Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly


Chapter XVI


Achilles raced through the camp, uncaring of the people who happened in the path of his horse. Alexandros had fallen unconscious almost as soon as Achilles had gotten him on the horse and had showed no signs of reviving during his mad rush back to the camp. As he neared the section of the camp where his men were stationed he began shouting for a healer.

"Eudorus!" he bellowed, doing his utmost to bring his horse to a stop without jerking Alexandros around too badly. Tossing the reigns to his second-in-command, Achilles carefully slid to the ground, holding tight to his beloved. He was already moving into his tent when he began to speak. "You were supposed to be watching him! What happened to you?"

"I do not know. Last I saw of the prince he was in your tent and I have not left my post," Eudorus defd hid himself.

The answer presented itself when the two men caught sight of a large slash in the back wall of the tent.

"Young fool," Achilles moaned as he delicately placed Alexandros down on the cushions.

A healer burst into the tent then and Achilles was shoved to the side to make room for the healer's assistant. He fought to regain his place at Alexandros' side, but instead found himself being guided from the tent by Eudorus who was murmuring for him to give the healers room. Achilles felt numb. Alexandros had not moved in a very long time and were it not for his gasping breaths he had felt puffing against his chest before setting his ved ved down he would have feared the worst.

Achilles stilled the instant he set foot from the tent. He would not be parted any further from Alexandros than he necessary. He wanted to be near in case his beloved had need of him.

"What happened, my lord? How was Prince Paris injured?" Eudorus demanded of him, his voice gentle.

Even so, Achilles whirled on him, his eyes blazing fire. "Alexandros. He is Alexandros and regardless of what Priam and the rest of his family, he is not one of them."

"How was Alexandros injured, my lord?" Eudorus amended, backing away a few steps in the face of Achilles' fury. "Are we to retaliate?"

"Alexandros has already been avenged," Achilles informed the elder soldier. "Prince Hector is dead."

Eudorus' eyes widened in a shock that Achilles could not feel. "The prince injured his own brother so?"

"And for it he paid with his life. It was likely done in accident, but he was dead before I even gave my action conscious thought," the blonde warrior sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "I saw the sword stab into 'Xandros' stomach.... It was done before I could recall my hand."

~*~*~

Having left Astyanax in the care of a nurse, Andromache ghosted through the corridors on her way to the chamber where Hector's body had been brought. She had been secluded in an inner garden with her infant son, vainly aptinpting to distract herself from the battle which she knew was undoubtedly occurring when news of Hector's death had been brought back. It was her husband's young cousin, Briseis, that had been the one to tell her, barely able to sob out the words. Andromache had refused to believe her. It was only when a distraught Priam had entered the garden moments later that Andromache believed the words.

Not a single person met her eyes as she unerringly made her way through the endless corridors to a room that had, sadly enough, been built for the sole purpose of preparing bodies for their journey to the Otherworld. It had been many years since there was need of a royal funeral, but there would always be need for such a room.

Andromache hesitated before the heavy wooden door, finding herself unable to go beyond. On the opposite side of the door lay the body of her husband. A man's whose breath she had felt against her own only hours before. Whose warmth she had felt beneath her fingertips. Andromache regretted now that she had not tasted her beloved's lips one final time before his departure.

With a g for force of will, Andromache lifted her hand to the heavy door, running her fingers along it before pushing it open. She gripped the round latch on the door tightly when her knees threatened to give out beneath her when she saw her beloved husband lying still upon the great stone table.

"Hector...." Andromache moaned as she lowered her gaze from Hector's body to the carvings that lined the perimeter of the table.

Only when she was certain that she could remain standin her her own power did Andromache move further into the room, closing the door firmly behind her. She was alone in the room, the priests having departed since Priam had sent a servant to inform them that she intended to see her husband's body. As such, he had been cleaned of blood, sweat and sand, his body covered to the waist with a thin gossamer cloth.

"Oh, my love," Andromache murmured as she leaned over Hector's still form. She touched her fingertips to his bottom lip, willing to feel some warmth from his breath. There was only the cool temperature of his flesh, nothing more. "Hector...."

Beginning in the very tips of her fingers, Andromache began to tremble ever so slightly. The tremors moved through her body until she could no longer support herself and she sunk to her knees, sobbing into the cold stone slab that Hector's body rested upon.

~*~*~

Achilles was certain that he would eventually feel guilt over Hector's death. In his mind he knew that Priam's eldest had sought only to defend his brother. Noble as his intentions had been, on some level the warrior prince must have known death was a possibility. Death was always a possibility in battle and in that battle Achilles had refused to let himself fail. He would not be parted from Alexandros after having been so close to losing him before.

Still banished from his tent, Achilles watched over his soldiers as they milled about doing their utmost not to look at him. Eudorus had left some time before to spread the word that they were to have everything ready to leave at a moment's notice. As soon as he received permission from the healers to move Alexandros, Achilles intended to be on his ship sailing far from Troy.

"My lord," the healer's assistant murmured as he appeared at the tent flap.

Achilles scrambled to his feet and was in the tent before the boy had a chance to move completely out of the way. His balance thrown off kilter when his shoulder collided with the apprentice healer's stomach and ded ted to his knees only feet away from Alexandros' pale form. All of the blood seemed to have drained from his flesh, pooling at the bloodied bandage that was wrapped around his middle.

"'Xandros...." Achilles moaned, inching across the small distance that separated them, stretching himself out alongside his beloved. Achilles lightly stroked Alexandros damp cheek with the back of his fingertip, his eyes watching as the slender chest rose and fell with each shuddering breath he took. "He will live."

Though it had not been a question, the healer treated it as such. "He will, though I warrant he will remain unconscious for a time and in great pain longer still. His youth and his health will aid him in his recovery should there be any infection."

Achilles shuddered with relief and carefully curled himself around the still youth. As the two healers left the tent, Achilles squeezed his eyes shut tight, nuzzling Alexandros' throat and murmuring to his beloved. The words were mostly nonsense, an attempt to comfort himself more than Alexandros. He hoped that Alexandros could hear him so that the younger man would know that he was not alone. Achilles had no intention of leaving his beloved's side until Alexandros was well again.

"My lord, King Agamemnon has summoned you to his quarters," Eudorus called from outside the tent. "He wishes to see you immediately."

Tightening his hold on Alexandros, Achilles shook his head even though the warrior could not see him. "Tell Agamemnon he will be waiting a long while for I am not leaving Alexandros."

"My lord?"

"I am otherwise occupied, Eudorus, and Agamemnon will have to wait," Achilles said sternly, yet still somewhat quietly so as not to upset Alexandros.

There was a long silence with only Alexandros' raspy breathing to interrupt it. When he was certain that Eudorus had left, Achilles returned to his previous reclined position, burrowing his face against his lover's dark curls.

~*~*~

Eudorus was startled as a hooded figure appeared before him. He dipped his head down, attempting to peer through the darkness at the face hidden within.

"I wish to speak with Achilles," a regal voice said from inside the hood.

The veteran soldier crossed his arms over his chest and stood more fully in front of the tent flap. "Lord Achilles wishes to remain undisturbed."

"Lord Achilles is responsible for the death of my eldest and I would make certain that my youngest is not about to share his brother's fate," the man growled and in a sudden flash of firelight Eudorus could make out the aged face of the King of Troy.

Eudorus stepped to the side, bowing his head so that King Priam could enter the tent. Once the older man had stepped inside, Eudorus moved a short distance away in order to give them some privacy but yet remain close enough to be called for if need be.

~*~*~
e moe moment he heard movement at the tent flap, Achilles rolled away from Alexandros, a knife out and pointed towards the intruder. Notogniognizing the hooded figure, Achilles rose slowly to his feet, intending to defend his lover.

"It would be wise of you to leave now," Achilles ground out as he rose to his full height. "I am not in the mood to show mercy."

"You have already showed me none," the man said as he removed his hood. "You have already killed one of my sons and now the other lies gravely injured before me. I mean to return to my city with my son so that I can assure his safety."

Achilles tensed more, his grip on his weapon tightening. "Hector's death was his own doing. He very nearly killed Alexandros and would not have died so easily had he killed 'Xandros. It was unfortunate that Hector was killed, but his death was his own fault. I defended my lover, who was unarmed when he found himself on the end of his brother's sword. I am not inclined to forgive any member of your family for the agony you have put Alexandros through. I will not allow you to harm him any longer."

Keeping the blade tight in his fist, Achilles backed up a few steps so that when he lowered himself to his knees he was able to touch Alexandros with his free hand. All the while he kept his gaze on the aging king of Troy, not ready to trust him. He felt calmer, though, the moment his fingertips touched Alexandros' cheek. It grounded h
"
"How safe do you think he will be here?" Priam asked, facing down Achilles' wrath with surprising ease. He lowered himself onto the tent's only chair, settling back with a sigh. "Agamemnon would see my son dead. You have already taken one son from me, do not take a second."

"Hector ended his life when his blade pierced Alexandros," Achilles hissed, his fingers reflexively following the contours of Alexandros' face then through his lover's hair so that he could assure himself that he was still there. "I had no intention of truly harming him until that point."

"Nor did Hector mean to injure his brother. It was an accident of the fates. Please do not allow it to steal Paris' life as well," Priam pleaded with him, his eyes imploring Achilles to give up Alexandros.

"I would keep him safe from the gods themselves if it was in my power," Achilles insisted, schooling his features to give no hint of his inner turmoil.

"But it is not."

Achilles scowled at the king and he shifted slightly so that he was preventing Priam a clear view of his youngest. "It does not seem to be within your power to keep hafe,afe, either. You are the one who forced him into an existence he was not prepared for. You stole him from his life and expected him to become someone that he is not. He is not Prince Paris of Troy, he is Alexandros, a shepherd. Forcing one to be the other will only harm him in the end."

"He is my son," Priam insisted, leaning forward so that his forearms rested upon his thighs. "With Hector dead he is now the heir to my kingdom. Paris must be kept safe at all costs and you cannot assure his safety here. Beyond that he is my son. My blood. Would that you never outlive a child of your own. It is a pain beyond that of any physical wound."

"I felt a pain greater than I have ever known when your priests proclaimed him lost to me," Achilles insisted, finally lowering his sword to the ground.

Behind him, Alexandros stirred slightly, a quiet moan escaping past his lips. The King of Troy forgotten, Achilles twisted about so that he was leaning over Alexandros' upper body, peering intently at his face. The injured man was still heavily unconscious, but his features were twisted in paichilchilles stroked his fingers through his beloved's hair, grazing the tips of his fingers over his cheeks, all the while murmuring what he hoped were comforting words against his lips.
wil will keep you safe. I swear to you by all the gods I will keep you safe," Achilles whispered as he slid his lips along Alexandros' cheek.

~*~*~

Priam could not help but marvel at the utter tenderness Achilles demonstrated towards his youngest. The man he had always considered to be a savage brute of a man was handling Paris as though he were a fragile piece of sculpture; something precious to be cherished. There was no sign of the man who had murdered his eldest son, only a man whose entire being seemed devoted to Paris.

"I can see that you care for my son and if you asked for it I would grant you sanctuaryind ind the walls of my city," Priam offered to the man who by all rights should have been his enemy.

"I would not abandon my men," Achilles murmured, his gaze not wavering from Paris' face. He lightly touched his fingertips to the younger man's forehead, tracing an absent pattern over the pale skin. "You would keep him safe?"

The exhausted and grieving king straightened his shoulders.

Achilles squeezed his eyes shut tightly, burrowing his face into the pillow beside Paris' head. He made a distressed noise before turning his head towards Paris' throat and Priam could once again hear Achilles murmuring into his skin.

"If I hear even the slightest hint that any further harm has come to Alexandros, I will raze your beloved city to the ground," Achilles hissed as he raised himself up on his elbows in order to turn his now fiery gaze onto the king.

"You have my word that no harm will come to my son," Priam assured him as he rose to his , ta, taking a few cautious steps towards the pair who lay huddled on the ground.

The Greek warrior snorted in amusement before leaning his upper body back over Paris'. "You forget that before he is your son, he is mine. My beloved above all else. Unfortunate circumstances made him your son, but our love was not contingent upon blood. I loved him long before you knew of his existence and our love will last long after our bones have been burned to ash."

There was an intensity in Achilles' words that frightened Priam. He knew without further confirmation that Achilles meant every word of it. His devotion to Paris was complete and from his son's own actions he knew those emotions to be returned fully.

"I will protect Paris while this war continues and should you survive, return him to you upon its end. I ask only one thing of you in return." Priam waited for Achilles to meet his eyes before continuing. "Give me twelve days to properly mourn my son. Let me honour him as he deserves without threat of attack. Do that and I will not hinder Paris if it is his wish to return to you when the war ends."

~*~*~

It was only an extreme force of will that allowed Achilles to give up Alexandros' body to the Trojan soldiers who come through the gates to take both king and prince into the safety of the palace. He had carried Alexandros from his tent to the very walls of the city and could hardly bear to part with his beloved even though he knew it was best for Alexandros. The younger man would receive better care in the city. He would heal and be made well again which was all that Achilles wanted for him.

"I love you," Achilles murmured against Alexandros forehead. "No matter the distance."

Then Alexandros was gently extracted from his arms and taken into the city.

"Thank you for returning my son to me," Priam said before following after his son.

Achilles did not acknowledge the king's words, his entire attention focused upon Alexandros. He could see little more than Alexandros' forehead and unruly mop of curls, but he followed them intently. As the soldier carrying him turned down a different street, Achilles saw him in profile for a brief moment. Then he was gone and all that Achilles had was a cloth covered in blood that remained in his tent.