Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly


Chapter XII


"You will die for this, Agamemnon," Achilles growled, thrusting his index finger in Agamemnon's direction to emphasize his point.

"You are outnumbered and unarmed," Agamemnon laughed as he crossed over to latch onto the back of Alexandros' throat, yanking the bound man forward. "Do you seriously think you stand even the slightest chance of winning back your bed-boy?"

"I think that you are a coward if you plan to hide behind that boy," Achilles challenged, silently cursing himself for not having brought any weapons with him. "In any event he is of no consequence. You have the one you claimed was the reason for this war so give me back my prize."

Agamemnon tightened his hold on Alexandros' neck, forcing the younger man to his knees. Even though Alexandros was in obvious pain not one sound passed his lips other than the grunt of impact when his knees slammed down on the unyielding wood. For a brief moment Alexandros' eyes met his own and Achilles could clearly read the panic and fear in the wide brown eyes. And though he could reveal nothing in his own gaze, he silently prayed that Alexandros knew he would find a way to free him from Agamemnon's clutches.

"You seem to forget, Achilles, that this boy is responsible for my brother's death," Agamemnon challenged, unsheathing a dagger and pressing it to Alexandros' throat. "He is a simpering coward to boot so why should I not have him killed? Priam will likely be grateful to be rid of him. All of Troy will celebrate the death of the one who brought this war upon them."

"It does not matter what Priam or the city wants to happen, the fact remains that the prince is mine and I will not allow you to kill him."

The King's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. "You will not allow me?"

Though he was certain Agamemnon thought himself to be stealthy as he silently signaled to the soldiers gathering behind him, Achilles spun on his heel, ducking below the sword that was attempting to behead him. While the man's arms were outstretched in the act that would have ended his life, Achilles slammed his fist into the soldier's midsection and while he gasped to regain his breath Achilles relieved him of his sword. Seeing that he was now armed, the other soldiers paused and exchanged nervous glances between each other.

Leaning over the still gasping man, Achilles yanked the dagger from its sheath then stood with his sword arm towards the soldiers and the dagger towards Agamemnon and Alexandros. His gaze flickered between the both, never allowing his attention to be drawn to either for too long.

"If you are smart, Agamemnon, you will return the boy to me," Achilles' challenged. "You risk the wrath of the gods being brought down upon you. I come from a divine lineage. Can you make the same claim?"

~*~*~

Paris was biting deep into the inner flesh of his cheek to prevent any cries from escaping his lips. The gash on his leg was agony, his upper body, especially his wrists, ached and his head throbbed from the blow it had received earlier. He refused to allow Agamemnon to see how much pain he was in. He would not shame his beloved by being weak nor allow the Greek king to use his pain to aggravate Achilles' further. Vulnerable as he felt, Paris refused to allow it to show. He would be braver now than he had been when he'd challenged Menelaus that morning.

"You are a fool if you think that I am any man's bed-boy," Paris ground out, struggling against Agamemnon's hold on his throat. "I am a Prince of Troy."

Paris was hauled to his feet so quickly that his vision tilted. It did not have time to correct before Agamemnon's grip tightened on his throat, cutting off his breath. Paris fought back, squirming and lashing out with his feet to no avail. The older man was hardened by many years of war and the struggling of a mere shepherd was hardly noticed. Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed Achilles, his body drawn tense as a bowstring and the outrage visible on his face.

"You are no longer a Prince of Troy, my dear boy," Agamemnon snarled, bringing his face in close to Paris'. "You are my boy."

Outraged, Paris lashed out with his foot once again, intending to connect his knee to Agamemnon's groin. His knee failed to reach its target. Rather, Agamemnon latched onto Paris' calf just below the knee and used the prince's own momentum to draw his body forward so that each man's groin was pressed to the other's thigh. The Greek king ground himself against Paris' thigh, disgusting the younger man who fought desperately to free his arms even as he felt the blood seeping from his abraded wrists.

With a sudden burst of strength, Paris managed to unbalance Agamemnon and in doing so freed himself from the oppressive hold.

"Do not lay hand upon me again," the youth hissed, backing several steps away from the tottering man. "I am not your whore."

Not entirely certain where the courage and bravado had seeped from, Paris half expected to see himself crumple as Agamemnon advanced upon him once again. The former shepherd continued to retreat backwards, first out of Achilles' line of sight and ultimately against the wall behind him.

~*~*~


Unsure of what she had been expecting, Helen was nonetheless shocked by the events unfolding before her in the massive tent structure. Paris' initial fear and Achilles' rage she had foreseen even as she slipped from the palace so many hours before. Agamemnon had startled her, though. When she had offered up Paris to him it had never once crossed her mind that her husband's brother would lust after the cowardly princeling. Nor had she thought to see such fire in Paris' eyes when Agamemnon had given him to his desires.

She would have thought it merely a rouse to anger Achilles' further, had the elder son of Atreus been aware of Paris' true identity. Some unknown force had prevented her from revealing that piece of information when she had been brought before Agamemnon less than an hour previously and now she was glad for it.

In her mind she would have offered herself up to Agamemnon as a prize, casting herself in the role of mistress to the powerful king. And while she still had aspirations of gaining power through Agamemnon she was becoming certain that she would have to follow a new course ~*~ ~*~*~

Achilles desperately wanted to react. He wanted to kill Agamemnon for threatening to violate his beloved. The main obstacle preventing him from doing so was the growing number of soldiers on his right side, preventing an easy escape. The other was that Alexandros was no longer in his line of sight.

"It would be in your best interest to allow me and the boy to leave here," Achilles growled, glancing quickly over his shoulder to see how Alexandros faired. "If not you will lose the use of my Myrmidons. I will take thith ith me rather than merely leaving with the shepherd. The choice is yours, Agamemnon."

"You are in no position to make demands on me," the King of Mycenae challenged, his voice drifting from over Achilles' shoulder. "I am the one who commands this army."

"And without me here more than half would return home."

That he said nothing was a clear indication that Agamemnon knew the truth behind Achilles' statement. Even so, Achilles knew that he had not bested the other man. Agamemnon was nothing if not stubborn.

"You would not risk it," Agamemnon challenged. "I have allies throughout the Aegean and you would be hunted for the rest of your life. Any chance you had for peace would be gone."

"You forget that I have allies of my own," Achilles reminded the desperate king. "More, I would wager, than even you."

As he spoke, Achilles had been forced to repeatedly divert his attention between Alexandros and Agamemnon and the soldiers who stood at his opposite side waiting for the signal to strike. Achilles regretted every moment that forced his gaze from his beloved, hoping nothing further to happen to him in the interim. He would not put it past Agamemnon to strike down an unarmed man. The eldest son of Atreus had no morals; he would kill Alexandros for the sheer pleasure of it, knowing the pain the act would cause Achilles himself.

"Then I must use my time wisely," Agamemnon murmured, a sickening note of brevity in his tone.

A strangled cry immediately caught Achilles' full attention. Spinning about, Achilles forgot all about the king's guards when he saw Agamemnon with his mouth pressed firmly to Alexandros'. The youth was struggling mightily, but with his airflow cut off by a hand wrapped round his slender throat there was little he could do to dislodge the larger man. Achilles charged forward, intent on ending the man's life, but was overtaken almost immediately by the other warriors who had been moving closer each time he had turned his gaze to Alexandros.

"If you do not wish to die you will fall back now," Achilles grunted as he engaged the first man in combat. "I will not hesitate to kill each man that stands between me and the prince."

Over the next few minutes Alexandros was pushed completely from his mind as he fought the soldiers Agamemnon had deemed worthy enough to act as his bodyguard. He tried periodically to catch a glimpse of his lover but was never successful.

After the last man had fallen beneath his blade, Achilles knew the reason. Neither Alexandros nor Agamemnon was within the tent. As the battle had taken place in front of the only exterior doorway Achilles fled deeper within in search of his lover.

"Agamemnon!" Achilles shouted as he charged through the inner chambers of the tent. He would have called for his beloved but dared not call for Alexandros and refused to use the youth's other name. "Agamemnon, you coward, show yourself!"

Achilles searched each room he came across but could find no trace of either man. There were many other exits in these rooms, places for the Greek king to make an escape. Once he was certain that he had been through each room, Achilles chose the nearest exit and almost immediately found himself surrounded by a mass of dirty, sweaty bodies.

Upon sight of him, bloodied sword in hand, fury radiating from him like a harbinger of death, those nearest parted as he advanced into their midst.

Achilles raced through the camp in search of Alexandros. Agamemnon would get his dues soon enough. Finding Alexandros was his only concern at present. He could not allow his lover to be torn apart by the Greek soldiers. Alexandros' decision to steal Helen away from Menelaus had been foolish, but at the same time well meaning. The younger man had done what he had thought was right and Achilles refused to have him pay for it with his life. Especially when it appeared obvious that Agamemnon had other intentions in coming to Troy, avenging his brother's honour having little to do with it.

"Cousin, I must--"

"Not now, Patrolcus," Achilles growled, waving his cousin aside without a glance. "I have more important matters to attend to."

"It is about Alexandros!" Patrolcuouteouted after him. "Where he is."

Spinning about on his heel, Achilles followed his cousin through the maze of tents, intent on getting to his love. He heard some muffled shouting and a scream that he wished desperately he did not know. Fixing on the source of the sounds, Achilles sprinted ahead of his cousin, drawing his sword, ready to defend an unarmed Alexandros.

"Keep your hands off of me, you cursed creatures!"

As he shoved his way through a jeering and laughing throng of soldiers, Achilles' eyes locked immediately on a bloody and bruised, but still fighting, Alexandros. It did not matter how much Achilles had taught the younger man, there was only so much he could do unarmed against men with a variety of stabbing and bashing weapons.

"Get Alexandros to my tent, Patrolcus," Achilles ground out as he advanced towards the fray. He paused after two steps and turned his gaze back to his cousin, pleading silently. "Keep him safe."

The first man fell with a sword through his stomach before the others were even aware of his presence. Though they fought the same foe, Achilles treated his fellow Greeks as he would an enemy. Each man who had dared to lay hand on his lover was dealt a blow meant to end his life.

It all occurred within a haze, Achilles' mind registering nothing but the threat against himself. In the end, Achilles was left standing alone in the center of a circle of fallen soldiers, panting and blood covered.

"This will happen to any man who dares to lay a hand on the Trojan prince!" Achilles bellowed, spinning slowing in a circle so that he faced each man in turn. "He is under my protection! I will kill any man who harms him! On that you have my word!"

And though he would have much rather sprinted back to his tent and Alexandros, Achilles kept his steps slow and measured. It would do no good to reveal just how deeply he felt for the younger Prince of Troy. That would only make Alexandros a weapon to be used against him as Agamemnon had already learned.

"I hear tell that you have caused quite a stir this night," Odysseus mused as he stepped out of the shadows.

Achilles was forced to halt in his tracks as Odysseus moved to stand before him. "News travels fast. If you will excuse me...."

"And on behalf of the young Trojan brat that began this all," the older man chuckled.

The sound ended on a strangled note as Achilles shoved his friend up against the hull of a nearby ship, the tip of a sword at his throat.

"It would be wise if you refrained from such remarks in the future," Achilles hissed, leaning in close to ensure Odysseus understood the full import of his words.

The King of Ithaca merely flashed him a broad grin. "So it is true then. The newly discovered Trojan princeling is your beloved shepherd."

"If I discover that you have done him any ill, I swear to you that I will end your life," Achilles rumbled, his voice dangerously low. With a final, wordless growl, Achilles shoved himself away from Odysseus. "I swear it."

No longer caring for appearances, simply desperate to get to Alexandros, Achilles sped up his pace. By the time he reached the section of beach his Myrmidons had chosen as their own, Achilles was all but running towards his tent. His pace quickened still further when he heard Alexandros' pained gasp echo over the breeze.

Shoving aside the men who were attempting to block his path, Achilles threw open the flap hanging over the entrance and stepped inside.

"'Xandros," Achilles gasped as his eyes fell on the bloodied form of his lover who was being treated by his cousin. The only thing preventing him from rushing forward was the fact that Patrolcus was in the process of sticking a wound on his arm.

"Achilles," Alexandros moaned, holding his free arm out towards the warrior.

In two long strides, Achilles was at Alexandros' side and gathered the younger man into a loose embrace. When Alexandros' arm tightened around him, Achilles squeezed him more firmly and burrowed his face into the rumpled curls.

"You are, without a doubt, the bravest fool I have ever met," Achilles sighed as he pulled back slightly to inspect Patrolcus' work. Already Alexandros' wrists had been band, no, no doubt having been torn ragged by the rope that had held him arms bound behind him. There was another bandage wrapped round his left thigh that was seeped with blood as a result of stitches that had been torn loose. There were assorted other minor cuts and bruising, but nothing to put Alexandros' life at risk.

~*~*~

His body ached like he had never before imagined possible, but even so the instant Patrolcus finished stitching his arm, Paris wound his arm about Achilles' shoulders, drawing his lover into a tight embrace. He crawled forward so that he was straddling Achilles' thighs so that his chest was pressed flush against the blonde warrior's. Paris had not even realized there were tears sliding down his cheeks until Achilles began to kiss them away, murmuring softly into his skin.

"You are safe now, beloved," Achilles sighed against his cheekbone. "Agamemnon will die before I allow him to lay hand upon you again."

Not yet able to force any coherent words from his throat, Paris merely nodded his head. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, forcing the last of the tears to smear in his eyelashes before sliding down his flushed cheeks.

Achilles silently lowered Paris onto his back, settling his body over the trembling one. Paris was comforted by the fact that Achilles' body covered his entirely and draped one arm across his beloved's shoulders while the other went around his waist.

"Sleep now," Achilles whispered into the shell of his ear. "Sleep. I will keep you safe."

Trusting him implicitly, Paris did just that.