Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Nineteen

A/N— Here it comes, the chapter I know everyone has been waiting for...Patroclus' deception. Even I am waiting to see how I'll spin this lol. Just writing as I go, and praying it turns out good. Penny for your thoughts?

Also, quite surprisingly, a lot of you responded to my previous A/N and offered suggestions. After thoroughly reading through each one, I came to find that the majority of you wonderful readers proposed that Troy must fall, and personally, I agree, because it opens up more possibilities for the story to continue, either following the Odyssey or Aeneid or making Perseus a wanderer with Selene. And for those who asked, no I don't know if I'll be continuing this up to Uncle Rick's storyline in the modern world, but I'll give it a thought. I wish I could reply to every single one of your comments but time is a luxury I can't afford right now. The reviews were much appreciated, though.

Anyways, Enjoy! <3

ACHILLES watched from the prow of his ship at the far edge of the camp as the Trojans stormed through the hastily repaired gates once more. They were thundering across the beach, gutting Greeks, killing soldiers, and destroying tents, like they had done they day before. This time the fight had reached the ships, and Achilles watched unmoved as his allies' vessels were put to the torch. Served them right.

Beside him, Patroclus stood, watching uneasily, and shifting on his feet. Achilles could tell his friend was against his decision not to fight. Patroclus couldn't bear the thought of watching their friends get slaughtered from the safety of their ships, and he had told Achilles as much. But the Prince had reminded the other man of the slight to their Kingdom. It was about Briseis, yes, but it was also about respect. Or the lack of it. Agamemnon was a brute, and until he learnt how important the Prince of Phthia was to his war, Achilles wouldn't lift a finger to help him.

Patroclus wasn't content with his answer, and Achilles could still feel his awry emotions flying everywhere. A look of grim horror was plastered on his closest companion's face as they watched the god Apollo fire craters into the Greek forces from his chariot, where no doubt Zeus had sent him to aid their enemies in response to Poseidon's interference the day before. The only way to stop Patroclus from joining the fray, short of ordering him to stand down, was promising him that if the fight reached their own ships, they would defend themselves. And that was only if Hector and his companions refused to accept his withdrawal—which he would inform them of should they appear—and attacked anyway.

Achilles could see them; the Prince of the great city, in his bronze chariot, hurling spears into men as he hurtled through the Greek lines. Aeneas, Aphrodite's son, swords whipping around him and slicing through men and commanders and kings in a whirlwind of anger and power. Achilles vaguely recalled that Aeneas was a demigod...he had to have some degree of power. Every god-born did. Achilles' own powers were dormant and diluted, given that his mother was a nereid and he had never bothered to train himself. He probably couldn't even do as much as a son of Poseidon could...

His hooded eyes shifted to the surge of power he felt from the centre of the battlefield, and there he found him—his greatest enemy, Perseus. The dark haired immortal man sat atop a black horse, one hand on a sword that was cutting through the Achaean soldiers. He rode without reins or a saddle, and Achilles frowned. But surprisingly, Perseus was stable, barely even wobbling on the steed. His other arm was in the sky and Achilles' eyes narrowed as the green eyed warrior flicked his wrist.

Around him, the air seemed to condense, folding in on itself until about twelve spears of ice formed from nowhere. Patroclus swore, and with another flick of his wrists, Perseus sent the ice spears sailing through the sky and tearing through throats and breastplates. Achilles whistled in appreciation. He had only seen such a display of power once, about ten years back when they had first attacked Ilios. Another son of Poseidon, his face nothing worth remembering, his name a distant memory. But Achilles had cut him down easily, even then. Perseus was another problem.