Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly


Chapter X


Between blood loss and the excitement of the day, it was no long before Alexandros slipped once again into slumber. The younger man had been blinking in an exaggerated way for some time so Achilles had stayed silent for a few minutes. That, combined with Achilles fingers moving softly through his hair, helped to ease his young lover into sleep.

Still too wound up to sleep himself, Achilles merely watched as Alexandros slept, safely nestled in his arms. Now that they were in his tent, Achilles had no fear of having Alexandros being taken from him and was able to look his fill and reassure himself that his lover was with him once again.

Being very careful so as not to wake Alexandros, Achilles gently trailed his fingertips over the brunette's exposed back. If it was possible, Alexandros appeared leaner than the last time they had been together and the youth had been slender then. Given his new status as Prince Paris of Troy, Achilles would have thought Alexandros would have added weight to his slight frame. He did not know whether the weight loss was new, a result of tensions brought on by the war or whether it had been a more drawn out affliction.

"Cousin, word has come that King Agamemnon would see you immediately," Patrolcus called from just outside the tent.

Groaning silently, Achilles pressed his face into the pillow Alexandros' head rested upon. He remained still for a few moments, taking comfort in his lover's warm breath against his cheek for a few moments before forcing himself to his feet. He wound a sarong about his waist, not bothering to don the replacement he'd kept in a chest. Agamemnon was not worth the effort, not when he would risk the chance of waking the younger man. He started down at Alexandros for several long seconds before forcing himself to leave the tent and his sleeping love behind.

Patrolcus was still hovering without, concern marring his young features. "You must know that you cannot hide him here indefinitely. Agamemnon will be furious when he discovers that you've kept such a prize from him."

"We will not be staying in Troy long enough for Agamemnon to learn of Alexandros' presence," Achilles informed his cousin tersely. "I plan to leave with the tide at first light tomorrow."

"But, cousin--"

"That is enough, Patrolcus," the warrior growled. He slowly sucked in a deep breath, willing himself calm. "Will you please stay with Alexandros? I do not want him left alone and I trust no one else to guard his safety till my return."

~*~*~

Paris awoke to the sensation of someone staring at him. He could feel the eyes against the back of his head. Very cautiously, Paris rolled onto his back then turned to see the person he knew was not Achilles staring at him. His eyes were open only a slit so that he could still feign sleep and moved his head about lazily until he caught sight of the person staring at him.

"I know that you are awake," the boy said calmly. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"That remains to be seen," Paris said evenly as he raised himself into a seated position. "What are you doing in here?"

Rising to his feet, the younger man went to retrieve a carafe and poured some of its contents into an earthenware goblet. He crossed back over to where Paris sat and handed it to him. "My cousin bid me to wait here with you until his return."

"You are Patrolcus then," Paris murmured, feeling more at ease than he had mere moments' before. "Achilles has spoken of you often and with great fondness."

"I have heard your name as well, spoken in whispers until my cousin was made to believe you were dead. After he spent many anguished days staring into the sea hoping that the Gods would send him some sign that you survived," Patrolcus said with obvious distaste.

"Think what you will of me," Paris murmured, staring down into the goblet of wine he held in his hands. "I would never willingly hurt Achilles willingly. What happened was beyond my control."

"Is that so, my Lord?" Patrolcus sneered, eyeing the brunette darkly. "You lead my cousin to believe that you are a mere shepherd when you are in fact a Trojan prince and then seduce the queen of Sparta even as you proclaim to love Achilles above all others."

Paris' head shot up, meeting Patrolcus' glare head on. "You speak of things you do not know the full import of."

"My cousin keeps no secrets from me," Patrolcus said smugly. "He told me all that he knew of you which has come to be very little indeed."

"He would have told you all that both he and I knew until a month after our last meeting," Paris sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I had grown up knowing that my parents were not my own, but I had never even considered that my parents were Priam and Hecuba of Troy. I was a shepherd, such things were beyond me. At times they are beyond me even now. I was thrust into a life I know nothing about and expected to act accordingly so I l I learned that Achilles' life was in danger I did all that I could think of to save his life."

A long silence stretched out between the two men, an uneasy one as they continued to measure each other up

"If all you intend to do is belittle me, I would rather you do not," Paris said when Patrolcus' glower showed no signs of dissipating. "I can do nothing to change your opinion of me and were I able, I would leave. Since that is not an option at this moment I would ask that you depart."

At first Paris did not think that Patrolcus would heed his request, but to his ultimate surprise the younger man fled the tent in an angry rush. Paris remained tense for several long moments afterwards before allowing his shoulders to sag. The relaxation lasted for only a few minutes before he began to feel uneasy in the strange setting. It was not lost on him that he was alone in the Greek camp, unarmed.

Holding the goblet tightly clenched between his palms, Paris locked his gaze on the entrance to the tent, praying desperately that Achilles would be the next one to enter.

~*~*~

"Why does the Trojan prince fight like you?!" Agamemnon growled the instant Achilles stepped into the tent. "Where did the whelp learn to fight like that?"

Steeling his features, Achilles glared at the irate king. "How am I to know? The only person I have ever instructed was Patrolcus. It is entirely possible, though, that he was trained by the same man that trained me. After all, I did not acquire my abilities by birth alone."

Agamemnon shook his head, rising from the ornate chair that acted as his throne. "No. I do not believe that. That boy Paris is the very image of you in battle. He did not become that by mere chance alone."

"There is a great deal in life that is chance," Achilles sighed, quite annoyed and put out by the situation. He wanted to be with Alexandros. He did not know whether his lover had awakened or not and regardless of how much he trusted Patrolcus, in the end he trusted none but himself with Alexandros' safety. "That this Trojan prince fights in the same style as I is proof enough of this. Now if that is all I have plans to make for my men's coming departure."

"Departure?" Agamemnon echoed in disbelief. "You cannot leave. The war has only just begun and I have not released you from my services."

"I never swore any allegiance to you. I was here of my own volation and now that my reason for doing so is gone I see no reason to remain," Achilles said calmly, hiding his unease as best as he was able. "My men and I will be departing with the morning tide."

Achilles turned to go, but was brought up short as a group of Agamemnon's guards came tond ind in front of him, blocking his path. Achilles' hand automatically went to the hilt of his sword, prepared to defend himself should they attempt to attack him. He turned himself halfway so that he was able to see Agamemnon again, who appeared quite smug by the current situation.

"Regardless of what you may think, Achilles, I do not fear you," the king of Mycenae smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "I will not bow to your whims."

"Nor do I intend to bow to yours," Achilles hissed as he drew his sword from its sheath in a single, fluid motion. "Now I suggest that you order your men to let me pass or I will not be held responsible for my actions."

The two men stared at each other, neither one willing to back down or else ('else' can be removed) admit to being the weaker man.

"Now really, gentlemen, there is no need to glare at each other so," Odysseus said as he stepped around the line of guards to stand between the king and the warlord. "Surely the both of you can find something better to fill your time with."

The glare the two men were leveling at each other were then turned on the king of Ithaca who was grinning quite happily. Knowing Odysseus as well as he did, Achilles could sense that the man was amused by something other than his current argument with Agamemnon. Not wanting to discover whether there was any truth behind his assumptions, Achilles made a quick escape e Age Agamemnon was distracted.

Achilles pace was swift as he did not want to be hindered by anyone as he traversed the expanse of the camp to his own tent where Alexandros still slumbered. Safe as he knew his lover to be under Patrolcus' guard, Achilles himself would not feel wholly safe until Alexandros was within his sight once again. And as he had left Odysseus behind in Agamemnon's massive tent complex, Achilles had no fear of being held up by his friend's often obscure riddles.

Whatever ease Achilles had been feeling, though, was stripped from him mere minutes later as he caught sight of his young cousin stalking away from the section of beach the Myrmidons had claimed as their own. As he did not appear to be chasing or tracking anyone, Achilles instead quickened his pace still further as he rushed to his tent.

"'Xandros!" Achilles gasped as he flung himself through the slotted opening of his tent.

Relief beyond that which he could name filled him when he saw his beloved other half reclined on the cushions, idly twirling a finger through the contents of a goblet held in his other hand. His outburst startled the younger man who ended up with a fair amount of wine spilled over his still bare chest.

"You startled me," Alexandros stammered as he attempted to wipe the mess from his tanned flesh.

Unknotting the cloth fastened about his waist, Achilles crossed to where his beloved was still struggling with the spilt wine. As he knelt down next to his hip, Achilles pushed Alexandros' hands out of the way usedused his sarong to gently wipe away the majority of the liquid. What had dribbled down his sides was really all that he concerned himself with. Setting the wet cloth aside, Achilles sidled over so that he was straddling Alexandros' right leg and dipped his head down to lave his tongue along the center of the young Trojan's chest.

"Achilles...." Androndros' moaned, arching under him. The boy's fingers slid up into his hair, not holding or hindering him in any way, but simply giving himself a kind of contact. "By the Gods...."

A smile lighting his features, Achilles lifted his head to touch their foreheads together. "I have longed for the feel of your heat surrounding me for more months than I can count."

Alexandros' sucked in a deep breath, his eyes dilating so that his pupils nearly took over all of the deep mahogany irises. He was gasping and panting even after so little contact.

"'Xandros...?" Achilles asked worriedly, suddenly very concerned for his lover.

His response was for the younger man to close the distance between them, mashing their lips together in a kiss that spoke of the passion Alexandros had kept concealed since their last meeting.

~*~*~

Despite the many couplings with Helen he had endured in order to ensure she fled Sparta with him, Paris had never allowed it to effect him on any more than a physical level. He had allowed his body to respond to her gentle touches, but only that. To be able to release his emotions and know that they were shared by the man above him was nearly more than he could bear. It was nearly enough to overwhelm him.

"'Xandros...?"

Seeing the worry in Achilles' eyes, Paris lifted himself up onto his elbows so that he was able to touch his lips to his lover's. He miscalculated the distance a bit which increased the initial force of their kiss, but did not back down. Instead he lifted his hands to clutch at Achilles' broad shoulders in order to keep himself levered upright.

"I want to feel you within me," Paris moaned as the balance began to tip and Achilles leaned back enough so that he was straddling the older man's thigh. He had to be careful of his own wounded thigh, but the pain was a minor inconvenience when compared to the great passion he felt for the man in his arms.

That seemed to be all the answer Achilles required because within moments Paris found himself seated with his legs upon either side of the warrior's lap. The thin blanket that had been covering him had disappeared long ago so as Paris shifted his body still closer to Achilles, their naked erections touched, sending a shot of fire through his entire body.

~*~*~

From above they were as one living entity. A mass of shimmering limbs that glowed in the dim light of the brazier. Choked off moans and gasps that were swallowed up just as soon as they were uttered. Movements that appeared as a dance, not a single motion out of concert with the rest. Slow and hypnotic yet with a base, animalistic undertone that could not be denied.

Briefly, however, there were glimpses of that which separated them. The arching of a spine, drawing their bodies apart. A blonde head nuzzling into dark curls. Pained whimpers that were silenced with a gentle cooing sound and a tender kiss.

In the end it became quite obvious that it was two beings. The whispered words that passed between them were spoken with such love that only Narcissus himself could mean the words for himself. Any other would speak those words to the one who held his a part of his soul.

~*~*~

Alexandros lay beneath him, panting, his trembling hands framing Achilles' cheeks as he drew his head down. It was all that Achilles could do not to collapse upon the smaller man as he allowed himself to be drawn into a lazy kiss that seemed to consume all of the energy that remained in either of their bodies.

"I love you," Alexandros moaned against his lips, his dark eyes fluttering. "Above all other I love you with everything that is in me."

"There is no oath that I could give which would express my love completely," Achilles sighed, dipping his head down to burrow it into Alexandros' throat. He stayed there, releasing a second sigh as his beloved's arms moved to encircle his shoulders, Alexandros' right leg thrown over his hip. Achilles laid there content, never wishing to move again, but only to remain locked in Alexandros' embrace until the world crumbled around them.

Before long, Alexandros' breathing became deep and even and his grip lax. Even as he faded into sleep, Alexandros did not release him completely, neither from his arms nor his body. For his part, Achilles made no move to separate them. He merely found a position that was least likely discomfort Alexandros and allowed himself the luxury of sleep.

~*~*~

Drawing a hood up to cover her face, Helen rushed through the frantic streets. Andromache had shown her an undetectable way from the city, one that led to the bank of a river on the far side of the city. With luck she would easily be able to follow it back to the beach where the Greek army was encamped.

Now that Paris had been taken there was no longer any need for her to keep up her facade. She cared little for the Trojan prince and knew full well what she had seen that afternoon in their bedchamber. Prince Paris of Troy had been wrapped securely in the arms of the most notorious Greek warrior. A man who should have been his enemy. He had been a willing hostage despite the knife to his throat, information that she was certain Agamemnon would be most interested in hearing.

That brief glimpse of the two men lay (lying) entwined on the bed had been the answer to a riddle that could very well mean a Greek victory in the war. Paris was the key to controlling the mighty Achilles. He was the shepherd that Achilles had returned to time and again and that Menelaus had been intent on finding and presenting to his brother as a prize. Helen would do that now and present herself doubly in the king's eyes as bringing him not only the war he had desired, but the leverage he craved to hold over Achilles.