Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Fourteen

A/N: So, this is the last chapter of ARC II of Perseus: Excidium Troiae. Now the Cypria is officially done with.

I know this took long. I didn't intend to return back to writing fanfiction after my abrupt (and planned) disappearance. But someone told me to give it this one last shot. I've unpublished the guardians because it didn't really get the support I'd hoped it would, and that was partly my fault. I'll take it up again soon, but only when all corrections have been made.

Updates won't be constant. I have a life. I have obligations. I honestly don't care anymore if you don't like the story or if you have a problem. You can fuck off. Find another fanfiction to waste your life with. Stop reading. My writing isn't the best, I know, but keep your opinions to yourself unless it contributes positively to the story. And mind your own fucking business...

I'm in a bad mood and I might come off as a bit aggressive but tbh I couldn't care less.

(Unedited–from 5 months ago)

ACHILLES stood next to the many Kings and commanders of the Achaean forces as Odysseus' ship sailed away. Things were getting bad. After the previous day's event, when the Trojans had almost succeeded in killing him and decimating the Greek forces, the entire encampment had been in disarray. Achilles was bruised all over, but several of the soldiers, hundreds of them, in fact, along with many Kings and commanders had been killed. The Trojans and their allies had burnt down the Blacksmith's workstation, and about four of their ships. Their medic tent was ashes now, and their food tents had also been destroyed. They were out of grain, and meat, and fruits, and Achilles hadn't eaten the whole day. No one had.

"Are you sure he'll be successful?" He turned to glance at Nestor.

The old wise King frowned, then answered, "Of that we can be sure. Odysseus is crafty and resourceful. If he does not succeed, we have no chance of beating the Trojans. We will all die of starvation before the final confrontation." It had been a unanimous decision, to have the King of Ithaca sail to Thrace to get grains and food to sustain their forces. Achilles sighed to himself. He couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the day prior. Gods had fought amongst themselves, immortals had wrecked the battlefield, just to protect Perseus, or to stop him from finding a way to kill Achilles. He pursed his lips. This war was just getting complicated with each day that passed.

"We must prepare for his return, then," Achilles said. "Bury our dead, hold the funeral games, and reorganise our forces. And then we attack when Odysseus comes."

"You are right," Nestor nodded. "Let us go, then. Much must be done before we can face the forces of Ilium again."

XMX

ODYSSEUS returned in three days. The Trojans didn't wait, and the Greeks had been surviving on fish and sea water since then. Achilles was honestly getting tired of it. Even though he was invincible, he still needed food for energy, and eating fish for three days wasn't exactly his definition of an energy provider. In those three days, Hector, Perseus, and Achilles had been fighting harder than ever. Their recent victory had boosted their confidence, because although they hadn't breached the walls since that time, they had come close to doing it again. Many times.

Several Achaeans had fallen to their onslaught, even though no gods had shown up to fight for the Trojans, and eventually, the Trojans had taken back their beach.

Achilles stood expectantly at the edge of the water, with several soldiers and Commanders. It was night time, and he could see the ships as they approached. Hope bloomed in his chest when the vessels finally hit the sand. He glanced up, hoping to catch sight of the curly haired King. Odysseus appeared at the prow of the ship and jumped down. Achilles stared at him, and as he did, a frown formed on his face. The King had defeat in his eyes.