A/N: Well, three more chapters of this arc, and then I'll be heading over to the Guardians. I hope you all enjoy.

P.S—This chapter will be short, and mostly in Perseus' POV.

PERSEUS slashed through the neck of an enemy soldier. Leaning forward, he spun around on his horse, and kicked out at the man below him. With expert swiftness he manoeuvred himself back onto the horse and slashed through the neck of another. He knew exactly who he was going for. The city of Antandrus had been overrun, but if he could get inside the gates and stop Ajax, he might just be able to save the people and the King.

It had been four years since Dardania. Four years of endless fighting. Four years of slaughtering men, four full years of winning, and most times losing their battles. They could never be certain. Over those four years, he had gone to so many places, all of them around Troy, and if he was being truly honest, the plan the Greeks had adopted was working. Aeneas had stayed at Dardania after that first attack, but Perseus had gotten a distress call from Hector, and had left his brother.

He had arrived too late. Achilles, Odysseus and Agamemnon had taken Pedasus, and they had barely escaped with their lives. After that, everything had been a flurry of activity—there was fighting almost every day, and calls for help had been coming from almost every kingdom around Troy. Achilles had besieged six of them already, but Perseus and Hector had managed to save three from being captured—four, if you included his brother's kingdom. It all seemed to be useless, though, because Achilles and the Achaeans continued their rampage across the area, killing innocents and soldiers, taking control of kingdoms and sometimes falling back when Perseus and Hector arrived to help. The number of times he and the fair haired demigod had crossed blades in those four years were uncountable.

But the war was starting to take a toll on him—on all of them. Hector was thirty-one now, Aeneas twenty-nine. And yet he was twenty-five. Perseus would always be twenty-five. And even with his immortality, he sometimes got so tired. He couldn't imagine what the others were going through.

The son of Anchises hadn't even been there when his nephew, Ascanius, had been born. But he had gotten the message, though, and that night, him and Hector had feasted and celebrated. After killing several hundred filthy Greeks, of course. Getting used to immortality had been hard, and he hadn't seen Apollo or Artemis since that night four years prior, but he was glad to keep it that way.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he continued riding towards the city gates. As he went, he cut down men, and the mortals fell to his blade easily. He tore through throats and his horse trampled many underfoot. He glanced to the side when he felt another presence next to him, and turned to find Hector, a glare on his face. "We're losing!" His friend called. "We have to push them back!"

And Hector was right. They couldn't afford to lose any more allies to the assault of the Achaeans. They couldn't let Troy be crippled in this way. Antandrus had been under siege for about four month now, and they had lost a lot of valuable soldiers defending it. Soldiers who had families back home. Soldiers that were irreplaceable. He couldn't allow their sacrifices to go in vain.

"Then we must hurry," He yelled back. "If we can push Ajax and his Generals back, his soldiers will retreat!"

"Good idea," Hector answered, and his horse went dashing forward. He spun his spear as he rode, tearing through the chests of men, thrusting into their shoulders and sweeping them off their feet. Perseus followed behind him, a scowl on his face, cutting down the men who escaped Hector's path of fury.

It didn't take long for them to reach the city gates, and they dashed through them. Soldiers fell all around them as they rode towards the palace. Civilians were being set upon by many enemy soldiers. The Trojan warriors and Antandrusians were also fighting back ferociously. But Perseus knew it would all be for naught if the King was killed. His soldiers and people would fall into panic and crumble, and the four months they had spent defending the city from Ajax would be wasted.

He charged after his best friend as they got to the Palace. The gates were wide open and Perseus swore. Several men were fighting here, trying to defend the Palace from the Telamonian soldiers, but Perseus could see the giant of a man barrelling through their ranks, creating a path of blood and bodies as he went.

"Ajax!" Hector called out.

The man spun, his mace swinging in his hand as he slammed the head of another man in. He roared in answer to Hector's call, and Perseus watched as Hector flipped himself off the horse he was seated on. He landed in front of the King of Telamon, and the horse went careening into enemy soldiers. Hector thrust his spear forward with a yell. Perseus watched the burly man parry the strike with his mace. Hector was smaller and a lot more nimble than Ajax. The man was too big to easily avoid strikes, and Perseus knew Hector would take advantage of that.

He pulled on the reins of his horse, slicing through the chest of a nearby soldier. He spun his steed again, and jumped off. As the horse continued racing, he ran alongside it, his sword arm outstretched, cutting through unsuspecting men. He launched himself back onto his horse, and sheathed his sword. Expertly, he swung his spear off his back, and thrust it through an enemy chest. He glanced around the battlefield. Cries and yells of pain were resonating across the terrain. Blood made the ground sticky and wet, and bodies were piling up.

But Ajax's forces were being pushed back. At the sight of him and the Heir Apparent of Troy, their soldiers were fighting harder than ever. He grinned through his helmet, and jabbed through another soldier. A third tried to attack him with a lance, but Perseus batted it away and run him through. "Chase them away! Burn their ships!" He yelled out the order.

The Trojan and Antandrusian soldiers yelled out a battle cry and the fighting continued in earnest. Perseus slew several men as he rode for their ships, pushing back against the Telemonians. He suddenly heard a bellow behind him and turned to glance at the gates. Ajax was being carried away by two men, while Hector fought off three. The King of Telamon was injured, a large gash spreading from his ribs to his waist, soaking his leather armour with blood and staining the ground. Perseus grinned.

He took aim, reaching backwards, and hurled his spear. It sailed through the body of the soldier nearest to Hector and his friend shouted a loud thanks before lopping off the head of the first man, and tearing through the chest of another. Perseus turned again, slamming the butt of his spear into an oncoming soldier.

"Push them back!" He roared. "Kill them all!"

The answering cry was louder this time, and his and Hector's soldiers fell on Ajax's like bees on pollen. They slaughtered them, cutting throats, felling men, and pushing the line of enemy soldiers, back, and back, where their ships were docked. Perseus followed after them on his horse, cutting down anyone who survived the onslaught. He saw Ajax's men pull their King onto the first of the ships. The defenders of Antandrus continued racing after the now retreating men. Perseus let out a laugh when the ships began moving away from the shore. He heard a cry of delight from next to him and turned to grin at Hector, on his white horse.

They had done it. Antandrus was safe.

For now.

-X-

HECTOR and Perseus got the distress call from Aeneas three years after they had driven the Telamonian forces away from Antandrus. They had stayed behind in the city for two weeks, only to make sure that the Achaeans would not return. And they hadn't. Hector knew that was because Ajax was probably still recovering from the wound he had inflicted on him.

It wasn't a surprise that the Greeks were trying to take Dardania again. Achilles had failed in doing so the first time, and there was no doubt that he would try again. But Aeneas' letter had been grave indeed—not only had Achilles come, he had brought along Argives led by Diomedes, and Spartans, the ruthless warriors led by King Menelaus. Hector and Perseus had set off almost immediately, and since that time, two days had passed.

Now, they stood on a hill overlooking the city, and there was a ferocious and bloody battle going on below them. Hector could see Aeneas, twin swords flashing as he cut down men. He was making a path towards Achilles, and almost every enemy soldier who stood in his way was slaughtered.

"We can't let them have Dardania," Hector heard a whisper beside him. He turned to glance at his dark haired friend. His brow was furrowed, and worry was present in his eyes. "My nephew and your sister are in there. We have to push them back."

"Achilles won't take kindly to losing a second time. And there are thrice as much soldiers now," Hector told him.

Perseus snorted. "Who cares about Achilles? He can rot in Hades. And Aeneas can handle him. He might be invincible, but if he wanted my brother dead, he would have done it the last time they met. And we are as many as them. We can push them back."

"You're right," Hector admitted. There were whispers coming from behind them. The men were getting restless.

"Diomedes is getting closer to the gates," Perseus motioned towards the bloodied battlefield.

"I don't think talking with help matters," Hector snorted.

"Fine, then," Perseus rolled his eyes. "Deal with Menelaus. I'll handle Diomedes." Hector nodded, and unsheathed his sword.

"I'll lead half the army to their backs," He said. "You lead the other half to the city gates to help Aeneas' men."

"You know what to do when we get there," He turned to his soldiers. "Drive back the enemy! Defend each other's lives. Don't die if you can help it!" There was a laugh from Perseus, and then Hector turned back to the battle. He started running then, racing towards the battleground, his cry resounding across the battlefield. His soldiers took up the battle cry, and they followed him down the hill, and into the fray.

XMX

HECTOR dodged the strike from the burly man. The muscles Menelaus had gave him the advantage of having more power behind his swings, but he was still far larger than Hector, and Hector could avoid all his attacks easily. He ducked under another slash, and Menelaus growled in frustration.

"You're going to have to lose a bit of weight if you want to land a hit," Hector mocked.

The King snorted. "At least I am not on the losing side of this war." With that, he struck again, and this time, Hector raised his sword to block. He backtracked just as quickly, and spun, swinging his sword. Menelaus parried his strike, and attempted to slam his fist into Hector's face. Quickly, he leaned back, and the man's face contorted in anger. Hector ducked to the side as he thrust forward, and slashed at the King's side with his sword. And then he spun on his heel, sending dirt flying into the air. His foot connected with Menelaus' helmet, sending him tumbling onto the ground.

He grunted in pain, and Hector dove forward, driving his sword down. But Menelaus, large as he may have been, did not want to die. He rolled to the side and shot to his feet, slicing upwards. Hector felt the blade nick the side of his cheek as he backtracked. Pain flared in his face and he grimaced. Menelaus bellowed a battle cry and darted forward, and the battle continued.

-X-

AENEAS dodged under a slash from the double edged blade of the fair haired warrior. Achilles grunted in frustration, eyes flickering across the battlefield. Aeneas had sent for reinforcements from Troy, and his heart had leapt in joy when he had seen Hector and his brother charging into battle. But Achilles clearly wasn't liking that new development. He grinned, dodging another slash.

They had been fighting for minutes now, and even though he did not like it, he knew that Achilles was holding back, for some reason. If he had wanted Aeneas dead, the King of Dardania knew his fighting would be more aggressive and precise. But Achilles was fighting as though he was being restrained, and Aeneas did not understand.

He wouldn't ask for a reason though. He knew he wouldn't like it if his question made Achilles aware of his lackadaisical fighting. But he couldn't worry himself with the man. His sloppy fighting might just be the reason for him protecting his city for a second time, from the Achaeans.

-X-

PERSEUS sidestepped a thrust from a spear. Expertly, he slashed the weapon into two. Diomedes backtracked, shock evident on his face. Perseus grinned. He launched himself forward, and the King of Argos had just enough time to draw his sword and parry the strike. The son of Anchises didn't give him a second to find his footing.

He attacked him ferociously and in an animalistic manner, cutting, slashing and attempting to run him through. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he continued his onslaught. Ridding the Achaeans of one of their most influential leaders would go such a long way in winning the war. If only he could find an opening. But even though he was at a disadvantage, Diomedes' defence never broke. He blocked Perseus' surely fatal strikes, although he was still being pushed back. Finally, he saw an opening, and with a yell of triumph, drove his sword through Diomedes' shoulder.

The King cried out in pain and took several steps backwards. Perseus was about to continue pressing him when about ten Argive soldiers came at him, as though it had been rehearsed. He cut down the first quickly, blocked a strike from the second, and pushed him back. He sidestepped another strike from a third, and slashed upwards, only to have his attack blocked by another.

Perseus leaped back to avoid a strike, and suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his arm. There was a gash there, and golden blood was flowing. Pain spread down it. He gritted his teeth, and swung at the attacker, cutting his head clean off. He struck another in the head and sliced through his neck, dodging a second strike from another soldier. They continued like that, him cutting down any that came his way, dodging their strikes, and parrying their blows. There were too many, and Diomedes was nowhere to be found, now. Like the coward that all the Achaeans were, he had run. The soldiers all pressed him at the same time, forcing him onto the defensive. He snarled in annoyance. Expertly, he swung his sword, cutting off the weapon arm of one of the men. His attacker cried out in horror and collapsed. Perseus grinned, only to yell in raw pain when he felt a sword being driven into him from behind.

Agony flared up his back and he cried out again as the sword was dug in deeper. Suddenly the pain receded, and he heard a cry. His head swam, and black spots danced in front of his eyes. His body was wracking and spasming with discomfort and anguish, but he managed to turn to see what was happening. Soldiers around him were collapsing into heaps of bodies and blood, while a blur of silver and black raced around him, cutting them down. Finally, they were all dead, and Selene came to a stop in front of him. There was worry in her eyes, and her brow was furrowed as she reached out for him.

Perseus smiled, although it seemed more like a grimace, and he bared his teeth to keep from crying out. "I'm starting to think you enjoy saving my arse every time something like this happens."

She snorted. "Of course I do," She wrapped her arm around his shoulder. "Who else would have the time and energy to do so?" He grinned at her. Selene flashed them away from the battlefield, and they reappeared in a cave. The last thing he saw was the Titaness laying him down on a bed, and leaning over him worriedly. And then the darkness took over.

-X-

PERSEUS awoke to the sound of singing. He blinked in mild confusion and surprise, glancing around him. Where was he? And how had he gotten here? He frowned, and then suddenly the memories from the day before filled his mind. Aeneas, and Diomedes, and the soldiers. And…

"Selene." She was seated a few feet away from him, sharpening what looked like a silver sword on a whetstone.

"You're awake," She smiled, dropping the weapon and the singing.

"You saved me," He said, sitting up. "Thank you."

"It's no problem," She waved it aside. "You're the only mortal…friend I have had in millennia. Did you think I would allow you to die so easily?"

"I'm immortal," He pointed out.

"True," She shrugged. "But immortals can still be injured, and maimed, and sometimes," She paused. "Sometimes they don't heal. I couldn't allow that to happen to you."

He grinned, good-naturedly. Even though it had been seven good years, Selene still found the concept of having mortal friends a weird one. But he had no problem being friends with her. Ever since Apollo's…trick, she had been there. She was who he went to when he needed to vent. She was who he went to when he wanted advice, or when he felt like the pressures of the war were breaking him into two. She was always there for him, and someway, somehow, he found these little acts of kindness far more appreciable than anything Apollo had done for him or in his interest.

Selene didn't make his choices for him. Selene didn't take away things that made him happy. She didn't force him to do things he didn't want to.

She listened, and she had helped him so much over the past seven years; giving him information on the Greek plans, and sometimes sending a silver hawk to aid him in battle. This time…today had been the only time she had interfered herself. Yes, it was also the only time he had been stabbed through the back before, but no one cared about that.

"Thank you," He repeated, attempting to sit up. He winced when he felt a jab of pain in his back, and then turned to her questioningly.

"You'll heal," The dark haired woman reassured. "You'll just have to rest for a while."

He nodded, and then a sudden panic flared inside him. "The battle—"

"Diomedes is injured, as is Menelaus. But Hector got a nasty cut in his leg," She told him. "He's being treated by the Dardanian healers. Aeneas got out unscathed."

"So that means—"

"They pushed back the Achaeans," She nodded. "Chased them off Dardanian territory."

He grinned, thanking all the gods that they had succeeded. He turned back to the Titaness. "I'll have to get back, then," Perseus told her. "Or would you prefer I stay. I know you enjoy my company." His voice had turned teasing at the end and she scoffed at him.

"I was simply waiting for you to wake. Now, you can go."

He mock-frowned at her, allowing her to take hold of his arm. "You'll miss me."

"I doubt that," She snorted. With those words, they melted into silver ash, and reappeared inside a familiar room—an infirmary. Perseus glanced around, catching sight of the two people closest to him.

Aeneas shot up at his sudden appearance, eyes lighting up in relief. Hector shuffled in his cot, grinning. "You're okay," His brother sighed in relief. "A soldier told me you got stabbed."

"I'm immortal," He reminded them. "Relax."

His brother glared at him, although it didn't last long. He seemed too relieved to be angry. The Dardanian King turned to Selene, who was still holding on to his arm. "Thank you so much," He told her. "I am in your debt."

She nodded, then turned to face Perseus. "Heal, and rest. No fighting for at least a week."

He passed her an incredulous look, at which she smirked. "I'm serious. I'll tie you down to one of these beds if I have to."

Hector muttered something which sounded suspiciously like, "Kinky," And he heard Aeneas choke down laughter. He rolled his eyes at them, turning back to Selene. "Fine. I'll see you soon?"

"You will," She promised. Without another word, she melted into mist and vanished from view. Perseus turned back to the two other men, who were staring at him. "What?" The two exchanged a glance, and smirked.

-X- (Warning, slightly mature scene upcoming. Not a lemon, but not good if you're below 13. Skip if you want to, to the A/N).

PERSEUS ran a hand through his hair as he walked through the dark passages. It had been two years since Dardania, and since then, everything had been a flurry of battles and fighting. The Achaeans had been waging war against them for nine good years, now. Nine years of endless fighting, sieges, killing and manslaughter.

Nine years of getting used to being immortal.

Aeneas was still in his kingdom, but he had left after a week of healing, as had Hector. Them being injured hadn't put a stop to Achilles' rampage, and in that period, the son of Thetis had captured at least three more cities around Troy. It was disconcerting. In the two years that had passed, The Achaeans had taken control of many more cities, but Perseus and Hector had both prevented the capture of several more.

All the city-states that had been taken had been evacuated by the soldiers and the citizens who had survived. They had all fled to Troy.

He and Hector had separated a year after the events at Dardania, and although they had been communicating often and had met while defending several cities, they hadn't met up for nearly three months.

He was with half the Trojan army, at Lyrnessus, a city which Achilles had been laying siege to for nearly a month. He and Deiphobus had joined the fighting with half the Trojan forces two weeks before, and although they had all been trying, he knew that Achilles would succeed if he continued pressing them as hard as he was.

The son of Thetis had come, with Palamedes, and Greater Ajax, and almost every day, Perseus crossed blades with all three of them. He sighed, continuing his walk through the corridors.

There were about five hundred soldiers keeping watch at the gates of the city, and Perseus had been among them just a few minutes ago, before Prince Deiphobus had asked him to get some rest for the next day. He hadn't wanted to leave the soldiers, but he was tired, and although he did not need the sleep, it would be a welcome change from staying up on guard duty all night.

He turned a corner, and let out a light yelp when he bumped into someone. He heard a cry of surprise, and then he was backtracked, muttering, "I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

The voice which responded was a feminine one, and his eyes widened as she said, "No need to apologise, General. The fault is all mine."

He squinted to see in the darkness, trying to identify the girl who stood next to the doorway in the dark. He could make out the clearly feminine jawline, the dark curly hair, and her pale skin, visible in the darkness. And then it hit him.

"Princess Briseis," He bowed. "I did not know it was you."

"Oh, get up, Perseus," She rolled her eyes at him.

He stood straighter, and asked, "What are you doing out of bed this late, if I may ask?"

She let out a small sigh, and said, "I could not sleep."

"Night terrors?" He cocked his head to the side. He couldn't see her very well but he could imagine her nodding. They were silent for a few seconds, and then she spoke up. "I'd like to thank you." Her voice was a whisper in the darkness.

"For?" He arched an eyebrow.

He felt her draw closer to him, and he turned stiff. The Princess of Lyrnessus leaned forward, and whispered slowly into his ear, "You are the bravest, and most handsome man I have ever seen. You and your soldiers have defended my uncle's Kingdom. Everyday I watch the battle from the balcony, trying to get a glimpse of you fighting."

He felt a shiver climb down his spine and he whispered back, "I hope my skills are not a disappointment."

"Oh, far from." And then her finger was underneath his chin, tilting his head so he was facing her. And she smashed her lips onto his.

He didn't know what came over him then. Perhaps it was some sort of Aphrodite magic, or perhaps he was the one who wanted to do it, because in the next second, he was kissing her back, just as passionately. He shifted slightly and pressed her against the door. He could feel her body, flush against his, as her hands went straight to his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist, their lips moving in sync.

He licked her bottom lip, asking for permission and she allowed him to slip his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues played a battle of tonsil tennis, fighting for dominance as they continued kissing, pressed up against the door of her chambers.

He could feel desire lighting up inside him, and she let out a soft moan as he bit her lip. Her hands roamed his hair, making him feel like he was melting. Briseis' hands moved to his shoulders and he felt her undo the clasps that held his armour together. His breastplate fell around him, and he groaned out loud, breaking the kiss for a few seconds.

"What are we doing, Princess?" He asked.

"What does it look like?" Her voice was hoarse from the kissing, and he managed to ask, "Are you sure?"

She was panting, gasping for air as she whispered, "I am."

He needed no other confirmation. His hands roamed her bare back as he undid the strings that held her nightgown together. He felt her, every inch of her, pressed up against his now bare chest. His fingers left her body, fumbling for the doorknob to her chambers. He pushed it open with a grunt, and then their lips met once more.

He kissed her ferociously as they stumbled into the chambers, kicking their clothes inside with him. Without turning, he slammed the door shut, using his foot. Briseis continued undoing his armour as they went, pushing off his gauntlets, removing his grieves, ripping his cloak off his shoulder and tossing his helmet aside.

He tore off her undergarments as they neared the bed, and with another long kiss, they fell, in a flurry of cushions and limbs.

A/N: Well. That's the closest you'll get to a lemon from me. I shall never write one of those. For those who skipped to the A/N, all you need to know is that Briseis and Perseus have a (quite-sudden) one-night stand before she is captured by Achilles. The story is still going to be Selene/Perseus, although as you can see, it's going to be a bit slow, and he shall have some flings before they get together (eventually). But for now, they're just friends, although one of them might want something more. I think we can all guess who lol.

I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the next. Thanks for reading.