Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Thirty

A/N: So, here we have arrived at the final chapter. This story was very, very hard to write, and I almost dropped it more than a few times. There were a lot of positive reviews and a few admittedly valid concerns and disagreements. First, with the way Perseus forgave Apollo so quickly in the first few chapters, which I hope to be able to rectify someday, and second, in my attempts at trying not to make the Trojans seem so dumb as the story progressed. Personally, I always thought the Trojans were stupid for bringing that horse in, and writing that bit of the story in a way which doesn't make the characters seem just as stupid as the stories say was hard, and I'm not entirely sure I was successful in that. However, the 'bad plot' some of you are moaning about is literally beating off the original myths so go complain to Homer and Virgil if you can't take it.

Again, I really don't like saying this and sounding rude, but if you have a problem with the story, why bother yourself to read it at all up to 30 mf chapters??? I don't get some of you ngl. Save yourself the trouble and let those who love it keep reading? If you don't have a nice review or some constructive criticism for me, don't say anything at all? Like, it's not so hard lol. I write because I enjoy it and I love storytelling—this story wasn't meant to please any of you, keep that in mind.

I hope you all enjoyed the story so far. In hindsight, writing this from a Trojan perspective when they were so obviously going to lose and trying to make the characters seem competent was a headache I brought on myself. However, I'm still learning, and if I do happen to continue writing any more fanfictions, I hope both my writing and I would be better. I love that I got to share this with you guys and I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter the same way I enjoyed writing it [not really, it's so long ugh]

Happy reading!

The night had descended like a shroud, thick and suffocating. The walls of Troy—his beloved city, the pride of his fathers—now lay in ruin, torn apart by the ruthless fury of the Greeks. Smoke billowed from every corner, blotting out the stars, the air heavy with the stench of burning flesh and charred earth. Aeneas moved through the streets, his armour battered, his limbs weary from the endless battles and the effort of carrying his son through the haze. His mind was a storm of confusion, his heart heavy with grief, but still, his feet carried him onward.

He had been fighting with everything he had, his every strike filled with the weight of his duty, his every breath a reminder of how much there was to lose. But as the cries of the dying filled the night and the flames of Troy consumed the very bones of the city, something within him broke. He had already lost so much. He didn't know the whereabouts of his father, his comrades had fallen, and now, the Achaeans were still sweeping through the city, penning the survivors in.

No place was safe.

In the distance, he saw the Nothern gates—broken, smouldering. His heart raced with a desperate need to find his family, to find Creüsa, his beloved wife, if she was even still alive. No. He refused to entertain even a second of that. The thought of her, their son Ascanius, and the life they had had just a few hours prior was all that kept him moving. He had to find a way out. Somehow.

Beside him ran Briseis, huffing and puffing with every turn they took. They had tried three of the four gates and if this one also proved impenetrable...Aeneas didn't want to think of it.

They came to a stop next to a broken fountain and crawled behind the wall of a broken building, on the street which led up to the Northern gates. This was the nearest and easiest exit to the Mountains, where his brother Perseus had promised to find him with their father and any other survivors he might find.