Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Eleven

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.