Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Twenty-Two

I APPRECIATE THE WARM WELCOME, GUYS. ENJOY!

PERSEUS felt himself reforming and solidifying beneath the fig tree near the forest's edge, the exact location he had in mind. This mist travel thing really came in handy. There was a permanent frown etched on his face as he began to march down the hill and towards the seashore. The battle had ended about an hour before, but as he approached the sea, the salty tang in the air refreshed him and chased away his weariness.

His ploy with the horses had been a success; an even greater one than he'd imagined. Now, the Greeks had next to no steeds left, and the Trojans had bolstered the number of equestrians in their possession. Xanthos and Bailos—who, unfortunately, remained with Achilles—had come through. They'd thundered down the battlefield towards Perseus and Penthesileia, oblivious to the panic and screaming from Achilles' charioteer. Just as they'd come—just as the golden hair had come into view—Achilles had launched himself out of the chariot and into the fray, making Perseus' efforts and that of Achilles' own horses useless.

With the daughter of Otrera beside him, they'd begun cutting a path towards where they had seen him land, but then nightfall had hit just as suddenly, forcing both sides to draw back. The Trojans had then camped where they'd drawn a line during the battle, taking back most of their own land.

Perseus silently cursed his luck. Achilles knew they had Briseis. Achilles also knew Briseis knew his weakness. He wouldn't be rushing into any battle with Perseus or Aeneas anytime soon. Not if he valued his life. Silently, the green-eyed man made a vow to himself. His next fight with Achilles would be the bastard's last.

He owed it to Hector, and to every Trojan behind the walls whom the son of Thetis had brought sorrow to.

As he neared the water's edge, he spotted the other man materialising from thin air. With him came another wave of salty air, and Perseus felt his shoulders dropping and his hackles falling. Poseidon turned to face him, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes crinkled, smile lines appearing around them. Perseus gave him a nod of acknowledgement.

They still walked on eggshells around each other, even though they were now on good terms. Forgiving his father didn't mean it was easy to be chummy with him. But, they had an eternity to sort that out. An eternity to get their relationship on its feet, and frankly, Perseus wasn't in any hurry. Poseidon cared for him, that much was clear. At least now, they were both putting in some effort.

"You fought well today," His father greeted.

"Thanks," He shrugged. "But it was nothing. Your gifts aided me for most of it."

"Yes, yes, I saw how you got the horses to cause mayhem during the battle. Quite a nice trick, if I do say so myself." Perseus turned away to hide his flushing skin and exhaled. But it felt nice, to hear compliments from Poseidon's lips; a fact he could no longer deny. He turned back to the sea god.

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"What?" The deity looked confused.

"You wish to see Troy destroyed. You side with the Greeks. Yet you train me and equip me with powers so I can wipe them out. That, if I've ever seen one, is a major conflict of interest."

His older double laughed, then gave him a wry smile. "I do hate Troy, I won't deny that. It hurts an immortal's pride, to be turned human and forced to labour under one for ten years. Add getting swindled out of payment by said human and being forced to watch his kingdom flourish thanks to your free labour, and you tend to get a bit grumpy."

Perseus snorted. "That was Zeus' fault. And Hector's great, great, great grandfather or something."

"Exactly," Poseidon inched closer. "And you are my son. We've had this conversation a few times already, have we not? No matter how much I want to see those walls destroyed, I won't fight for Greece anymore. Not if it means having to fight you. I won't stand in the way of your happiness. Not after everything that happened with your mother."