A/N: Well, here is chapter twelve of Excidium Troiae. I hope you enjoy it. It will be short. And now, we are nearing the end of the events of the Cypria.

HE SAT UP with a small start of surprise at the large explosion which rocked the walls of the palace. Beside him, Briseis stirred, and then sat up when another blast resounded across the city. Perseus swore, pulling himself out of bed. Panic filled him as screams tore through the air. There was smoke filling the atmosphere, and he could see several fires starting. Muttering to himself, he raced to the balcony of the Princess' window, and then let out a cry of surprise.

It was dawn, and there were several screaming people below them, in the streets. But what was horrifying was the number of soldiers swarming into the city, through a break in the city walls—the Achaeans had blasted it to bits, and their soldiers were coming in droves. He swore once again, eyes widening. How had he slept through all this? He cursed, then said to the princess, "Get to your family! The walls have been breached." There was worry on her face, but she nodded and hurriedly threw some clothes on, before dashing out of her chambers.

Perseus could hear the screams getting louder, and the cries of pain and fear coming from below him. Another blast sounded throughout the city, and he cursed, hurriedly placing on his breastplate. His hands were fumbling, and after several failed attempts, he gave up and threw ona simple tunic instead. How had he gotten so distracted? Why hadn't he expected this? He quickly placed on his vambraces, and grabbed his sword from the ground. He raced back to the window, and glanced downwards.

He could see Achilles, making his way towards the palace, a grin on his face. He was flanked by Ajax and Palamedes, and they slaughtered anyone and anything that came in their way. He spotted several Trojans and people of Lyrnessus, trying to put up a resistance, but the Greek soldiers were quick, precise and ruthless, cutting down anyone they saw—women, children, and soldiers alike.

"Someone find General Perseus!" He heard a loud voice ring out and he cursed once more, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The son of Anchises spun on his heel, and raced out through the open doors. His heart pounded and anxiety flooded him as he raced through corridors and passages. The palace hadn't been breached yet, but it was only a matter of time. As he ran, he saw several people—servants, soldiers, even a few slaves, bustling around, screaming in panic, or generally running. The chaos was intimidating, and he forced his feet to move faster.

After what seemed like hours but was only minutes, he finally burst through the main gates, and took in the disaster that had struck the city.

There was rubble and debris spread out all around him. Broken and bloodied bodies were strewn on the ground, and blood was flowing on the ground, interlocking and snaking towards the city gates. Soldiers fought soldiers, Achaeans against Trojans and Lyrnessians. There were several large holes in the city wall, and the gates had been ripped open. It looked as though a giant had stepped on the walls and taken out a chunk of the city, although he knew it was just the work of an onager or catapult. He snarled, fury filling him. The Greeks hadn't waited for the sun to even come up. The sky was still orange, and just half of Apollo's chariot was visible. He swung his sword, and leaped into action.

Perseus slashed his sword at the nearest enemy soldier, lopping his head clean off. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and with a roar he charged, slamming into another man. The man went stumbling, and with a growl he spun, slicing through his breastplate. Another man charged at him, and he ducked under his swing, slamming his elbow into his opponent's face. Perseus rose quickly, and ran him through.

He glanced around him. At his appearance, the fight was continuing in earnest—although many of the soldiers on their side had fallen, several more Achaeans were being killed, and he grinned at that. There was still hope. He dashed forward, cutting through the chest of a man. He sidestepped a thrust from another and slashed at him, cutting off his shoulder. Without hesitation, he drove his weapon through him. Perseus parried a block from a sword and pushed the attacker back, spinning on his heel to avoid a spear. He grabbed it out of the ground, and hurled it back where it came from.

Without waiting to see if it had hit the target, he continued fighting. The battle was the bloodiest one yet. Civilians were being killed left and right, and there was no order in the fighting. The city was being torn down. Women were being raped, and his blood boiled every time he came across such a thing. He cut off the heads of all soldiers he found involved, and cut down several more who came in his way. Children were running, but the Achaeans didn't care. They killed everyone who ran towards them, or away from them, regardless of their age. Perseus clashed with a burly man and gritted his teeth as he tried to push him back. He backtracked as the man sliced at his head, and then darted forward, slamming his fist into the enemy's face. Using the first few seconds of surprise, he drove his blade through the heart of the man.

He continued on his rampage, tearing through armour and skin, sloshing through blood and jumping over bodies. He parried a strike meant for his head, and pivoted on his heel, before turning again and driving his sword through the man.

The son of Anchises turned towards the nearest fighting men and darted forward. His sword arm whipped out and he slashed off the head of the enemy. Perseus exhaled loudly, turning to the man decked in Trojan garbs. He could see the gratitude shining in his eyes. "Where is Deiphobus?" He inquired.

"There," The man pointed to the left with his sword. Perseus' eyes followed and he growled out when he spotted the Prince of Troy. He was going head to head with a familiar fair haired man—Achilles. But that wasn't the outrageous thing. Palamedes and Ajax were both helping Achilles, the three of them pushing back Hector's brother.

Without waiting he shot towards them. His sword whipped through the air as if on instinct as he ran, slicing through men, cutting off limbs, tearing through armour. He finally skidded to stop in front of Palamedes, raising his sword just in time to block a surely fatal strike from the Greek. Deiphobus sighed in relief, and Perseus pulled back, with lightning speed, before driving his sword through the shoulder of the man. Palamedes choked out a cry, pulling back hurriedly, clutching his shoulder.

"Where the Hades were you?" Deiphobus panted out.

"Asleep," He replied simply.

"Deal with them," Achilles swung his sword, speaking to Ajax without turning to him. "Use all your soldiers even if you must. Kill the mortal. Perseus can still be tired out even if he still cannot be killed." He snorted at that.

"What, you're too weak to handle us yourselves?"

Achilles smirked. "I would, but I'll be too busy taking control of Lyrnessus. And I can't be in two places at once."

Perseus scowled, and Achilles dashed away. He made to follow, but out of nowhere, three soldiers blocked his path. Perseus clenched his jaw, watching as the son of Thetis killed his way to the city gates.

He was back to back with Deiphobus and the Prince's grip on his sword was tight as several more soldiers surrounded them. Ajax was the closest, and the King was smirking boldly, at the fact that they had been surrounded. He swung his mace and slipped into a stance. Perseus tightened his hold on his own weapon. Things were about to get even more bloody.

-X-

ACHILLES exhaled, wiping the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. He glanced around. He was the first to have reached the Palace gates, and with his entry, several other Achaean soldiers followed. They were storming the palace now, but he had only one destination—The Throne Room. With a blank expression, he continued moving. He had already sent out instructions for when the Palace was taken. The royal family was his, and all soldiers and men were to be killed. Anyone else who put up a resistance was to die. The women and children could be taken as spoils of war—slaves—to be exact.

He stormed through the corridors. He didn't know exactly where the Throne room was, but he would find it. His men, along with Palamedes' and Ajax's were scattered throughout the palace and he passed by several of them as he went. He made a turn, and spotted a flash of white as a servant darted into an alcove. He strode there purposefully, reaching out and grabbing the person. It was a brown haired child, with wide eyes full of fear.

"Show me the Throne room," He barked.

The boy's eyes turned wide and brimmed with tears. "P-please don't kill me."

Achilles felt a pang in his chest, and he pushed it down just as quickly. He hated doing all these things. But this was war, and it was necessary. "Lead me to the Throne Room and I shall make sure your life is spared." The boy nodded eagerly, and said, "O-okay. F-follow me."

He kept his sword in sight as he followed the child. The boy led him through passageways, and corridors. Outside and around him, the screams and yells and cries of pain were just getting louder. He hoped that Ajax and his men would be able to deal with Perseus and Hector's brother. It would be unfortunate if the Telamonian were to fall. The boy finally came to a stop, and stuttered out, "H-here." Achilles glanced around. "Just around the bend." He peered out and spotted the four soldiers standing in front of giant golden doors. He glanced back at the child and muttered, "Go on, then."

The boy shot him a grateful look, and darted away. Achilles exhaled. Including the four guards, there were probably about four princes behind those doors. Princes who knew how to fight. They would all die.

He stepped out of hiding then, swinging his sword, and charged at the four guards.

They sprung into action almost immediately. Achilles dodged under the first strike of a sword, running the man through. He ripped out his sword, parrying a slash, and twisted his arm, disarming the guard. With a laugh, he spun, slashing through his neck. He felt a dull pain in his arm, and glanced to the side. One of them had struck at it, and Achilles frowned, turning to the guard. How stupid could these men get? It had been nine years. Surely, they would know that he was basically indestructible now. He flicked his wrist, cutting through the armour of the man and piercing his heart. Achilles turned back to face the last guard.

There was fear in his eyes—fear he could see through the helmet. He grinned and shot forward. The man didn't even put up a fight. He was dead in three seconds.

Achilles panted, and turned back to the doors. He could hear the faintest movement behind it, and he moved forward without hesitating. The Prince pushed open the golden doors. He didn't have time to look around before three men leaped at him.

He leaned back, avoiding the first strike, and then darted forward, slicing the Prince's head clean off. He heard a cry come from one side of the room, but he couldn't stop. Achilles raised his sword just in time to block a strike. He suddenly ducked, avoiding the strike of a sword from behind. He rolled aside, and leaped up, watching as a horrified second Prince pulled out his sword from the gut of his brother. Achilles grimaced, and shot forward, running the last of them through.

"No!" The shriek came from the same place the cry had come from, and he finally turned. His breath hitched. There were three figures cowering in the corner of the throne room. The first was an older looking woman. The second was the King, Euenus. But the third…it was a girl. A beautiful, dark haired girl. She had pale skin, pink lips and her brown eyes were filled with fear and agony. She was wearing nothing but a flimsy nightdress, through which he could see… things you usually would not see from a lady. She was obviously a princess.

"Surrender now, and your lives will be spared," He managed, tearing his eyes away from the girl to the King.

Fury passed through the man's eyes, and he shot forward. "You killed my son, and my nephews. You have slaughtered my people and my soldiers! And you think I shall go peacefully?!" His last words were a bellow, and Achilles grimaced at the loud noise. And then he sighed, shrugging, "Have it your way, then."

The man shot forward with a roar, and the son of Thetis sidestepped the first thrust from a spear. He allowed the King to barrel past, flicking his wrist just in time to drive his sword through the side of King Euenus.

He heard another loud shriek, and then footsteps, louder ones, as several men streamed into the Throne Room. Achilles moved forward, listlessly, towards the two women. He came to a stop in front of them. They were both shivering, probably out of fear. He reached out, and saw the girl wince, eyes widening. He slid his finger under her chin, and tilted her head upwards. She had stopped shaking, and was looking him in the eyes.

"What is your name, beautiful one?" He asked in a low voice. Her beauty was enrapturing.

She bit her lip. "B-Briseis," She stuttered out.

He smiled at her, stepping back. "Beautiful name. I like it."

-X-

PERSEUS clutched his side, gritting his teeth. The ichor gushed out, and he snarled in pain. There were bodies strewn around, including Deiphobus' unconscious form, but thankfully, the Prince was not dead. Ajax had injured him after he and the Trojan Prince had killed all the man's soldiers, and then proceeded to run towards the palace. Night was falling, and the Greeks had captured the city.

"Retreat!" Perseus yelled out. They had lost the battle. They had lost the city, and the only thing left to do was leave. He tightened his hold on his side, glancing towards the Palace gates. The place was swarming with Greeks, and he knew if they did not leave, they would be killed, or taken as slaves. He couldn't let that happen. He reached down with one hand, smacking Deiphobus on the head. The prince stirred, but did not wake. Perseus growled in frustration, slapping him harder.

Hector's brother sat up quickly, eyes flickering around. "We lost," He said.

"I know," Perseus replied. "We must leave."

Already, the survivors on their side were streaming out of the gates. Soldiers were supporting each other, escorting civilians out, and hurriedly carrying away the injured. For now, most of the Greek soldiers were storming the palace. It would be better to get away from the city when they were distracted.

"That is another of our allies down," Deiphobus groaned out, standing. "We shall lose at this rate! We can't allow them to take over the city!"

"We have lost," Perseus bit out, harshly. "Lyrnessus has been taken. If we stay, you shall die. You must learn to pick your battles, and for now, a tactical retreat is the best option for us, and our troops."

Deiphobus looked like he wanted to argue, but after a while he sighed and said, "Come then." Hurriedly, they made their way to the city gates. Perseus allowed the Prince to lean on his shoulder as they walked hurriedly from Lyrnessus. He couldn't help the despair and sorrow which suddenly filled him. He was immortal now, gods. He should be able to do something to stop Achilles. He sighed to himself as they climbed up a hill, after the several men, women and children. They had discussed this beforehand. In case the city was overrun, they would run, to the forests, and to Troy.

He had thought they wouldn't need to put that plan into action.

Him and the Prince covered their retreat, cutting down any who tried to stop them from escaping.

And then suddenly, heard a shrill cry come up from the city and spun, letting go of Deiphobus, who swore at him. His eyes widened as he stared at the city gates they had just passed through. Achilles stood there, with a smile on his face. Next to him were Ajax, Palamedes, and…Briseis. Horror filled him. He had forgotten about her, and her family.

The girl was being held by three soldiers, struggling and weeping. And then her eyes met his.

"Perseus!" She cried. "Save me!"

He took a step forward, and then cried out when he felt a hand clamp around his wrist. He turned to glare at the Prince of Troy. Deiphobus glared right back. "Let me go," Perseus snarled. "I have to help her."

"Lyrnessus has been taken. If you go back down there, you die. You told me to learn to pick my battles, and now I am telling you the same. You suggested a tactical retreat. Now follow your own orders, Stratigos." His eyes burned. It stung, having his own words thrown at him like that. But Deiphobus was right. He could do nothing now.

He could hear Briseis shrieking. He knew what would happen to her. She would be given to the bravest of the soldiers—Achilles, no doubt—as a spoil of war. Sorrow and loss filled him. What they had done the previous night had just been surprising although a welcomed occurrence. And although they were nothing to each other—there had been no strings attached—he still felt bad that he hadn't even thought of her in their retreat. As he turned away from the city and hurried into the forests with the Trojan Prince, he swore an oath to himself. He would make sure he saved Briseis—no matter what it took.

-X-

HECTOR crossed swords with King Agamemnon once again. Hypoplacian Thebes (sometimes Cicilian Thebes) was being defended by the Thebans, the Trojans, and the soldiers from Pedasus who had escaped the siege of their city. The High King had not come alone. Somewhere in the city, Hector's brother Helenus, and Andromache's father King Eetion was battling Idomeneus, and leading the soldiers to push back the Achaeans. Hector had no doubt that they would succeed. In battles like these, during the absence of the Greeks' best fighter, Achilles, the Achaean forces were almost always defeated.

When Achilles was there, however, it was Perseus who dealt with him. Hector pushed the large king back, spinning to slash at him. Agamemnon blocked his strike, hefting his shield forward, but Hector was fast. He dodged under it, and then shot up, flipping through the air. As he did so, he slammed his foot into the High King's shield, sending him stumbling.

"Kill them all!" His voice rang out through the battlefield, and several other soldiers took up the cry. They fought with more vigour, cutting down swathes of men, decimating the Greek forces, and pushing their lines away from the city gates, and towards their ships in the distance. Hector was already bloodied, bruised and cut in several places, but they were not serious injuries, and he would heal. But for now, the Theban land had to be protected. He darted forward to Agamemnon, but the King had recovered, and blocked his blow with his shield. Hector snarled at this, and quickly went on the offensive.

He littered the King with cuts as he slashed, hacked, and stabbed, forcing the man to backtrack quickly, and attempt to block his attacks with his shield. Agamemnon was sweating, and whenever he tried to raise his shield or sword, Hector batted it down, fighting ferociously.

"Retreat!" The voice belonged to one of the Achaeans, and he could already see some stumbling to get away from the battleground.

Hector spun his blade and attacked, knocking Agamemnon's sword out of his hand.

"I shall have your head, son of Priam," The King snarled.

"I look forward to that day," Hector grinned savagely. "We shall see whose head is mounted on a spike." The King let out another snarl, spun on his heel, and raced into the throngs of soldiers. Just like the coward he was. Hector let him go. He stood, still as several men, soldiers, from his own side, charged after the fleeing Greeks. They ran, cutting down anyone who was too slow, chasing them to their vessels.

After what seemed like hours, he returned to the palace. The Greeks were gone, but he would still be waiting. They might return.

Hector bumped into Helenus a few minutes later, on his way to the throne room. His brother's face looked grave, and he seemed to be worried about something. "Brother," Helenus said, coming to a stop before him.

Hector frowned. "What's wrong?"

Cassandra's twin looked conflicted, but then, he said, "Your father-in-law was killed in battle. Along with all of his sons." His voice was quiet, and low. Hector felt ice fill his veins as shock engulfed him. Andromache…

"Where is his body?" He whispered softly. He had to return to Troy now, if only to be with his wife.

"The Throne room," Helenus said. "Come."

He followed his brother solemnly, hands feeling heavy. This war…it was taking everything away from them. He hated it.

"Help!" A voice startled him out of his thoughts. He turned to see an old man, racing through a corridor to him. The man held a staff, and had white hair. He was dressed in the golden and white garbs of a priest of Apollo. "Help me!" His voice was bordering on desperation.

"What's wrong?" Hector asked worriedly, grabbing the man before he could fall. "What's happened?"

"My daughter," The man gasped out. "They took Chryseis! THEY TOOK MY DAUGHTER!" Hector exchanged a confused but anxious glance with Helenus. Things were getting bad.

-X-

ACHILLES stood next to Patroclus on the now burnt orchard. His mind was whirring with thoughts, but mainly about the girl, Briseis, who had been given to him as a war prize. He was to return to Troy in a few days, and she would be going with him. He didn't know why, but she just wouldn't leave his head. Even when he had fought and taken control of Priam's orchard a few hours ago, he hadn't really been focused on the battle. The year was drawing to a close, and he remembered Calchas' prophecy, that Troy would fall in the tenth year.

It was almost time. It was happening.

"Are you alright?" Patroclus asked tentatively.

Achilles turned to him, and forced a smile on his face. "Of course I am. Why?"

"I asked you a question a few minutes ago," His best friend noted. "And you still haven't given me an answer."

Achilles cursed himself for being so absent minded. Around him, the soldiers were packing up for the night. They would leave the orchard in the morning. "What was it?"

Patroclus sighed. "We have three prisoners from this recent battle," He told him. "I asked what must be done with them."

Achilles thought for a few seconds, before saying, "Sell them, on Lemnos. We need money for grain, and to pay the blacksmith for the armour repairs he does for the army."

His friend looked doubtful. "Are you sure? One of them is a son of Priam. Lycaon."

"It doesn't matter," He folded his arms. "He shall bring in more money."

"Okay, then," Patroclus nodded. "It shall be done."

They stood in silence for a few seconds, Achilles drifting back into deep thought once more. They had secured enough of the cities around Troy to shorten their food, soldiers and water supply. Agamemnon would no doubt call all the leaders and their men back to the Trojan beach soon. His mother's words floated into his thoughts, then. Her warning, all those years ago, that he would die if he went to war resurfaced. As he stood, surrounded by dying trees and ashes, he couldn't help but think that something bad was coming…and not for him alone.

-X-

SELENE shimmered into existence next to him. He stood underneath a large oak tree, hands behind his back, staring into the distance. Below them, the survivors of the battle of Lyrnessus were preparing to rest for the night. It would still be a few days before they reached Troy. The Titaness' eyes found his, and he turned to pass her a small smile, although it looked more like a grimace. Sometimes it was like this, and other times, he was smiling. No matter what he was feeling, she met up with him every night, after a battle.

"We lost," His voice was soft. "Achilles and the Greeks succeeded." At that, something flickered in his eyes, and what she saw…He was broken, inside.

"I know," She murmured back. "But you cannot give up hope, Perseus."

"I know," He repeated her words and turned to her, voice turning bitter. "I know. But it's—it's hard. I could have saved her."

"Saved who?" Confusion filled her.

"Briseis," The dark haired man sighed. "She was a niece of the King. And now, she's been taken as a slave by Achilles and his men."

"Did you know her well, then?" Selene tilted her head to the side.

At that, he flushed, and realisation dawned on her. Selene didn't know where the sharp jab of pain came from, or why a sudden bitterness filled her mouth. She tried to keep from scowling. "Oh."

"Yes," He looked at her. "I'm immortal, Selene. You say it's a gift. But what's the point of it, if I can't use this gift to help those who need it? What's the point if I can't save those who call for aid? What's the point of being immortal if everyone around me keeps dying to stupid iron-skin Achilles and his men?!" Unfiltered rage was in his eyes, and Selene pushed all erratic thoughts out of her head. The war was taking a toll on everyone…Perseus more than most. She didn't have the time to be jealous about whatever he got up to with mortal women.

"You don't always have to be the hero, Perseus," She said. "Sometimes, you can't save everyone. Such is life. Such is war. People die everyday, and no matter what happens, you have to keep trying. You can't forget everything that's going on around you, no. But you just have to keep hitting at them. You have to keep fighting. Find a weak spot, and hit them there. Dismantle their forces. Take down their commanders. And don't give up." She paused, reaching out, and grabbing his shoulders. "That is what a leader would do, and a leader is what you are."

His eyes were blazing now, and she forged on. "You just have to remember. Being immortal doesn't mean you have to be the one to win this war for Troy. It doesn't mean you have to be the one to carry all the burden. It means, you have to learn to let go. You have to learn to share with others when it becomes too much. Such is the burden of immortality. Letting go is the hardest part, but you have to learn to keep going, even if everything seems dark." Her voice reduced into a whisper. "Heroes are made by the paths they choose. Not the power they have."

They stood in silence, and then he nodded, slowly. A sad smile spread on his lips as he regarded her. "I think I'm going to have to pay you for the therapy sessions. They're certainly increasing in number." She laughed, and suddenly, he was leaning forward. His lips brushed against her cheeks, and her eyes widened in shock. The peck was a short one, sweet and chaste, and then just as quickly as it had started, he pulled away.

Selene blinked rapidly. Without thinking, she flashed away, and reappeared in her chariot overhead.

What had just happened? She glanced down, where Perseus was still standing, underneath the tree, holding his head in his hands. She could hear his groan, even from above, and she smiled. And then horror filled her. Why was she smiling? Had she liked it? Why had he done that?

As she sat in her chariot, her mind filled with several thoughts, but she couldn't stop herself from smiling, no matter how hard she tried to keep the corners of her lips from pulling up. What was wrong with her? They were just friends. He had literally slept with another woman, for Kronos' sake. But what was wrong with him, bashing another person, and then coming to kiss her?

Did she like him? Was she developing feelings for the son of Anchises? Was she overthinking things?

Conflicted, she grabbed the reins of her chariot, and rode into the night, thoughts of what had just happened filling her mind.

A/N: Well, that was sudden. Head over to The Guardians of Greece, formerly known as the Guardians. There's an update waiting.