A Dishonored Demigod

Defiance and First Blood

A forgone dream
Hate.
That was all he felt, all it felt. That was all it was supposed to feel, for it was the root of all evil. At one time it may have been a human youth with a name, but those days were gone and long forgotten. There was no mercy, no pity, only hate. Hate for the world, hate for evil, hate for the human nature. And most importantly, hate for itself and its existence.
Why?
Why, mother, did you look at me with those eyes? As if I was a piece of waste from one of the cattle. When you joyfully told me the night before that day I would have a purpose, I was so happy that people would stop saying I was a failure. Why, father, did you not protest when I was dragged away? You didn't even offer a token resistance when they started to cut, to peel, to break, to gouge. You didn't even flinch when you plucked my left eye out and cut the eyelid off my right. You bastard.. YoU baSTArd!!!! And you, my sister! You ungrateful bitch! Who was it that cared for you when both mother and father left you to die from the sickness? Who was it that carried you everywhere since you couldn't walk on your own? Who was it...who was it that made himself worthless, so you could have some worth? Who saved you from becoming THIS?! And yet you never asked them to stop, never showed a measure of pity or sympathy for your brother who loved you with everything he had. You Whore. You Bastard. You worthless Girl! Why?! I HATE YOU ALL!
Relief.
It remembers the day when the pain stopped, when it died after one of those damn villagers was too brutal. And that was when the true hell began. It was free of the flesh, but still confined to the cage. It remembers the day he came, a lone man with a sword who passed by its prison. It remembers the desperation it felt as it screamed and thrashed inside the stone, but barely made a whisper and displaced a bit of dirt. It was enough. It remembers thanking anyone that it was enough. It waited until the man was directly in front of its "window", a slit that was barely as wide as a babe's finger, and lunged. It failed. It failed to possess the human, and it was as terrified as a spirit could be. Yet that man, that good man, didn't hate it immediately. In fact it talked with him, watched its memories, experienced its pain, and shouldered its burden to grant it some measure of relief from the pain. And most importantly: they. Drew. Their. Sword. They, for they were neither truly one or the other but both, drew the weapon of death and fell on the villagers who hurt hi-them. And it was glorious. The screams, the blood, and most of all the Bastard and Whore fell with anguish twisting their faces. When it came time for the cripple, something stayed our hands. Maybe it was the final ember of brotherly love, maybe it was the idea of leaving her in a dead village with no one to help her move. Regardless, we left her there crying, apologizing, and begging me-begging us to come back and help her.
Wonder
After we left we traveled the world, discovering everything we could discover. We made friends in all corners of every nation from Sumeria to the far reaches of India. As a trusted guard for an empress who protected herself with poison, being a sword teacher for a charitable son of a fire god, and as a rival of the queen of the Land of Shadows when she was still mortal. But then it came time, for even a demigod with a spirit sustaining his flesh could not be free of the certainty of death.
He was happy that even if he was gone his dear friend would remember him, but sad that he would also be leaving it to an uncertain future. And so, mustering the last of their shared strength and his divine blood, he said goodbye and thrust it beyond the realm of man and divine into the Throne of Heroes. It begged him not to, but he was determined to give him the best possible chance at surviving and to continue growing and regaining what it had lost. But also....also because,"I'm going to be reborn one day, it may be a while but I will. And when I do I might not even be in this reality. But when I am, I'll come and find you so we can adventure together again. I swear it by my name."
It couldn't describe the amount of relief it felt from hearing the vow its friend, brother, and savior spoke. And so, it waited in the place it was sent. Once in a while browsing through the legends of others and greeting those friends that arrived while also informing them of his death. It waited for an uncountable amount of time before it felt...something calling it. It answered hoping to see its friend after all the waiting, but was furious when it found itself before THEM.
Descendants of that cripple, the woman whose name it had long forgotten, who had summoned it to fight for their own ambitions. It's fury was great, but its mind had grown during its time in the Throne so it was content to wait to find a suitable moment to punish those worms. It took the from of its body from when it lived, and pretended to play the dutiful servant until it found its chance. It did not taint the cup they sought but instead devoured it to punish those who would dare reach above what humans were meant to accomplish in their lives.
It waited for one more war before it felt it, before it felt him! His incarnation was young, and his divinity was different, but it was him! It watched as he saved a young girl, pretended to be a legitimate servant, and crush his enemies until he had claimed the cup it was mimicking. It felt his spirit enter the mud it produced and for the first time in millennia they were standing across from each other. It longed to embrace its brother but tested him to see if he truly was the same person who had saved him. When its body was killed, when he said he would take on his burden it cried out in relief and joy knowing that they were untied again after so long.
It looked through his mind and saw his memories, and its anger burned against the arrogant gods who cast its friend aside on a whim. And when he left that reality with it he was fully expecting to fight those gods, and if that did come to pass so would it. It was ready, they were ready, to once more fight as brothers and friends. And if that meant slaying gods, then so be it!
"After all," it mused,"you kept your vow. And you even kept your name from back then, Perseus."
****
Perseus jolted awake, arms blackened by the curses flowing through his veins and humming beneath his skin,"So that's how it is huh?"
A tan hand presses over his eyes,"I guess being a wildcard is considered normal for me no matter how many times I've lived."
Something inside him pulses and the curses slowly creep back up his arms towards his shoulders before settling near his heart,"Well then, friend from my first life, you up for one more battle?"
An audible buzzing answers him as the ground around him dries and cracks. Looking behind himself he sees that Zoë is asleep against Ladon's multiple necks. Quickly kissing her on the forehead he turns on the spot and vanishes.
The next moment he's donned his lion pelt in the form of a cloak while the curses filling his body drip from his pores. Dancing, slithering and congealing over his skin to create a literal set of cursed armor that gives off an unsettling presence. Within a minute of walking Perseus is overlooking the entirety of his forces as they complete their final preparations.
Not even a minute more is needed as his presence draws every eye to his position and silence reigns.
"My people," his words are not loud, but they ring in the absolute stillness his presence brought about,"we are all here for one reason and one reason only."
He places a fist over his chest"We are defiant. We chose to defy those who seek to cage us, to use us as a toy that they may throw away at any time!"
The passion in his voice is clear even to the most dim witted,"We are those that have grown tired of the treatment of the gods, we are those who've raised our voices to cry "Enough" to their faces!"
Now his quiet words have become louder as they resonate within the existences of all gathered,"And they hate us for that! Hate that we seek to break off from their will! Hate that we dare think of ourselves as equal to them! Hate that we dare turn our backs to them as one would an unruly child making demands!"
He's shouting now, loud enough that the few birds around him flee in terror,"But I say this: that is what they are, children that have long since become used to getting their way! Who have forgotten what it means to struggle like us, who have never been scorned like we have. And above all," metal rings as Riptide is unleashed to point upwards as its wielder raises it high,"they have forgotten one simple truth. WE DO NOT BACK DOWN!"
Below him a quiet rumble starts as a handful of monsters stomp the ground. Soon more join in, then more, and more still until the ground itself trembles from the force exerted upon it by feet, claws, talons, tails, and fins.
Even over the booming beneath him Perseus' words ring clear,"FORWARD! FOR A NEW DAY IN WHICH WE ALL MIGHT HAVE OUR REST!"
As one body the monsters turn a full 180 degrees and start to move. Wings beat through the air, splashes break the surface of the Alaskan waters, and the ground trembles with the beat of terrible feet as Haven moves forward to face their great foe. All the while Perseus stonily gazed at the band of ice around his wrist before pushing some of his divine spark into it.
****
The Olympian army marches forward, deep into the heart of Alaska with the demigods leading while the gods command from the back. Shields are held in front with one arm while the other limb holds a spear, ready to defend and counter. A snapping branch prompts the shield bearers to raise their tools in preparation, only for a deer to dash right past their front. A moment goes by before they will themselves to relax, prompting those behind them to do the same. However that instance is broken when panicked screams ring out from the back of the army, more specifically Lady Artemis' Hunters.
Those around them can only look on in both shock and horror as the rings of ice attached to the majority of the group begin to grow and stretch. They are covering their wearers so swiftly that even as their lady and her twin brother race towards them they are unable to reach them in time to stop the cruel death. Blood stains the snow as spikes of ice erupt from inside the bodies of the girls, ensuring a sufficiently painful death. As the virgin goddess cries over the bodies of her companions there is no doubt in anyone's mind as to the man who did this.
And there is also no misinterpreting the message that the death of those girls carries, that this battle of theirs, against one of the greatest of their time, had already begun with a loss on their part.

Been a while huh? At this point I'm just powering through. Real life's been taking up most of my time and I'm still fleshing out how I want this to end. But...I can't say I'm not enjoying writing again. I've got a lot of ideas for future stories that I need to work on, so hopefully I can get those organized. Maybe I'll make a dumping ground or something, I don't know.
Well whatever. Sorry for rambling if you're for some reason reading this.
Have a great day, a great Thanksgiving if I don't get another chapter out by then, and I'm going to sleep.
~Stay frosty~
Krios530