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No Mercy *revised*
folder
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
6,005
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
6,005
Reviews:
30
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Troy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
No Mercy - 2
(CH-2)
One Year Ago
He was watching the ship, elaborated with Trojan expressive designs, the colour as blue as the sea. She sailed smoothly in the wind, as if being carried by the gods, and shored regally. He was not a man of poetry, but when he saw beauty he recognized it.
The ship opened and a board was laid down into the sands. The first things that marched out the ship were not men, but horses. Achilles straightened on his horseback. The fine horses of Troy. Strong, tall and as black as night. They were presents to Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon. The Achaeans welcomed their gifts with joy and excitement as they watched the horses lined up elegantly and begin to march on command toward the city of Menelaus. Achilles never saw a disciplined army that matched the Spartans until now.
“It was worth sailing, Achilles,” said a young voice on the horse beside him.
Yes. Achilles answered mutely with a smile to Patroclus, his cousin and companion, who had begged him to visit the island secretly and watch the renowned Trojan ship and their handsome beasts.
Then, the music began to play, the women began to dance and flowers began to swirl in the air when two princes rode on their horses down the ship, greeting the people as they passed.
Achilles turned his head and there he saw Paris, the gorgeous young prince, and the solid, solemn warrior at his side, Hector, Prince of Troy and Tamer of Horses.
He heard the call of Ares rising in his veins.
+
Hector became conscious again when he felt a splash of cold water on his face, making him wake with a start. He was surprised to find the state of emotions he was in. Weary and saddened. For he knew a man could fight an army, but when he fought with hatred, it would never end. No one would ever win. And it would be his blood that fell. He was too weakened, and he could not bear the thought he would have to suffer the torture of this ruthless, barbaric killer.
“You really thought you have killed a man far better than you?” Achilles asked, towering over Hector.
Hector kept his mouth shut instead of returning any curses. With all the sacrileges Achilles had done to Troy and its people, he would not obey the man’s every command like a slave.
Achilles’ hand was in his hair and the man pulled him violently. “ANSWER ME!”
“I answ…” His voice died away, and he spoke with breathy anger. “I answered your challenge, Achilles. What else do you want me to answer?” He dared.
“Why did you kill him?”
“He wore your armour, he swung your sword. He led your army, and—“
Achilles slammed Hector’s face against the pole he was chained to.
“Why bother asking if you do not want to listen!” Hector shouted, exasperated.
Achilles punched him, and threw him aside. He advanced like a lion and gripped the prince’s hair, pulling him up and raising his fist to hit him again. Hector let out a snarl and swung his fist into Achilles’ chin, splitting his lips. But Achilles did not fall back; he grabbed Hector’s throat and snatched his sword that was hanging on the pole next to his couch, raising it to the air.
“Achilles!”
The hoarse calling halted Achilles, but it was also the strong arms and stout body of the other man that stopped him from plunging his sword into Hector’s chest.
“Achilles, no.”
Surprisingly to Hector’s eyes, the Greek did not haul his captor nor hurt him from preventing him from killing his enemy. The rogue listened to this man, King of Ithaca, whom Hector recognized at once.
Odysseus slowly released Achilles once the man lowered his weapon, and turned toward the King.
“You would avenge Patroclus this way?” said Odysseus. He stepped in front of Achilles, and eyed Hector who now stood up steadily, wiping the dripping blood from his face. The man, to Hector’s eyes, wore an air of astuteness; his eyes were sharpened by schemes.
Achilles sheathed his sword and asked, aggravated, “What do you want?”
“Should we discuss this here?”
“He will be dead shortly, so speak your business.”
Odysseus said with urgency in his voice, “They thought he was dead, and they wanted to ransom his body.”
“No,” Achilles answered.
“The war was halted,” Odysseus continued, the lines on his face deepened. “And this war will continue or not depends on you, Achilles, whether you like it or not.”
Achilles turned his back to his friend.
“If you came here for Agamemnon, tell him one more time this is no longer my war. As long as they thought Hector was dead, he can do whatever he wants. Just leave me alone.”
Odysseus took a step towards to Achilles. “But it will be not too long before they find out that he is still alive. What do you plan to do with him, anyway? You are my friend, but your action is confusing to me and I think you have been self-indulgent enough.”
Achilles glanced over his shoulder, eyes flaring. “I did not come here to lose my cousin who is dead by the hands of this man. If torturing him is my last indulgence, I will take it.”
Hector watched the two men closely. He wished it had been Odysseus who led the Greek army. The older warrior seemed sane and he did not want this war. The man had been there when he killed Patroclus—the disaster that had him to this moment.
Odysseus then spoke, “What do you suggest?”
Achilles glanced toward Hector. “We can send them his arm.”
+
One Year Ago
He was watching the ship, elaborated with Trojan expressive designs, the colour as blue as the sea. She sailed smoothly in the wind, as if being carried by the gods, and shored regally. He was not a man of poetry, but when he saw beauty he recognized it.
The ship opened and a board was laid down into the sands. The first things that marched out the ship were not men, but horses. Achilles straightened on his horseback. The fine horses of Troy. Strong, tall and as black as night. They were presents to Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon. The Achaeans welcomed their gifts with joy and excitement as they watched the horses lined up elegantly and begin to march on command toward the city of Menelaus. Achilles never saw a disciplined army that matched the Spartans until now.
“It was worth sailing, Achilles,” said a young voice on the horse beside him.
Yes. Achilles answered mutely with a smile to Patroclus, his cousin and companion, who had begged him to visit the island secretly and watch the renowned Trojan ship and their handsome beasts.
Then, the music began to play, the women began to dance and flowers began to swirl in the air when two princes rode on their horses down the ship, greeting the people as they passed.
Achilles turned his head and there he saw Paris, the gorgeous young prince, and the solid, solemn warrior at his side, Hector, Prince of Troy and Tamer of Horses.
He heard the call of Ares rising in his veins.
+
Hector became conscious again when he felt a splash of cold water on his face, making him wake with a start. He was surprised to find the state of emotions he was in. Weary and saddened. For he knew a man could fight an army, but when he fought with hatred, it would never end. No one would ever win. And it would be his blood that fell. He was too weakened, and he could not bear the thought he would have to suffer the torture of this ruthless, barbaric killer.
“You really thought you have killed a man far better than you?” Achilles asked, towering over Hector.
Hector kept his mouth shut instead of returning any curses. With all the sacrileges Achilles had done to Troy and its people, he would not obey the man’s every command like a slave.
Achilles’ hand was in his hair and the man pulled him violently. “ANSWER ME!”
“I answ…” His voice died away, and he spoke with breathy anger. “I answered your challenge, Achilles. What else do you want me to answer?” He dared.
“Why did you kill him?”
“He wore your armour, he swung your sword. He led your army, and—“
Achilles slammed Hector’s face against the pole he was chained to.
“Why bother asking if you do not want to listen!” Hector shouted, exasperated.
Achilles punched him, and threw him aside. He advanced like a lion and gripped the prince’s hair, pulling him up and raising his fist to hit him again. Hector let out a snarl and swung his fist into Achilles’ chin, splitting his lips. But Achilles did not fall back; he grabbed Hector’s throat and snatched his sword that was hanging on the pole next to his couch, raising it to the air.
“Achilles!”
The hoarse calling halted Achilles, but it was also the strong arms and stout body of the other man that stopped him from plunging his sword into Hector’s chest.
“Achilles, no.”
Surprisingly to Hector’s eyes, the Greek did not haul his captor nor hurt him from preventing him from killing his enemy. The rogue listened to this man, King of Ithaca, whom Hector recognized at once.
Odysseus slowly released Achilles once the man lowered his weapon, and turned toward the King.
“You would avenge Patroclus this way?” said Odysseus. He stepped in front of Achilles, and eyed Hector who now stood up steadily, wiping the dripping blood from his face. The man, to Hector’s eyes, wore an air of astuteness; his eyes were sharpened by schemes.
Achilles sheathed his sword and asked, aggravated, “What do you want?”
“Should we discuss this here?”
“He will be dead shortly, so speak your business.”
Odysseus said with urgency in his voice, “They thought he was dead, and they wanted to ransom his body.”
“No,” Achilles answered.
“The war was halted,” Odysseus continued, the lines on his face deepened. “And this war will continue or not depends on you, Achilles, whether you like it or not.”
Achilles turned his back to his friend.
“If you came here for Agamemnon, tell him one more time this is no longer my war. As long as they thought Hector was dead, he can do whatever he wants. Just leave me alone.”
Odysseus took a step towards to Achilles. “But it will be not too long before they find out that he is still alive. What do you plan to do with him, anyway? You are my friend, but your action is confusing to me and I think you have been self-indulgent enough.”
Achilles glanced over his shoulder, eyes flaring. “I did not come here to lose my cousin who is dead by the hands of this man. If torturing him is my last indulgence, I will take it.”
Hector watched the two men closely. He wished it had been Odysseus who led the Greek army. The older warrior seemed sane and he did not want this war. The man had been there when he killed Patroclus—the disaster that had him to this moment.
Odysseus then spoke, “What do you suggest?”
Achilles glanced toward Hector. “We can send them his arm.”
+