Chapter One

Farming was honest work, and despite the belief of mortals that a farmer was inferior to a king, he found that if a person could ignore the trappings of power, the former was far more powerful than the latter. Not in any noticeable way, but in a subtle way. Farmers fed armies. They fed cities. If there were no farmers, how would these kings control their lands? How would they take the fight to others? It was one of those little facts of life that he enjoyed musing about.

Percy had done many things in his life. He had fought to overthrow the Titans. He helped his father establish the realm of Atlantis under the seas. He had fought in a hundred wars for a hundred kings, had hunted beasts from the deserts of the south to the frozen plains of the north. He had travelled from east to west, meeting with kings and beggars from tribes to empires. Gods called him kin, and mortals considered him just as worthy of praise as Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. The praise was getting to his head, and Percy knew it.

So he decided to farm. The land he owned had been given to him centuries prior and had remained uninhabited during all that time, the power of his name enough to keep many away from settling. Now, it was occupied by a small house of brick and tile. The fields had been ploughed by a pair of oxen, and there was a stable with several horses in it. He worked it all alone, waking up before Apollo drew his chariot across the sky and ensuring that everything was growing properly. He kept a small shrine to Demeter by the door, always making sure to send a prayer her way before he began his work.

Percy wasn't isolated, per se, but it wasn't easy to reach him either. His farm wasn't very well known, even if the land was, and it wasn't often that he received guests, especially not mortal ones. Artemis would visit him on occasion, sometimes with a hunter or two in tow, but even those visits were not frequent. He saw Hestia the most, and nothing made him happier, despite knowing that she could be off doing more important things, she chose to spend the time with him.

That meant he was fairly surprised when he saw a group of riders approaching his farm from the south, riding hard and riding fast. No, not one group—two. There was a trio of riders approaching his house at what could only be called breakneck speed, and a group pursuing them. His eyes narrowed, and he planted his staff into the ground, pivoting on his heel and entering his home. He emerged a moment later with a simple bronze chest plate on, and a sword in hand. He flicked the sword into the earth beside his staff and knelt, scooping some of the soft dirt up before rubbing his hands together. The first group of riders reached him, two men and a woman. The first was tall and powerfully built, with a sword and shield strapped on his body. The second man wore fancy clothes, but he had ridden like he was born to it. The woman was the most affected by the ride. She was also the only one familiar to him, even if she did not remember him. It was only fair—she had been but a girl last time they had met, and he had looked far more like a warrior-king than the farmer he was now.

"I am Hektor, Prince of Troy," the warrior declared, "I seek asylum in your home, Perseus. My father called you a fine man, and one of the few just ones in the world."

"Why?" Percy asked, glancing at the approaching second group.

"My brother has made a selfish mistake," Hektor told him, "one that will be dealt with, but it will not be possible if we are all dead. Please, my lord."

"I recognise Helen, so I can only imagine what has been done," Percy sighed, "you are guests of my home. No harm shall before you while you rest under my roof. Go inside, Hektor, son of Priam. I will deal with Menelaus's men."

The three hurried inside his home, only Hektor offering thanks, and Percy ordered their horses to his stable as he waited for the next group to arrive. It did not take them long. Twenty warriors, all armed and armoured came to a stop in front of him. Lacedaemonians, men of Sparta. Their king, however, was not among them.

"Ho there!" Their leader called out, "you are shielding enemies of the mighty Menelaus! Hand them over, and this transgression will be forgotten. Resist, and you will be cut down."

"You've no idea where you are, do you?" Percy asked, cocking his head to the side, "nor any idea who I am, it seems."

"Do not test us, farmer," the leader warned, "we are—"

"I know who you are, boy," Percy snapped, his patience with the mortal running thin, "now let me tell you who I am. I am the Firstborn of Poseidon. I am the end of empires. I am the death of Tyrants. I was there when Kronos fell. I fought Titans and Giants. I walked in the times when Sparta was nothing more than a collection of mud huts. I am kin to the patron of your city. I am the Destroyer, and you are trespassing on my land. I will give you one warning to leave peacefully. Those inside my house are protected by my word, and any attempt to take them will end with your death. Think long and hard about the decision you wish to make."

The men hesitated. It almost saved their lives too. But these were young, proud warriors and the idea that Perseus Apollyon would live on a farm in the hills of Laconia was too incomprehensible to them.

"Cleitus, Menas, take him" the leader ordered. Two of the larger men dismounted and drew their swords, approaching him slowly.

"The moment you attack, all lives are forfeit," Percy warned them, "not just you two, but the men with you. You will not survive this."

The two men exchanged glances. Then they raised their swords towards him. Percy sighed deeply. He reached down and wrapped his hands around the hilt of his sword, pulling it cleanly from the earth.

"May you be judged kindly in my uncle's realm," Percy told them. The moment a sword began moving in his direction, he barked a single command. "Throw!"

To the others, it seemed confusing. But it wasn't directed to them. As Percy batted one sword aside, driving his blade through its wielder's throat, the remaining horses, those with men still mounted on them, went berserk, bucking wildly in an attempt to get the men off their back. Many of them suffered broken necks as a result. Percy was too busy cutting down the second man to care, and when he finally turned his focus to the others, many of them were already dead. Those who weren't were dealt with quickly and painlessly. The only survivor was the leader.

"Please," he begged, "let me live! I will not harass you, my lord! I did not know!"

"I told you who I was," Percy shook his head, "what you did not do is listen. I told you they were under my protection. I told you that if I was attacked you would all die."

"King Menelaus will look for us," the man tried.

"No, he won't," Percy said, "men go missing in the hills frequently. Idiots go missing in these lands. Your horses will return to Sparta, without the riders. Menelaus will understand that whoever you encountered, you did not win."

"My lord—" he began, but Percy slashed his throat open with his blade. He wiped the blade clean on the man's tunic sleeve, before moving back towards his house. Inside, his three guests stared at him with a mix of awe and terror.

"You've made a stupid mistake, Trojan," he told the younger man, "stealing a queen never ends well. Especially from a man such as Menelaus."

"We love each other!" The prince protested. Percy studied them both closely. Aphrodite had woven her magic deeply. Perhaps they truly believed they were in love. But believing something did not make it true. Percy had learned that long ago.

"As you say," he said coolly, before turning to Hektor, "you will be safe to leave Laconia now. If you have a ship, you need to be there by tomorrow evening, otherwise, it will be too late. I expect we will meet again, Prince Hektor. I do not think the meeting will be as civil as this one."

"Regardless of how we meet again, I thank you for aiding us this time," Hektor told him, "my father spoke truly of your nature."

"I doubt there's any mortal man who can speak truly of my nature, boy," Percy frowned, "let alone a king. Men see what they want to see. You saw refuge. Those men saw a farmer. Neither of you saw the killer. Don't mistake power for justice, for they are rarely the same thing. Now go, Trojan. I can feel my uncle getting agitated by your presence. You have a place to be, and it is not here."

"I was to ask if you'd come to Troy," Hektor told him, "I do not think you would accept."

"My father may have built your walls, princeling, but that does make not me Trojan," he said, "Go. Now."

Hektor bowed his head and led the other two out. Their horses trotted over to them and they remounted. The horses of the slain party began making their way back to Sparta. Percy, however, collapsed back into his chair, sword clattering to the ground beside him as he pinched the bridge of his nose, before glancing upwards.

"I don't even want to know what's sparked this," he spoke to the sky, his words intended for one deity in particular, even though others would be listening. "I can only imagine it was something idiotic. If I am to be drawn into another war, then I will expect answers when I arrive at Olympus. And do me the courtesy of having those bodies gone by nightfall. I dislike the smell of burning flesh."

A rush of air came through one of the windows, and when he glanced outside, all the bodies were gone. He didn't know who did it, and he didn't thank anyone. He was too old to be dealing with the immature squabbles of his godly kin. But he also knew he didn't have a choice. Sooner or later, he would be called to action and forced to take a side. Or rather, take a stand. Percy knew exactly how this would end.

XXX

Olympus had not changed at all in the century and a half that he had been gone. There were no new nymphs in the market stalls, the immortals still followed the same routines, and the gods, as always, squabbled. It was one of those very arguments that he encountered when he slipped into the throne room, moving along the shadows. The only one to spot him was Hades, for once invited to witness the proceedings, and the only acknowledgement of his presence was a subtle twitch of his lips. Percy settled into a corner and listened. The argument, unsurprisingly, was between Athena and Aphrodite, and he was the topic.

"He killed Spartans!" Aphrodite crowed, "even if Percy didn't want to, do you really think that Menelaus would allow the man who killed his soldiers to join his forces?"

"Menelaus is smart enough to understand that they provoked an immortal," Athena shook her head, "and Percy all but told Hektor that he wouldn't fight for Troy. He will fight for the Greeks."

"Why would he fight at all?" Artemis asked, leaning into the back of her throne, "he's spent the past century and a half as a farmer, perhaps he doesn't wish to fight at all."

"But he will," Ares rumbled, "that's just who he is."

Percy decided he had watched enough.

"Well I have to give most of you points for creativity," he said, stepping from the shadows, and releasing the hold he had placed on his aura. That particular trick had taken years of study with Hecate, but it had certainly paid off. "But Ares hit the nail right on the head."

"Sweet hellhounds in a basket!" Apollo shot to his feet, "where the Had—where the Styx did you come from?"

"My farm," Percy shrugged loosely, "Now, I'm a bit out of date with the news. Why is all of Greece going to war with Troy?"

"Prince Paris stole Helen from Menelaus," his father explained simply, "as a result, all her suitors have been called to honour their oaths."

"Okay, that answers that question," he nodded, "now let me ask it again, so that way you can understand just how frustrated I am. Why is all of Greece going to war with Troy?"

"Well," Zeus coughed slightly, "there was a situation."

"I see," Percy said, "and what, exactly, is this situation?"

"Uh, well, you see," Zeus continued, "it started with an apple. A Golden Apple."

He listened patiently as Zeus explained everything from the wedding until now. Twenty-five years in between when the Apple was sent to the wedding, and Paris stealing Helen. A quarter-century.

"Of all the vain, immature—" he cut himself off, turning towards the offending goddesses. "Aphrodite I can see this from. But really, Athena? Hera? Have you nothing better to do? And to spend twenty-five odd years accomplishing it, I mean, seriously. I know that time passes differently for immortals, but that's just petty."

"It was—" Athena began, but Percy just arched an eyebrow at her, and she became quiet.

"It was Eris," he told them, "upset that she wasn't invited. I talked to her about it, years and years ago. Told her that it wasn't personal, that you probably just didn't think she'd enjoy it. She insisted it was an insult, and then left. A golden apple declared 'to the fairest' is the epitome of discord, especially in a wedding with the Olympians as guests. You all let yourselves get tricked by a godling."

He started laughing because honestly, it was funny. Eris was just barely over a thousand years old. Athena—the youngest of the three who had fallen into her trap—was five thousand. Hera and Aphrodite were close to eight thousand, and they had let themselves be fooled by an actual child. Apollo started chuckling too but stopped when Percy levelled him with a glare.

"You're not free of this either, Sun-Boy. Two princes of your patron city claimed guest-rights in my house, and I was forced to kill Lacedemonians because of it," he said, "One of those princes convinced the Queen of Sparta to run off with him. In case you've forgotten, I was one of the suitors, Apollo, despite my protests. I swore the oath with the rest of them."

He saw the moment the others realised exactly what his purpose for being present was. Percy could've found this all out himself, but he had wanted to break it to them personally. Regardless of his annoyance with his immortal family for this useless war, he still owed them the respect that was due.

"I'll be travelling around Greece for the next year, calling in my favours and making sure the suitors know I'm going to Troy with them. I imagine the Trojans will know as well," he explained patiently, "and then I'll go to Troy and try to end this peacefully one last time. After that, it's war. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"You can't go to war with Troy!" Apollo protested, "you're an immortal!"

"I'm undying," he corrected, "not 'immortal' as you say. If you want to get specific, I believe that Asclepius called it 'biological immortality' as opposed to 'divine immortality.' The difference is that while I can't die, that has nothing to do with my immortal blood. And as you already know, God of Prophecies, is that my future is unpredictable. I don't have a life string. I respect them, of course, and I would never try to divert the fates of others unless I had an incredibly good reason, but don't think that they apply to me. If I want to go to Troy, there is literally nothing in this world, or any other, that can stop me."

"Except for us," Artemis pointed out. Percy glanced over at her. She was reclined lazily in her throne, clearly enjoying the flaying that Percy had just put Apollo through, but the moment he had made himself out to be unbeatable, her pride had flared. He wasn't surprised. "We can stop you."

"Don't delude yourself, Artemis," he shook his head, "you've beaten me while we sparred. You've never beaten me in a fight. Unless I want to be beaten, I won't be. And please, try to tell me why I'm wrong."

"Enough," Zeus said tiredly, "we're not here to argue pointlessly, Perseus. I have already given the order that we are not to interfere in this war."

"Uh huh. And how long to you plan on that lasting?" He asked, "I give it a year at most. But I bet someone will do something before the war even starts."

"Then I will punish them," his uncle declared firmly. He believed his words, too, Percy could see that, but would he enforce them? When it was Hera, his wife? When it was Athena, his favourite daughter? Or Apollo, his favourite son? Maybe he would. But Percy was more than willing to step in when he didn't.

"Percy," Poseidon spoke up again, "what are you planning?"

He couldn't help it. Over the years, Percy had found out that the best way to make the Olympians nervous was to simply not answer their question. To not even deign it with a reply. He simply smirked before turning on his heel. They called after him, but he didn't answer. Let them wonder. Let them worry. Maybe it would keep them uninvolved for some time.

XXX

"Is he serious?" Someone in the crowd murmured, "or just suicidal?"

It was the only comment he heard before turning all his focus onto the man seated in the throne. He was young. Just under twenty-five but already his reputation as a warrior was that of someone who had lived twice that. Some called him the most dangerous man alive. Percy called him the third.

"I imagine that there is only one person who would be so bold as to challenge me for my throne," Achilles mused, "and you are not Hektor of Troy."

"You purposefully misheard me, child," Percy laughed, "I don't want your throne—I've been offered far grander than Thessaly, I assure you. I said I wanted command of your forces in Troy."

"You can't be much older than me," Achilles noted, "yet you called me child. I believe I was mistaken. There are two people who would challenge me for my throne…only you would actually win, wouldn't you, Perseus?"

He almost scoffed at the dramatic gasps that came from the crowd.

"Again, I never challenged you, Achilles. I said I wanted command. You'd be smart to give it to me," he stated, "I've been fighting wars longer than the age of everyone in this room combined. You can be the warrior you want to be. Let me be the general."

"I will allow it," Achilles smiled, before rising and drawing his sword, "but only if you fight me. Chiron always said that I was the best he had seen, bar you. I want to see how close I am."

"Are you sure you want to do this with an audience?" Percy asked him, "because if you don't wish to be embarrassed in front of your people, you should ask them to leave."

"I'm well aware I will lose, Perseus," Achilles shrugged, "there is no shame in losing to you."

"Why you only seem to hear what you want to hear, I don't know," he sighed, "I didn't ask if you wanted them to watch you lose. I asked if you wanted them to watch you be embarrassed. Because that is what's about to happen. You seem to be under the impression that I am going to fight you fairly. I'm not. This fight will end within seconds, and your people will see that you are not the invincible warrior your mother tried to make you."

"You talk too much, old man," Achilles laughed, before lunging at Percy.

He wanted the element of surprise, but one thing he hadn't really considered is that it's hard to surprise a man that had been fighting for ten thousand years. Percy planted his foot square in Achilles' chest, sending the man tumbling backwards into the steps at the base of his throne. Percy drew his sword lazily and waited for the demigod to rise to his feet.

"That may work on the children you've fought before, Achilles, but I'm far too skilled to let something so amateur fool me," his disapproval was immense. Had Chiron taught this boy nothing? A sneak attack only worked when your enemy wasn't expecting a fight. Percy had been anticipating one from the moment he walked into Achilles' megaron.

The next strike Achilles launched ended with his blade flying into a pillar, and Percy's own blade resting at his throat.

"Do you wish for this farce to go on any further, or are you content with the knowledge that I can beat you, Achilles?" Percy asked him calmly, "because I assure you, I can take this much farther, if need be."

"I am content," the boy-king grinned, "you asked for command of the Myrmidons. I will give it to you with the caveat that I am included in whatever decision-making processes take place. I may trust you to lead these men, but I do not trust others to do so."

"That is fair," he nodded, before he held out his hand. "Then the matter is settled. I will return in six months' time for the departure to Imbros."

"Oh? Other tasks to be settled, I take it?"

"Vows and oaths to be fulfilled," he replied evasively, "both from myself and from others. Give your mother my regards, Achilles. It's been some time since we last spoke."

"I will do so, Perseus," Achilles nodded, "and I look forward to fighting alongside you."

Percy tipped his head in acknowledgement, before stalking out of the hall. He felt a brush of a familiar presence and glanced to his left, out towards the sea. The figure was a blip in the distance, but he focused his gaze and it settled on Thetis, who gave him a coy smile and waved. He rolled his eyes and waved back. Thetis had been trying to seduce him for years now and had married Peleus only because Percy had told the man how to find Proteus, which had annoyed her enough to agree marrying the mortal. Now that he was dead and buried, and his son was king, she would be content to try again.

"She never gives up, does she?" Artemis asked him, amused. He wasn't surprised that she had arrived in the slightest. Despite her proclamations of neutrality, she leaned more towards Troy for the simple reason that Apollo supported the city whole-heartedly, and she was supportive of her brother, if nothing else. "I'm honestly a little surprised that you never gave in. Thetis is very beautiful."

"So she is," he nodded, "but so are many goddesses, and if I asked, I could have my pick of them. At least one Olympian would be on that list without any hesitation, and it could be argued that she would be the best choice. And yet I don't. Why?"

"Because you're not a pig?" Artemis offered, grinning at him.

"Sure, we'll go with that," he shrugged, "what can I do for you, 'Mis?"

If she was surprised by the nickname, she didn't show it. He had mostly wanted to see what her reaction would be, but she didn't slip up. Damn. He'd try again another time, when she didn't want something from him.

"Apollo asked me to talk you out of going to Troy," she told him. The phrasing of her words told him enough.

"Apollo can ask me his damn self, and I'll give him the same answer I gave at Olympus," he sighed, "I was one of the suitors, and I swore the same vows that the others swore. And I keep my oaths."

"I know," she raised her hands in surrender, "don't stab the messenger."

"I don't think the messenger would let me get away with it," he snorted, "but why are you really here?"

"Perhaps I wanted to speak with my favourite cousin," she offered, "and while that is true, I have a favour to ask."

He arched an eyebrow at her, and she poked her tongue out at him before continuing.

"I know this won't be a quick war, so I'd ask that you come to the Hunt and just…brush up on their sword-fighting before you go off. It's been nearly half a century since you last visited, and I've picked up some new girls since then."

"I have some tasks I need to complete first," he rubbed his jaw, "but I can do that. Be at Mount Pelion in three months' time. I'll either meet you there or be waiting for you. We'll see."

"Thank you," she tipped her head, "I'll leave you to fend off Thetis once again."

"Who knows," Percy grinned at her, "maybe I'll accept her offer this time."

The golden flush that spread across Artemis' face as she sputtered was well worth the effort Thetis would put into her attempts to seduce him. It would likely be some time before he saw any of the gods smiling at what he had said or done, and he'd take each moment he could get. The Goddess of the Hunt was gone as quickly as she had come, and Percy was left on his own for a few, blessed hours. Then another, familiar presence flared further down the road, to a hut that seemingly sprung from nowhere. He sighed as he dismounted his horse, hitching it to the post.

"If I walk in," Percy called through the door, "and you're naked, I will destroy Troy myself, without waiting for the others to arrive."

He heard a petulant whine and the snapping of fingers. He stepped inside, where a scantily—but thankfully—clad Aphrodite was waiting for him. The style was the netted dress of the Aegyptians to the south, very provocative but still conservative in its own way. Percy sat down across from her, keeping his eyes locked on hers the entire time.

"It's never worked before," he reminded her, "and it won't work now. Say your piece, have your offer rejected, and we can move on."

"You used to be fun, you know," Aphrodite pouted, "maybe I just wanted to talk to you!"

"Nobody ever wants to 'just' talk to me, Aphrodite, save Hestia," Percy told her coolly, "and you are not Hestia."

"Fine," Aphrodite crossed her legs primly, "what would it take for you to not go to Troy?"

"I swore an oath," he said simply.

"And we both know that there's no punishment the Styx can mete out on you, just as it is with us. You would not suffer." She pointed out.

"Someone would, in my place," Percy shook his head, "that's what you gods always seem to forget. You, personally, cannot be punished. But that demigod child of yours? Or that mortal lover you favour more than the others? Something can happen to them. I hold true to my oaths because one, I never break my word, and two, the alternative is someone I care about suffering in my place. You can't bribe me, Aphrodite. I'm not Hephaestus, who's content just trying to win you back, or Ares, who thinks with his other head where you're concerned. When I go to Troy, it will be for one final attempt at peace, and then, if they are foolish, war."

"But—"

"But nothing, Aphrodite," Percy rose, "you don't get to manipulate people and not expect some form of backlash from Fate, or from mortals themselves. Do you think Menelaus cares that you set Paris and Helen up together? Do you think Agamemnon didn't leap on the chance to break one of the most powerful threats to his expansion? I don't think you thought at all, outside of winning some foolish prize."

"So you'll join the destruction of city to spite me?" Aphrodite asked him, the first flare of the godly pride rising to the surface.

"To spite you? No, of course not." Percy replied. "I don't know why this is so hard for you all to understand. Fifteen years ago, I was forced—by you Olympians no less—to be a possible suitor for Helen. I ensured that I was not chosen, but like the others, I swore the Oath of Tyndareus. When Helen was taken, my responsibility was called forth. Like the dozens of other kings, I am honouring a pact made. Tell the others who support Troy that there's no point in trying to stop me, and the more they do, the more likely I am to be angrier when I arrive at Troy. Now, if you'd excuse me, I have an old friend to meet with."

Aphrodite huffed and looked away. Percy rolled his eyes before exiting the hut. He glanced towards where he knew Mount Olympus rested and withheld the urge to shout at his family. He remounted his horse and continued along the road. Pylos was still two weeks of riding away, and he wanted to reach the city before Nestor became overwhelmed by the war preparations.

He paused briefly, as he thought about the old king. The last time he had seen him would have been when all of Helen's suitors were in Sparta. Antilochus had been amongst the suitors but had spent most of the event chasing after local girls rather than focusing on the princess. He could still remember the look of sheer disappointment when it was revealed that Antilochus had impregnated a cousin of Helen, resulting in his marriage. From what he understood, however, the two were still married. If that were the case after this war ended, Percy would be amazed.

He had a feeling that this was going to be a bloodier war than most.

MMXX

Thus begins my rewrite of The Perseid, and indirectly, Eternal. This series as a whole is called Tales of the Firstborn, and this story will cover, unsurprisingly, the Trojan War. I decided to give this another go around because A.) I didn't like what happened with Eternal, and I'd rather write what I actually want to than what I felt pressured to, and B.) because I can. I'm the author, and that practically makes me God.

I am posting chapter one today (Wednesday) to mess with someone in my server, and I'll post chapter two on Friday, but after that, each subsequent update will come on Fridays. If you haven't joined my server yet, there's a link on my tumblr page, CombatTombat, that is still live. This website is not optimised for linking to other sites. I host polls semi-regularly on my server so you can have a say in some of my decisions.

As always, leave a review or send me a PM telling me what you think of this chapter.

Cheers, CombatTombat