Perseus: Excidium Troiae

Eighteen

A.N—Okay, question. And please, please, please, tell me what you think I should do. Don't ignore this author's note, I need your input.

Who do you think should win the war? Greeks or Trojans? Should I go according to the stories or switch it up?

"YOU ARE AWARE that the body is made of roughly more liquid—water—than anything else?" His mentor's words made him raise a brow and shake his head. No, he didn't know that. But he supposed it made more sense now. Perseus motioned for Galateia to continue, and the sea nymph continued walking in circles around him as she spoke. "In order to control the water, you need to awaken the connection that lies between both of you."

She spoke of the water like it was a sentient being. But after the many lessons they had had over the past week, he understood what she meant. Finally. They had moved their lessons away from the lake and now stood on the beach, the wind making his eyes water, the sound of the waves soothing, like background music. For the past week, after he had used two days to conquer the lake, Galateia's lessons had consisted of submerging him underneath the roaring sea. And leaving him there for hours on end.

He didn't know what that was supposed to accomplish, but he didn't question her. The one rule the nereid had given him was to listen and obey. And as much as he wanted to hasten whatever it was they were doing, he didn't want to anger the immortal any more than he had to. Sometimes she came below with him, and he had once asked how she managed to come on the land. She had only smiled knowingly and said someone big owed her a favour. And Perseus didn't think he wanted to confirm if it was who he thought it was.

"That's what we started with," Galateia nodded. "The next step was maintaining this connection. Keeping the pathway open and strengthening the link."

Again, he nodded. The nereid humphed. "You know, if you accepted your father...if you forgave him, then this would not be necessary. Your power would rise of its own accord, from where you unconsciously locked it away for years." Perseus didn't answer. They'd had this conversation many times before. And he wasn't in the mood to revisit the topic.

She sighed in defeat. "Okay, Perseus. If you refuse to see reason I shall leave you to it."

Perseus finally spoke. "What do we have to do today, then?"

Galateia's lips curled up in a smile, revealing her shark teeth. "I want you to raise the sea."

He blinked. "What?"

"Lift the ocean," She motioned with her hand. "Like this." With a flick of her wrist, the water in front of them rose, a full wave, towering above them. Perseus stiffened, stock-still, his mind being assaulted by memories. A roaring wind, a wave, larger than this one. A ship destroyed.

He could see the sea floor, and from the beach he could hear the shouts of Trojans and Achaeans alike as Galateia released her grip on the waves and it cascaded down.

Salt water sprayed onto him.

No. He couldn't do it.

"Something else," Perseus rasped, his voice shaking. He tore his eyes away from the water. This was what he wanted to do to the Greek camp. But he shook his head. Not now. He would freeze, he would falter, and loose control and the water would take him away too. "Something different."

"No," She frowned. "We have learnt to move the water. You have learnt to from orbs and shapes and all that nonsense. But the sea is a destructive force. And you are the Destroyer. Perseus. This is what it means." She motioned to the water.

"Please," He shook his head.

"You wish to end your enemies, and you are scared of a little wave?"

He winced at her taunting voice. Galateia scoffed at him. "You refuse to embrace your heritage, refuse to meet your father, and yet you want his domain to bend to your will—"