Take Me Home

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Well everyone, here's the hot cake! I'm warning you first, take a double shot of whisky. ^_^ Burn that throat. Heheheh..... I'm off to my grand disappearance. See ya later!! Don't forget me!!

Part 27

“He’s been away for far too long.”

“What should we do?”

“We should have sent an army with the King.”

“Do you think Prince Paris is really still alive?”

“I knew Agamemnon is behind this. We should never have let the King go by himself.”

Whispers. Mumbles. All their annoying chatters and useless arguments added more anxieties to Hector as he paced back and forth with growing distress. Out of habit, the prince kept his right palm rested on the blunt hilt of his sword. His shoulders muscles flexed occasionally like a feline preparing to pounce on its victim.

Fools. They were all fools. Did they think he was a demigod commanding several legions of immortal soldiers? If so, they wouldn’t be sitting here discussing about it. Hector would have wiped off the entire invading armies on the first day they landed on this shore. He would never have given Agamemnon the pleasure to even set foot on this soil.

So engrossed in their own selfish concerns, they did not see that everyone had sported a frown on their foreheads. While it was not the fashion of the century yet it was quite popular of late. The war was to blame – no one was spared a moment of respite since it started.

Hector glanced with growing frequency at the arched doorway, each time hoping to expect someone bursting through and announce that the King had returned. It was with increasing disappointment that he saw only the gaping entrance and the same two guards standing at attention and unmoving at their posts.

His wife, Andromache, had wanted to accompany him, to stay by his side at this crucial moment, but Astyanax would not leave her in peace. She couldn’t leave him alone for long for the child was quite attached to her. Oddly, the child had made a lot of fuss tonight and despite her best efforts to placate him, would not be quiet. She was finally forced to leave the hall with her nursemaid so as not to perturb the men for some were already glaring at her openly.

Finally the tenseness in the Throne Hall was reaching boiling point. Hector’s patience grew thin and with one last glimpse to the door, he decided to look for his general himself and question the man. Just as he was about to dash out of the hall, he was met at the entrance by the very man himself. The general had rushed post-haste to inform him that their King had returned safely and unharmed … with Paris.

This good news brought much relief to everyone. They clapped soundly on one another’s shoulder and congratulating themselves on the success of the mission that they had no part in devising. The Prince was getting tired of their false concerns and self-importance. The only few reliable ones, old friends to his father since he was sold off as a slave, was calmly silent.

This was incredible indeed that Paris had really returned home. Almost everyone in the kingdom had resigned to the fate that the young Prince was never coming back. Knowing Menelaus’ temper, there wasn’t any doubt that the Prince would be tortured before they kill him. Only Cassandra refused his death, but no one paid any attention to a mad woman who mumbled often to herself.

With the General leading and Hector easily following his long strides, the small group of men had to run to catch up with them. At this late at night, it surprised the few slaves who were still around finishing their last chores for the day. Even the palace guards looked at one another questioningly, but they did not tag along, not without Hector’s command.

Every step that took Hector closer to his brother caused his stomach to somersault several times, but his heart would sing with joy. It was truly unbelievable. Had the Gods intervened to bring back his brother to them? Was Aphrodite remembering Paris’ fawn over her beauty and thus softened her heart to help the Prince?

Preoccupied by the excitement to be reunited with Paris at last, Hector entered the bedchamber of his brother without knocking first. It was a good thing that his hand was still clutching the door handle and he had only flung it open partially; his tall and broad frame mercifully blocked the entrance.

No one had seen what he saw inside.

Where he stood, he felt the bedchamber turned chillingly silent within a blink of an eye. No one moved a muscle.

Domenicus and Paris suffered the most, blushing to deep crimson that reached to the tips of their ears. Hector himself was mortified. He had not expected to witness Paris’ complete nudity while bending over and the physician’s fingers prying open his brother’s ass cheeks apart.

King Priam berated himself for forgetting to lock the door before proceeding with the examination. It was a disaster to let Hector discover the unspeakable disgrace like this.

The moment ticked past awfully and it was Paris who recovered first. He grabbed whatever cloth he could reach and hastily covered his nakedness. He then sprinted into the second room, slamming shut the door behind him. They heard the lock being put in place from inside.

Just before Paris disappeared into his room though, Hector thought he caught a glimpse of multiple scars across his back. He became furious that they had indeed tortured his fragile brother.

“Get rid of everyone, now,” Hector instructed his general in a firm tone. The man was puzzled and the others behind him were already inquiring adamantly about the delay in meeting the King. However, the General obeyed without question.

Naturally, the councilors were not happy to be dismissed without a reason, but they shuffled away anyway. After the door was closed firmly and their commotions outside had died down, Hector approached his father.

“What is going on? What happened to Paris?” He eyed the physician suspiciously than maliciously.

King Priam contemplated for a moment whether he should reveal the whole truth – so soon. “Paris was tortured,” Priam answered simply and prayed that Hector would be anguished over this than the underlying truth.

“I saw his back. Did they beat him that much?” Already he imagined how his brother was tied to a post and one of the soldiers lashing out with the whip against his soft skin. It aroused his wrath further. He would find those responsible and cut their guts out so they would die slowly. Hector has his dark side.

His father nodded in agreement. “It seems so,” Priam replied.

“Why did Domenicus …,” Hector trailed off, unsure how to put the obvious question delicately.

This was the dreaded moment. How was he, as a father, to break the news to his family? He knew Hector would be devastated afterwards. Taking his son by the arm, he pulled him aside.

The older man took a deep breath to calm his erratic nerves before he spoke. “Paris was being forced upon by one of his captors when I got there. I am sure this was not the first time so I asked Domenicus to exam him to see if he was badly injured,” he whispered.

Angry shock fell on Hector’s face. In the past when Paris was still very naïve and growing up, the boy had not realized how much he stressed his eldest brother that he was eye-catching to the men around him. It was the main reason he had taught his brother self-defense and kept the boy close by his side whenever they were out of the palace. Unfortunately, his worst fear had slapped him – hard – in the face.

“How bad is it?” Hector queried carefully. He was not keen to hear of it, but he also had to know.

“It doesn’t look good, but he seemed physically fine.” Priam exhaled long and hard. “I’m afraid we have lost our Paris. I’ve never seen so much fear and desperation in his eyes before.”

“My lords, I think there is nothing more I can do for tonight,” Domenicus interrupted them. He didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary in that room. He felt awkward intruding into the King’s family matters. “I will get a slave to bring the salve for him and also some sleeping draught. Please make sure he takes some of it. He needs to get plenty of rest.”

“Thank you, Domenicus,” Priam replied gratefully. He shook his head to himself; he had brought home an empty shell, it seemed.

“Why don’t you get some rest father? I will take care of Paris,” Hector suggested.

“Thank you, Hector,” Priam accepted in defeat. He shuffled tiredly towards the door. Before he left though, he turned to look at his eldest one more time. Both of them came to a silent understanding that they would not ‘find’ Paris so easily this time.

After the King had left, Hector strode to the door of the second room and rapped lightly.

“Paris, it’s me, your brother Hector. No one is here now. Please open the door,” he called out.

No answer. Hector pressed his right ear against the door panel and listened closely. His chest ached as he heard soft sobbing of a frightened child. There was barely any movement.

“Paris, please open this door. I want to see you. Please?”

Still no answer.

“I will sit here beside the door, Paris. I will be here all night until you wish to see me. I will wait for you, brother.”

With a sigh, Hector settled himself against the door.

“We have all been very concerned about you, Paris. Did you know that?” Hector started to make conversation. Even if it was one-sided he hoped it would make his brother less lonely. “I was in near panic when I found out too late that they had abducted you off the shore. I didn’t know how to save you and where to find you. Please believe me. We would never have abandoned you.”

Silence.

“I love you, Paris. I’ve missed you terribly.”

In the oppressive darkness, Paris heard the words clearly even if they came through the door a bit muffled. He tried to stifle his cries, but his tears would not stop. His lips felt swollen and the dripping sweat stung his eyes. Breathing was becoming more difficult and he had to work hard to draw in the precious air. He didn’t want to blow his nose; he refrained himself from making any noise.

He clutched the cloth tighter against him; he had grabbed the cloak instead of his clothes. Sitting on the flagstones, his naked buttocks felt uncomfortably cold yet he didn’t move. He pressed deeper instead into the corner he had been huddling. His heart hurt so much; he didn’t want this to happen.

The lump in his throat was like fire burning and rendered him voiceless. If he had the courage, he would try to tell Hector of his ordeal, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t. It was too complicated anyway. How was he supposed to explain to Hector that he loved Achilles?

“Paris, the slave has brought you some food. There is also medicine. Please come out. I want to see how you fare. Please don’t deny me this, Paris. We are so close before and now you shut me out. Don’t do this, Paris.” His brother’s muffled words tore his heart to shreds once more. How could Hector still care for him after he found out that he was another man’s toy?

Fresh tears dribbled down his wet cheeks once again. He couldn’t stop them. He simply had no power over his body anymore. He couldn’t understand why he started to convulse. Something terrible was happening in his body and he tried to call to Hector for help.

It was not that Hector didn’t want to help him, he knew it. It was because he had locked Hector outside his room and out of his life. He was to blame for his own stupidity.

He couldn’t call out; he tried – his lips wouldn’t move and his voice was stuck in his throat. He tasted bitterness in his mouth. Was he vomiting?

“Paris?” He heard his name called. It was so sweet. It gave him warmth inside.

He saw shadows in front of him. He blinked. Were Lord Hades’ minions coming for him?

No, it was Achilles. Achilles was on his knees in front of him. His lover was smiling down at him. He stretched out his hands to reach for the blond warrior, but the man was never within his grasps. He frowned.

“Ach …”


NOTE: Dare I leave this hanging here? My fans will send me to the Realm of Hades in pieces!!! (minced??)

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

“Paris, open the door,” Hector called out loudly as he knocked continuously.

Still silence.

“Paris, do you hear me? Open the door!” Hector was banging the door now. He turned his eyes to the woodcutter. The man met his gaze and adjusted his hold on the handle of the axe.

The young Prince had yet to emerge from his room since last night and the sun was setting once more; no one had seen him still. Priam, Hecuba, Andromache, a few of his siblings and even Helen had come to coax the youth to come out, but to no avail.

This worried Hector terribly. He couldn’t let it go any longer. He was going to force his way in no matter what.

When Paris made no response whatsoever, Hector signaled to the woodcutter to get ready.

“Stand back, Paris. The woodcutter is going to chop down the door now,” he warned loudly.

Hector gestured to the woodcutter to start.

Loud crashing filled the chamber, attracting everyone nearby. Heads began poking inside with curiosity, in case someone needed help. It took the woodcutter only five swings to break the door, splintering the intricately patterned panel. Then he reached his hand inside to remove the lock.

He stood aside to let Hector rush in while he hovered just outside.

Strong stench of vomit invaded Hector’s nostril. As he couldn’t see properly in the dim room, immediately he reached for the curtains and yanked them down to let what was left of the sunlight to flood inside. It was also refreshing to have new breeze replacing the stale air.

In the brightness, he found Paris huddled at one corner, his arms were folded tightly around his drawn legs and his long curls cascaded over his knees to cover his face.

“Get the physician now,” Hector commanded the woodcutter. The man nodded and ran out to do his bidding. A few bolder slaves had entered the main chamber and they snuck a peep from the second door.

The eldest Prince of Troy quickly crossed the room to his younger brother and crouched beside him.

“Paris,” his voice was gentle and kind. With caution he slipped his fingers into his brother’s hair to draw them aside. He received no response and neither could he see his face.

“Paris,” Hector called again, louder this time to wake him up. He began to realize that the smell of vomit was stronger here. He saw dried stains on the floor and some on his bared legs. He had only now noticed that his brother was not wearing anything, but covered partially by the very same cloth he had taken with him when he escaped from them.

He began to find it odd that despite all the commotions, Paris had remained unresponsive. The sudden thought that his brother may had already died panicked him. He began shaking the youth vigorously on his shoulder. Instead of waking up, Paris’ head lolled to the side and he collapsed on to Hector.

“Paris!” Hector exclaimed furiously.

He grabbed the youth and gripped his soiled chin. He shook him again to wake him. It was useless.

Right at that moment, Domenicus entered. He took in the sight of Hector holding an almost nude and unconscious youth desperately. Without pre-amble, he ordered the prince to place his patient on the bed. Hector took no offence that Domenicus commanded him boldly; he was only worried for his brother’s life.

With more light upon the youth, they became aware that Paris was horribly pale and his lips ashen. He also sported two dark circles under his eyes. Perhaps Paris was trapped in his dream because his eyes moved a lot under the lids and his eyelashes fluttered continuously.

Domenicus noticed that Paris’ breathing was shallow and faint; the boy was weakening fast and fading. He was afraid that he might be too late.

“When did he lose consciousness?” Domenicus queried urgently.

“I don’t know. I have only discovered him like that just moments ago. I had to force my way in because I couldn’t stand leaving him like this anymore,” Hector explained with trepidation.

“He’s cold and too weak,” Domenicus gave his first evaluation.

“Can we help, my lord?” one of the slaves that had hovered just outside offered. His hair was peppered grey; he had served the King’s Household for many years.

Hector spun around. He was relieved to find that it was Ophrile, their most reliable slave. “Yes, Ophrile. Please help me get some light and hot water. I have to clean up Paris.”

“Yes, my prince,” Ophrile replied and was about to rush off when the physician called for him.

“Get me a brazier too, with a clean pot. Find my assistant. He will know what to do,” Domenicus added more instructions.

Under Hector’s scrutiny, Domenicus started his examination. He placed his ear on the youth’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. Not good; they were weak.

“What can I do, Domenicus?” Hector offered. He didn’t want to stand and watch helplessly.

“Talk to him. Get him to follow your voice back to us.”

The physician took the pillow from under Paris’ head and placed it under his cold feet instead. He wanted more blood to circulate back to his heart.

“Rub his feet. Get him warmed up.”

“Paris. Paris. Listen to me. Don’t go now. You have survived this long to come home. Don’t leave us like this. I have already worried so much over you, please don’t ever leave me again. You hear me, Paris?” Hector’s eyes were starting to turn glassy with unshed tears. He was on the verge of crying, but restrained himself. He had to get a grip of himself if he wanted to remain useful to Domenicus.

His wife had unexpectedly arrived. She had been as worried as Hector and thought to come again to coax Paris to come out of his room. However, she was shocked to see the broken door. Fearing the worst, she rushed in.

Andromache couldn’t help wrinkle her delicate nose at the foul smell. She saw her husband feverishly rubbing Paris’ feet and Domenicus was massaging Paris’ head.

“What happened?” she exclaimed in shock.

Both men whipped around.

“Andromache. What are you doing here?” Hector asked.

“I was worried for Paris so I came. Besides, I didn’t see you all day,” she explained.

Seeing Paris’ near death expression alarmed her. Her motherly instinct kicked in. She took her position opposite the physician and began rubbing Paris’ chest in circles to stimulate his lungs to breathe. It was what her physician back home had taught her. With her other hand, she stroked Paris’ forehead lovingly, to let him know that he was loved.

She saw that Hector was trying not to cry, but he was losing the battle. The man was so taken by emotions that he could hardly say a word. In the end, he choked out several sobs. Andromache would like to go over to her husband and hug him, but Paris was more important right now. Besides, her husband needed to let go of his feelings – he had kept them inside him for too long and it was killing him.

“Paris, it’s me, Andromache. Don’t die. It is not your time yet. You still have many things to live for and many people who are waiting for you to return to them. Did you know that you’re an uncle now? Hector has a son. He is called Astyanax. You must meet him. He is waiting to see you,” she spoke calmly and in a soothing tone. “You’re home now, Paris. No one is going to shun you.”

At these words, Hector sobbed again. No one had seen him cry before except Andromache behind closed doors. This was the first time he had expressed his vulnerability to outsiders and to Paris. It was heart-breaking to watch a strong man, a feared warrior break down in front of others.

Besides Hector, Andromache was the only other person who knew the truth – Priam had told her. The king trusted his daughter and her wisdom explicitly as much as he trusted his heir. He was proud that Hector had chosen his wife wisely.

By late evening, everyone had learned what had befallen Paris. The King of Troy and his queen hovered quietly in the background. They felt as helpless as everyone else. Andromache had come and gone throughout the night, taking turns with her husband to watch over Paris. When Helen had appeared, Hector’s wife had gently persuaded her to leave, convincing her that it was not the right moment for her to see what had become of Paris. Cassandra was the only person who refused to see her twin. She had kept to herself mostly in her chambers.

“Have faith, husband. Paris will be fine. Not all the Gods had abandoned him yet or else he wouldn’t have been returned to us,” Andromache pacified Hector.


NOTE: Don’t worry. Paris is not dead here. I have many grand ideas for this boy still. ^_^

Tell me if I’ve made you cry. Hehehe….. I love to torture you guys like this.

Oh yea, thanks again for the reviews. Ah, I'm floating on air!!!