Take Me Home

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Ok, I will try my best to pack in chapter 27 by tomorrow latest. Then I disappear for three weeks. ^_^ I should be able to finish this entire fic with another chapter or two, depending on my muse. I've got a really really good ending for this. So please stock up on the tissue boxes, chocolates, teddies, whatever that works. Hehehe.... that's all I'm going to reveal, people. Have fun!!!


Part 26

King Priam lowered the letter he had just read. There was suspicion written all over his wizened face. He passed the paper to Hector who had patiently waited beside him. The king watched his son’s face as he read and noticed his identical countenance, agreeing with his impression of the writer.

As soon as Hector was done, he looked up and locked gaze with his father. It was unbelievable indeed.

For almost a year Paris had disappeared and Hector had mourned silently although a very tiny part of his heart whispered to him that his little brother was not dead. This piece of paper was no proof of what the writer had claimed, but it was the first news he had of Paris after so long. He didn’t want to get too excited too soon however before he discovered the truth. It could be a trap set by Agamemnon who was getting desperate by the time consuming war; his funds were surely running low by now.

“Am I supposed to believe that my son is still alive?” King Priam stared down at the kneeling messenger, the only other occupant in this room. When he first approached the city gates, he had skittishly, but adamantly asked for a private meeting with the King of Troy.

Hector read the letter one more time, scanning the scribbled letters carefully to detect any foul play. He frowned as the words slowly sank into his mind; it felt like he was walking through a dream.

Strangely, tonight he had been able to sleep deeply, something he hadn’t had the privilege since the war broke out when a guard knocked on his bedchamber door. He was informed that the king required his presence urgently. Worried that something terrible had happened to his father or to the city, he hurriedly put on some clothes and followed the guard. He was greatly puzzled when he was led into a private chamber and found the king flanked by two royal guards and a young man he had never seen before kneeling on the cold flagstones – he looked haggard and a bit frightened.

Before the door closed behind him, Priam gestured with his hand to the royal guards to give them privacy. Prince Hector immediately crossed the room and took over the guards position by standing beside his father, a protective act in case the young man might try something foolish.

The very idea that Paris was alive and well sobered Hector and reopening the grief he had tried to suppress all these time. When the youth was first reported to have disappeared, Hector ordered that the entire palace and the city searched thoroughly. It failed to turn up the prince. Next, he began suspecting the Greeks. Here he felt most helpless because there was no way he could deploy his armies into the bees’ nest with the strength amounting to thousands.

Fearful for his little brother’s life, he became extremely agitated. Often he yelled at his generals and wouldn’t rest peacefully at night. When Andromache had had enough of his behaviour, she put an end to it by announcing that she was pregnant. This great occasion was joyfully celebrated, a small reprieve for the Household and the people and somewhat distracted Hector, but he began mourning privately. The guilt of being unable to protect his brother took a chunk out of him; he became more serious over night. While he loved his brother very much, this was time of war and no one was immune to death.

“Yes … yes … my lord. I am … one … one of the slaves … in the ship ... I … I saw him,” the messenger stuttered badly. He had been the one who had witness many of the cruelty set upon the handsome youth he had come to grow pity for.

Pynder had taken him aside just before they made for landing and instructed him strictly. No one knew of his mission and he was told not to tell anyone. He was wearing a sign of truce on him and was extremely frightened when he realized that several archers perched at the battlement were aiming their arrows at him. When he came close enough to the gates, he shouted his intention and waited to be admitted. He seriously didn’t think that King Priam would let him into the fort and if he failed, he was going to face a cruel death. Now that he was inside, all he had to do was wait for the answer from the King of Troy and then run back to inform his master.

“How is his condition?” Hector questioned the messenger. At least for now, he knew who was holding Paris hostage if indeed he was alive.

“A bit … dep … depressed. Other … wise, he’s well.” The messenger started to squirm uncomfortably as Hector’s stare bored into him and seemed to see through his very existence.
Difficult as it may be to believe, Prince Hector did not doubt that the young slave would dare lie to them. However, he also knew that it was a trap.

“For … for all … that’s … worth …you must … save … save … him … he’s … he’s fading … fast,” the slave said while his head was still bowed low. He wanted to tell them how much Paris was suffering, but he didn’t have the courage. He was as broken as the youth.

Priam arched an eyebrow. He didn’t like this new development anymore than Hector, but they must investigate.

“Very well, tell your master that I will come tonight as arranged. Go now.”

The messenger nodded and backed away until he reached the door. Then he opened it. The two guards outside looked to Priam for instruction and was given. They escorted the slave to the city gate and let him go.

“I don’t like this father. Let me go instead. I can fight them.”

“No. We don’t know if Agamemnon is involved. He could send every Greek upon you.”

“But they will hold you hostage,” Hector protested.

“I am an old man, Hector. I don’t care if they kill me. Everyone will die eventually, but your time is not yet. You must also remember that you are the heir to Troy. The people must have a young leader. And you have Astyanax to think about now. You have a duty to fill this palace with more heirs to ensure that the line of Tros will not end.” Priam clapped Hector’s shoulder affectionally. “Go back to your wife, Hector. She is waiting for you. We shall discuss this later.”

Together they left the chamber and parted in opposite direction. Instead of going back to his bedchamber directly, King Priam stopped by one of the windows and leaned against it. He saw that the sky was brightening and Mount Ida’s silhouette was slowly emerging from behind the low clouds.

“I have made a mistake once by abandoning you, Paris. I will not suffer you again,” Priam spoke quietly to himself.

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

Paris opened his eyes and became aware that the ceiling of the tent wavered. He frowned. Hadn’t he seen this before? Was he in some kind of a bad dream he couldn’t wake up from? Did he not left Troy’s shore so many months ago for Phthia?

Achilles! Had Achilles saved him at last?

Feeling exhilarated that the warrior was perhaps nearby, he got up quickly. The suddenness resulted in sharp stabbing pains between the cleft of his buttocks. More aches invaded his senses. His body had suffered a lot from last night.

Moans of discomfort escaped from his lips as he lied back on the bed. He couldn’t move his arms let alone feeling them and his back hurt a lot from the odd angle he had been lying on for hours. He wished he could find a more comfortable position, but that would not be possible until someone released his wrists and ankles.

Neoptolemus was no where around the tent; he had left with Pynder after finished raping him.

The very recollection of what transpired last night haunted him viciously. It disheartened him so much that he loss his will to fight. The revenge he had planned before vapourised. It didn’t matter anymore. Achilles would never see him again and he didn’t have faith that Neoptolemus would ever release him from this slavery. He would probably serve the man until he got bored of him and finally kill him. He also didn’t believe that his family would care to rescue him. After all, his father had abandoned him in the mountains once, to be devoured by wolves. Wouldn’t he do it again?

He felt gripping pain in his chest every time he thought about these. He seemed to be cursed to live a miserable life, subjugated from one wolf’s jaws to another. There would be no end to this until he expired.

He closed his eyes and started to pray to Apollo, the guardian of youths. Soon he dozed off unintentionally.

Paris didn’t know how long he had drifted between sleep and couldn’t tell the time of the day. He was woken up however when Neoptolemus entered the tent. He had several light grazes on his arms and legs – he had just returned from war. Paris wanted to ask him if he saw Hector, but couldn’t work his lips to say it out; he was terribly parched.

“You should have been out there, Paris. It was exhilarating. And then you feel the rush of your pulse … ah, it is indescribable,” Neoptolemus recalled jubilantly as he took off his armours and dropped them on the floor piece by piece.

After he was done, he went to the Trojan youth and released the ropes. Paris gritted his teeth to stifle his moan as circulation returned to his limbs. Unfortunately, Neoptolemus didn’t give him time to recover fully. The man tugged him off the bed and set him on his knees. Then he sat on the bed and pushed Paris’ head to his crotch.

“Pleasure me with your mouth one last time.” There was a twinkle of mischief in his grey eyes. “I will let you go after this. I promise.”

The youth refused to budge.

“Be good, Paris. Your father is on his way now to fetch you. If you refused to cooperate, I will tell him that Menelaus already had you killed to redeem his honour and then I will take your father as hostage. I will give him to Agamemnon and I’m sure you know how that man hates your father,” the blond prince threatened sweetly.

Paris was very angry when he heard this, but there was naught he could do. They were in the middle of the enemies’ encampment and it was not wise to rouse the attention to his father; if he was truly coming here. He couldn’t take the chances.

Besides, no one would know, right?

He wanted to get this over with quickly so he pushed Neoptolemus’ skirt aside. When he neared, he almost threw up by the overwhelming smell of sweat. Breathing through his mouth instead, he tried not to think of it and proceeded to pleasure the man.

~*~

Hector had chosen a plain, non-descript chariot for his father. He made sure that two of the best horses were harnessed to it so that the king may make a fast getaway if something went wrong. He tried one last time to change Priam’s mind, but the older man insisted on going alone. He reasoned that as an old man, he posed no threat to any of the Greek soldiers who might challenge him at the gate. With the dark hood drawn over his silvery hair, he doubted anyone would recognize him in the semi-darkness.

Before he left though, he accepted a small dagger his son handed to him and tucked it safely away under his robe. Then he was seen off through one of the smaller exits usually used by the slaves.

Priam drove through a less used route to the edge of the encampment. So far, he had been lucky that no one had stopped him to question his purpose of travel in the late night. When he arrived, he made an enquiry with a slave for the direction to Neoptolemus’ tent.

It had all been so easy until now. While he was not afraid of whatever traps they had set for him, he remained cautious nonetheless. He was here for one mission only – to retrieve Paris and bring him home safely. It was his ultimate duty as a father to his child.

Pynder had seen him coming and immediately went to meet him. He personally guided the chariot to the right tent and waited for Priam to get off. As instructed, he was to admit the king into the hide-constructed dwelling without delay.
The King of Troy had to stoop a little to enter because he was tall. After he had dropped his hood back, he met a blond young man seated on the bed with a slave boy kneeling on the floor between his legs. He thought that the slave boy was probably a page helping his master with something, but upon closer inspection, he realized that the blond man had his right hand on the back of the boy’s head and pushing him back and forth. The boy was making strange choking and gasping noises.

This unexpected disrespectful manner of display made Priam frowned, but he kept his calm.

“I’m sorry for the intrusion. I didn’t realize that you are … engaged,” Priam roused his host’s awareness of his presence in a stern voice, at the same time trying to hide his disgust. Neoptolemus only stared at him with half-closed eyes, as if he didn’t register the guest who was standing in front of him or that he was so enraptured he could barely speak.

Without waiting for an answer, Priam turned to walk out. That was when he heard the boy mumbled something, but was quickly silenced. He didn’t know that Paris had recognized his voice and started to struggle to get away.

“Wait!” Neoptolemus rasped. He got carried away that Priam discovered his son servicing his enemy and came. He gripped the youth’s hair painfully and forced his thick cock down Paris’ throat.

Out of sheer will, Priam stayed, but he did not turn around to face them. He waited instead for them to finish their ‘business’. In his heart however, he cursed the barbarity of the Greeks.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, my lord,” Neoptolemus addressed the king finally after some moment of composing his breath. He acted casually as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Priam turned slowly to face the blond man. He saw that the boy was now huddled tightly to himself, hiding his face from the newcomer. He frowned again. It looked like the boy was not a willing participant.

“I just had to say good-bye to my dear friend here,” Neoptolemus smirked. He grabbed a clump of Paris’ front hair and tilted his head to face the king.

Stunned stupor, Priam stared at his son with mouth agape. Emotions after emotions clashed within his mind and heart. Surely the boy on the floor was someone else, resembling very much to his own son.

Poor Paris was so ashamed that he started choking on his whimpers. He somehow found what was left of his courage to struggle away from Neoptolemus’ hold on him. He only wanted to run away from here and never come back.

“See, Paris? Your King is here. Aren’t you glad that you’re finally going home?” Neoptolemus asked cheerily and pushed the youth to his father.

Paris stumbled and landed by Priam’s feet. He was absolutely flustered and didn’t know what to do. Should he go with his father and face more humiliation or return to Neoptolemus’ side? Perhaps to die here was easier than to confront the persecution at home.

“I believe that you are keeping your word, Prince Neoptolemus?” Priam spoke calmly. He would not show his darker side; he would not condemn both their lives now that he had found Paris again. It was so tempting to slip his right hand into the cloak and pull out the little dagger.

“Yes, yes, of course. Pynder will make sure that you leave here without incident,” the young man answered with promised concern as he stood up. “Until we meet again, King Priam,” he bowed his head low, making a play to the King of Troy.

Barely able to restrain his fury any further, Priam grabbed his son’s arm tightly and forcibly pulled the youth with him. This caused Paris to slip clumsily several times as he tried to keep up with the pace. Once outside, he turned to the frightened youth.

“Wipe ‘that’ off your mouth,” he grated irately. He was not mad at his son, but the way they were treated. Paris, however, did not understand this and thought that his father was furious with him. He flinched at the harsh tone.

Quickly, he wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve. He wished he could wash his mouth too because he hated the taste that lingered on his tongue. When his father handed him a black cloak, he put them on hurriedly and climbed into the chariot. Under the cover of the hood, he was able to hide his hot tears of shame.

Paris steadied himself and gripped the handle till his knuckles turned white when the chariot started to move. He dared not speak to his father and kept his silence throughout. He even tried not to stand too close to him although that was quite difficult in the cramp space because he didn’t want to sully the king with his defilement. He felt low and useless.

For so long he had wished to be rescued and now that it was granted, he didn’t want it anymore. He kept his eyes to the ground and realized how fast they were traveling. Here was the chance to throw himself out of the chariot and if he did not die from breaking his neck, perhaps one of the Greek soldiers would kill him afterwards.

More silent tears fell from his cheeks, but he was afraid to let go of his hands to wipe them; he had held on so hard that he was afraid that by the time they returned to the palace, they may have to chop off his fingers to pry him from the chariot. But it was also that he was trying to hide his fear and sadness; he didn’t want to anger his father any further by his display of weakness.

They entered into the fort not by the obvious gates, but through a secret passage that Paris didn’t even know existed. King Priam slowed down his chariot just as they passed the ruins a few hundred meters from Apollo’s Temple. Paris thought that he saw dark shadows flitted between the trees and ruins.

He didn’t understand why when his father started to get off and urged him to do the same. He was about to warn the king that he saw something, but he was gestured to stay silent. He almost freaked out when two dark beings materialized beside them. He only realized afterwards that they were men in identical cloaks as theirs. Without any exchange of words, they hopped on to their chariot and drove into the night. They were the decoy in case there was a planned ambush further down the road.

Three other men, as far as Paris was aware of, pushed them hastily into a black opening. Once inside, the leader lit a torch and guided them down the narrow winding passage. The other two guarded their rear.

The maze was mind boggling and seemed to take ages to get out.

It was all like a bad dream to Paris right now. His legs were moving on their own and his level of consciousness was doubtful. He wondered if he could just close his eyes and wake up to something better.

They entered the palace through an underground water tunnel, but once they made their way down the many grand halls, Paris was familiar again with his surrounding. Sadly, instead of feeling safe in his own home, Paris was ill at ease. Everything was so alien to him; he couldn’t help it – he had been away for too long. He was also afraid that the unfriendly glares from those they passed by was not something he imagined. It was so disheartening for him.

Paris realized where his father was leading him to and he was grateful for that. He didn’t want to go anywhere else and he wanted to escape from all those eyes. He was not ready to answer their interrogations.

When they finally entered his bedchamber, someone was already waiting there. The youth was relieved that it was only the physician. He couldn’t face Hector at this moment, not until he had cleaned himself thoroughly and rehearsed what he was going to say to him when they see each other again. Nevertheless, he was nervous; he didn’t want to see anyone right now either. He just wanted to be left alone so he could crawl into a hole and hide there forever.

“I’ve requested for Domenicus to examine you. After he is sure that you are fine, we will get you food and prepare your bath,” Priam informed his son. “Then you will rest. We will talk of your ordeal tomorrow.”

The King of Troy was a little uneasy because he had frightened his child earlier with his angry tone. He felt guilty that Paris was taking it all silently.

“I’m … I’m all right. I don’t need anything,” Paris protested bashfully; his voice was so small. He was terrified of his father and the physician finding out about the scars on his back.

Priam sighed. The event that had unfolded until now taxed him and he was still coming to terms that Paris was alive and standing in front of him. He was also trying to forget the image of his son between Neoptolemus’ legs. It brought his blood boiling in his heart.

“Please, Paris. Let Domenicus take a look at you. You do not have to worry. No one will know of what we see tonight,” Priam cajoled gently to his child. He understood that Paris was also trying to hide his terrible experience tonight.

His deliberation took ages, but Paris consented at last.

“Take off your clothes, my prince,” Domenicus spoke tonelessly.

Paris flinched at that command. He wasn’t comfortable stripping in front of others anymore and especially in his father’s presence.

“Do as he says, Paris,” Priam coaxed.

With obvious unwillingness, Paris peeled off his cloak and slowly released his belt before pulling the chiton over his head. He was still holding the clothes in his hands and consciously tried to cover himself with them.

When Domenicus approached him, Paris stepped back instinctively. This made the man stopped in his track for a moment to allow the youth time to adjust to his close presence. He felt sorry for Paris when he felt the shudders running through his body as he touched him at certain places.

“Turn around,” Domenicus instructed softly.

This worried Paris. He started clenching his hands until he felt pain – it numbed his burning shame for a second. They were about to discover his unspeakable past. Even though he knew that they would never know how he got those scars, but he couldn’t help feeling that their knowing looks conveyed everything.

For the second time in the same night, Priam’s jaw dropped in shock. Besides the white patches where his skin had peeled from sunburn, his back was horribly disfigured.

“Who did this to you?” Priam tried to keep his voice normal.

The youth did not answer him. They saw that he hugged himself tightly and made himself small while bowing his head low.

Deciding not to pursue this question for now, he signaled to the physician quietly to check below his waist. Domenicus was surprised by this request and it dawned on him later what other forms of torture the boy might have suffered. He prepared himself mentally to be as clinical as possible so that he wouldn’t embarrass the prince any further.

“Paris, please place your hands on the bed and bend slightly for me. I need to see … “ how best to put it? “… the rest of your body,” Domenicus requested in as non-threatening way as he could think of.

The former slave prince bit his lower lip mercilessly and squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He had to use every ounce of strength not to break down in front of them.

His father knew. His father knew. If only he could just drop dead now.

“Paris?” a voice broke through his gloom.

He didn’t understand what force was guiding him as he unfurled his tensed body in pain-staking slow motion. He remembered seeing his shaking hands reach for the bed. Then he shut his eyes again to blind himself to the disgrace that he was about to receive.

NOTE: For everyone who reviewed me, thanks so much. Keep giving me more. I need my habit!!! ^_^