Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Fifteen

A/N: Hello. Wow, this feels weird. It's been so long since I sat down to type something. How're you all? I know, it's been a while, and most of you probably thought I was dead. But I'm here now, for I don't know how long. But it'll really be a while before you hear from me again after New Years. But I think by August I should be available, and chapters will be more constant. I haven't abandoned any of my stories, currently published or in the safety of my Google docs. So, don't lose hope, and thanks for sticking beside me for this long.

Anyway, to continue this story you've all been waiting for, I had to reread the previous chapters (I forgot everything about everything, lol). And, I'm going to admit, I was a bit disappointed in myself. Flat characterisation, weird and subpar dialogue, and not a lot of flow. The story felt a bit rushed and I want to rewrite it, badly. But I don't have time for that now, so maybe August? I'm going to try hard to make this story much more readable and worth your attention. I really do hope my writing has improved, but be warned, it may also have declined due to my lack of practice, idk. But anywhere, here's the next arc of this story, and I hope you enjoy.

P.S — I've been working on several one-shots while I've been away, and once I'm done typing them all, I'll be pumping out at least once a week, hopefully. We'll see.

ACHILLES, the fair haired warrior prince, pursed his lips thoughtfully as the soldiers led an old man into Agamemnon's command tent. They sat at a round table in the middle of the structure, all the Kings and commanders of the Achaeans, debating and discussing their next course of action. Truth be told, the son of Thetis was bored. He didn't know how long they'd been in the meeting for, but he was hungry, and tired, and he was sick of all these men and fighters and he wanted to go to bed.

But he sighed to himself, glancing upwards as the guards retreated and the old man bowed. The talk of war ceased, slowly dimming around the table as one by one, the leaders of Greece realised the other presence in the room, and turned in their seats to face him. Achilles had been dimly aware of the guard who had arrived a few minutes prior and whispered into Agamemnon's ear. He hadn't been close enough to hear the exchange, but the High King had nodded curtly—well, as much as one could do without a neck—and the guard had bustled out again. Achilles guessed, correctly, that they had come to inform the King of the arrival of the man.

"Speak, then," Agamemnon flicked his wrist at the old man. "Tell us why you sought to interrupt our meeting, Herald of Apollo."

Achilles couldn't stop his mind, as he remembered a fierce battle, and a green eyed man who had gone by that same alias before trying to kill him, a long time ago. Unwillingly, the corners of his lips pulled up and he shook his head, grimacing. For a decade, he had clashed constantly, again and again, with this man, this son of Poseidon. Two men, perhaps not so different from each other. God-born, hailing from the raging sea itself. Immortal, invincible, one more so than the other. Both forces to be reckoned with. Both, without whom this war would have ended a decade ago.

Perhaps in another life, they would have been good friends. Maybe even best friends.

The Prince grimaced again, stilling his wandering thoughts and focusing on the task at hand. Palamedes' replacement met his eyes from the other side of the table, and nodded. Achilles nodded back, then glanced away. He hadn't bothered to learn the other man's name, just glad that he was less of a bastard than his former King. It had been a while since their last battle. The Trojans, after continuously battering them had decided to pull back, for reasons of their own. They had come close, again and again, to breaching the walls a second time. But every time, again and again, Achilles and his comrades had beat them back, but with considerable effort. The fair haired man was drawn out of his personal musings as the priest bowed low. Agamemnon motioned for him to rise.