version of you which sat upon your throne then. She felt lost, and came to the sea looking for guidance."
Another shard of the wreckage he seemed to inflict on those close to him. Atlanta hadn't ever said anything, and she'd never so much as mentioned his other aspect in his presence. He wondered, then, what she truly felt about him. Did she still see him as her father? He was, after all, different from the one who married her mother, though he still held all of the memories of their time together.
"Many of them I never got the opportunity to meet," she said, turning away from the portrait to face him once more. "Still, through Iris I've been able to get a glimpse of each of them, enough for a portrait to look upon, even after they…"
He nodded. Even after each of them died.
Atlanta was the only one left, and while he didn't always know about the Romans, he did know that none of them were currently children of Astrum. He hadn't been around in recent years, preferring the endless expanse of the stars to the lowly realm of mortals. It was likely that the girl – Chloe – was the most recent, though the way his mother spoke in the past tense it's likely she was dead as well.
"Thank you," he finally said. "For showing me this, and for looking out for Atlanta when I wasn't able to."
"I don't require any thanks for that," she said, looking around the room. "I just...this is the only way I could keep track of you. Through your actions in the mortal world, and by gazing at the stars above as they shifted and changed through the ages. The sea is my home, but it's also my prison in a sense. I can never travel too far from it, and never for very long."
Amphitrite was a nereid, and though she was also considered a Goddess, that was only due to her connection with Poseidon. She was bound to the sea in the same way a naiad was bound to their body of water – it was a part of them that they couldn't simply leave behind. Her territory was literally more than seventy percent of the world, so it hadn't ever occurred to him that there might be things which she found beyond her reach.
"Still, thank you Mother," he repeated. "You said there were things you wanted to ask me. Ask, and I'll do my best to answer."
She huffed, and tried to smile at him, but it was shaky at best. "We don't have enough time for me to ask everything I'd like to know. Thousands of years of history, of your life, I've missed. I want to know all of it, really. Everything from your childhood to your wives, your victories and defeats. Your father has this idea in his head that I believe somehow that you're perfect. I know that isn't true, but what is a mother supposed to think of her son, when all she has for reference are the tales of his great deeds and the vision of his children within the world?"
Perseus released a brief laugh, staring upward at the star-painted ceiling. "I'm certainly not perfect, and my life probably isn't the one you would have ever chosen for me. I understand that my choices have caused a lot of grief and disappointment, but they were mine to make. I've done so with the full knowledge of the consequences they would have on myself, though I never intended for anyone else to feel the weight of them."
Amphitrite stared at him for a moment, as if weighing her words. Finally, she asked, "Tell me about Perseus, about your human life. I know you never received anything similar to a real childhood in the beginning, not like Triton and the others, so tell me about the one you did experience. Were you happy?"
For a moment, Perseus wondered why it was that she was the first of the Gods and Goddesses to ask about that time in his life which shaped who he was, but the answer was obvious enough. They didn't care. Still, for the room and for what she'd done there, for looking out for his children as best as she could, he would tell her.
"I was born in a prison, without a roof and with a floor of mud covered in straw and waste," he said quietly. "It was where I spent the early days of my life, until Acrisius found me. He locked myself and my mo...and Danaë into a chest, and cast us into the sea, fearful of the prophecy…"
Author's Note: So ends Ch. 18, and while it didn't particularly move the story forward much, this was an opportunity to explain some of the circumstances regarding the separation of Perseus and Astrum from the original Astraeus. I think that memory will serve well enough to explain his reasoning. It's very imperfect reasoning, but he was never meant to be perfect in the first place.
This also took place after his human life, when he'd already begun to make changes due to that experience. He was already using Perseus interchangeably with Astraeus, though not completely until after the separation.
I wanted to show some interaction with his family. It's obvious that his relationship with Triton is strained, as is his relationship with his father. We didn't see his sisters yet, but I tried to include some history about them as well.
We also get the first interaction with Amphitrite and Perseus, which people have been asking me about for a while. It probably isn't exactly what people wished, but there is a lot of history for them to unpack before things can be anything resembling normal. He is also a several-thousand year old God, so it was never going to be a childish reunion with a long lost mother.
Also, while it's true that there is a battle going on and it really isn't time for mother-son bonding, he isn't even there by choice and would rather be defending the demigods. He doesn't care as much as some people might prefer about defending Atlantis while there are several Gods who were already doing so. He is there to fulfill his task for Poseidon as well as his task for the Primordials.
Let me know what you thought, as there was a lot of history covered in this chapter in a short amount of time. I hope it didn't come off as jumbled or rushed, but dragging things out any further without an explanation just feels like stalling. Because of this, we will start to see more information given, and start to see the plot move forward.
Till next time.