Take Me Home

Part 22

The sun and the moon had risen and set behind the mountains eight times before the bandages around Paris’ torso was finally allowed to come off permanently.

So far, Paris had endured every discomfort stoically, complaining not a single word to Achilles. This, however, bothered the Greek warrior because he could see it clearly from the way Paris had tightened his muscles. It was frustrating to guess what was in Paris’ mind when the youth refused to share much of his thoughts. Achilles just wanted to help ease some of the worse moments, if only he knew if Paris was being reclusive or just hiding his pain so as not to cause more grief for him.

Achilles was standing just behind Paris, shifting nervously when the physician started to unwrap the bindings. It had not been an easy task for him due to part of the bandage having stuck on the skin where the scabs had formed and sometimes pus oozed out where the skin had to be peeled. It was simply devastating for the prince to watch and he felt sorry for Paris having to endure more traumas. Achilles wished so hard in his heart that he could take away all that from his lover, enduring them for him instead of watching helplessly.

The rope burns around his wrists had healed faster, leaving only tell-tale red lines that would eventually fade, but the back would require an extended time as the wounds were deeper and more severe.

“Your lesions are healing nicely, but I’m afraid the scar will never disappear,” the physician revealed. His tone was monotonous and clinical. In such situations, he wished he could offer better news for his prognosis especially for a patient so young and beautiful as Paris. Unfortunately, he could only give his expert advice and opinions; sympathy would aggravate his patient even more.

It had been a good idea to stay out of Paris’ sight because the youth wouldn’t have seen the drastic changes in Achilles’ face. He had known that this was inevitable; he had seen them in men who had been victims of one of the cruelest form of punishments yet when the word ‘scar’ was spoken aloud, it caused a deep stab in his heart.

Seeing those dreadful evidence of his own stupidity, Achilles had not choice, but to live with regrets everyday of his life because his lover was now burdened to carry the mark for life. The once unblemished and smooth back that he loved to stare so much would now always be hidden away like some disgusting disease had festered on him; Paris would never show another soul his humiliation.

The youth did not answer nor questioned the physician; he only nodded his head slowly in acceptance. They heard him exhaling deeply.

The chamber had been tensed with apprehension while the physician worked, but only Paris had managed to unwind and slouch his back after it was over; Achilles was still biting the nail of his thumb. As a result of all these, the Trojan youth began feeling a little tired and dizzy; not because of his weakened state by the injuries but, because he was over-whelmed by his dark broodings. Carrying that scar like a punished slave, he had no future left. That was one of the reasons he couldn’t go back to Troy – no subjects would acknowledge him as their prince once more. In everyone’s eyes, he was as good as dead.

Paris was tempted to ask for a polished bronze to look at his back, but he was afraid to ask. He was afraid to see his disfigurement with his own eyes and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold himself sane after this.

It was said that time was the only antidote known to man that could heal all wounds, if not lessen the severity. Paris believed this was true, the evidence being that after such a length of absence from Hector’s care, his longings for his brother and home had become a faded memory to him. The only trouble was that Paris was no longer the same person after this and there was no way that Achilles could turn back the time. His innocence was now tainted and his mind was corrupted; he would not give away his trust so easily and that kept him at a distance from everyone else. Achilles, too, was not spared from the changes – the man had mellowed and a degree of sadness permanently etched in his grey eyes.

Despite the alienation that wedged between them, Paris had shown some willingness to forgive Achilles. The night after Paris had spoken to him for the first time, they had slept together in the same bed once more. Although the youth would not snuggle close to him as he had always done, at least he let Achilles held his hand in their sleep. Whenever he was plagued by nightmares, he was able to be calmed by the prince’s soothing stroke on his forehead or caresses on his upper arm.

Naturally, Achilles was grateful for this little allowance in intimacies because it was a start in closing the gap between them and a chance to heal Paris’ heart and to gain his trust. All was not lost as long as the youth was inclined to receive his love.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Two days later, a young soldier attached to the king’s personal guards knocked on Achilles’ bedchamber.

“My Lord Achilles. His Majesty has summoned for your presence in his chamber,” the young man announced, as soon as Achilles opened the door.

When Achilles heard this, he bowed down his head with concern. He was reluctant to meet his father as he had an idea what the king wished to talk to him about. The matter with Agamemnon’s request had not been dealt with until now and his poor interest in the kingdom’s affair could not be delayed any longer.

“Tell him, I will come now,” Achilles replied after sometime.

The guard nodded crisply, saluted and left.

Achilles closed the door behind him and went to the chest to retrieve some proper clothing to put on. Many thoughts ran through his head as he dressed and one of them was whether he should risk leaving Paris alone in the chamber while he was away. He would not be gone long, but still there was danger.

Not trusting anyone except his men, he decided on posting one of the Myrmidons outside the door. It was going to take time to send one of the slaves to give the message to Eudoras and make the arrangements; and there was no way he could wait for them to come as the king was expecting him.

In the end, he made the decision to send Tassos running urgently to Eudoras and posted two temporary guards outside the chamber with explicit instructions that no one was to enter that chamber except the slave boy and his Second. Anyone disobeying their orders would be arrested and even killed if necessary. As of that moment, too, Paris was put under house arrest and forbidden to step out of the room without his direct approval.

Just before leaving, he checked on Paris who was lying on the bed, sleeping soundly. In his state of stasis, with his hands curled on his chest, he looked so young and vulnerable. It made it all the more harder for Achilles to abandon his lover. He didn’t have any choice though. With a heavy heart, he bent down to plant a soft kiss on his lover’s forehead and then exited the chamber quietly.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“You wish to see me, father?” Achilles announced his presence.

King Peleus was standing by the window, staring outside with many contemplations going through his head. “Come in,” he acknowledged his son and gestured for the other to sit down.

Achilles took the seat he was offered and waited impatiently for him to begin. He was anxious to return to Paris.

“You know why I called you here?” Peleus took the seat opposite his son.

“Yes.”

“And what should we do about Agamemnon?”

“I will not fight his war, father. I’ve already made that clear.”

“Has this decision of yours anything to do with … Paris?” Peleus used the Trojan youth’s first name for the first time.

“One of the reasons,” Achilles answered. “You know that Agamemnon’s only fighting for his own gains. We receive only a small distribution from Troy’s wealth and I lose many men for that? It’s not enough compensation. And yes, I am not going to go against Troy for Paris’ sake, even if he did not beg this of me. I will not betray him.”

“So he has professed his love for you? You are willing to sacrifice Phthia’s freedom and peace for love, for this boy?” Peleus sat back against the high back of his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at his son intently, to study Achilles’ reaction.

His grandson may be rash sometimes, but he was also right. Phthia’s nation was too small against a rich country as Mycenae. They would be crushed easily. While Peleus was not afraid of a man such as Agamemnon who hides his fat belly behind his generals, the man was nevertheless a dangerous scheming fox. He had not gotten to the throne because he was the eldest, but through elimination of any threats and weak points.

And what was this about love? Yes, he knew what love was all about and how an entire nation could be brought to its downfall as a result of this foolish feeling. Troy was an example and soon Sparta would follow in its wake. There were even gods and goddesses who fell from grace because of love. He had loved once and he had lost her to the sea. It had brought nothing, but pain to him. Achilles had to remember that he was the heir to the throne and must place his obligations to his subjects above all else.

“Agamemnon will not dare touch Phthia as long as I live. He believes in the prophecy and let him continue to do so. If you are so intent on sending troops, send Neoptolemus and his band of boys. I’m sure they’ll be excited to have their first taste of blood and killing.”

“Why do you hate your own son, Achilles? What has he done that upsets you so? As a father and grandfather, I will not interfere with your family’s dispute. Unfortunately, since it has escalated to that shameful display that day, I cannot stand aside and do nothing about it. What has happened, Achilles? There is no one here, so you can tell me.”

The prince let out a sigh. It never occurred to him that he would hate his own child. Neoptolemus was a promising boy, showing many exemplary attributes that he would one day become a great king. There were always some disagreements between them though not impractical; the boy was sensible and intelligent, but their ideas were never on the same side. Deidameia had teased him once that their son was his evil twin.

This time however, Neoptolemus had gone too far.

“He forced himself on Paris,” Achilles revealed.

Peleus was not surprised by what he heard. He had already deduced that it had something to do with this, though rape was a little extreme. He had heard that the Trojan boy was beautiful and such rarity were hard to keep as it often resulted in many troubles. He never expected the true descendents of the House of Tros not to cause such kind of dispute.

“This is not unforeseen. You’ve committed such acts yourself occasionally. Paris is a war prisoner and he is a boy. He is also not your only lover,” Peleus laid out the plain reality for Achilles to see.

The old King was right, of course, but still Achilles was appalled that his father could be so calm and cold about it. What happened to this man who had been so passionate and in love? Why couldn’t he understand that when you love someone, you protected them?

“I’ve chosen him to be my life long mate, just as I’ve taken in Deidameia and Patroclus,” Achilles remarked.

“Deidameia is your official wife and queen when you ascend to the throne. Patroclus is your own cousin, of the same blood. Paris is a foreigner that you’ve taken as a war prize. He IS a slave,” Peleus reminded his son.

He could see the blood rise in Achilles’ face as anger rose within him. The younger man stood up all of a sudden, toppling the chair back and was about to form a scything retort when someone started knocking on the door excitedly.

“Come in,” Peleus called out, glad for the unexpected intrusion.

Eudoras opened the door and rushed in hastily – he seemed nervous about something.

“Forgive me for the intrusion, my king. I have some urgent news for Lord Achilles,” the Second-in-Command blurted after bowing to them.

“What is it, Eudoras?” Achilles began making his way to him. He didn’t like Eudoras’ tone and the way the man squirmed. Eudoras was a brave man, nothing could make him flinch. They had spent man long days together, fighting side by side against some of the most fearsome enemies and for him to be this unsettled?

Many terrible thoughts began to invade Achilles’ mind. His instinct was also screaming at him.

The poor man flinched, being utterly uncomfortable with the way his Commander was staring down at him. “My lord. Paris … Paris …,” he couldn’t find the right word.

“What happened to him?” Achilles nearly shouted. He grabbed Eudoras’ upper arms painfully and shaking him out of his paralysis.

Never had Peleus seen Achilles this distressed. The man was visibly trembling from an attack of panic worry and complete fear. Dark dread was written all over his face.

“The slave boy … he told me that you needed one of the Myrmidons urgently to guard outside your bedchamber. I caught Peroklos in time because he was the most reliable. But when we got there, we found no one guarding outside as the boy said there would be two. We entered the chamber and found them dead, their necks twisted.”

“And Paris?” Achilles exclaimed, his voice a little wavering as he fought to stay his tears. He prayed so hard like he had never prayed before that his beloved was all right.

“We couldn’t find him. He was not in the room.”

“No! No!” the prince screamed and rushed out.

Eudoras ran after his commander while Peleus called for his personal guards to gather. If there was truly a breach of security in his palace he wanted to make sure that his family was protected. The women’s wing had to be guarded first and the children gathered next. He also made arrangements for a small troop of horsemen ready to ride out if necessary.


All around him was a blur; the world did not exist and no human walked on the ground beside him. Ahead of him was only a narrow path and on each side grew thorny bushes; they scratched at his legs as he ran passed yet he felt not the pain – only more dread and gloom consumed him. Achilles knew very well, though he didn’t know how, that the path led to the bedchamber. He hoped and wished that when he pushed open that door, he would see his Paris sleeping peacefully on the bed, awaiting his return and caressing his arm to wake him. Paris would open his eyes and blinked innocently at him, gazing back with unconcealed affection. He would smile to welcome him. Achilles swore he would sacrifice three of their best bulls to Zeus and send three beautiful girls and boys to serve Aphrodite at the temple if he would find Paris safe and sound in his bedchamber.

His lungs heaved heavily as he breathed hard and there was only the pounding of his heart in his ears. He never heard Eudoras shouting behind him to get the slaves out of the way and raising the alarm to the other guards to be on alert.

As soon as he saw the door widely open, he felt an icy hand gripped his heart. He rushed in so urgently that he almost stumbled to the floor when his legs kicked on the sprawled bodies of the two dead guards he had assigned earlier. He paled at the sight of them.

Suddenly, something launched at him and attached its body to him. He looked down in shock to find Tassos; his eyes red and tears streaming down his face in unstoppable torrents.

“They took him! They took him!” Tassos cried hysterically. “They injured him. There was blood on the bed!”

The Greek warrior went to investigate. True enough, there were speckles of blood on the badly rumpled sheet. There were signs of some struggling. Perhaps Paris had fought against his kidnapper and they had wounded him.

Achilles turned to Tassos. A knowing look passed between them. There was no doubt who was behind all this.

“Eudoras!” Achilles called.

“Yes, my lord,” his Second came rushing over. He had been waiting dutifully just at the entrance.

“Do you know where Neoptolemus is right now?”

“No, my lord, but I can find out.” Eudoras immediately understood what Achilles was implying. He had heard about the incidents. However, he had his doubts, though he didn’t say it, that Achilles’ son was the perpetrator. The boy wouldn’t do such a thing, not to his own father. Would he?

“Do it quick. He has Paris with him,” Achilles ordered.

Eudoras nodded sharply and sprinted out of the room, calling to Peroklos to go with him.

“Tassos. I want you to run to the barrack and look for Terrameades. Tell him to gather the men and prepare themselves. They are to gather at the barrack and wait for me.” Tassos wiped the tears from his eyes fiercely and nodded in understanding. He would not act childish now. Time was of the essence. Paris was injured somewhere and they had to find him quick.

After the slave boy had left, Achilles put on his armors and picked up his shield and sword. Nothing and no one would stand in his way now. He would kill that boy. A deadly gleam flashed in his eyes.

“Hang on, Paris. I’m coming.”


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Sorry for the major cliffie here, folks. Can’t help it. ^_^

Anyway, just to let you know that I’m going away for a bit (I’m going to celebrate Chinese New Year with my family) and then I have a test at the end of this month, so I have to study. Therefore, I can only start posting in the first few days of March. Sorry about this long delay.

Oh yea, to everyone who had left their reviews, thanks so much. I really appreciate them. ^_^

To everyone who’s celebrating Chinese New Year

Kung Xi Fa Chai!!!!

And for the rest,

Happy Valentine’s Day. I love ya all!!!