Will More Strongly

Will More Strongly

Chapter IV


"You look positively terrified, my love," Helen giggled as she joined Paris above deck. The shipped had docked a few minutes before and they were simply waiting to disembark. "Soon the whole city will be celebrating in our honour. Does that not thrill you?"

"Of course," Paris murmured, glancing away so that she would not be able to see the lie in his eyes. "However I fear that it will be days before we are allowed a moment's peace to ourselves."

"Oh I am certain that we will be able to sneak away should the need arise," Helen murmured, sliding a hand up his bare arm and under the shoulder of his light tunic to wrap her fingers over the flesh of his shoulder.

Paris could only nod his head, unable to give a vocal affirmation to Helen's proposition. He had managed to stay her attempts to draw him into bed with her, claiming that the bunk in his cabin was far too small for two. Instead Paris had slept nightly on a hammock strung up on the opposing wall, as far as he could get from Helen. He did not know how he would manage now that they had reached Troy. The bed in his rooms was more than large enough to fit the two of them as well of every other member of the royal family if they were of a mind.

"Paris, go down below and change into your armour!" Hector called from another part of the ship. "You will not present yourself to the entire city dressed as a common sailor!"

Helen's smile grew still wider at his brother's command and before she even opened her mouth Paris knew what it was she would say. "Come, let me help you. I will ensure that all of the buckles are properly fastened."

As she was to be his wife, there was no reason for Paris to deny her. He had taken her from Sparta on the pretence that he loved her with an all consuming passion that rivaled any that had come before in the history of the world. At the time he had not fully considered the consequences of what he had planned. Had he done so he would not have taken Helen to bed nor would he have asked her to follow him to Troy.

"Then let us retire below," Paris acquiesced, holding a hand out so that Helen could proceed him.

Rather than moving ahead of him, Helen held her arm out for Paris to take. "I would much prefer walk beside my love than before him. That way I may gaze upon you at whim and marvel at your beauty."

"These words sound as though they should be mine," Paris murmured, attempting to infuse some sense of mischief into his voice. "For I have heard tales that you are the greatest beauty that lives upon this earth. It is I who should be in awe of you."

"You flatter me overly so, my lord," Helen cooed, dipping her head down in a false show of modesty.

"The compliment is a worthy one, my lady," Paris said automatically, speaking to her as he would any other courtier as he had been instructed. In truth, there was nothing remarkable about her beauty. At least none so far as Paris' eyes could discern. "Now come, we must go quickly. My father is expecting us."

Helen slid her hand up his arm so that she was gripping his bicep. "You are far too tense, my love. Perhaps I can remedy that before we disembark."

"We do not have the time," Paris insisted, doing his utmost to keep the panic from his voice. "A few minutes only which is barely enough time for me to change."

Though Paris had managed to put her off for the time being, he knew that he could not do so indefinitely. Helen expected him to be the dutiful lover as he had been before the departure from Sparta. The excuses he had been able to create on account of them being at sea would no longer hold once they reached the palace.

As the neared the hatchway that led below deck, Paris briefly met his brother's gaze. There was pity in Hector's eyes. Paris could not deal with that pity and lowered his head, staring at the planking below his feet. The deck was a hazardous place to walk in such a way so he raised his head, staring straight ahead and ignoring Helen's inane chatter.

"Why will you not allow me to leave with you?" Alexandros murmured against Achilles shoulder. He was curled up against the warrior's side, the naked flesh seeming to glow in the firelight. "You teach me to fight so that I might be able to defend myself but would I not be safer by your side?"

"If anything you would be in more danger," Achilles sighed as he pulled Alexandros tighter to him. "You would be a weakness and my enemies would hurt you in order to get to me."

Alexandros laughed quietly as he gripped Achilles' chin, turning the blonde's face towards his own. "I highly doubt that your enemies will take any notice of a hapless shepherd with a noticeable case of hero worship."

"Is that what this is?" Achilles chuckled, rolling Alexandros over so that the smaller man was now straddling his waist. "You simply worship my prowess on the battlefield?"

Leaning forward, Alexandros braced his hands on either side of the bright head and lowered his himself so that their faces hovered barely an inch apart. "That would require me ever having seen you on the battlefield.... With the exception of that spear you kept from imbedding itself in my stomach. I must say that was quite impressive the way you snatched it out of the air like that."

"It would have been a shame to damage such beautiful skin," Achilles said against his lips as his fingers danced over Alexandros' stomach. His hand began to trail still lower, toying momentarily with his navel before--

"You had best watch where you are walking, my love," Helen giggled as she guided Paris away from a large coil of rope. "It would be a shame for you to injure yourself now."

"My mind must be elsewhere," Paris mumbled, flashing her a brief smile.

Helen's smile only grew and she reached up to cup his cheek, guiding him into a soft kiss. "So it would seem, my love," she murmured as she stepped back and turned back towards the hatchway.

Once down in their cabin, Paris stood rigid as he allowed Helen to undress him. Her fingers trailed lightly over his exposed flesh, pressing harder in places as she sought to arouse him in hopes that he would take his pleasure within her body. Paris was no fool, Helen had told him of her desire to have a child-- his child. There had been no sign on the long sea voyage of her womb quickening and there were ways of preventing such an occurrence now that they had reached Troy. Paris steadfastly refused to bring a child into the web of intrigues his life had become.

"Your brother does not seem to care much for me," Helen said casually as she fastened the buckles of his ornate breastplate. "He scowls whenever he believes I am not aware."

"Hector is protective," Paris defended, choosing to focus on the leather gauntlet he was fastening to his left forearm rather than on Helen. "He does not wish to see me hurt."

"So he does not trust me then," she clarified, a pouting tone evident in her voice.

Paris offered her an apologetic smile, knowing there was truth behind what he was to say next. "He is able to focus only on the fact that you left your lawful husband to run away with your lover. He fears that you will do the same to me once your affections wane."

"Then he worries unnecessarily," Helen insisted, a dark look momentarily crossing her features. "For I can assure you that my affections will never falter."

Notions such as that made Paris feel all the more guilty for what he had done. Regardless of how things had started, Helen seemed to truly care for him-- love him as she claimed --and he was using her as a pawn to save the man he loved.

"As I said, the fears are Hector's and not my own," Paris assured her quickly while attempting to put aside his guilt and do what was required of him. "Now come, it is time to introduce Helen of Troy to the people of Troy."

Hours later, Paris was still attempting to rid himself of the uneasiness that always accompanied times when he was forced to present himself to the public as Prince Paris. The crowds still overwhelmed him just as he was certain they always would. Helen, on the other hand, seemed to revel in it. She had immediately enchanted his father who had insisted on taking her on a tour of the gardens once the official welcome had been completed.

Paris welcomed the reprieve, changing into simple robes before retreating into his own private garden. His hopes for solitude were dashed almost as soon as he had released his first relieved sigh and noticed a figure in flowing fabrics seated near the fountain. It wasn't until he heard an infant's coo that he realized the figure was that of his brother's wife.

"Andromache," Paris cried as he jogged towards her, genuinely glad to see her. "And young Astyanax, my how you have grown!"

The infant giggled, clapping at the attention being lavished on him.

Paris scooped his young infant up into his arms, holding him close. "I swear that he has grown double in size since Hector and I left. Twice as handsome as well."

"There is that smile I had missed earlier," Andromache sighed as she stood to press a kiss to Paris' cheek. "I would have thought to see you wreathed in smiles now that you have returned with a bride. Yet there were only frowns until your father was able to coax her from your side."

Paris ducked his head down, his cheeks flushing at the all too accurate observation. He had been entirely too relieved when his father had volunteered to give Helen a tour of the gardens on the premise that he wanted to know his son's new wife better.

"It was the crowds," Paris excused, keeping his gaze focused on Astyanax in hopes that Andromache would not see the lie in his eyes. "I am still uncomfortable in the midst of the crush of people."

"You also have not yet learned to lie. Nor do I believe you ever will," Andromache grinned, reaching over to cup his cheek. "You are too sweet and too innocent to be false."

"Do you hear that, Astyanax?" Paris asked, lifting the babe up so their faces were level. He began to laugh outright when the infant reached a hand out to grab hold of his nose while another tugged upon one of his dark curls. "Your mother believes I am sweet and innocent. What do you say? Am I too sweet and innocent to lie?"

Andromache carefully extracted her young son from Paris' arms, holding his gaze. "I meant it as no insult, brother. Only that you remain as uncorrupted as when you first came to us. It is a true statement of your character and one that I pray does not alter."

"I am not so pure as you would believe me to be," Paris murmured, hunching his shoulders self-consciously. "Even the most innocent are given to falsehoods if it serves his purpose."

"Falling in love with Helen was not a falsehood, but rather the will of the gods," Andromache insisted, seating herself once again on the edge of the fountain so that she could rest her son upon her lap. "I do not doubt for one moment that it was Aphrodite who conceived of your union and brought it into being. How then can that be considered a falsehood?"

Releasing a shuddering breath, Paris slumped down beside his brother's wife, holding a hand out towards young Astyanax who was grasping towards him. "When it brings war down upon our heads. I stole Helen from Menelaus and his vengeance will be both powerful and swift. I may not have entirely known what would follow when I did so, but I had expected to anger the king of Sparta."

"What you did, you did for love. There can be no greater cause than that," Andromache assured him, her smile never wavering.

"Let us hope that the gods agree with you."

Paris kept that thought in the forefront of his mind in the days that followed. Days of great feasting as the people of Troy celebrated his marriage to Helen. In the public eye, Paris acted every inch the smitten newlywed; all smiles and laughter. He allowed Helen to hang off him and kiss him at will so that none save Hector knew his true emotions.

In the guise of Alexandros the shepherd, Paris ventured into the city for the necessary herbs that would prevent Helen from conceiving a child. Each night as she retired briefly to her own rooms to remove her finery, Paris would mix the herbs into a goblet of wine which he would offer to her upon her return. Never once did she question him, commenting only that she quite enjoyed the spices in it.

"My father imports them from the East," he informed her, the lie coming easily to his lips as her back was to him.

Paris followed her path so that he stood beside her at the edge of the balcony, the both of them looking out over the sea. In the darkness it all appeared so peaceful. The lapping of the waves could be heard distantly from the seaside palace now that the city had fallen into its nightly slumber. The full moon, pale and brilliant, lit the sky with its unearthly glow. Fourteen times had the moon waxed and waned since the last time Alexandros had shared an embrace with the one who held his heart. Fourteen months since he had lain safe within Achilles' strong embrace.

Nightly, once Helen had fallen asleep, Paris would retire to the balcony where he would lounge on a chaise until he felt sleep ready to overtake him. There he could be alone with his thoughts. Thoughts which oftentimes turned to his lover.

"I am sorry that I did not remain true to you, my love," Paris whispered as he stood at the edge of the balcony, staring out at the sea that had ever kept them apart. "I will spend all the days of my life loving you, though I fear you are now lost to me. That you are safe from the plots of the sons of Atreus is comfort enough for me. Should this rouse fail, however, I would end my own life before I would allow myself to be used against you. On that I swear."

"What is it you swear upon, my love?"

Paris startled at the sound of Helen's voice, so close behind him that when he turned she was but an arm's length away. "I thought you slept."

Helen glided forward then pressed herself against his side. "I did until you stole all the warmth from our bed with your leaving."

"I thought it best that I not wake you with my tossing," Paris apologized as he lightly placed an arm around her shoulder. "I had hoped that the sound of the waves would help to ease my mind."

"I seem to recall you being quite uncomfortable on that ship," Helen giggled softly against his shoulder. "How can you possibly expect the sound of the waves to ease you?"

"There is something peaceful to their sound," Paris defended himself, unable to prevent the smile that appeared on his face. "A sense of eternity as they roll in and out with the tides. The waves will remain long after we are dust."

"That is entirely too morbid for my tastes," Helen mumbled, shuddering in his arms.

"My apologies," Paris whispered, attempting to draw away from her in order to place some distance between them. "I am finding myself quite melancholy since news of the approach of the Greek army has reached us. Many hundreds of men will die and it is because of me."

"Do not place the blame wholly on yourself, my love. In case you have forgotten, are are an equal blame," Helen murmured as she once again returned to his side.

Paris stiffened, squeezing his eyes shut tight, but did nothing to contradict her words. The only way to prove her wrong and to claim full guilt for the war that was on its way to their doorstep was to admit his motivation for bedding her.

"Let us retire, Helen," Paris whispered, turning his gaze from the sea. "It is late and the waves have done their job."

~*~*~

Achilles stood at the bow of the boat, his eyes straining for some sign of land in the distance. The only visible landmarks were the other ships in Agamemnon's great fleet. Before they had set sail, Odysseus had mentioned there being nearly a thousand Greek vessels bound for Troy. Achilles had scoffed at the number, caring nothing for the matters of the brothers Atreus. His only goal was to locate Alexandros and get him to safety before he was discovered by Menelaus.

"Eudorus!" Achilles called, tilting his head so that the sound carried over his shoulder.

A few seconds later there was an echo of quick footsteps before Eudorus appeared at his side. "Yes, my lord. What is it?"

"Have the men use the sweeps," Achilles ordered tersely, his eyes never straying from the barely visible horizon. "I want us to pull ahead of the rest of the fleet so that we are the first to land on Troy's beaches."

"Would it not be better to wait until sunrise, my lord?" the soldier questioned after a momes hes hesitation.

"Now. Eudorus," Achilles ground out, turning a glare on his second-in-command. "We will get to Troy first."

"Yes, my lord," Eudorus mumbled, ducking his head down in submission before scurrying off to follow Achilles' order.

Alone once again, the warrior turned his gaze forward, his eyes still searching for the still distant shores of Troy. And Alexandros.

"I will find you, my love," Achilles whispered, his voice lost amidst the sound of the waves crashing against the sides of the ship. "And this time I will not let you from my sight again."