Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly


Chapter IX


"My prince! You must come quickly!"

Hector turned away from the arranging of the fortification of the city's defenses and turned his attention to the soldier who had called his attention. Seeing nothing of interest, Hector was about to dismiss the man when he saw the commotion near the gates. He immediately recognized the mop of dark curly hair.

"Paris!" Hector shouted as he sprinted towards his younger brother. "Paris, what are--"

The sight of Achilles walking alongside his injured sibling, dagger held near to his throat did nothing to calm Hector's sudden fear. He did not know how the famed Greek warrior had made it into the city, but at the moment it did not matter. What concerned Hector was that he appeared to be holding Paris hostage.

"What is the meaning of this?" Hector demanded as he came to stand before the advancing group.

"Brother, I assure you there is nothing amiss," Paris gasped out with a calmness that startled the elder of the two princes. "I am here of my own free will."

"I find that hard to believe at the present, brother," Hector drawled, removing his bloodied helmet and handing it to a nearby soldier in exchange for the man's spear. "You can barely stand and appear ready to faint at a given moment."

Though Hector did not want to admit to it, there was no mistaking the sudden panic that flared in Achilles gaze. It was masked soon enough, but Hector knew he had seen it. Instinct called for him to exploit this newfound weakness in his foe, unfortunately doing so meant placing his brother in danger and Hector would not do that.

"Allow us to pass safely to my own encampment and I assure you that my role in his war will be no more," Achilles offered once he had regainentrontrol of himself. "I have the prize which I sought."

"You can not expect me to stand by idly while you hand my brother over to Agamemnon," the warrior prince challenged, leaning casually against the spear.

Before his eyes, Achilles was transformed into the fiercesome being he had encountered the day before. "That will never be. Alexandros will remain under my protection."

"I must own up to my actions, Hector," Paris said swiftly in an attempt to cover up his lover's inadvertent revelation. "This war is my doing and I will face the consequences it brings. I mean to end this conflict before more blood is spilt."

"You are a fool if you believe such a g isg is possible," Hector sighed, once again finding himself cursing his younger brother's naïveté. "Agamemnon will kill you without thought and continue with this war as though you had never been."

All at once, Paris' features seemed to harden and he took a labourous step away from Achilles, wincing as he placed too much pressure on his injured left leg. At once, both he and Achilles made to support Paris, but a hand rose towards his lover and a stern look to Hector himself stopped both men.

"Hector, please, this is something I must do," Paris said earnestly as he took another difficult step towards his brother. "Whether for good or ill I must see things put right."

"Do not ask this of me, brother," Hector moaned, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "Do not ask me to knowingly send you into danger. I could not bear it should something happen to you."

Though they had known each other as men for less than the span of a year, Hector could still recall the one brief sight he had had of his brother as an infant. In the minutes before his parents had been told the prophecy concerning Paris that had earned him his banishment on Mount Ida, a then five year old Hector had been ushered into the room to see his new little brother. Until scant months before, Hector's sole memory of his brother had been of a tiny silent creature with dark eyes and whispers of even darker hair nestled against their mother's breast. It was memories such as that which spurred Hector's protective nature where Paris was concerned.

"This does not sit well with me," Hector insisted as he stared down at his brother's determined face. "You seek out a danger you do not fully understand."

"And I go to it with a comfort I have not felt for many a month. Achilles will keep me safe."

Hector was silent for several long moments before looking beyond Paris at one of the soldiers under his command. "Saturninus! Fetch my horse!"

"Hector, what--"

"Do not make me question my decision," Hector interrupted him, purposely avoiding his brother's gaze. "But I would rather you go to the Greek camp in the company of one I know will protect you than to have you foolishly make the journey alone in the dead of night, injured."

Paris gave his brother a grateful smile, his body sagging in relief. He would have stumbled backwards had Achilles not been there to shore him up. A few moments later, Saturninus appeared with his horse. Hector accepted the reigns, refusing to meet the confused gaze of his fellow Trojan soldier. He did not know how to explain to any of them what he himself did not understand.

As Achilles helped Paris to mount the horse, Hector kept his eyes focused on the man his brother was utterly devoted to. He still did not trust the Greek and some days he did not trust Paris' judgment where matters of the heart were concerned. His brother was far too sentimental. He was also far too trusting.

"If anything happens to him, you will not live to see the next dawn," Hector growled as Achilles climbed up behind Paris. "I swear that to you on all that I hold dear."

"Nothing will happen to him."

Achilles dug his heels into the horse's flanks then and the pair took off. Hector kept his eyes locked on the horse that was carrying his brother into danger. He could not see Paris for Achilles' broad back, but every so often he would catch sight of the top of Paris' head.

"My lord, why did you allow Prince Paris to leave with Achilles?" Saturninus asked him as the horse and the men it carried continued to shrink into the distance.

"Because Paris would not have been left behind this time."

~*~*~

As the horse galloped across the body-strewn plain that separated the two armies, Paris allowed his body to sink back against Achilles' chest. Originating in his thigh, his body ached fiercely and the jolting of the horse did not help matters. The painful bruises he had received from the battle with Menelaus were forgotten as Achilles' arms tightened around his middle.

"Are you well, beloved?" Achilles murmured in his ear.

"Well enough," Paris said as he touched his cheek to Achilles'. "My bones received a good rattling is all. A night's sleep in your arms is all I require to be healed."

Though he could not see it, Paris could feel Achilles' lips curl against his temple. "That is a great stock to put in my healing abilities."

"And with merit," Paris said to him. "Since your appearance at my side I have felt infinitely better. I feel at peace for the first time in an age."

"Even so, you must keep your brother's words in mind," Achilles warned gently. "Being in my presence is not enough to ensure your safety. I will do what I can to keep you hidden from Agamemnon, but that alone will not necessarily be enough. You must be prepared to defend yourself."

To that end, as they neared the ridge that kept the Greek camp hidden from view, Achilles retrieved a slender blade from within his boot, sheath and all, and carefully replaced it in Paris' own boot. At the moment it was the only weapon Paris possessed.

~*~*~

As he had not thought soon enough to find the corpse of a Trojan soldier to with which to help obscure Alexandros' identity, Achilles guided his mount behind the temple of Apollo and aided his lover down from the beast so that he could help him remove his recognizable breastplate. Beneath it, Alexandros was bare-chested and for the first time Achilles was able to see the extent of the damage done to him by Menelaus. No injuries pierced his flesh, but there were several bruises which were still continuing to darken.

"Pretend as though you are more injured than you appear," Achilles instructed as he unsheathed the dagger that he had recently used to threaten Alexandros' life. "Sit slumped against my chest with your head tipped forward."

While Achilles spoke, he ran the blade over his forearm, creating a wound deep enough to seep blood. He quickly re-sheathed the dagger then set about smearing the blood over Alexandros’ chest and face.

"Achilles!" Alexandros yelped as the first touch of blood to his chest. "Is that truly necessary?"

"Your presence must not be questioned," Achilles said calmly as he pressed his bloody palm to the younger man's clavicle. "As far as others are concerned until we reach the area where my men are camped you are nothing more than a wounded soldier I encountered on my return."

Alexandros nodded his head, but remained silent for a long while. All the same Achilles could tell that something was bothering Alexandros. His brow was furrowed and he was chewing nervously on his bottom li sur sure sign that he was upset.

"'Xandros?" Achilles murmured as he lifted a hand to cup his lover's cheek.

Letting out a ragged breath, Alexandros slowly lifted his impossibly dark eyes to meet Achilles' gaze. "Hector said that you had all the priests in the temple killed."

"I did," Achilles confirmed, knowing that was no point in hiding the truth.

"Why?"

"Because they had destroyed the one link I had to you," Achilles sighed, unable to meet Alexandros' gaze in that moment. "In one instant the priests told me that you were dead and destroyed the ring you had given me. I had nothing left of you and took out my anger on them. It may not have been right, but someone needed to suffer for my loss."

Alexandros squeezed his eyes shut tight, his head dipping forward so that his forehead touched Achilles' chest. "I did not mean to cause you such pain, my love. More and more I wish that I had ridden from Sparta in search of you rather than stealing Helen from Menelaus. So many would have been spared."

Achilles lifted Alexandros' head with a finger under his chin. "What is done cannot be undone. Now come, we'll be safer once we reach my tent."

With great care, Achilles helped Alexandros back onto the horse. He then hoisted himself up behind the younger man, shifting forward so that their bodiere ere pressed together. He reminded Alexandros of the need to appear gravely injured and then set off towards the Greek camp.

~*~*~

From the corner of his eye, Odysseus caught sight of Achilles riding through the camp, paying no heed to any who may have been in his way. While that did not seem the least out of sorts, the fact that he bore some other rider before him was. The soldier was without his breastplate and though he was spattered with fresh blood, a large wound to his leg had been stitched closed. Achilles also seemed to be handling the boy with far more care that he would a normal soldier.

Ending off his conversation with Diomedes, Odysseus quickly followed after Achilles. His friend was up to some mischief and Odysseus would know what that game was. He did not much care for being left in the dark.

Achilles' path led him directly to the section of the beach the Myrmidons had claimed as their own. That in itself did not surprise Odus. us. What again caught him off guard was what occurred when the horse was brought to a halt before Achilles' tent. Before Odysseus' very eyes, Achilles dismounted from the great beast and then reached back up for the boy whom he cradled to his chest as tenderly as any babe. Before Odysseus could discern more, Achilles carried the wounded soldier into his own tent and away from view.

"This is quite an interesting development," Odysseus mused to himself before heading back the way he had come.

~*~*~

"There is no need for you to coddle me so, beloved," Paris laughed as Achilles set him down with a flourish upon a mound of cushions and blankets. "I have a cut on my leg, I have not lost the limb entirely."

"You should not have been harmed at all," Achilles protested as he turned away only to return moments later with a pitcher and a rag. "It was foolish what you did this morning, but I would not expect any less of you."

As Achilles knelt down alongside of him, Paris reached a hand up to grasp his bicep. "Berate me all you want, I would not change what happened this morning. I may not be a warrior, but I would rather not be a coward.... Even if it does appear to be my natural inclination."

"There is no reason for you to find fault in your nature's instincts for peace. You have a gentle soul, my love, and I would not have you any other way," Achilles murmured as he dipped the cloth into the pitcher.

Paris startled slightly as Achilles touched the now damp rag to his chest. The water it had been dipped in was quite cool and it caught him unawares at first. He silently watched Achilles' every movement as he carefully cleaned the dried blood from his face and chest. Exhaustion was once again winning out and Paris felt himself drifting off before he was even aware of doing so.

It was not a deep sleep for Paris awoke as Achilles began to unfasten the laces at the top of his boots. Blinking his eyes open, he peered sleepily at his love as he removed both boots, flexing his toes ones they were free from confinement so that Achilles would know he was awake.

"I cannot help feeling vulnerable as you are still fully dressed," Paris yawned, carefully lifting himself up upon his elbows. "I feel that it is also my duty to inform you that you look a bit odd dressed as a Trojan soldier. If that blonde mane of yours were not so recognizable I would have been quite concerned on our ride into camp."

"Is that so?" Achilles asked with an arched eyebrow.

Paris nodded his head, unable to keep a grin from her face. "It is. I much prefer the dark armour. You are more the dark god I thought you to be the first time I saw you in that clearing."

Achilles let out a resounding laugh, the sound music to Paris' ears. It seemed a lifetime since he has heard the sound and reveled in it. He sat up more fully and helped Achilles as he began to strip the Trojan armour from his body. Paris unfastened the buckles his lover could not reach, laughing as their hands fumbled together as they both fought to remove Achilles' belt.

"Have patience, my love," Achilles chastised, sinking the fingers of his right hand into Paris' hair.

Sitting up still straighter, Paris finally managing to get the belt undone. He pulled it away with a flourish then settled himself back against the cushions, grinning as the remainder of Achilles' clothes fell away leaving him bare save for his boots. Paris hurriedly removed his own clothes before Achilles settled between his spread thighs. The two lay in silent contentment, relishing the contact between their bodies. Paris enjoyed the warmth that seeped from Achilles' skin and into his own flesh, warming him all the way through.

"I have missed this more than anything else," Paris sighed into Achilles' shoulder before tilting his head back so that he could once again see Achilles' face. "To hold you in my arms.... I am still having difficulty believing that this is not a mere fevered dream. I half expect to open my eyes and find myself alone once again staring out into the distance praying that my ruse was enough to keep you safe."

Achilles smiled fondly as sunk his fingers into Paris' unruly curls before touching his lips to the younger man's forehead. "You do realize that there were other ways of hindering Menelaus' plot?"

"Not you as well," Paris groaned, a slight smile playing on his lips. "As I told Hector and my father, I chose the first path open to me. I am not used to the intrigues of nobility and fear the day that ever alters. It was only after the fact that I recalled my newfound position as a prince of Troy would have availed me far more discreet methods of keeping you safe. I could have gone to you myself or at the very least sent a letter."

"That would probably have been wise," Achilles grinned, earning him a swat on the arm from Paris. "You did not, however, so now we must decide how we are going to deal with events as they are progressing."

Paris sighed deeply, knowing the truth behind Achilles' words, but not wanting to acknowledge them. In truth he did not know how to bring things under control. The one plan he had come up he had failed to follow through.

"I will not leave those I care for to suffer for my mistakes," Paris said honestly, squeezing his eyes shut tight. "But I still fear that there is nothing I can do to protect them."