One Little Mistake

FOR ETERNITY
Disclaimer: I'm just a poor, slightly psychotic scriptwriter. I don't know or own them, so don't sue me. All you'll get is pocket lint.
Note: This chapter is unbeta-ed. All mistakes are my own.


After dropping those final, fatal words in my ear, Achilles left me alone and bleeding on his bed. Still tied to the iron ring, my bound hands were numb and my body throbbed. My entire being quailed at being dominated by this man for the rest of my life. Famous through out the Aegean world, the tales of his madness were not exaggerated. He will own me or destroy me. Immediately after Achilles left, Briesis came to me. She cleaned and tended my wounds but refused to release me. I had not expected her to, so it was no surprise when she apologized in a tremulous voice. Her faint words of regret made no impression in the darkness that enshrouded me, leaving my heart as ashes in my chest.

Reflecting over my life, I lay tangled in a darkened shroud of memories. From a simple cowherd on the slopes of Mount Ida, I had become a prince of Troy. My heritage, once denied me, was restored. All that has been promised me by Aphrodite, including Helen, was mine. One look into her face, at her lovely iridescent blue eyes, and I knew there would never be anyone else for me. While helpless and humiliated, my heart is forever safe in her keeping. I thought of the family I had been torn from, their faces vivid in my mind with a crystal clarity. My home, my heritage, my freedom... all stripped from me without thought or care by a man ruled by his own obsessions.

Hours passed before Patroclus freed me, his face stern and unyielding. He tossed me a fresh tunic and left without a word. Painfully I crept from the bed, my aching body stiff and unresponsive. Stumbling awkwardly to the table, I reached for the salve Cassandra had given Briesis. It eased the pain but nothing could restore what had been taken from me. The wine was where Achilles left it, water beading the metal cup with a desperately needed moisture. Grasping the wine goblet in a shaking hand, I downed the contents in a single gulp. Immediately, I wished I hadn't. My stomach rebelled at this new invasion and the swelling of the waves beneath me intensified my nausea. The cup fell from my nerveless fingers and I collapsed in a clumsy heap on the floor.

A heavy sweat broke out over my body and my wine tainted mouth now tasted faintly of copper. Shaking, my abdomen was a twisted, knotted thing and my strength was gone. I was barely able to hold myself upright and the movement of my head triggered the sickness holding me hostage. Violently, my abused body rejected the wine as my stomach expelled itself onto the clean wooden floor. Beads of sweat furrowed their way down my flushed face as the spasms left me weak and trembling.

Arms circled my waist, offering much needed support to my frail and shivering body. The world spun and tilted at an alarming angle and I clutched frantically at the table's edge. Gentle hands stroked my sweat soaked hair away from my face and a blessedly cool cloth was applied to the back of my neck. Moaning softly, I attempted to push away the hands and lift my head. This was a mistake I paid for at once as my stomach heaved again. The stench of my own vomit caused me to push back against the body behind me, but I had no strength left.

"Hush now. Be still." a familiar voice whispered into my ear, "You are ill. Let me help you."

Unable to resist, I felt myself being lifted back onto the bed. The cool sheets were soft against my fevered skin and the damp cloth continued its welcome journey across my neck and down my chest. Utterly drained, I felt sleep come to claim me but I had to know the identity of the gentle voice whispering such soothing words. It was familiar to me in a way that could not be true. It was folly to believe such mercy could come from one who had raped me so brutally. But the evidence of my eyes could not be denied. Achilles' face hovered over me, his emerald eyes darkened with concern and his rage a forgotten thing.

"Rest, Paris. Sleep and regain your strength." Achilles hesitated, emotions warring with each other with childlike simplicity over his tanned face, "I'm... I'm sorry I hurt you. "

Being dowsed in cold water could not have shocked me more and my eyes widened so far I felt as if my eyebrows might fly off the top of my head. Achilles knelt next to the bed, his head bowed and his golden hair hiding his expression from me. As surprising as it was, his next words were even more.

"Forgive me." he whispered.

He lifted my fingers to his lips and placed a reverent kiss to the tips before laying it back down at my side. Inexplicably eased by his actions, I allowed sleep to reassert its call and I slipped into a deep, dreamless slumber.

Days and nights passed in a formless blur. In all my life, I cannot recall ever being so ill. This was not the sea sickness, that I was familiar with. It did not afflict me on the voyage to Sparta, so I had no reason to believe it would now. Whatever this was, illness or curse of the Gods, it held me in its unrelenting grip for many days. Every inch of my body ached and my stomach refused all food. Through it all, Achilles cared for me with the tenderness of a devoted lover. At first, I wao sio sick to notice the difference. I dismissed his plea for forgiveness as another of the fevered dreams that haunted my rest. Only the vision of Cassandra's darkened amber eyes gave me any surcease from my misery and her ethereal whisper chased away the nightmares.

When the illness finally loosened its hold on me and I came back to myself, I found Achilles by my side. Indeed, he never left me once and he now smiled down on me with pleasure. Still too weak to do more than lift my head, I allowed him to feed me the first solid foods I was able to keep down while the clarity of my thoughts pondered the impossibility of his apology. Had he really spoken those words? Would he deny them if I asked? I dared not do so and have that single moment of comfort taken from me.

It took many more days for me to recover. By this time, we were far from Troy. My life there felt as unreal as a dream, one I ached to return to. I greeted each night's slumber eagerly and cursed the dawn. Strangely enough, Achilles seemed to sense how I felt and his awkward attempts to comfort me left me feeling more homesick than before. Eventually he gave up, but his behavior towards me had irrevocably changed. There were no more attempts to force me to his bed. At times, he even slept on deck with his soldiers in order to give me the privacy I craved.

Once I recovered my strength, I took to standing at the bow of the ship. I did not know where we were, so I did not know which direction pointed back to Troy. Not that it mattered anyway. Troy was gone, vanished into my past. This was my future. Often Achilles joined me, standing motionless at my side for hours as I gazed across the clear blue water.

"It's that way, you know." he told me quietly one day.

"What?" I was confused. Rarely did Achilles speak to me outside his cabin.

"Troy. It's over there, or it would be were we close enough to see it."

Hungrily I followed the line of Achilles' arm to the tip of his callused finger. I knew it was fruitless, we were too far away as Achilles said. A lifetime away. But my heart yearned for that far away place and just knowing which direction it lay was a balm to my soul. Only when the sun dipped below the horizon did I leave my post at the ship's railing. Docilely I followed Achilles back to the cabin for a dinner of bread, oil, cheese, a few grapes, and wine. Salted fish had been served so often that I avoided it whenever possible and even fresh fish was beginning to wear thin. The ship had made port while I was sick or even those things would have been long gone.

During our brief meal, I covertly watched Achilles. He seemed absorbed in the meal, sparing me an occasional glaor cor comment. I knew his obsession for me had not died and feared what would happen when it flared once more to life. That I would refuse him was not the issue, but how Achilles would react. This man was not accustomed to having his wishes refused, especially by a possession. That is all I was to him; a mere spoil of war.

There was little to do after the meal was over, so I stripped off my tunic in preparation for bed. I expected Achilles to leave as he usually did, spending time on deck with his soldiers or receiving reports from his commanders. To my surprise, I felt the feathery touch of his fingertips trailing down my naked back. Trembling, I stood unresponsive and waited for his next move. His hand slid down my arm and grasped my wrist. Turning me towards him, he reached for the other wrist and brought them both together in front of me.

I did not want this and tugged futility in his grasp. This had been pointless even before my illness. I could not break free of him then and I could not do so now. I wanted to scream and strike out at him in blind frustration but I could barely keep to my feet. Achilles ignored my feeble efforts and bound my wrists in front of me with a silk scarf. Confused and upset, I wondered briefly why he had even bothered. He knew I could not stop him from doing whatever he wished to me. Once bound, he still did not release me, but pulled me towards him and cut off my stammered protests with his mouth against mine. His kisses left me breathless, but I broke away from him, holding my bound hands out in a desperate entreaty.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you." he told me, his tone a quiet plea, "You were not accustomed to it, this time will be better."

A warrior and a prince of Troy should not be afraid of pain, but right now I was very afraid. The memory of my previous experiences with Achilles made my blood run cold in my veins, as did the memory of his rage. The pain he had inflicted on me previously had all but drained me of my strength, my honor and my pride. I could not now be deprived of the precious little I had left and my weakened body could not withstand more punishment. But how could I protest without earning myself more cruelty than I already knew was unavoidable? Defeated, I hung my head. It would do me no good to refuse him, he would only take what he wanted by force and I was still far too weak to resist him. Numbly, I allowed him to coax me down upon the bed and bind my wrists over my head.

With my eyes tightly closed, I waited for his assault on my body but instead of the savage groping I expected, my skin was stroked with the delicacy of a butterfly. His hands roamed over the bared expanse of my flesh and his mouth soon followed. I steeled myself against the rush of sensation as my body betrayed me. No one except my wife should make me feel this way. Yet my body ached for his touch, for the feel of his mouth and the silken hardness of his body against mine. My legs parted willingly and a well oiled finger brushed against my entrance. I stiffened, waiting for the accustomed pain but none came. Instead, his finger circled my opening in a gentle massage until my body slowly relaxed. His mouth continued it's assault on me while his other hand tenderly fondled my penis, bringing me to arousal.

Only a slight amount of pressure let me know that Achilles had entered me and soon a second finger joined the first. A wash of pleasure swamped my senses, leaving me moaning in need. I arched against him, wanting the touch of his hand to bring me to completion while he murmured softly in my ear. Suddenly his hands left me and the removal of such intense stimulus caused me to writhe on the bed with something close to agony.

A sharp pain drove me back to reality as Achilles slid himself inside me. His mouth sealed over mine, swallowing my cry of pain. His hands returned to their busy campaign on my penis while his mouth plundered mine. Unable and unwilling to stop myself, I surrendered to the exquisite ecstasy until my body exploded, my cries blending with his, our bodies melded together.

When the frenzy of our passion passed, Achilles released my hands and curled himself protectively around me, his face nestled against my neck. For a long moment, the only sound in the cabin was our labored breathing as exhaustion left us too tired for words. But I had to know.

"Why did you bind me?"

Achilles placed a kiss on my shoulder before answering, "You would have resisted me else, and you have not the strength for that. This way there is no shame; no need to resist."

I sat up abruptly and gazed down on him, "No shame? You take me against my will and you tell me there is no shame?"

Achilles pulled me back against him, "The shame is mine. I should not have forced you but I have wanted you for so long. I wished to show you pleasure this time. Not the pain that has been my first gift to you."

His first gift to me. Such odd words that left so little imprint on my indifference. It was not his words but his actions, and my own, that mattered here. Even now my body trembled in remembered desire. Not a surrender, I told myself, but an unwilling betrayal to my fate. But what had fate ever done but betray me my entire life? First my abandonment on Mount Ida, torn from my family, because of a foolish prophesy, and now this. I had all I wanted and once more it was torn from me.

Biting my lip, I fought against a wave of hatred, not for Achilles, but for myself with a large portion left over for the Gods who deserted me. Who else but a God could have let Odysseus slip unnoticed into the palace? Even the Goddess who promised me her protection had abandoned me. What was left for Paris, Prince of Troy? To be the pawn in the game of Kings and Gods as I had always been, owning not even myself. Closing my eyes, I found it difficult to bring up my thoughts of home. It was as if the eyes of my memory were unfocused and clouded.

Unbidden, the sensations Achilles aroused in me replayed in my mind. The feel of the way our bodies fit, how he seemed to know the places that brought me the most pleasure. The contrast between his callused fingertips running across my face and the touch of his soft lips. No! This was wrong! I would not be his. I would not -could not- surrender. I violently shook my head, but the thought remained. Perhaps I feel this because the Gods wish it. Did Achilles see it this way? More importantly... did I?

Weeks passed in much the same manner. Days were spent on deck gazing into the sun washed distance; the nights in passionate abandon in Achilles arms. Though he continued to bind me in the same way he did from the beginning, his skillful hands and mouth brought me to heights of passion that I had never before experienced. It seemed as if all our lives had been spent on this ship, our bodies twined together. I wanted to hate him; hate what he had done to me and the pain he caused not only me, but my family as well. Instead, I found myself spending less time at the railing, grasping after a life I would never again have, and more time with Achilles as he ran the day to day affairs of his army.

His surprising moments of gentleness still startled me. All I had known from him from the very first had been pain and fear. That a human heart beat in this warrior's chest was an unexpected mercy. I watched his emerald eyes light up with love when he spoke of his mother, and the casual affection with which he treated his cousin, Patroclus, and the few generals he trusted. For all his arrogance, there was a compassion that went beyond himself. More than once I saw him comfort a soldier mourning a comrade lost before Troy's walls, easing his sorrow with tales of remembrance until they were both overcome with mirth and grief was forgotten.

My beautiful Helen seemed no more than a pleasant daydream. Reality was the strength of Achilles's arms around me, the silken texture of his skin against mine, the glorious fire of his mouth on my flesh and the heights of ecstasy he brought me to. The steady rise and fall of the ship mirrored the rhythm of our bodies and held us frozen in this single timeless moment.

But as all things have a beginning, so too do they have an end. Achilles's home was drawing closer every day, but not close enough. One more stop must be made for fresh water and supplies. The idea shocked me. I had all but forgotten that a world existed outside this ship, a world that now chose to remind us of its presence. We were in desperate need of fresh water and there was nothing to eat except fish caught off the deck each day.

More than the real world captured my attention. It was also my future in it. A prince of Troy, now a slave; a plaything for the pleasure of the warrior who held me. I should not have forgotten so easily what I was to Achilles when I was reminded every night by the bonds around my wrists securing me to the iron ring, helpless and at his mercy. For all his affection and attention, I was still not worthy in his eyes for the trust one lover grants the other.

We were only a day from port when Achilles broached the subject with me over a meager supper. A landing party was already arranged. The island held only one small city but it was rich from trade and teeming with life. Achilles would have no problem convincing the ruler of this small island to give us what we needed.

"I would have you go with us, Paris." The request was tentative, as if he feared the answer.

"You would trust me so much?" I made no attempt to disguise the bitterness in my voice. The unfeigned hurt and bewilderment on Achilles's face filled me with dark satisfaction and a strange guilt.

"But...."

"I will do as you wish, of course. I am your slave, to do with as you will." I continued.

"Paris, I have never treated you as a slave." Achilles told me, as if reasoning with a small child.

"No?" I flung back, "Then why do you bind me?"

"Why do you make me?" Achilles shouted.

"I will not be you whore!"

Achilles crossed the cabin in three long strides and grabbed both my arms, pulling me close to him. Defiantly, I stared into those icy green eyes, ignoring the pain his grip on my arms caused. Achilles may kill me for what I have said, and I am certain he no longer wants me to go ashore with him for fear of my escape. But the expression on his face is not one of anger, it is one of sadness.

"Never think it, Paris. You are so much more to me." Achilles breaks off. His hands tighten on me and his eyes search the cabin as if the words he is looking for are printed in the wood. "All was darkness before I saw you. Even then, a cloud so dense I felt I would never see its end hung over me. When you came to me, that changed and you drove the cloud away. You are my light in the darkness; all I've ever wanted. "

As his words sink in, I swallow and force the words past the lump in my throat, "I will never be yours. I am a prince. I do not surrender."

Achilles searches my eyes, finding the truth of my words locked in their depths. Nodding once, he hesitated, then pulled my into his embrace. For a single moment, I savored being in his arms, wishing for the first time that I was not a prince and free to love him. I gripped him tightly, trying to pass to him in this one wordless exchange how I felt before drawing away. Achilles released me and strode off towards the cabin door.

"Very well, Paris. But I cannot give you the opportunity to escape. You will be confined to this cabin while we are in port." he told me with his back towards me. Pausing, he turned and glanced over his shoulder, "I still hold the hope in my heart that one day you will change your mind and let your light truely shine."

Alone and miserable, I sink to the floor. The rough wood digs into my knees but that is nothing compared to the pain gouging a hole through the center of my being. No one, not my parents, not even Helen, has ever said that to me, has ever revolved their world solely on the mere fact of my existence, or made my presence all that is required to make their life complete.

Weeping bitterly, I cry out my anguish to the Gods. Surely one of them would listen and consent to help me. I could not live with this torment, yet no way on this earth was open to me. I never thought I would long for the simpler life of a shepherd, and in my heart that is what I was. A shepherd may choose his own path where a prince may not. But it was as a shepard that my life was torn in so many directions, all from one little apple.

One path lay open to me, if I had the courage. One direction left if I wished to have what I longed for. In two days we would make port and from there it was only a feeks eks to Achilles home and even that path would be lost to me. I must act while I can, before anyone can stop me. Then, for good or ill, it will be over.

^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^

The time has come. The ship will make port in a few hours and Achilles will come to me. I know in my heart that he cannot trust me. Why should he? I've given him no reason to do so, even after his devoted declaration. I cannot be what he wants me to be, not in this life, and I can no longer live like this.

I hear his footsteps behind me, coming to bind me so that I will not escape. How little does he know that I do not want to. His rough hands run lightly over the bared flesh of my arms and his lips caress my neck. Turning swiftly, I plunge the dagger into his unprotected chest. Warm blood washes over my hands and his gasp rings in my ears. He staggers backward, taking me with him, and collapses against the edge of the table where we have shared so many meals. His eyes widen and blood pours down his chin. His mouth works frantically and faintly I hear his final words.

"Why Paris?"

Sliding the bloodstained dagger from between his ribs, I press it into his once strong hand. He is unable to hold it and I wrap my own around his, gripping the dagger tightly. My other arm supports him next to me and I raise his hand to center the dagger over my own heart.

"I am a warrior and a prince of Troy. I will not surrender." I tell him, my eyes locwithwith his.

The light in his beautiful eyes begins to fade to a mere flicker but I see acceptance and sadness in their luminous depths. He nods once, his breath coming in short, painful pants. His muscled body sags in my arms and I hold him close to me.

"But I will never leave you.... my love." I promise him.

Stepping forward, I press my lips to his as the knife clenched in both our fists sinks into my heart. Swallowing each others' final breath, our joined bodies fall to the floor. His face is the last thing I see before the darkness comes to enshroud me. No more pain, fear or hopeless longing. The air brightens once more and I see Achilles' smiling face before me. Gone is the loneliness that drove him to such madness. Instead there is love. We need no longer live up to others expectations of us. Prince and warrior, pride and honor- they no longer matter. We are together and we have eternity.