HE LAY IN A COT IN THE palace's private infirmary, a peaceful expression on his face. But Perseus' one working eye fluttered open when the door slammed shut. He let out an exasperated sigh and pulled himself up in a sitting position.

Apollo continued to walk inside, his feet barely touching the ground. Finally, he came to a stop in between the two cots, glancing sadly at a still-unconscious Aeneas before turning his focus back on Perseus.

"You alright?" Apollo placed a hand on the edge of his cot.

"I'll live," He grunted. The god of the sun motioned to his face, half of which had been bandaged thickly until just the night before. He was shirtless, his chest, arms and abdomen equally covered in white. It had been a few days since Achilles had fallen, and he had been confined to this bed ever since. "Come to check on my brother?"

"I came to check on you, actually," Apollo told him, golden eyes glinting. "Aeneas will live. He's very lucky I got to him in time but he's out of critical condition, don't worry."

"His hand…it's damaged permanently," Perseus murmured, turning to look at his unconscious brother. "But you're right. He's alive, and that's all that matters. We both are. Thank you, I guess?"

"No problem. But you…" Apollo hesitated. "How do you feel?" He brushed his golden hair out of his eyes.

"Apollo," Perseus fixed him with a tired look. "I'm permanently blind in one eye, bruised and leaking gold through my bandages. How do you think I feel?"

The Olympian chuckled lightly. "Right. I'm sorry I couldn't fix your eye."

Perseus swallowed. He had lost all feeling at that side of his face since the battle. But, it was worth it. "A small price to pay for finally bringing Achilles down." His fingers moved to touch the skin on his face. "Besides, I think a scar would suit me quite well, don't you?" Apollo pursed his lips at Perseus' deflection. But the son of the sea god snuggled down into the bed. The past few days had been a whirlwind. He and his brother had missed whatever battles had been fought, but Deiphobus—who had taken command of the army—had been to see him each day, and from the looks of things, the Achaeans were so disoriented by the loss of their greatest warrior that they were falling, steadily.

After Apollo had descended from the ramparts, Perseus remembered him flashing them into the infirmary, then working his magic. He'd been able to heal Aeneas of his wounds, but it was only after he was certain his brother was going to live that Perseus had also allowed himself to be treated (read: Apollo had to knock him out).

Aeneas hadn't even blinked since, and it was only by the steady rising and falling of his chest that Perseus knew he was still alive. Their father had come to see them right after Perseus had risen, weeping and sobbing about how proud of them he was. It had taken all of his willpower to stay strong for Anchises because the gods knew the old man would break down if even Perseus showed him how wrecked he was by everything. He couldn't do that to his father.

His green eye moved past Apollo and into the large cot opposite him. Next to Aeneas slept his son Ascanius, curled into his dad's side. The child held him like he was afraid if he let go Aeneas would vanish with the wind. His fingers rested on the bandaged stump where a hand used to be. Neither stirred as Apollo moved to lean on the wall. Creusa was also passed out in a chair beside Aeneas' cot, her face screwed up with pain, tormented even in her dreams. She looked wretched, still in her nightdress, and Perseus knew she hadn't left since they had been brought in. He knew what she was going through. The fear she was feeling…he owed Apollo now because he was very sure he'd have lost his brother too if not for him.

His hand moved to his abdomen, which was stained with dried ichor. Moving hurt, and although Apollo had closed all open wounds and taken away most of the internal damages, the pain still felt fresh, and along with the left side of his face, he would be adorned with several new scars all over his body. But he did not mind. He would wear them with honour. His scars were symbols of everything he had been through to get to where he was.

He has a single one now, running from his forehead, through his eyebrow and down to his cheek. As for his eye, it was as milky white as cataracts and when he had worked up the nerve to look at his reflection, even he had been a bit pertubed. But it would be alright. He was fine, really. Just a bit battered.

Along with the sun god's tricks, Perseus vaguely remembered Apollo flying him over to the shore when he was barely conscious, and leaving him submerged for hours.

Now, all that was left was waiting for his body to bounce back to normal. He was immortal, and so it was happening quite quickly, and he'd be back on the battlefield in no time.

Andromache and her son had come with Hecuba on the second day of his confinement.

Perseus' heart ached for the widow. She was as much his friend as Creusa or Cassandra was, and he hated what the Greeks had put her through by murdering her husband. She hadn't been able to say much. But he had held her hand, and they had stayed in silence for a while. And that was enough. His brother Hector's killer was dead and perhaps now Andromache could sleep easy. But Perseus knew that each morning when she rose to the shining sun and saw the empty bed beside her, a cloud would block out all the light in her life. Andromache would never be the same. But she had their son, Astyanax. Maybe his nephew would be able to get her to smile again. Someday.

"How's Memnon doing?" Perseus glanced back at Apollo, trying to pull himself out of the well of gloomy thoughts.

"Holding the fort while you're away," Apollo folded his arms. "Having another immortal warrior on our side is a great morale boost."

"Thank the gods Zeus owed Eos that favour, then," The demigod grunted. He didn't know how to react to having another immortal running around his city. But Memnon was an excellent fighter, and Apollo was right. His powers might not have been spectacular, but an extra immortal demigod leading Troy and her allies? It was unconventional, but he wasn't complaining. It was a wonder the Achaeans were still lurking around.

"Oh, a lot of them weren't too happy," Apollo grinned wryly. "Athena, most of all. But like you, Memnon is not a god, a Titan or a giant. Like you, his immortality was gained in through cutting corners—" Perseus snorted at that, "—And so the ancient laws do not apply. An exquisite loophole and an amazing turn of events for all of us." When the god explained what had happened to Selene's nephew, Perseus was taken aback. But since then, he had come to see how much Zeus had knowingly or unknowingly helped them, to the chagrin of his fellow gods.

"Right," Perseus met the god's eyes. "Now, are you ready to finally get on with why you're actually here, Apollo?"

The deity arched a brow. "Sometimes it scares me how well you know me."

"Friends close, enemies closer and all that."

"Haha, You're a riot," Apollo rolled his eyes. He was silent for a bit, before piping, "I saw things a while ago. Just a few days into the future. Into one of the possible futures. And I came to warn you."

"I swear if you tell me Achilles will magically be resurrected—"

"Gods, nothing of the sort," He shuddered. "It has something to do with your brother."

Perseus sat straighter, eyes narrowing. "Apollo…I thought you said he's fine." His voice was tinged with warning.

"For now."

His breath seemed to lodge in his throat. After everything, after Hector, he didn't know what he would even do with himself if Aeneas was killed.

"Elaborate," Perseus growled.

Apollo's gold eyes burned into him, but his hackles were still raised, teeth gritted. The son of Leto rolled his eyes. "If I hadn't been on the battlefield, Aeneas would have died. I was but a variable in the entire tapestry the Fates wove, and I fear another variable has come into play. Another pawn, ignored for far too long, has crept near the edge of the board…too close to the king. Too close to you."

He wanted to squeeze Apollo's throat. "Could you try not to speak in riddles for once? Gods." But he knew what Apollo was saying, whether he wanted to admit it or not. This was his story…whatever happened from now, it all lay on his shoulders. The Fates were playing a dangerous game.

"I speak of Ajax the Greater, of Telamon. Should he continue to live, he will murder Aeneas in his next battle."

"We can't let that happen," Perseus' fingers clenched into fists as he slowly soaked in the new information. "I'll kill him first." They both knew how important his brother was. To Troy. To them all.

"We will," Apollo agreed. "Aeneas isn't going anywhere, for now, so we have time. But I thought I'd give you a bit of a heads-up first. I have a plan, actually." As rocky as their relationship was, Perseus knew that Apollo had helped them as much as he had hurt them, and these days he seemed more inclined to do the former. To accomplish anything, he had to trust Apollo. The god continued to speak, laying out his plan before Perseus. It was brilliant, actually, but a little harsh. He didn't care though. Ajax would harm his brother, and he couldn't allow such a thing to happen.

After a few minutes of terse planning, Perseus nodded in appreciation. "I'll come to you when I'm fully healed, I guess. Then we'll get to work."

"Alright," Apollo said. "Rest well."

"Not until my brother is safe."

"Fair enough," The god peeled himself off the wall. A vacant look appeared in his eyes before he shook his head and said, "I followed up with Hermes and my uncle in the Underworld. I thought you might want to know. Hector got Elysium, of course. No rebirth for him; he's alright with waiting, I guess. Thetis' son got the same at first. But the Fates put in a word with Hades, and he's been sentenced to guarding the Banks of the River Styx to prevent anyone from willingly going in…from repeating the Curse of Achilles."

"Is that what they're calling it now?" He asked wryly.

"Yeah, crazy, I know," Apollo laughed lightly. "But…Achilles' heel was his only weakness. It was a weight his mother forced upon him, and as much as his invulnerability protected him, it was his undoing. And his punishment…his eternity, or whatever, is atoning for his mother's sin and stopping other heroes from repeating the same mistakes."

"They used him as an example," Perseus summarised. He pursed his lips. Achilles had been his arch-enemy. But he didn't deserve to be punished for Thetis' actions. Not for eternity. It wasn't fair. But, as dark as it would seem, Perseus was glad that he wasn't in Elysium with Hector.

"Fate can be cruel," Apollo shrugged. "Achilles' punishment will stop his story from ever happening again."

"Oh well," Perseus shrugged in his cot. He had lost enough sleep over the Prince of Phthia when he'd been alive. No more.

"I'll be leaving now," The god patted his shoulder. "You have other visitors, it seems."

As Apollo vanished into the morning mist, a familiar ethereal scent filled the room. Aeneas and his family were still out cold. Ascanius was snoring slightly. Selene reappeared in the position Apollo had been just a few moments before. "I hope I didn't chase off anyone important."

"Definitely not," He leaned up and she smiled, following and connecting their lips in a welcome kiss. Selene pulled back, then her hands were on his face. "How're you feeling, Perseus?"

"You know, I'm getting tired of that question," He sighed, leaning into her touch. "But since it's you, I'll excuse it. I'm doing okay."

She laughed, her hand travelling up to his hair. Selene adored his hair. It was one of the things she seemed to love about him. "I just mean, are you healed enough to walk yet?"

"Maybe if I tried, yeah," He pressed back into the pillows. "I didn't expect to see you until nightfall."

"I'm not nocturnal, silly," She rolled her eyes playfully.

"Only the former moon goddess," He deadpanned.

She snorted.

Selene came every night and left before Apollo's rays hit the earth. She would snuggle next to him in the infirmary bed, wrapping him in her arms, and for those few hours, the pain was almost non-existent. Her eyes focused on his. Perseus knew she was worried about how he'd handle the loss of half of his sight. He had tried to be reassuring, but deep down, he knew it would take some getting used to. His head felt heavy where the bandage used to be, and trying to see with his one working eye was straining. He hated it. But he would have to adjust.

"I know what you're thinking," He took her hands. "I'll be fine, Sel."

"I trust you will," Selene murmured, squeezing hard. His brow furrowed. The son of the sea had already promised himself that he would not allow the blindness to become a liability to his army. They needed him at his best, and that's where he was going to be. For Selene. For his brother.

"Besides," The Titaness stood straighter, eyes filled with a teasing light. "I think that scar makes you look quite sexy."

"Oh?"

"Please, don't make me barf." The voice took out any reply from his mouth as Perseus turned to the doorway. The temperature in the room seemed to rise. Ascanius shuffled in his bed but did not wake. Perseus heard Selene gasp lightly in surprise as another immortal stepped into the room, seemingly from thin air.

He had curly dark brown hair the colour of chestnuts, and a well-trimmed beard, with elfish-looking ears and a pointed, familiar nose. He was easily taller than Perseus, and perhaps fitter, with well-defined muscles and two broadswords slung over his back. He was tan, and wore gold and brown armour over a simple chiton, intricate, as though designed by Hephaestus himself. The breastplate was etched with depictions of wars, day and night, the sun, and a chariot arching over the sky. There were several more Perseus couldn't make out. Gauntlets braced his forearms, and a white cloak was strapped to his shoulders. He was complete with grieves, and brown sandals.

But all that wasn't what had shocked Perseus into silence.

There were flames, real, actual living little fires, dancing across his skin, his armour, even his hair. But he didn't seem to notice them. His eyes glowed orange with the colour of a campfire. He reminded Perseus of Apollo, if Apollo was thrown into a bonfire, grew up a few aeons and then was doused in brown paint.

"Brother," Selene looked surprised. "I did not expect you until tomorrow."

The former Titan of the Sun ignored his sister. His eyes slid over to Perseus, prone and weak in his bed. He tried not to squirm at the burning gaze. "Helios. Hello."

Selene's older brother had a frown on his face. He gave Perseus a once over, and grunted, "Sick scar."

"Thanks, just got it a few days ago."

And then he was approaching till he stood at the other side of the bed. The immortal leaned down. "Helios…" Selene's voice had a hint of warning. Perseus flexed his jaw and met the Titan's eyes. He knew the first impression counted, and although he hadn't intended to meet his lover's brother while beaten down and recovering, there was nothing to do now apart from attempt not to get burnt to ashes.

"Relax, Sister," He glanced at Selene. "I've only come to deem if this demigod is worthy of your affections." He said the word like it was the worst insult he could think of, and Perseus had to physically try hard not to let his offence show on his face.

"I don't need you to deem anything, Helios."

He ignored her again, eyes narrowing as he took in the son of Poseidon. Perseus' throat bobbed. He held back a wince as Helios' eyes burned brighter. And then, finally, a maniacal grin stretched across the other man's face. "I will not pretend to understand my sister's choice in men or why she insists on tying herself to just one." He arched a brow at Selene, who folded her arms indignantly, then continued, "But if she chose you, then you must be a special one. I look forward to finding out what makes that so and getting to know the one who has stolen dear Selene's heart." Perseus made to nod, but then Helios' voice invaded his mind, sharp, hard and brutal. "Hurt her, and I will break every single bone in your body and throw you into the pit of Chaos." As quickly as it had appeared, his presence sank away.

"I'll take your word for it," He nodded sombrely.

Selene rolled her eyes as Helios stood straight, "I have to admit, even I was intrigued by your most recent battle. Most of the celestial couldn't take their eyes off you three. You are gifted warriors, you and your brother and it's been a while since I went against a formidable opponent. Especially a former mortal." The invitation was clear.

"It would be an honour to cross swords with you, Helios," He nodded. "I hope we can grow to be great friends."

The Titan snorted. "Don't bet on it."

Selene lay a hand on her brother's shoulder and shot Perseus an apologetic look. She turned back to the flaming deity. "If you're quite done, I think you should leave. Give Perseus a bit of time to recover."

"You just want me gone so you can go on trying to eat each other's faces off," Her brother teased, and for a moment, he wasn't the intimidating flaming warrior anymore. Just an over-protective, smiling older sibling and Perseus sighed to himself. He'd had his fair share of that with Hector. Gods, he missed him. Helios pulled Selene in for a quick hug, and then he was gone as suddenly as he appeared, taking away the overbearing temperature with him.

"Sorry about him," Selene walked back to his side. "He can be a bit extra sometimes."

"I like him," Perseus shrugged.

"Give it a few days," The Titaness snorted. "You'll be singing a different tune."

He chuckled, and Selene bent to kiss him again. "I have to go. Business to attend to."

"Alright," He nodded. "See you tonight?"

"Always."

As Selene vanished into the mist, Perseus' eyes moved to a bloodied blade which was leaning on the side of his bed. A sword which had brought him so much sorrow. He had one last thing to do.

BREAK

"HECTOR." His voice was low and sad, barely a whisper and his emotions mirrored in the serenity of the ocean spreading before him. It was nightfall, and Selene placed a peck on his cheek before vanishing into the evening mist. She had brought him here, and she understood that this was something he needed to do alone.

He was calm; satisfied. The rage and agony he had been carrying with him since that fateful day weeks ago when he had lost a part of himself to Achilles, had all but dissipated.

Achilles was dead, and now Hector was avenged. He could rest, and maybe soon, so could Perseus. He'd fulfilled his oath.

"Brother," he murmured. "We did it." He was still too weak to stand, and so Selene had deposited him in the sand, his knees brought up to his chest. The waves lapped at his feet, and a warm and cosy feeling was creeping through him at the sensation. It almost felt like Hector was right there beside him.

Great gods, he missed him.

He missed Hector so badly, and it hurt, waking up every single day since and learning, once again, that his best friend would no longer laugh, fight or love alongside him. Not in this world, at least. It pained him even more because he was immortal, and it meant he would never see Hector again unless he journeyed into Hades' realm or sampled necromancy. It was on days when the memories hit hardest—days like this—that he wished he was normal. So, at the end of it all, he would still be with his family and friends. He loved Selene with everything within him. He wanted to be with her always and forever.

He couldn't have both.

But coming to terms with his immortality had not been easy, and sometimes, he couldn't help but think of his immortality as a curse and nothing more. He would watch his world die and fade into nothingness forever. But he would be the same—static, never-changing and everlasting. At least he and Selene were together now, and he would forever be glad that Fate had at least honoured one of his wishes. But he would miss everything else—everyone else.

"It took us a while," Perseus inclined his head as the ocean breeze wafted across his nose. He knew the ocean was not the first place Hector would come to for comfort. He had contemplated going to the forests or the apex of Mount Ida. But they held too many memories, and he didn't think he could bear any more pain. "Achilles did us so much damage before we could take him down. The Amazon Queen is dead. Aeneas is down a hand. But he'll live. He's still kicking—still fighting—and even though he doesn't need either of us to protect him anymore, I know you wish you could have been here to do just that. I know it's what you expected me to do in your stead, and I did a horrid job." He sighed.

"Astyanax is doing well, and Andromache is coping. She is getting better, I guess. So is your mother. The King and I have been spending some time together, actually. With Aeneas. I think it'll take a bit for him to move past it all, and he asks us to tell him stories of you every day. Don't tell anyone, but I think you were his favourite." He chuckled, blinking rapidly to prevent himself from crying. "Still trying to get Paris to return Helen. Maybe you can haunt him into agreeing with me?" Perseus coughed. "Anyway, Selene and I are getting really serious, really fast. Apollo and I are healing, too, I guess. Soon, maybe he'll be ready to give us answers for everything." He paused, breath stuttering. "And I'm doing okay, I guess. I really, really miss you, idiot. It's hard, Hec, and I know you'd probably give me some bullshit about time healing my wounds, but it won't. I'll go on with the pain and on without you, and it will take an eternity before I'm okay again. But I also know you'd want me to live, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Achilles is with Hades now," His voice was low. "I'm sure you heard through Ghost Gossip Weekly or whatever, but yeah. He'll never hurt anyone anymore." He felt a phantom squeeze on his shoulder, and Perseus leaned into the ghostly touch. "I offer you this." He held up his hand, wrapped around the sword from before.

Achiles' sword wrenched from his cold, lifeless fingers. It shone with Perseus' ichor and was stained with Aeneas' blood, along with that of the thousands Achilles had killed. Hector's.

"A token. To show you my oath has been fulfilled. A reminder, to you and us. We will remember you always. And we will keep you and Troy alive in our hearts." He struggled to his feet, and raised the sword to the heavens, silently praying that the messenger god deliver his gift and his words. Perseus watched as the sword slowly disintegrated before his eyes.

It would get to Hector. He was sure of it.

The demigod smiled at the skies, and he felt the warmth fill him once more.

And then the phantom hand was gone, his shoulders were suddenly chilly.

Hector was gone.

The air was suddenly filled with a tangy salty scent.

Perseus glanced to the seas, mild surprise filling him as his older photocopy rose out of the depths. Poseidon nodded in greeting as he made his way onto the shore. He smiled warmly.

The Trojan demigod attempted a smile but failed miserably as his father stopped next to him and turned to face the ocean, planting his glowing blue-green trident into the sand. His aura pulsed gently, washing over Perseus and chasing away the remnants of his pain. He suddenly felt refreshed. But he could sense the pity rolling off the high god. Pity was something he didn't think he could take right now.

But thankfully, Poseidon didn't speak. They stood side by side, shoulder to shoulder, his father's presence anchoring him against the raging waves of grief that threatened to sweep him into a sea of mourning once more. It was done. Achilles was dead. But Perseus didn't think he would ever stop mourning Hector. But this moment at the seashore, this offering, perhaps it would bring him closure. Hector's chapter was closed, and from now on, he had to at least try and respect that.

They watched as the tides rose and fell, as the crabs climbed rocks and the waves lapped against the shore. The breeze was calm and salty, and although there would be a raging battle in just a few hours, Perseus had never felt more at peace. Even if it was just a temporary feeling. He knew that wherever he was, his brother was smiling down at him.

The one-eyed demigod spared the Olympian beside him a glance, then turned back to the sea. Poseidon cleared his throat, "I wanted to come and see you sooner. But I suppose I guessed you would wind up here eventually."

He grunted in response, grateful that Poseidon hadn't mentioned the brutal scar, which still ached.

"Congratulations on your victory against Achilles. I know…this war has not been easy on you. You have lost so much, but gained even more, and…" He paused, turning his head to study Perseus. "I am proud of you. Your mother would be too."

He was silent. Poseidon was right. But that wasn't what his mind had latched onto. "Tell me about her," He murmured.

The son of Kronos cocked his head to the side. "What?"

"My mother," He flexed his jaw muscles. "Sally. I don't remember much."

Poseidon smiled, his expression softening. The corner of his eyes crinkled. The Olympian looked as though he had been swept away to a happier place, and Perseus could see the love in his eyes, even after all these years.

"Your mother was the best woman in the world," He whispered. Perseus smiled internally. He doubted Amphitrite would appreciate that. But Poseidon was a god, and Perseus understood that immortals fell in love more than once. Everyone did. And the subsequent times were just as passionate and as painful as the first. He'd experienced it first-hand with Cass, and maybe he'd been on the way there with Briseis. But Selene…He burned for her. When he saw her each day and night, his skin grew hot. And when he saw her in his dreams, he went up in flames.

Poseidon…it looked like Sally had lit him on fire.

"She deserved that golden palace I promised her beside the beach. She deserved so much more than me."

"You must have really loved her, then," He put his hands behind his back.

"I did," The elder god nodded, melancholy swallowing the joy off him. "Much more than you'll ever know."

Perseus believed him.

The warrior swallowed. His chest felt heavy, but he tried hard to keep his emotions in check. His voice was sombre as he said, "I wish I looked like her a bit, at least. So maybe I would know what she looked like."

"Sally was beautiful. She had curly hair, the brightest brown I'd ever seen. And her eyes, brown like her hair…ordinary, really. But so full of life. So full of fire." He faced his son, finally. "You have her lips, you know. And her nose." His fingers drew up to his mouth and Perseus sighed sadly. Poseidon reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. He squeezed, then let his hand fall.

"We met in Thebes. She had no family there, and she was the lady-in-waiting of the Princess. The royal family had visited the beach to offer burnt offerings to me." He got a far-away look in his eyes. "Your mother was a tough one, I'll admit. I disguised myself as a palace guard. We started off as friends, and when I professed love for her—when I told her who I really was—she rejected me, quite a number of times. But I was too smitten to give up. She…she loved me too. But she'd heard the stories, of what Hera did to Zeus' mistresses. She wanted nothing to do with me."

"What changed her mind?"

"I never asked," He shrugged. "I managed to reassure her that Amphitrite wasn't Hera—wasn't vindictive. I'd never been more wrong. When Sally finally returned my love, we had you, just a few months later. I stayed as long as I could."

They were silent for a bit, then Perseus popped, "What was she like? What did she like?"

Poseidon laughed, and it was so nostalgic and despondent that Perseus felt like going against his better judgment and giving the man a hug. "Sally was the fiercest mortal woman I've ever fallen for. She was a loyal friend…the best, actually. I guess you got that from her. She didn't take nonsense from anyone, not even me. She allowed me to play to her on the lyre, even though everyone knows I'm terrible at it. Whenever we could, we escaped to the forests and the beach." He sighed, "Oh, how She adored the beach. She loved art, too."

"Art?"

"Sally was a free spirit," Poseidon explained. "She loved to write about the things she saw and heard. The princess made sure her personal servants were educated, see. And Sally, she loved to create worlds with her words and dive into them. She would sculpt, paint, and write poetry in her free time. Most of you, sometimes me. Us." His smile turned pained. "I had to leave when you saw two or three summers. My kingdom had suffered without me. The sea needed a ruler, and my brother Jove disapproved of how much time I had spent away from the celestial. And so I left, even though I didn't want to." He looked down at the sand. Perseus didn't speak. He pursed his lips instead and continued staring out to sea.

"Leaving you and your mother is my biggest regret. I will carry my grief and my guilt over her death for eternity. Amphiritre and our children surprised me. She almost never cared about my affairs. Perhaps because she was sure I would always come back. But with Sally…I think she was afraid I would leave the sea to dry—she was afraid I would leave her for the entirety of your and Sally's mortal lifespans."

Perseus swallowed. Amphitrite had been jealous. But his mother hadn't deserved that. He hadn't deserved that. And yet, despite the Nereid's meddling, here he was.

"You…you found me, though," He told Poseidon quietly. "I think she would have appreciated that, even if it took you a few decades." He turned to face the lord of the waves and placed a hand on Poseidon's bicep. "And besides, I'm immortal now too. So whether my stepmother likes it or not, I think I'm here to stay. We carry that grief together…Father."

He was being mature, which was unusual. But he understood. It was what needed to be done.

"Together," Poseidon nodded. He looked relieved, inclining his body forward slowly, and wrapped his arms around Perseus.

The Trojan stiffened but then slowly relaxed into the embrace, pulling his father closer and tightening his arms around him. He let out a small laugh, patting Poseidon on the back. His father was different from the other gods. Perseus knew expressions of emotions didn't come easy to them. But the man was trying to be different, and for now, that was enough. No matter how much hatred he had carried for the earthshaker, he was glad that he got to do this, finally, now.

"I think your matera would have loved the man you grew up to be," The god murmured in his ear.

"I think she would have been proud of you, too," He said, then buried his head into the crook of Poseidon's neck. Around them, the sea seemed to roar to life, surging upwards and thrumming in approval.

Because he would not fight Poseidon anymore. He did not despise him. He had grown. He had forgiven.

Because at long last, he had finally come home.

BREAK

TWO DAYS LATER, Perseus stood at the edge of the sun chariot, eyes narrowed as he watched the happenings down below. And boy, was it a lot.

Apart from the sword, he hadn't had the time or the wish to strip Achilles of his armour, and Perseus wasn't a monster—however much he'd hated the git, he also hadn't deemed it necessary to desecrate the body the way Hector's had been. Add the fact that his brother had also been on the brink of death, and it had not even crossed his mind.

And now, the Achaeans, still holding their funeral games for the lion of Phthia, were hosting competitions to choose a man to award Achilles' armour to.

Beside him, Apollo shifted. They were high in the sky, and it was only by some godly magic that he was able to see so far down. But Ajax needed to be dealt with. Especially since Aeneas had woken up for a few minutes that morning. In some days, he'd be back on the battlefield.

The Greek Camp was full of life. However battered the recent battles had made them, they had reconstructed a scantily made wall—more of a barricade, really. They were still numerous enough to be a problem, although their numbers had dwindled considerably. They were like a fly that kept buzzing.

The funeral games were in full swing, both Greeks and Trojans calling a truce to bury their dead. Apollo had informed him that Achilles' ghost had appeared in the camp a few nights before, demanding to be cremated where his best friend had been. Thetis and almost all her sisters had come to mourn him, along with the muses, and even now, traces of their wails and songs fluttered to the heavens above.

"I hear Helios is in town," The Olympian spared him a glance.

Perseus arched a brow but nodded. "Yes, in fact. Swell guy. He's like an overbearing mother hen." A small smirk took over his lips. He knew Helios had probably heard him, and Selene's brother wouldn't be too happy. But he was a great brother to the Titaness, and Perseus was certain he would be an even better friend to him.

Apollo chuckled. "A trait he shares with my sister, then. Tell him I'll come see him soon."

"Really?" He said, dryly. "Because Helios seems to be under the impression that you're avoiding him."

"Only because he almost killed me last we met," Apollo rolled his eyes. "I still think he's not over the fact that Father had them relinquish their domains to us."

"Or maybe he's just mad you were boning his daughter," Perseus snarked. Apollo grinned, and he found himself with a small smile on his own face. This was nice. This was new. And being angry at Apollo for so long, it felt okay to just be. It would be a while before they got back to where they used to be. But, baby steps.

His ears perked as he heard shouting from down below. Perseus gazed down, smile fading quickly. His lips pursed as he watched the scene unfold beneath them.

Ajax slammed a fist into Odysseus' face, sending the Ithacan reeling. Athena's favoured snarled and then pounced on him, screaming obscenities and sending them both tumbling to the ground. He began to pummel the Telemonian into a pulp. Ajax kneed Odysseus in the gut and flipped them over until he was on top. His large meaty fist slammed into the man beneath him. Perseus winced as he heard a nose crack.

"Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Positive," The Lightbringer leaned forward. "Aphrodite's working her magic from Olympus. Their emotions will be boiling until Dionysus does his thing."

"And why, pray tell, is your brother helping us again?" Apollo's plan was a solid one. But Perseus knew enough about the gods to know they always had their own agendas.

"He owes me," Was the simple explanation.

"And we don't even have to do anything?" The son of Anchises frowned. "Seems a bit too easy."

"It's not," Apollo replied, shortly. "Just be silent for once Perseus. Don't argue, just watch." He scoffed under his breath, a bit miffed at the berating. But Perseus listened anyway. He focused his attention back on the Greek camp which spread out from beneath them.

Greater Ajax and Odysseus the crafty were locked in combat, trying their best to beat each other to death. They dove around each other, Ajax using his strength and size to deliver powerful strikes, and Odysseus using his speed and agility to block, dodge and strike back with equal ferociousness. Ajax was a wall of muscle and fury as he aimed a powerful right hook at Odysseus. But the other man, swift and agile, sidestepped at the last moment, evading the blow with practised grace. Ajax's fist connected with nothing but air, and he stumbled forward slightly. Seizing the opportunity, Odysseus moved in close, aiming a sharp elbow at Ajax's ribs. The blow landed, and the gigantic man quickly retaliated with a sweeping backhand. A crowd was beginning to form around them, but no one stepped forward to intercept the fight, which definitely hadn't been on the program list for the funeral games. Even from a distance, the son of Anchises could feel the tension in the air. The soldiers were murmuring lowly.

Perseus knew—they were fighting over the armour. Aphrodite was doing a brilliant job; but then, she would do anything to ensure Aeneas lived.

Odysseus barely managed to duck, and they were circling each other like animals. Odysseus, relentless, darted in with quick jabs. But the mountain man stood his ground, absorbing the hits like a boulder. Perseus had to applaud them; the fight was certainly an entertaining one. Ajax lunged forward, grabbing Odysseus by the shoulder, and hurled him away. Or at least attempted to. Odysseus twisted his body, freeing himself quickly enough to land a quick, desperate strike. Ajax staggered.

The hand-to-hand combat seemed to end when Odysseus swiped his feet under the Telamonian, sending him tumbling, before slamming Ajax back with his boot. He placed a foot on the other King's throat.

The two warriors were surrounded by what seemed like the entire camp. But no one made to stop them. Odysseus was panting. "Does anyone wish to challenge my bid for Achilles' armour still?" He pressed down on Ajax's neck. Perseus could see the fallen man's eyes burning with fury and humiliation as he struggled beneath the Ithacan's foot. Odysseus stood straight, looking around as though daring anyone to talk. None did. "I thought so."

"And now…" Apollo trailed off, and Perseus leaned forward more when Ajax began to laugh. Odysseus took his foot off in confusion, backing away.

Perseus smiled slightly to himself as he saw it began to happen. He knew Dionysus had come through. He watched with a mix of horror and dark satisfaction, as Ajax, the indomitable giant, began to unravel. There was a wildness in his eyes that hadn't been there before—a dark, feverish gleam that chilled Perseus to the bone as the man staggered to his feet. Something inside him had cracked, deep in his mind, spreading like a storm through his thoughts.

Ajax took a step forward, his fists clenched, eyes turning wild and unfocused as if battling phantoms only he could see. A snarl twisted his face, but Perseus could not find it in him to pity his brother's possible murderer. Ajax began to pace, his body tense and trembling, muttering to himself as the weight of the wine god's curse settled in—as Ajax the Greater slowly went mad.

He screamed. Perseus knew he had snapped, then, as Odysseus barked, "Go to your tent, Ajax. Have a rest. I won. It's over."

The weight of the insult, the humiliation made him growl. Losing to Odysses had been one thing, but the whispers that had followed, the jeers that were sure to come—the questioning of his strength by the other Kings…it would and had crushed something vital in him. Perseus saw it happening: the proud, towering figure of Ajax crumbling as if a fire had consumed him from within, leaving only a shell and a dangerous, desperate rage. The unbreakable shield, the King of Telamon, had shattered.

"Great work, Dionysus," Apollo muttered, watching seriously. Perseus had to agree. But then, something else was gnawing at him.

"I think a Mad King is worse than an idiot one, Apollo," He told the god. "And more likely to kill my brother."

"Oh, you have such little faith, darling," Apollo grinned as he looked at him. "Dionysus' madness doesn't just hit you and leave you to your devices, no. Watch."

They focused their attention back to the Achaeans.

Ajax was storming away from Odysseus, slamming through the crowd. He was still muttering, biting his nails, running a hand through his hair. Men parted around him, uneager to be in his path of destruction. Perseus continued to watch as Ajax walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Until he was far, far away from the crowd of people. Until he stood before the large pen full of cattle—the Greek food store.

Ajax released another wretched scream. He wasn't himself. Perseus inhaled sharply as the man drew his large broadsword. "Oh, gods. This is devious, Apollo. You didn't tell me this part of the plan."

"Like it?" Apollo smirked. "Two pegasi, one spear. Ajax goes mad and destroys the Greek's food supply. Then we deal with Ajax." As if on cue, the giant King launched himself into the pen, and the slaughtering began.

Perseus watched, transfixed, as Ajax, roaring, butchered the animals. They were panicking, running around, impaling each other. But they couldn't escape. The man was a monster. He continued cutting through necks, muscles and tendons as though they were butter, wrenching off horns, driving his sword through dewlaps. He was a whirlwind of madness and destruction.

After what seemed like hours, the last of them fell.

Blood soaked the sand. The carcasses were spread over the entire pen. Piling. Perseus continued watching. Slowly, the men were appearing. Soldiers, commanders, and Kings were coming to see what all the ruckus and commotion were about. Their murmurs were loud, their shock apparent. They surrounded the pen, and horror had blanketed the entire Greek camp.

Ajax sat on his knees amongst the carcasses. He was panting, leaning against his bloodied broadsword. The man himself was covered in blood and matted in sweat. His hair had come undone. His eyes, were still crazed and unseeing.

And then, as though a switch had been flipped, he gasped.

He looked around, his own terror filling him. Perseus focused. Ajax let out a choking sound, as though he could not believe what was happening. He was looking around at the carcasses, at the men, and then his gaze slid to the blood on his hands. The King let out another wretched sound. His hand moved to his bloodied hair.

"What…have I done?"

Greater Ajax looked up to the heavens. Agamemnon was approaching the pen, looking completely appalled. It was definitely nowhere near what the giant himself was feeling. "Gods forgive me…I am…no longer worthy." He raised his sword.

"Is he going to…" He did not need to complete his sentence. Apollo nodded.

Perseus did not look away. He couldn't, really. His single eye fixed on the camp as Ajax fell on his sword. He did not blink as the king ran himself through. He watched, unfazed as the life left the Mad King.

Crisis averted. "Well," Perseus breathed. "That was something."

"Right," Apollo stood straighter. "Now, for the real reason I brought you here."

"I really should have seen that coming," The demigod grunted.

"You should have," The golden god agreed. "Now keep watching."

Perseus turned back to the crowd of Greeks, and Apollo's ultra-sight-and-hearing gift kicked in. A man was hobbling out of the throng of people, leaning on a staff for support. Perseus remembered him, from Aulis, so long ago. Calchas, the old seer.

"What's your lackey up to now?" He eyed Apollo. "What did you reveal to him?"

"Reveal?" Apollo frowned. "Perseus, that's not how this works. I don't control what the Lady Ananke and the Fates choose to show to me or to my acolytes. I am but a conduit, through which my priests can peer into the Master plan of the Morai. Does that make sense to you?"

"Of course, it doesn't," He rolled his eyes. They focused on the camp once more. Calchas was addressing the crowd, and Perseus tuned his ears to hear what was going on.

"I have seen it, the gods have revealed to me a great secret," Calchas announced to the Achaean people. "Troy and her allies will not fall."

There was a collective gasp from the people. Perseus found himself mirroring their actions. "But.." Of course, there was a but. Calchas ploughed on, "The city can only be destroyed if we recover the arrows of Heracles from Philoctetes on Lemnos. They will allow us to incapacitate the greatest of Troy's warriors. The arrows will give us victory." In the aftermath of Ajax's mad spree, the Greeks were scared. They were losing. And whatever Calchas was saying, whether true or false, it was a ray of hope, and they clutched on to it in a resounding and answering roar.

"Tell me he's lying," Perseus turned to his companion.

Apollo frowned, and shook his head, "I'm afraid I've seen it too."

"You could have just told me instead of dragging me onto the sun, Apollo."

"I wanted you to see for yourself," The god said. "Because I've seen a lot of futures, Perseus. None of them are great. But there's still hope. We can still save my city."

"We have to get the arrows first, then," Perseus summed.

"Glad you caught on," Apollo moved to take the reins of the chariot. "Took you long enough." He snorted. "Alright, we're done here. I'll drop you off?"

He nodded, his resolve hardening. It was time to hop back into action.

BREAK

He barged into the room he'd asked their small task force to meet in. Deiphobus, Helenus, Antainera and Paris all turned when the doors slammed shut. He didn't acknowledge the fact that Aeneas was still unconscious. Perseus moved to the head of the table and leaned forward, placing his fists on the varnished wood.

"Alright, guys, new mission. We're going to Lemnos."