Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Intro

A/N: New work, folks! This story is being written by TripleHomicide of -TheImmortalWriters, and is our third series. The name of this series is "Perseus" and I shall be posting it on my AO3 and Fanfiction.net account too.

As usual, Rick Riordan owns the characters from PJO, not us. All rights for the plot and others go to Homer and Virgil. The historical scenes from this story are taken from The Iliad, The Odyssey, The Aeneid, Ancient Roman History, and other sources.

Thank you. We really hope you enjoy the story, and do leave a review, comment, vote or kudos behind.

Intro

He remembered very little of his past life.

He remembered the ship. He remembered his mother — her soothing words and kisses; her gentle touches as she sang him to sleep. That was all he thought about when he tried to reminisce about her. That was the last memory he had of his mother. He was conflicted. He questioned himself everyday.

Did he want to remember his background?

No.

He wanted to forget. He wanted to put his past behind him; to push the memories away. But they always came back. He was always tormented by the dreams of his mother's death.

Did he remember her name?

No.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never remember her name. No matter how many times he thought back, he could never bring back her image. He could never recollect how she looked like.

All he saw was a hazy figure, singing softly to him, and bathed in a slight golden glow.

Did he know his father?

No.

Did he want to know him?

No, and he never would. His pater had killed her. His father had caused the storm. And he hated him for that. He hated him so so much.

He had seen just four summers when it happened. [A/N: This means he was four years old. Also, pater means father]. He couldn't recollect where they had been headed. He just remembered the wooden vessel which had been carrying them, with its white sails and crew. The famous storyteller Atticus had been on the ship at the time, and the boy remembered laughing and listening to the stories he had to tell. The greek raconteur had left before the storm had happened and he had never seen or heard of him ever again.

They had been on the ship for three days and three nights. It was on the third day that it happened. His mater had been recounting the story of how she met his father to him. She had been telling him the tales and the stories of the great ruler and god of the sea — Poseidon.

Yes, that was his name. He still couldn't understand why his father had created a tempest so huge. But it had killed his mother. It had killed her.

The storm was unexpected. It came from nowhere. It was so sudden and so frightening and he remembered finding refuge in his mater's arms as the sky darkened. The winds began whipping at the sails and the yells from the crew and passengers intensified as the waters began tipping the ship.

He had buried his head into her arms, and she shielded him from the spray of water. The thunder had boomed and the lightning had struck. Lightning so powerful that it tore the mast of the ship into pieces.

It ripped the sails off the vessel and the ship began to sink.

He had jumped out of her bosom, and he had began to whimper and cry. His eyes had welled up with tears and he had heard her soothing voice once again. "It's going to be okay, Perseus. It's going to be fine. Your father is going to protect us."