Spirits Forged in Fire

Achilles lifted his chin into the air, as the small group left the comfort of their walls. Although many had not believed it could be done, the Trojans had managed to rebuild the great wall of Troy. Granted, the damage had been contained to only the front gate area, as the Greeks had soon found that dismantling the wall was a much greater task than they had thought. Once their king had been killed, much of the leaderless army spread to attack neighboring towns, gaining many enemies as they added to their treasures. The Trojans, with the help of these newfound allies, had done it; the wall of Troy was now standing in its former glory as it had before. The numbers housed within those walls grew daily, as the unprotected peoples who lived in the rugged countryside now flocked to the safety of the once glorious city. Numerous Trojans returned to their homes, hearing word now some six months later that they were safe. Their army was growing, as were their spirits. Many now boasted that, with Agamemnon gone, the Greeks were too fearful to attack their city. Talented individuals were selected out of their ranks to lead the inexperienced army, and were carefully schooled in archery and swordsmanship by Achilles and Paris. The two young men, unlikely allies, had slipped into a friendship that held all the warmth of a business agreement, but a mutual respect had begun to form. Achilles found that the younger prince, once he learned to control his fiery temper, was light on his feet and quick with the knife.

One particularly hot afternoon, a frustrated Achilles threw his shield into the dirt.
"You!" He yelled at one young man. "explain to me why you feel it isnt necessary to give training your full attention. Now!" The young man flinched, but ground out a response nonetheless.

"My lord Achilles, there is no sign of the Greek army approaching. With the heat and the incessant drills, we are tired and in need of a break."

"So you would rather we wait to train until sails appear in the distance. Let me tell you, these men that will come now will have learned from their former King's rash display of pride. Like lions, they will watch us, they will lie and wait until we rest, and then they will attack. Now pick up your sword."

"Yes my lord. " the young man stuttered, grasping his weapon with a shaky hand. Within two seconds, the blade was lying on the ground as the youth stared at Achilles, shocked at the speed with which he had dismantled his opponent. Achilles bent down and picked up the sword, handing it back to the younger man.

"What is your name, soldier?" He said, seemingly friendly once again.

"Aeolus, my lord." He replied, relaxing.

"Ah, Aeolus, named after the God of the Wind. And are you married my boy?" The soldier nodded, blushing slightly as the other soldiers laughed behind him. "And your wife's name?"

"Cipriana" Aeolus said, hiding a laugh at Achilles sudden mood change.

"Well Aeolus...I imagine you and your wife cant have been married long. You are still wet behind the ears! Am I right?" Achilles chuckled, turning towards the younger man.

"Only a month."

"Oh I see. Still passionate then. You two must have quite the love life." Achilles said, a smile still gracing his chisled features, as the cluster of men surrounding them began to howl and taunt. "So I imagine that tonight there is every chance that your wife may clean your armor, feed you, and then seduce you into bed with all the grace and mystery of Circe." Paris set down his bow, and turned in interest to hear Achilles speech. Pleasant as it seemed, Paris was not convinced of Achilles newfound good mood. Achilles continued, "And you, young and virile as you undoubtedly are, will eagerly climb into bed as you two rut with all the senselessness of animals in heat. While you are pleasuring your lady though, Greek soldiers have murdered your neighbors and surrounded your home." The young soldiers eyes flew up from the ground, apprehension appearing on his boyish face. "The drag you and your wife out of your own marital bed, naked for all to see. There, while they bind your arms behind your back, they will rape your wife. They will pass her around and use her to dispel any sexual frustration that may have developed during weeks away from their own wives. You are helpless to respond to her screams." Paris stood, his back rigid, as he watched Achilles step closer to the young man. "In front of your own eyes, they take her over and over and over again, until she can't even move. When her throat is parched from screams, her back torn from the gravel of the ground, and her body bruised from the uncaring hands of the Greeks, you will still be helpless. In front of you, they slit her throat, and you watch while the blood seeps from her wound. The look of fear in her eyes bores right through you. The one thing that they do with mercy though, is kill you. You are lucky, for your end comes soon after hers. Your body is thrown over top of hers, and the two of you are spit upon and then left for the birds." To mark his point, Achilles spit at the ground by his feet, and then spun on his heel to leave. Bewildered, Paris followed after.

"Achilles, Achilles! Wait." Paris called, but Achilles kept walking. Paris caught up to the older man, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. Achilles spun around, venom in his eyes, but then softened when he recognized the Prince. "Do you mind telling me what that was about?" Paris questioned heatedly.

"These men know nothing of war, they are boys and farmers." He said, emotionlessly.

"That wasnt what I meant." Paris said curtly. "I know you fear for your wife, I wonder daily what could happen to Helen should Menelaus return for her, should I fail in my duty of protecting her. You cant poison your life with fear of the future. If they come, they come. Let the men be with their wives, their families, let them have something to fight for. Worse comes to worse, their last days will not have been a waste." Achilles turned to the dark haired man, and something in him weakened.

"I love her Paris. I dont ever want to lose her again." he said, his eyes deadly serious.

"I know. So go to her, she needs you as much as you need her." Paris spoke softly, a smile appearing on his face. Achilles grasped Paris' arm, and then turned towards the palace. Briseis, now well in her eighth month, smiled as her lover approached. Paris watched as Achilles strode towards her, set the basket she was carrying at her feet, and then picked her up, disappearing into the main hall. Imagine that, he thought. The great Achilles really does have a weakness. All animosity towards the famed warrior finally gone, Paris turned back towards the men, to continue their training.


sorry about the break in between updates, I hope you guys enjoy. Obviously, things will start to come together very quickly now. As always, a final plea: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!

thanks :)
Megs