Beyond Trojan Walls

The battle had ended and Achilles and his men moved closer and closer to King Odysseus, surrounded by his soldiers as they worked out varying strategies, each according to different movements the enemy could attempt. As he moved closer, the blood that stained the golden warrior’s breastplate and fair hair was easily seen as he called with husky authority. “King Odysseus!” A full ten feet from the royal, guards moved swiftly to halt the soldier’s steps, swords drawn and ready to strike the glaring intruder, lest he try and harm their king. In no mood for such a display, or for more bloodshed, Achilles fairly growled. “Your majesty,” he said through gritted teeth as his eyes remained locked on the offending guards, “I will have words with you.”

Odysseus stared at the younger warrior, his eyes questioning. Finally he nodded and motioned to the guards to step aside and allow Achilles to pass. "What is it, Achilles?"

“Alone, sire.” He fumed again at the guard at his back who stood an inch to close and caused Achilles’ sword hand to itch. “If you please.”

He turned and moved a distance away from his men, glancing side long at Achilles, his mind racing at the possibilities that would have brought the warrior to him. He prayed silently.

Finally relaxing as he felt distance between himself and the guards, Achilles acquiesced and did the unthinkable … he fell to a knee and bowed his head in respect. “I have news for you, sir, concerning King Agamemnon.” He raised his eyes, visibly uncomfortable with such subservience, his body shaking in rejection of it. “He is dead.”

Odysseus knew the gesture from this warrior could mean only one thing and he would have shouted his good fortune to the heavens if not Achilles. "Be quick and tell me of this news, my friend."

For a fraction of a moment, anger blazed in the warrior’s eyes at the king keeping him in a position of subservience, but Achilles remained upon his knee and continued. “By word of spies, the Trojans had news that Agamemnon was sailing his fleet into the harbors of Troy. Hector of Troy and a few of his men were able to sneak aboard his ship. Hector fought the good fight … but Agamemnon’s men attacked him, holding his arms to accept death by Agamemnon’s sword.”

Odysseus' heart came to a stuttering stop inside his chest, his only thought was for Claudia then. "What of Hector of Troy, Achilles?"

Achilles shifted on his knee. “From a neighboring ship, I saw this and realized, with one stroke of a sword, everything good and just in these lands would be slaughtered. A good and righteous man … and the brother of the woman I love and intend to wed.” He looked into the king’s eyes. “What else could I do, your majesty?” His words were humble, his voice not asking for sympathy, but understanding.

"You slay The King, Achilles?" He questioned, hope filling his eyes anew.

One nod was the answer. “His venom escaped his well-slit throat even unto the end, your majesty. His last words were that you will have vengeance and slay his murderer.” Achilles bowed again, extending his sword, hilt first. “I come here to give you opportunity to do so. Slay your fellow man’s murderer, King Odysseus … or let us, together with Prince Hector and King Priam, end this and build a peace between two lands that can last through time.”

He took the sword from Achilles hand and studied it carefully; his mind a riot of all that had happened and what now lay before him. "I will not slay you this day or any other, Achilles," he replied, tossing the sword to the sand below. "I will send a runner ahead to Troy and seek counsel with Priam, my brother. I will then give word of the king’s death to the army. Then..." A knowing smile touched his lips. "I will drink at your wedding, my friend."

“Before that, your majesty,” Achilles said roughly, his eyes flaring slightly. “This position of subservience does little to become me.” His words acknowledged that respect and decorum would not allow him to rise in the king’s presence without his permission, but pride made it difficult for him to remain so acquiescent.

Odysseus could not resist taunting the man a little, teasing him when both their fortunes has made such a drastic turn. "But, Achilles, you wear it so well. You look almost...." He laughed then, from deep in his chest. "Rise, Achilles, and never bow before me again."

Slowly the warrior rose, fire in his eyes as he boldly gazed at the king. “You have my loyalty,” he said softly. “You are a king worthy of the crown.” A smile slid across his face. “And I expect you to dance, as well. Now …” Achilles turned, looking harshly toward the guard who still looked to have the warrior’s head. “Please ask him to withdraw, lest my anger rises and even my respect for you cannot quench it.”

Odysseus gave a dismissive gesture to the guard, his own eyes blazing with the promise of punishment if the guard did not head such warning. "And forget not, Achilles, blood will bind us after your wedding. You marry my niece, whom I have cherished from afar for many years."

Achilles nodded, his gaze holding loyalty and respect behind the proud and arrogant facade. “It is for this reason that I asked to bear the message to your majesty. Claudia is a part of both of us now … you by blood, me by flesh.” He nodded reverently. “And now, I ask you as family … stave off your men and ask to counsel with King Priam.”

"Very well, Achilles, you will go to Troy as barrier of peace." He smiled, clapping his warrior friend upon his shoulder. "Upon your return all of the Greek army will know who rules and that peace between Greece and Troy will be ever lasting."

Achilles gave a curt bow, anxious to return to his woman. “As friend, I say good bye and well wishes until again we meet. As king … I ask your leave.”

"You have it, my friend." Odysseus raised his hand and motioned for his own personal mount to be brought to Achilles. "I gift you my stallion, Achilles, for the happiness you have brought me this day." His voice was low and only for the warrior's ears.

A smile touched the warrior’s lips as he gazed upon the extraordinary mount. “By the gods,” he breathed, his hand gently taking the reins. “I thank you … and look forward to meeting you again … in peace and tranquility.” Jumping astride the beautiful horse, he again nodded respectfully, easily hitching the mount into action as he rode swiftly, causing the annoying guard to have to step swiftly back to avoid being overrun. With an angry growl, the guard moved in the path, ready to mount his own horse and follow.

Odysseus quickly ordered the guard to tending the camp along the beach, woman's work, instead of guarding the new king of kings. "Good bye, my friend," he whispered to the wind, watching Achilles disappear into the distance.


Odysseus stood upon the beach, strong and confident, his eyes turned to the sea as the dead king’s ship sailed into sight. He smiled, again happy that he could end the suffering Agamemnon had inflicted so cruelly. His posture straightened into a more regal stance then, hard muscular legs slightly spread and wide hands clasp in front of him.

Alone, on the top of a nearby dune, stood Persephone, her long blonde locks whipping around her shoulders in the slight mid-morning breeze she gazed almost blankly at the same sight the king looked upon. Her arms slowly moved around her slim middle as the flowing material of her thin chiton billowed. All around her, the eyes of female starved soldiers vacillated between the ship of the dead king, the movements of the present king, and the beauty of the woman on the hill. She felt the impending trouble that could be had and turned, walking with the straightness of pride toward the dead king’s tent, knowing not where else to go.

Odysseus made quick work of orders for the preparation of the body and the funeral pyre to be built, after which, he turned and gave one last command to his men, that the king’s tent also be burned. Turning, he made his way there for the conversation with the beautiful woman whom he felt was his responsibility. "Persephone?" he called entering the canvas chamber.

Her back to him, her shoulders straightened even more as she sought to speak without allowing her fear to come through. “I have no place,” she said matter-of-factly. “I am no longer the king’s whore … and as he said many times, without him, I am no one.”

"You have a place with me, woman. I am your guardian now, and will see to your needs." He spoke with an authority that was expected of him, but beyond his words he hoped that she could hear the kindness there. "You will gather your things and take them to my tent."

She turned then, her eyes questioning for a moment, and then dulling again. Nodding, she moved efficiently to the tall king and, rising on her toes, placed her arms seductively around his neck, placing a bold kiss on the curve of his neck. “And I will obediently see to the needs of my guardian.” With an expert move, her hand trailed quickly from his neck to rest beneath the shirt of his armor, separating the leather tabs to find the manhood beneath … all with eyes that were all but dead.

There was a low grunted moan that came from his throat as her hand caressed his manhood, brought the ravenous creature to life between his thighs. He wanted to allow her to continue, wanted to allow the pleasure of a woman's touch to soothe his long dormant body, but he could not. Gently grasping her wrist, he pulled her hand away from his screaming flesh as he shook his head. "You will not serve me in such ways, beautiful woman. You will be under my protection, given all that you need, and made happy if it is within my power."

Her eyes widened as she looked from her halted wrist to his gaze, something akin to fear in her expression. “You do not ... I have not shown signs of what you could want?” She stepped back, her arms again moving around her waist as she tried to grasp what was happening. “I was told … that … I was … expert at such …” Her mind was a whirl of confusion now, wondering what worse fate could possibly be expected of her.

He went to her and wrapped his strong arms around her, hugging her gently. "Trouble not your mind with such questionings, Persephone. I am certain your talent is equal to no other. Our relationship is not to be such that I will partake of you, you will be as a child to me. I have none of my own and will care for you as if you were my own daughter. Do you find ill favor with such a life?"

She looked into his eyes, skepticism mixed with hope shining in the jade green of her orbs. “You would rather treat me as a child than partake of my body?” After so long with Agamemnon, the thought was inconceivable to her.

"Yes," he replied simply, praying she didn't take the answer as a rejection of any kind. It was the very last thing he wanted.

Searching his eyes, she nodded and moved to begin to gather the few things that belonged to her. Instinctively, her hand reached for a long, thick stick, the base thick and the tip lowering to a rounded, dulled point. Walking to Odysseus, she handed it to him as if she were presenting him with a gift. “It is yours now.”

He took the gift in hand and nodded with a smile of growing affection for the woman looked upon before as nothing more than an object to stroke the fervor of war. No more, he vowed. "Thank you, sweet woman."

Her eyes again took on confusion, a hint of a smile dusting her lips. “It was used for my punishment when I failed to satisfy or dared to speak forthrightly.” She sighed, her shoulders relaxing the slightest of bits. “You really have no idea of the things Agamemnon was capable of, do you?”

He looked upon the stick in disgust then, eyes narrowing. He would see it destroyed in the same way all of the old kings thing would be, fire alone. Walking into the middle of the tent, he raised the stick above his head, both hands clasped around the larger end, and drove if through the tent floor and into the sand. "It will remain here. My hand will never be raised to you, with a stick or without one."

“The men will expect to see me if you are to gain their support,” she said softly as she held her personal possessions and moved closer to him, inconspicuously taking the dagger from the old king’s throne and ticking it in her basket. “Agamemnon’s men are trained for such. They fight for what they think I will eventually give each of them if they serve him well.”

"The men of Greece will lend me their support because I am an honorable man, and an honorable king. I will not wage wars because of a woman, nor will I display a woman to gain favor," he told her, quickly and without regret. He was honest about how he intended to rule and would not keep her part in his reign from her.

“I belong to you know,” she said, her eyes not quite as dulled as before. “And the men are yours. It will be interesting to see how you control them.” She looked downward then, then gazed at him from under her lashes, still reeling from the idea that neither did her want her disciplined, nor did he want her body. “It will also be interesting to see how you control me.”

"More interesting than you know, sweet woman." His voice held a kernel of humor. Turning, he reached for her hand and lifted it to place a gentle and endearing kiss upon her skin.

Stepping closer to him, she grasped the basket even tighter as she took in a large, cleansing breath. “I am a woman … never have I been called sweet.” She gave him a sidelong glance, her lips again hinting at a teasing smirk. “Some have referred to me as shrewish.” They both knew to whom she was referring.

"Punishment to anyone who utters that word hence forth," he vowed to her a teasing smile upon his lips. "Persephone, I want nothing more to undo all the pain and misery that was heaped upon you by the king past. I need only know how to begin."

The mention of Agamemnon wiped away the tiny smile from her lips as she again cast her eyes downward. “I wish that I could advise you, your majesty,” she said truthfully. “He has had me as part of his caravan and virtual harem for what seems like most of my adult life.” She gazed back into his eyes. “I know no other life … no other way of being treated.”

"If you can not instruct me I will seek out one to tell me just what I can do for you," he told her, leading her towards the tent flap.

Her expression was again one of shock as she followed him. “A king … who admits there is something he knows not?”

"A king that admits...." He shook his head as if he did not have a mind at all. "...That he knows not. A king will to seek out those that can aid me."

She gave into a true smile then, one that almost reached her eyes. “A king who is truly fit to be king.” She stilted him, then, her face turning serious. “By whose hand did Agamemnon perish?”

"Achilles. He slew the king to save another," he replied, motioning the guards nearby with the torches to come forth. He led her a ways away and turned her to watch the sight.

As the flames were set onto the tent, Persephone instinctively stepped back, her shoulders meeting the hardness of his chest as a small cry escaped her throat. “I must speak with Achilles at some point,” she said, a slight hitch in her voice, “and thank him for what he has done … for Greece.” Tears formed in her eyes as she watched the flame rise, and she turned her head to his chest, willing herself not to cry.

"Weep if you must, dear Persephone, as you watch your prison burn, and your chains fall away." He sighed wrapping him arms around her in a comforting embrace. "You will be in Achilles’ company soon; you will attend his wedding at my side."

She lifted her shimmering eyes to his, her face disbelieving. “Achilles … the great warrior … is to be wed? Surely you are mistaken? To whom is he betrothed?”

"My niece. King Priam's daughter." His mind quickly latched onto another idea that involved betrothal.

Emerald eyes widened. “You … will deign to bring one such as I … to such an important occasion?” She shook her head. “Majesty! You cannot! To present a woman of my caliber to a king as a guest in his home will be insulting to his household!”

"You are my ward. If you are unwelcome in the house of Priam, I am also unwelcome. You will be at my side, sweet woman, and you will hold your head high as equal to all others," he responded to her with a sternness that welcomed no arguments.

Shoulders straightening again, she nodded, remaining more than uncertain about his decision. “It shall be as you wish, your majesty,” she said, dipping into a regal curtsey.

"No more, Persephone, treat me as if we are blood." His arm pulled her around to his side so that they could watch the flames leap heavenward.

Shivering inwardly, she nestled into the crook of his arm, wincing only slightly as the painful bruise on her side met with the hardness of his hip. “Let the gods bring what may,” she whispered, unconsciously bonding with the man beside her as they watched her past burn away.

He could not help but feel the wince and wonder at it, finally drawing his own conclusions. "Come, it is time to retire to our tent and leave this other."

Nodding, the woman obediently moved with him, following him in respect and new-found loyalty.


Achilles pulled at the reins of his regal mount to a halt as he squinted in the bright sunlight, the blurry view of a rider miles ahead on the path to Troy. A smile overtook his features as he recognized the gait of the horse and the movement of the rider … Hector. Kicking his stallion into movement, the warrior galloped his horse with the swiftness of the wind until he found himself by the Trojan’s side. “A leisurely ride, brother-to-be?” he taunted as he quickened his horse’s pace even further, an obvious challenge ensuing.

Hector turned his blood splattered face to Achilles, a wide smile turning up his lips. "Tell me, brother, where is it you think to be going?"

His horse nosing ahead of Hector’s, the warrior grinned in temporary triumph. “To see my beloved … the woman whom you call sister!” He turned his head back to the dark soldier and laughed. “And I revel at the welcoming I anticipate!” The gentle teasing was meant to cajole, yet Achilles found himself spurring his mount even faster.

"Do you fear the night will beat you to Troy, Achilles? You need not wind your mount to get there...." Hector kicked his own horse into a fast gait, not willing to let the other warrior arrive ahead of him even by a nose.

Slowing a touch, Achilles turned to Hector and sighed deeply, his mount now trotting easily as the other man reined back as well. “It is difficult to explain, friend,” he said, his breath coming in pants from the exertion of the gallop. “But I fear that all of this will not seem real unless it can be told to your sister … my lover.” He turned to look at the man beside him. “Thus is my love for her that she dictates my reality and fantasy.”

"I know of what you speak, Achilles." He sighed himself, his eyes taking on a far away look as he thought of Melior and what he would ask her this very night.

Achilles smiled. “Ah, you have a woman you love as I love your sister?” He eased his horse closer. “Tell me of this love.”

He thought about Achilles question. Did he love, Melior? He knew that he did but not as he had his wife, it was a difference that was hard to define even to his own mind. "There is a woman....Melior....My son’s..."

“Your son’s nurse?” Achilles remembered vividly the beauty that had brought the babe to the room that night. “I can understand your love for her. She is as beautiful as she is gentile.” He smiled then. “I’m sure that the two of you will be very happy in your love for each other.” A loud chuckle rang through the air. “Our women will be among the happiest in the world.” And then his smile faded. “Unlike some.”

"Your mind is set upon someone, Achilles. Tell of this unfortunate person," Hector urged, not willing to discuss Melior anymore. He was unsure how deeply his feelings ran for her and would not think on it overly for fear he would retract the question he longed to ask.

There was a long silence before the fair soldier continued, venom in his voice. “Agamemnon had a woman under his control since she left the bounds of childhood into young adult.” His fingers gripped the reins tighter as he seethed with hatred for the man he had already killed. “Her name was Persephone.”

A brief vision flashed through Hector's mind and there was a flash of unfamiliar warmth through his middle. "The woman upon his ship? I saw her from the dunes, she seemed.....lost."

Achilles shook his head. “No, not lost. Stolen … by Agamemnon.” He turned and looked to Hector. “She was the daughter of one of his elder citizens. He saw her, wanted her, slew her family and took her into his household.” His gaze hardened. “As her beauty flourished, so did his violence toward her in the privacy of his chambers grow. So much so that it became common knowledge. And, as the men began to notice her, he grew jealous, always keeping her nearby to ‘see to his needs.’ Eventually, he used her as a pawn, parading her in front of his soldiers and promising her to the man who was loyal and strong enough to become his heir.” He turned back to the horizon and shook his head. “Many is the time I stopped her from plunging a dagger into her breast just to stop the sexual pain and degradation he lay upon her.”

"Now she is free of him. Her life is her own now." He nodded as if setting the situation right in his own head.

Achilles looked at the man as if insanity had overtaken him. Had his heart petrified for the story not to have moved him … for him to have spoken so emotionlessly? “I fear it will be a long time before she will be free of him.” He sighed and looked forward. “But, she was not about when I left … and now, I prefer to keep my thoughts to your sister.”

Hector nodded, knowing Achilles judged him harshly for his emotionless response. But he could not think overly on the woman he had seen on that ship, Persephone, for her name merely uttered made him feel as if he had a fever. Why? He questioned himself and could think of no reason at all for such a thing. "Achilles, you will not go to her before we seek out my father. We must gain his approval for Claudia to wed you."

A low grumble came from the neighboring man. “Yes. I know. But, truthfully, I was hoping that you would feel such a need to visit your nurse that I would have a few moments with my love.” He sighed dramatically. “Rules must be obeyed, however, and when I do go to your sister, it will be to tell her the day and time of our wedding.” He eyed the man beside him. “And then, dear brother, we will not be parted another day upon this earth.”

"I would not expect you to remain parted, Achilles. I know the pain that would cause my sister and would not allow it. Father will give his blessing to this union, I will see to that." He smiled over at his warrior friend, eager to see him and his sister happy.

The golden rider looked at his friend with serious contemplation. “Whether he agrees or no, Hector, we will be wed. Make no mistake in that.”

"Do not think to take her from Troy, Achilles. I would not let her go without a battle," he warned his friend, not wanting a fight with him for any reason … but he would not live life without his sister there with him every day of it.

Achilles thought long before answering. “Never would I want to take her from the home and family she has known her entire life,” he said emphatically. “But she loves me, and I her. WE will not live without our lives being bound together by custom and consummated by the will of the gods.”

"Then you must trust me, Achilles, to know the words to speak to my father to ensure your happiness." He reached over and clapped the warrior on the shoulder roughly, a laugh filling the air. "Think you that your mood will tolerate a race to the gates of Troy?"

Achilles laughed as well, his own hand slapping the flank of his friend’s horse as he kicked his own stallion into a full gallop. “TO TROY!”

"To Troy!" Hector shouted in return, kicking his horse into a ground eating pace. He cut his eyes to Achilles as they race feeling a growing bond with the man, feeling him more of a brother in that moment than Paris.


Having heard word from runners and pages of Troy’s success, the regal king, Priam, sat nobly upon his throne, fingers tapping in nervous anxiety as he awaited the arrival of his son. He had sent word at the gates of the city to have the guards take Hector directly to the bathhouse and then, once the stress and cares of battle had been washed from his skin, to bring his son instantly into his presence. Standing, he paced around the raised dais mindlessly before sitting again, the constant tapping returning.

Hector strode into chamber without hesitation, Achilles at his side. "Father," he greeted, nervous anxiety tapping oddly against his heart.

Achilles held back several paces as he saw the elderly king rise, cover the distance between the throne and his son as Priam pulled the prince into a lovingly tight and familial hugs, his eyes closed in silent prayers to each and every god for bringing his son home alive and without harm. “Hector,” he said softly. “How it thrills my eyes and arms to see and feel your safe return.”

"I could be no more happy that I have been returned to you father alive and unharmed." He hugged the aging man carefully, ever aware of his frail body. "There are many matters that must be discussed this day, father."

Pulling away from his son, Priam’s eyes moved to scan his son’s form, checking carefully for any tell tale signs of wounds. It was then that he saw the warrior standing quietly behind, his stance proud and respectful simultaneously. Noting the Grecian armor, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Hector?” he said, menacingly.

"Father," he motioned his friend to come forward. "This man is the great warrior of Greece, Achilles. He has come to speak to you. His reasons are two fold. Please, father, lend him your ear. He is Troy's ally."

Achilles stilled but a moment before moving forward, taking a knee before royalty for the second time that day, and feeling no more comfort for the practice of it. “Your majesty,” he said with determined clarity. “I bring you news. The death of King Agamemnon has been seen by my own hands. It is from that moment on that the Grecian forces will be headed now by King Odysseus … a good and noble king who wishes no more than you to have peace come between all of Greece and the mighty city of Troy.”

“Odysseus,” Priam breathed, “to head the Grecian forces?” He moved to sit forcefully upon the nearby throne, the words creating a weakness in his knees. “Can it be?”

"It is, father, your brother in marriage now sits upon the one throne of Greece. Will you make him welcome in your house? Will you sit with him and declare there will be no more warring between Greece and Troy?" Hector quickly asked, seeing the ashen look that had come over the man's face. It was surprise to learn such news of his wife's brother.

Looking into his son’s eyes, Priam strove to find the words that would identify his emotion. “Odysseus … to be governing king? Who else may I trust to keep the truce that we will so definitely entreat?” Tears shimmered in his still bright eyes. “Hector, can this be real? Can peace be so closely within out grasp?” He turned to Achilles, his hand moving to lie upon the soldier’s shoulder. “And you, Achilles, are welcome to partake of our hospitality in a show of good faith between our lands.” He spoke regally, as one would speak to an ambassador … and Achilles body trembled with incensed emotion.

"It is true," Hector replied, watching as his father's aged hand fell on Achilles with favor. A slight smile tripped across his lips. "I ask you now, father, as you lay hand on this man … is he favored in your eyes, favored among men, favored among your thoughts of the Greeks?"

Priam chuckled as he squeezed the well formed shoulder. “He brought the greatest of news on the brightest of days. How could he not be favored?”

Achilles could stand it no longer. He stood then, taking a step back and eying the king as man to man. “Save your words, Hector, for he will not see unless it is put before him. He will not view me as he does the Trojans in your land, nor will he approve.”

Priam looked more than slightly dazed as he sought to make sense. “See? Approve? Of what?”

“ME,” Achilles said a bit too loudly. “I, a Grecian, intend to marry your daughter, Claudia.”

“WHAT?” boomed Priam as he rose, still quite intimidating in his confused anger despite his age.

Hector dropped his head for a moment shaking it slowly, cutting his eyes to Achilles. "Father, it is true. Achilles wishes to wed out Claudia. It is also her wish, I learned just last eve, that she loves this man more than can be fathomed. I speak for the union and ask that you listen carefully to before you make a declaration." At that moment Hector wanted to do nothing more than put his hands around Achilles throat and squeeze, shaking his mind awake all the while. He could not help but think the warrior was intent on piercing his own foot with his sword, for surely he had injured his chances with his father.

Priam moved closer to Achilles, his elderly face reddening with rising ire. “Am I to understand that my daughter and this Spartan have met?” Turning toward Hector, he seethed. “And how is this possible?”

“Mayhap, you should ask the one she met,” Achilles said flatly, not willing to be spoken of as if he was not in the room.

“Quiet!” hissed Priam as he again turned to Hector. “Speak.”

"Father, you know Claudia well. She is not a woman to be kept from her curiosity. She desired to see the Grecian army that had landed upon our shores. She dressed herself as a warrior and rode to the beach. There she met Achilles and by her own words fell in love with him," Hector explained to their father, all the while shooting daggers at Achilles with his eyes. He spent much of his speech trying to warn Achilles to quiet himself with those malicious glares.

“And the two of you,” Priam said slowly, placing together what he needed to know before passing edict on the young man. “How is it that you are so close with this Grecian … a man who before Agamemnon’s death was the enemy?”

"Born from out respect for one another, we have forged a friendship. I respect, Achilles for the man that he his, for the great warrior he has become, and as the man that has captured Claudia's heart." He tried to explain, finding the details of all that came before like sand slipping through his finger, to him they simply met in battle and all was written in the stars from that moment forth.

“Guard!” Priam yelled, eyes focused hard and fast on the Grecian warrior. “Fetch my daughter. I have need of her now. QUICKLY.”

The soldier bowed and hurried from the room as the king continued his gaze. “I will hear from Claudia.”

Achilles hissed, moving to Hector’s side and speaking in a low, seething voice. “He thinks me to be a liar!”

"NO!" Hector hissed back. "He would here the conviction in Claudia for this union. He will not see her wed to ANY man that will not make her happy for all of her life," he explained, his eyes still glaring at Achilles in brotherly frustration. "And in the name of all the gods will you keep your tongue tethered for but a moment. Do not challenge him so. It will do no good to rouse his anger with your words, brother."

Achilles glared at the man he had hoped to call father as Priam talked softly with the second palace guard. “Do you not hear how he seethes at the very concept of the union? No, Hector. This man will not accept me as son.”

"Achilles!" He hissed again, his head shaking slightly at the man. "Give him but a moment to think on all if this. The man has just come to learn that a man, a man he did not even know his daughter had laid eyes upon, is seeking her hand. Think if it were Claudia's and your daughter. How you would react to the man that speaks for her hand? It has nothing to do with the place of your birth, Achilles, his daughter is in part Grecian herself. Now, respect him as king, respect him as father, and all will be well."

“I have nothing but respect for him,” Achilles spat. “Had I not, I would throw Claudia over my shoulder and marry her here and now!”

"THEN HOLD YOUR TONGUE, BROTHER." Hector spoke slowly as if trying to bore the words into Achilles brain. "Give it but a moment and settle yourself. AND you would be wise to wipe the frown from your face and make happy for my sister. She will be here in but a moment. Do not invoke her wrath, Achilles, for I know that you will pay long and dearly for it."

“Her wrath?” Achilles said, his voice lowering slightly. “I have done nothing from the moment we met but think of her and how she is thinking and feeling. NO, brother. This is MY time.” He turned, his eyes squarely upon the king and his guard, knowing that his beloved would soon be coming through the door nearby.

Hector shrugged swearing that the god should strike Achilles mute below his breath. "Then do as you please, Achilles."

Claudia walked regally through the door, her hand clasped in front of her as she took in the scene. Her eyes instantly leapt with happiness as they fell on Achilles. But the smile that was quickly hovering upon her lips faded, he did not look happy and her father looked even worse. "Gods, but what has happened here?" She whispered as she walked near to Hector.

"You will soon learn of it, dear sister," he responded as she caught his father's eyes.

“Claudia,” Achilles said loudly as he took steps nearer to her, only to be stopped by the guard nearest Priam. “Tell your father that …”

“You will be silent,” the king said with disturbing calm. Looking toward Claudia, he extended his hand, beckoning her to come to him rather than gaze upon the seething Grecian who, despite his anger, respectfully remained in place. “Daughter … come to me now.”

Claudia went to her father, her face a mask of concern and pain. "Father," she sighed tilting her head as she took his leathery hand in hers.

His mind turning as he looked into her eyes, he believed he saw what he needed to see, but he had to be certain. “Claudia, dearest … will you not welcome your brother home?” He then turned his eyes toward Achilles. “And this warrior, whom I am told you know well.” He then whispered to her, a conversation for their ears alone. “You have much explaining to do, dearest,” he said lovingly.

She turned her head and gave Hector a wavering smile. "Many blessings there are from the gods this day, Hector, you have returned from war alive and whole." She couldn't help but look to Achilles, her eyes swimming with tears as she looked upon his angered countenance. "And he has brought my beloved to me."

“Claudia!” Achilles said loudly in strained tones.

“I said silence,” Priam spoke. Turning again to the woman beside him, the king sighed. “The man you seem to have chosen is rash and irreverent,” he said sternly, yet with a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Speak to me, and me alone, of him."

"If he is rash and irreverent in his words to you, father, it is only because of his love for me. We are desperate to be wed. He is the man that I can not breathe without. I love him now and forever, father. “Her plea was ripped from her heart and tears welled in her eyes and tumbled over onto her cheeks. "I swear I will never ask anything more of you than to be given to this man."

Priam’s brows rose, his expression soft and compassionate as he gazed upon his daughter. “Dearest … should you be given to him, you never need ask me for anything …for it will be him to whom you belong.” He was silent for a moment as he looked at Achilles seething countenance. “I’m not quite certain … but think I like him.” He gazed again at his daughter. “And if I refuse?”

"I think you will like him very much because he reminds you of your youth. I have heard stories about your courtship of my mother and speaking to her father. Did it not go much the same for you as Achilles, father?" Her tears continued to fall down her smiling face as she whispered to him. Then she grew serious with the answering of his questions. "I can not even imagine it, father. I can not imagine hearing you refuse me. My heart would be broken..."

“Then you are saying, dearest, that I would lose you forever should I refuse?” Priam waited for her answer, it being the deciding factor of his edict.

"Yes." She sighed softly, dropping her eyes away from her father, fearing the hurt she would see there. "I can not live without him."

He nodded then, quiet for a long moment before leaning to her ear. “Then, daughter, you should speak to him of decorum and reverence while in the presence of his father in law.” Moving to the guard who held Achilles at bay, he raised his arm and beckoned the warrior to come closer. “Achilles …” he turned and outstretched his hand for Claudia to approach. “Daughter … why do we stand here in such turmoil? We have a wedding to plan, do we not?”

“Indeed we do,” came a male voice from the doorway. A voice that all recognized immediately as Odysseus stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully to Priam. “And a grand celebration it will be. Brother!” And with that, he placed a hand on either of the older man’s cheeks, kissing each in turn and pulling him into a loving embrace. “It has been much too long.”

Claudia moved against Achilles, releasing her father's hand. "Speak kindly to him, my love, he likes you. He will be your king and father from this day forward," she whispered, secretly brushing her body against him in all the right places. "You are to be my husband, Achilles," she whispered excitedly.

Achilles looked at Claudia in surprise, and then grinned wildly as he pulled her tightly in his arms, kissing her with the soundness that spoke his growing emotion. “Never could a man be more happy than I right now.”

"You will prove your happiness to me later this night, warrior." She whispered, her breath hot against his ear. She brushed her generously peaked breast fleetingly against his bicep. "This I promise, Achilles."

His mouth moved to the curve of her neck, his freshly washed, golden hair brushing the softness of her skin. “I will be your slave in every way, my dearest love.” Pulling her back to his chest, he purposely pulled her into a tight embrace, his body hardening to life at the feel of her curved behind. “If the thought pleases you.”


Hector smiled at the group as he made his way to the nearest guard. "Bring Melior and my son to me."

“Come,” Priam said to the celebratory group. “Let us leave the formality of court and make way to the comfort of the receiving chamber.” Ushering the assembly to the pillowed room, he sat Odysseus near himself, wanting nothing more than to catch up on years past.

Melior was quick to join the family in the receiving chamber, the babe tucked securely in her arms. She stood just inside the doorway, eyes wide and staring … staring not at Hector, but the man reclining beside Priam.

A bright smile painted the strong features of Odysseus as he spoke privately to Priam … and then his eyes turned to behold the most sensual beauty he had ever had the pleasure to see in the flesh. “Who …” His words floated across the air as he sought eye contact with the goddess. “Who is … she?”

Hector stood and moved to her side, his heart squeezing in his chest as he noticed the instant attraction between the two. He would have had to be blind not to see it, to feel the sudden tension fill the room. "She is Melior, uncle, my son's nurse."

“Melior,” Odysseus breathed as he moved across the room, abandoning the conversation with the king to place take the beauty’s hand, placing a light, delicate kiss on the sensitive palm. “A name so sweet that it should be sung by the gods.”

"And what is your name or shall I simply call you mine," she whispered boldly for his ears, and his ears alone, her body trembling wildly with his briefest touch.

“Odysseus,” he said softly, his hand keeping hers in its grip. His free hand went to the head of the babe in her arms. “I am Odysseus.” He leaned forward then, whispering. “And yours,” he said just as audaciously as she.

“King Odysseus,” Priam said loudly. “Come! I will have your shown to your chambers by my guard so that you may refresh yourself before feast.”

Continuing to stare into the woman’s eyes, he watched deeply for her reaction. “I come,” he said to the king, before adding softly to the woman before him … “Or at least I hope to?” His devilish smile gave no miss to his meaning.

Melior’s eyes widened at his comment, a heady smile slipping across her lips. "Perhaps you will, indeed." She couldn't keep the forward reply from flowing from her lips.

Raising his eyebrow, it was then that the king noticed Hector standing beside the woman that had so suddenly brought his body to life. “Your son is a gift from the gods, Hector,” he said, allowing his eyes to focus on the generous breast upon which the babe laid his head, his body tightening even further. “I must return to his majesty, your king,” he said. “For we have much to discuss.” Bringing Melior’s hand again to his mouth, his eyes roamed to hers as the tip of his tongue flicked out, stealthily running a warm trail along the sweetness of her flesh. “Melior … I do hope to have the pleasure of your presence again.”

"That is my hope also, Odysseus," she whispered, her eyes locked with his. Her heart hammered wildly inside her chest as she realized she was holding her breath.

Hector stared between the two aching for what he was about to lose. There was no mistaking the looks that passed between the two. Again, he would find his bed and heart empty. "Thank you, my lord."

With a smile, Odysseus squeezed Melior’s hand before releasing it, wondering at the fact that his position as king did nothing to surprise the beauty. Nodding his head toward Hector, he turned to resume his conversation with King Priam, his eyes constantly roaming toward the beauty and gracing her with a conspiratorial smile.

"King?" She leaned her body close to Hector to whisper. Her eyes roaming over the fine form of King Odysseus. Her body reacting in all the feminine ways of deepening need.

"Yes. He rules the whole of Greece now. Achilles slay Agememnon this day insuring a good and just man sits upon the Grecian throne." He explained, taking his son from her arms and caressing his head. He should not feel pain, should not feel hurt, but he did. Never had he been so easily disguarded by a woman until now.

"King?" She leaned her body close to Hector to whisper, her eyes roaming over the fine form of King Odysseus, her body reacting in all the feminine ways of deepening need.

"Yes. He rules the whole of Greece now. Achilles slew Agamemnon this day insuring that a good and just man sits upon the Grecian throne," he explained, taking his son from her arms and caressing his head. He should not feel pain, should not feel hurt, but he did. Never had he been so easily discarded by a woman until now.

It was at that moment that Odysseus stood, clasping the arm of the Trojan king, and strode to the door leading to the courtyard. Stopping at the portal, he looked the way of Melior, gave her a wink and an intimate smile, and exited, a lightness to his step that he hadn’t felt in years. For the first time in a long, long time, he had hope for the future.

"Do you have need of me, Hector?" She turned hopeful eyes to the man at her side.

"No. Go and speak with the new king of Greece, my friend." He whispered smiling at her, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Claudia pulled Achilles along with her into the next chamber, rubbing herself shamelessly against him as they were left alone. "It pleases me very much. But tell me, my love, how will you enter the room and be in my father's presence in such a condition?" Cutting her eyes around her one last time to ensure a moment of privacy she stroked Achilles rising column of flesh.

“Quick,” Achilles said huskily, his hand harshly grasping the material of her chiton upward until his fingers felt the smooth flesh of her thighs and sought to bury his fingers between the firm, silky flesh that was moistening even as he touched it. “A wall, a curtain … something that will protect us from view!”

"The throne..." She gasped, her hips rolling instinctually towards his seeking fingers. "It is large enough to hide us from sight."

Taking Claudia by the wrist, he pulled her forcefully behind the large, ornate throne, all the while making quick work of pushing her annoying clothing out of the way, his hands boldly throwing her against the rear of the high throne, then moving to lift her breast to his hungry mouth while simultaneously separating the drenched, fleshy feminine lips, two fingers plunging inside her with need, force and abandon. “My body will not be denied yours … and I fear will not be gentle!”

"There is no need for your gentleness with me now, Achilles, and in fact I do not desire it. Mount me as you will and ease the ache inside my woman's place," she hissed, arching against him as her hand stroked wildly against his throbbing shaft.

Lifting her by the hips and pressing her to the heavy throne’s back, Achilles groaned. “Guide me in, woman,” he said through gritted teeth as he held her precariously in the perfect position. “And you will be taken good and well!”

With one arm wrapped around his shoulder, the other hand grasp his straining manhood and guided it to her throbbing opening, coating her finger with her own juices and applying them generously to the flared head of shaft. "Enter me now, Achilles. Make your might be known with your entrance."

With a loud grunting moan, he pulled back his hips as far as possible before thrusting forward with the power of a falling boulder, his straining sword not satisfied until it found the end of her tightening sheath. Another thundering moan and he repeated the action, her body pounding hard against the throne as his weight all but crushed her with each pummeling thrust. “My … need … is great,” he said in ragged tones as his body worked of its own volition to ease the aching throb the convulsion of her womanhood created in him.

"As is mine..." she gasped, her head flung back against the throne as she arched to him. Her hips rolled with each thrust, trying to embed him deeper and deeper inside her.

“Tighten!” he growled, his muscles tensing as he felt the impending explosion so quickly coming to fruition. “Tighten more if you can,” he practically begged as his back hunched slightly allowing his mouth the perfect position to ravage her breasts, one after the other in an almost animalistic fashion as he continued to pound viciously into her, needing to release simultaneously to heighten the passion. “Tighter!”

His demands upon her body in such terms heightened her pleasure and her building orgasm broke through her womb. The spasms that ran the length of her slick channel caused her to grip him ruthlessly, tightening suddenly around him.

He buried his mouth into the curve of her neck, sinking his teeth into the fair flesh to keep the howl of pleasure at bay and thus assuring their intimate secrecy. With the third convulsion, Achilles’ climax came swift and hard, pouring stream after stream of heated, thick cream into the convulsing canal that was her wet, woman’s tunnel. “Oh, great Aphrodite,” he whispered in a sexually hypnotic state. “I soften only to await hardening again.” Panting, he eased his body to the floor, holding her to him the entire way until she was straddling his hips, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. “How did I live so long without this?”

"I love you, Achilles," she whispered in response, nuzzling the warm male flesh just below his jaw. "Our wedding must be soon for the thought of one night without you in my bed is an arrow through my heart."

Achilles sighed, regaining his breath as he gently kissed the trail of her shoulders. “I will speak to him in a moment.” He grinned mischievously. “I’m certain I should arrange my clothing and cleanse the sex from my body before taking his audience?”

"That would be advisable." She kissed him softly upon the cheek and smiled, easing from his lap. "He likes you Achilles. He spoke just those words to me earlier."

He rose to his knees, his arms wrapping around her waist as his mouth laid soft, wet kisses along the plane of her conclave belly. “He is a fine, noble king.” His tongue delved deeply into the recess of her navel. “But I much prefer his daughter.”

"Gods, Achilles, will you have me again before joining the others?" She giggled and withered against the wet warmth of his mouth.

“And as often as we can physically allow,” he teased, nuzzling her skin with the smoothness of his clean shaven cheek. “Your scent taunts me … teases my manhood. I ask you … is that kind of you?”

She gasped and feigned horror. "Achilles, I can not help this. I am but a woman after all and possess just that scent, or is it the scent of out love making that you speak of." She rolled her curvy hips towards him, her aroused scent wafting into the still air.

A throaty growl erupted as he pulled the skin beneath her sated navel between his teeth and suckled deeply, marking the alabaster flesh with his brand. “It is the scent of your feminine desire that I speak of, Claudia,” he said huskily. “And this you know. For each time your legs separate, your body calls to me in a silent, fragrant demand.”

"Does it call to you now, my love? Do you wish to bury yourself inside me again?" She prompted, urged, wanting to have another romp behind her father's throne with the one man in the whole of the world that belong to her and her alone.

“That it does, my love,” Achilles whispered, giving her abdomen one last, long taste before he stood, reluctantly straightening his clothing as his eyes stayed melded to hers. “But your father awaits … and I must know the day of our wedding … and I must know it now before I tear down this entire palace in my need for you.”

"Yes. I am eager to learn when I will wed you, my love." She kissed him soundly, running her hands across every inch of his exposed flesh, unable to keep her hand from him.

Achilles smiled, his hands then moving to straighten her clothes to their proper look before pulling her into his arms, his hands resting firmly on the well formed flesh of her hind quarters. “Then go and wait for me in your … soon to be our … bed whilst I speak with your father, man to man.” His fingers squeezed, loving the pliable flesh beneath his hands. “Make yourself ready for me and I will come and sooth you.”

"Hurry, Achilles. Do not let him keep you over long talking about the government of Troy and Sparta," she warned, just before she broke slowly away from him with a parting kiss.

“Claudia,” he said as their bodies separated, his eyes alight with fire and mischief. “Will you not leave me with something, anything, that will ensure my hasty rush to your bed?”

Quickly she bared her breast for him, a full lobe of pale flesh peaked with a delicate pink bud of pleasure. "I will be awaiting your mouth, Achilles … your manhood."

The flame of desire was billowed violently within him … not only at the sight of her flesh, but at the decadent presentation with which she gifted him. His tongue ran long and slowly along his drying lips as his fingers moved to adjust his semi-erect shaft more comfortably between his thighs. “You will not be waiting long,” he vowed, his eyes lights of fire.

"Then hurry to my father and get the date." She whispered as she eased away, covering her exposed flesh as she turned away from him.

One last look at the sultry back of the woman he loved and Achilles was gone, anxious to have their lives set legally before them. “I love you,” was whispered through the air wafting even after she was alone with the just the scent of him for affirmation that he had been there at all.

Claudia rushed to her room and quickly bathed her body with perfumed water, readying herself for Achilles. Drying her body slowly, she moved onto the bed and laid thinking about their lift together. Soon her eye lids slid to her cheeks and she succumbed to a light slumber.


Melior beat a hasty retreat to the courtyard door, her eyes scanning the garden walkways for the man she sought.

Making his way through the garden path toward the stables to retrieve his mount, Odysseus had heard the door open and close from the great house. Using his warrior’s instinct, he became one with the darkness, hiding behind a manicured shrub until the form approached, his body knowing without seeing that it was her.

Melior rushed along the path, stopping every few feet to scan the path ahead. Finally, coming to a stop beside the bush she sighed. "It was not to be."

“Ah, lady,” came the warm breath on the back of her neck from the inky blackness of the night. “Do you give in so easily?”

Melior's body stiffed in surprise, her breathing coming in shallow pants. "I had thought you left our company, my lord. I only wished to..." She began to tremble with his nearness then, her body feeling heated and chilled in the same moment. "Say that... say...it is good that you are King of Greece, your niece must be so very happy..."

Odysseus moved in front of her then, the moonlight shining on his face and hair as he sat on his haunches before her. “You followed me here to tell me it is good that I am king?” His hand moved to run sure, masculine fingers over the back of her hand and up the length of her forearm. “I had thought you came to say goodbye … at the very least.”

"I...I...I did not wish to say good bye to you, my lord." She met his eyes with a measure of shyness, with a measure of reserve. "For I did not wish you to leave so soon. I have only just laid eyes upon you..."

“I must return to my encampment for a few hours.” His fingers moved boldly along her arms, falling onto the firmness of her thighs. “But I shall return. Will that please you, Melior?”

"Yes. It will please me greatly. Will you seek me out?" She boldly questioned, her body seeping with her womanly flow of excitement.

Odysseus moved to sit upon the bench beside her, his hard hip pressed against her soft, rounded one as he leaned forward, his lips a hair away from her satiny cheek. “I will seek you out until your eyes are laid upon me once again. And tell me Melior,” he said, his mouth touching the whorl of her ear, his breath heated upon her skin. “Will you lay hands upon me as well?”

Her eyes fluttered closed for the space of a heartbeat, her voice breathless as she responded to him. "I will, my lord. I shall touch you where ever it pleases you."

His leg moved swiftly across the bench, straddling it as the evidence of his arousal protruded, well visible in the moonlight as he slipped forward, pressing his spread thighs to her hip. “My only hope at this moment is that you will not live to regret those words when you see what portion of me demands your attention.”

Her eyes dropped in a slow appraisal of the fullness between his thighs, his erect flesh making itself known. "I will not regret it, my lord." She inched closer on the bench, her fingers itching with the need to touch him then and there.

Odysseus was aware of the impressive sight his aroused organ made, knowing it to be thicker and longer than most among him … but there was something he wondered … something he needed to know immediately. It would not keep him from bedding her … but it could make a difference in the intimacy he would allow the act to bring. “Touch me if you desire to touch the man,” he whispered thickly. “Not the king.”

Again Melior glanced to the part of him that pulsed with life and pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting it roughly. "I will touch, Odysseus…" Her hand made a slow migration to him, placing her palm over his straining erection. "The man."

Eyes closing as her hand slide softly across his aching member, the king sighed, a soft smile curling his lips. “And how feel you about bedding a king,” he asked in low, sensual tones, having experienced some servant women’s aversion to mussing bed linens with royalty. His finger moved as he awaited her answer, softly trailing the line of her leg, his hand impatient to know if she flowed with the wetness of desire even has his body’s scepter throbbed at her light, tentative touch.

Her it was, the thing she had been fearing he would ask of her. She would not trade being mother to Hector's child to be mistress to a king, no matter how beautiful his face was to look upon, no matter how his body stirred her. "While you are here, I will be eager to see to your needs, my lord," she whispered, her hand growing more bold by the second as she parted her thighs slightly in invitation.

Her hand encircled him through the barrier of his clothing and she gripped him gently. "There is someone with whom I...," she moaned softly as his fingers caressed her just right, "...seek pleasure. We are not wed."

Even through the intense pleasure her hand brought him mixed with the wetness that coated his finger as he gently, yet expertly separated the heat of her womanhood, he felt an inexplicable disappointment at her words. “One does not have to be wed for the heart to lie elsewhere,” he said deeply … his voice vibrating with subdued passion. “Your words, and feelings, are understood to me, lovely one.” Even with is words, he could not resist allowing his finger to delve, ever so slightly, into the core of her being, circling to capture as much of her nectar as possible.

"I think not, my lord..." she responded softly, in a delicate purr of passion. The friction of his finger inside her had her rolling her hips against the seductive intrusion. "I love the man I lay with only as a friend. We seek the comfort of each other's bodies because we have both been alone for so very long."

A quiet reigned for several moments as he allowed the tip of his finger to seek its intimate treasure before slowly pulling away, the coated finger slowly suspended in the air before he opened his mouth and slowly extracted his tongue and caressed the coated flesh, his eyes closing as he tasted the honeyed essence which instantly became his new obsession. “Hector,” he said knowingly, his eyes opening to meet hers, “…is a very lucky man.”

There was another rich cascade of her juices as she watched him lick her flavor from his fingers. An eagerly pleading moan filled her throat. "Lucky? He is pained with the loss of his wife, Odysseus, and I offer him the comfort of my body. He is my friend."

His finger completely cleaned of her essence, he licked his lips, lest any drop of her taste remained there for his pleasure. A face filled the great tenderness, yet heated passion. “You are his lover,” he said, enunciating the last word with such seductive passion he scarcely recognized his own voice. “That goes beyond the binds of friendship.” He smiled heatedly. “And yet, seeing you, I can almost understand Paris’ need to have the woman Helen at all cost.”

"At all cost?" Her gaze was no less dazed with passions but there was curiousness there as well. She had no idea what Odysseus was saying to her with those words but she desperately wanted to understand. Below, she began a slow stroking of him barred by the fabric of his clothing, stroking up until she felt the crown's wide girth. Her eyes widened then and she wiggled slightly against the stone bench below her.

As her eyes widened, he tried to restrain the building desire he felt at her touch, but failing miserably as he grew even bigger in her grasp. He had seen that look in women’s eyes before, women who became instantly terrified when they came in contact with his large size. “Does it frighten, little one?” he asked huskily, eyes mere slits as he tried to keep focused.

"No..." she whispered honestly with tidal wave of need in her voice. "I want more of it."

He gave her an erotic smile then, his expression a portrait in sexual passion. “And it is truly the man you want … not the crown?” he asked, his hand boldly grasped her feminine core, in his imagination, marking his territory and branding her as his own. “Will you know whose hands these are that touch you?” Instantly, he sought her passion’s nub, cajoling it into need.

"It is the man that I want, Odysseus. I am a simple woman and need not a crown to seduce me into pleasure," she responded before her voice was stolen from her completely and replaced by eager panting. "Flesh to flesh? Please, Odysseus I want to touch you...”

Instantly he lifted the skirted material below his armor and pushed away the scant underclothing to reveal his manhood to her view. Taking her hand, he eased her fingers around the thickness of his flesh, a long, low breath escaping from him. “This is yours to touch at your desire,” he breathed into her ear, his tongue swirling around the whorl of her ear slowly with the heated moistness of his tongue while his own fingers worked with practiced experience to bring her body to fruition.”

"Are you....Certain?" She asked stroking him quickly, up and down, caressing the slitted head of his manhood with her thumb at each zenith. "I can be quite...,” she grasped his wrist with her free hand and held him still while she used her own body to sink onto his fingers several times, "...ravenous."

Surprise overtook him at her assertive forcefulness, his face contorting in pleasured pain each time his tender opening met with the unconscious slide of her fingernail as he created a scissor effect inside her body as her strong grip stilled his hand. “In all my years,” he said with baited breath, “there has not … been a woman … yet… to have outlasted …my stamina.” By the gods, it would take only a nudge to take this woman so completely right here in the gardens of King Priam, the man with whom he now hoped to create an alliance. Even so, he pulsed wildly within her grasp.

"You will test me?" she near begged feeling the first strains of her orgasm wash through her womb, throbbing through her channel to grip and pull at his fingers.

His eyes turned smoky with lust and need, the molten lava creeping up the pulsing, thick veins beneath is overly erect member. “Do you believe yourself able to handle me?” he asked erotically as his fingers became more forceful inside her convulsing portal.

"I do," she responded simply as she continued to coat his fingers with her flooding orgasmic juices. "And you will prove that you can handle....me?"

A knowing smile came upon his lips as he processed her words through the haze of lust, need and obsession. With the strength of a warrior, he bypassed her grip and thrust his hand upward, embedding his fingers to the sweet spot inside her. “I can handle … you!” he said forcefully as the muscles in his neck protruded with the oncoming climax he felt would be immeasurable. “I can handle you!”

"Now, Odysseus … now, for me..." She urged softly stroking up to the head of his over large phallus and giving it a none-too gentle squeeze.

He wanted more of her sweet, yet explicit words … but he could contain himself no longer. His body erupted then, his enormous shaft jerking and twitching as line after line of his heated, creamy liquid flew uncharted in the vastness of the night. He suppressed the moan that usually followed such a happening, his fingers stilling deeply inside her cavern as the both their orgasms completely overtook his senses. “Only … for you…” he panted through gritted teeth.

She twisted then dropping her head between his spread thighs to lap at the cream that ran unchecked down his shaft onto her hand. He tasted, his essence, like none other. He tasted sweet yet with a hint of bitter saltiness.

Her mouth wreaked havoc with his senses and he threatened to grow again, then and there. Closing his eyes, he reluctantly remembered the plan he had worked with Priam and the need to return to his encampment briefly before indulging in the king’s hospitality as they created the formal, written truce. “Woman,” he said in raspy breaths, “will … you … have me tonight?” His hand moved to caress the crown of her head, fingers entwining the softness of her tresses. “Allow me inside your fortress upon my return. Will I be taking you from Hector’s bed?”

"You will have me, Odysseus. I will be waiting for you upon a well tended bed, eager for you entrance," she replied, humming her words gently around his softening member. "Will you hurry back to me?"

His fingers wound tightly around the locks of her hair, lifting her head forcefully from his lap as he lowered his head. “Apollo’s chariot could not fly faster than my steed will carry me to your bed,” he said roughly, his mouth overtaking hers in a searing kiss, his member jumping to a semi-erect state at the taste of his own essence on her tongue despite the so satisfying completion she had brought him to. “By the gods,” he whispered heatedly against her mouth, the taste and feel overwhelmingly erotic.

"Hurry, Odysseus..." She moaned leaning up to kiss him heatedly, her tongue pushing into his mouth and swirling and caressing his tongue, in a parting gesture. Breaking the suctioned contact of their lips she pushed roughly at his chest. "Hurry, back to me and you will not be sorry."

“I am already sorry,” he said harshly as he pushed his hardening flesh back within the confines of his armor’s undergarment, a contorted look of discomfort blazing across his face at the gesture. “For I have to leave your body now and dream of it for hours with no respite save the strength of my sword hand.”

"And I my own nurturing fingers," she replied boldly, her openness surprising her. She had never been quite as vocal about her pleasure as she was with this man and it thrilled her to her very core, causing her to come alive as never before.

“Speak no more until I return,” he said heatedly, the palm of his hand moving along the line of his still growing staff. “Else I will never leave this day.” He moved forward, a though suddenly occurring to him. But, could he trust her? “Melior, tell me … with the honesty of a lover … do you desire Hector for your own? This I must know now and without reserve.”

"No." The answer was so quick that she knew it was true in her heart. She loved Hector as a friend, loved him as only another in such pain could, but she did not love him deep in her heart. "I do not desire Hector in such a way, Odysseus, not this day or any other."

A bright and sensual smile came to the king’s lips as he stepped forward and took her hands, pulling to sit again beside him on their bench. “Then I will share this with you in trust that you will speak to no one else of it. I go to bring back Hector’s new bride.” He watched her expression for sign of disappointment of any kind.

She laughed in delight. "I do not know if he will be happy about this whence he hears but I know it is the best thing for him. If he were to wait until the pain of his wife has left him then he will be a very old man before he weds again. I am happy about this, Odysseus. Is she a beauty? Is she gentle and caring? Does she love children? Will she love his babe as her own?" She fired off one question after another at him, wanting for her friend and his child to be truly loved and cared for.

He smiled at her enthusiasm feeling then that she would be free to be wooed by himself … wooed even into becoming queen one day. “She is a beauty, of that there is little doubt,” he said softly. “But she, too, has been filled with pain … physical and mental pain at the hands of Agamemnon. I believe a good man, such as Hector and caring for his child will bring her back to the place in her being where she can love and be loved.” He smoothed her hands with his thumbs, loving the feel of her skin. “King Priam and I agree that this is the best course of action to bring about a final peace. All of his children wed to Grecians, for he will also set the day for the wedding of Paris and Helen. How much more unity can be established? And I do believe Persephone will eventually be good for him. Of course, she will need the friendship of a strong female. Will you help in this?” He leaned in, using his tongue to trail the contours of her throat. “Will you help?”

"I will, Odysseus. I will help her in any way I can." She tilted her head to allow him better access to the skin there.

He took advantage of her invitation, his fingers easing down the material of her gown as he dipped his head forward, flicking his tongue teasingly across the stiffened nipple that so seemed to beckon him. “You will not be sorry, lovely one,” he said heatedly.

As always, warm wet contact against her stiff aching nipple cause her milk to gather there beading upon the ripe berry like bud. "Odysseus," she sighed feeling the familiar tingle plowing forward to tips of her heavy breasts.

Feeling none of the hesitation felt briefly by Hector, the king’s mouth opened wide taking a full quarter of the ample breast within his mouth and suctioning deeply, releasing the flesh slowly until all that was left inside the warm cavern was the rosy peak, leaking the strangely erotic fluid into his mouth with each violent suck. A rumbling in his throat causes a vibration over the sensitive area as he feasted boldly … his hand rising to give attention to the remaining breast.

"Odysseus, please..." She again spread her thighs begging his attention at the junction there, eager for a touch to send her over the edge into another hard climax.

She need not have asked, his hand moving instinctively to grasp possessively the wetted area that he could not seem to get enough of. Fingers instantly inserting, access to well lubricated channel easily done, he pumped and circled his fingers in and out of her body in perfect synchronization with his mouth’s suction upon her filled, sensual breast.

Near the doorway, guarding it to anyone who would find themselves eager for a stroll, Hector watched the two. His own breathing labored as he watched each movement of Melior, each movement of the man plunging his large fingers into her. "God, but I can not take this." He dropped his hand pushed the palm of his hard against his own erect flesh.

Oblivious to the friendly voyeur, Odysseus continued his mission with the zeal and quest of one obsessed, his hand worked ferociously to bring about the climactic orgasm that would cause her to need him over and over until her returned to her. “I want it,” he murmured emphatically against the softness of her breast, his hand making the sweetest of friction across her passionate sweet spot. “I want it …NOW.”

There could be no mistaking what he wanted, what he was urging her towards and she gave over to it quickly with a wild shrill cry of his name, her body arching off the stone bench.

His hand moved from voraciously plunging to softly caressing as he soothingly rubbed her convulsing womanhood, his own body shivering at the feel of her pulsations beneath his palm. His mouth moved to her neck and toward her ear as he whispered, “And this is just my hand.”

"Do not make me wait long to feel your sword part me, Odysseus, I do not think I can take that," she gasped, her hand clutching at his shoulder as if to anchor her in the moment.

Odysseus smiled, needing to know of her need, for he felt it, as well. His teeth nipped sharply at the edge of her ear as he, again, adjusted his large flesh comfortable between his thighs before standing, looking down on her sensual form. “By the gods, there is nothing more erotically beautiful than a satisfied woman.”

All the while Hector had plied his calloused hand to his twitching rod, his rock hard member, stroking himself in short chopping jerks of his wrists. It was a known technique to bring him to a quick hard climax. He came hard with Melior's wild cries, his seed spewing from the tip of him to splatter the ground at his feet, some dribbling over the coated crown to lay warm and sticky against his still moving hand. His own breath pushed from his lungs in a long drawn out hiss of intensity.

"To a woman's eyes it is a fully aroused man, eager to fill her," she growled seductively, knowing their time was growing short but not able to give him up then.

At that point, he did something he never would have dreamed of doing, so vain, pompous and childish would it have seemed. Before he could even think of how she would think of him, he stepped into a glowing beam of moonlight, lifted his armors tabs and parted the material of his underclothing, letting her eyes partake of his raging hardness, the enormous length and girth bobbing slightly with his movements. “Then look your fill before I must leave.”

"Odysseus!" She gasped, her eyes widening as if acute pain lanced her. "I can not stand it, to only look and not have you. Gods, but you make me ache for your hungry staff." At the bench, her hands wrapped around the edges in a white knuckle grasp, to quell the urge to go to him and stroke him yet again.

Hector gripped himself as he sought to bring himself under control, fighting the unquenchable tide of lust that Melior brought in such a situation. He knew then, when there was no jealousy at such a thing, that he did not truly love her. His heart did not belong to her and hers did not belong to him. He could let her go then, tucking himself inside his flowing garment and turning from the scene before he was unable to.

Odysseus backed away then, his eyes heatedly on hers as he ever-so-slowly lowered and settled the clothing, his manhood only barely contained in the thin material. “Melior, lovely one,” he breathed, his eyes on fire. “Will you not return the favor as I take my leave?”

"Certainly," she responded. Lifting one bare foot to the top of the bench, her knee bent, she opened her thighs wide to allow him a slow perusal of her feminine folds, drenched and glistening wet from his attention.

He knew that what he asked of her was too much … that she would look at him as a lesser man and weaker king, but the sight that Odysseus view was enough to send him straight to paradise, and throw him into the pits of Hades’ underworld simultaneously. His tongue ran over his lips in an unconscious remembrance of the taste of her … and he breathed a heavy sigh. “Your kindness will be rewarded,” he said softly and with meaning.

"I do not doubt that, Odysseus, my lover. But I need no reward for such. I would give this with just the soft asking of it and expect nothing of you in return. I am a giving lover, you will see." Her own fingers played with the separation between her thighs, trailing along the swollen pink lips.

His breath came in pants as he watched her fingers excite her body and bring it to life with the self-ministrations. It was a sight that never ceased to arouse him, and with this woman, he found it hypnotically mesmerizing. “Is there a need in you,” he asked playfully with erotic tones. “Or do you seek to please my eyes … for that you have done! So much so that I would but for a crook of a finger forget the plans made by Priam and myself and take you here and now.”

She lifted her unoccupied hand from the bench then and crooked her finger at him, her eyes dancing with the flames of deeply rooted lust. "I seek to please more than your eyes, beautiful man."

With a sultry smile, he moved closer toward her, his own hand reaching between his thighs and releasing his impressive organ, stroking it long hand hard as he eased to the bench beside her. “Don’t stop,” he breathed as he sat before , watching her hands as the manipulated her erotic flesh while he concurrently jerked and pumped his own into a raging pike of lust.

She smiled as he straddled the bench facing her, his thick organ being worked thoroughly. She moved closer, turning to face him, throwing her own legs over his thighs. Her heated moist flesh grazed against the tight sacs below his shaft as she continued working her own body. "Do you prefer to tease our eyes in such a way, Odysseus?”

The king groaned, his hand moving toward her chest to almost roughly push her shoulders back causing her body to arch and thus giving him a deeper, clearer view of her dancing fingers as he pulled her hips closer still. “What I want, woman, is my manhood buried so deeply inside your woman’s cavern that you cry for mercy … I want my body so engulfed by you that we have no conception of where I end and you begin.” He groaned, his hand and the sight of her erotic play bringing the first feeling of climax. “But I want this when I have hours and hours to bring you to fruition.”

"This I want too, lover," she confessed, her fingers delving into the slick channel of her woman's haven, the digits disappearing from sight only to be pulled back and thrust forth again. "Will you dream of me while you are away, Odysseus? Will the memory of me, like this, distract you when it should not? Will you find time to use that memory of me to bring you release?"

He growled almost angrily, his body tense and readying for release but years and experience keeping him from erupting just yet. “You know it will! You know that my horse will be my enemy, painful and aching as my throbbing erection is bounced mile after mile toward the encampment. You know that solstice I will seek when bringing Persephone here, finding private moments each resting period I allow her and her entourage.” He scooted forward, his jumping phallus touching the silky wetness of her upper thigh. “You know it will be your face behind my eyes as I pull, tug and toss my aching flesh to explosion. All of this you know.” He chuckled as the pearl-like drops leaked from the crowned manhood, the sign of what was soon to come. “Now … what of you?” he growled. “How will you occupy your time without this?” He touched her flesh with his engorgement.

Her hips jerked wildly at the contact with his manhood, lifting off the bench only to hit the stone again with a resounding slap. "I shall be in a daze of lusting dreams until you return. I will be no good to anyone until you return."

“Never stop…” he whispered huskily as he felt the surging inside him, his body ready to release at any moment, the sound of her erotic flesh pounding onto the marble bench bringing him closer and closer. “Never stop speaking to me thusly … never stop calling me lover …” His breath stilled then as his volcanic detonation began, his eyes staying on her pink woman’s flesh. “Never stop!”

Melior arched wildly against the bench as her orgasmic frenzy overtook her with the first splattered of his seed against her quaking mound. "Odysseus...Lover..." She gasped, trailing her fingers upward to smear his fluid across herself.

Straining to keep from shouting loud enough to peak the ears of the ensemble inside, Odysseus’ head tossed back, the veins in his neck protruding thickly, his face reddening deeply as the spasms slowly subsided, but brought none of the coolness to his body that usually occurred after such a tumultuous climax. Opening his eyes, his gaze caught the movement of her hand as it painted his seed across her body. Never before had he seen such, and it brought a long, erotic moan from deep within him. “Melior …” he whispered as his eyes locked on the hand that instigated his lust again.

"Yes, my lord, my lover?" She cooed sweetly, seductively, wanting this man to know exactly what he did to her, and how much she enjoyed his company.

“Why,” he asked with a raspy sounding voice, knowing her answer, but wanting the sexual thrill of hearing it from her as his eyes motioned toward her hand. “Why would you do such?”

"Warm and sticky, it feels good to rub you into my skin. I'll remember the feel hours from now when I lay in my bed alone, aching for you," she whispered, her fingers continuing in a slow circular pattern over her pelvis.

“Woman,” he said softly, his hands grasping her to pull her body close, her legs wide and warm across her hips. “You have surely become a king’s obsession … but now …” The words that would follow made him shiver as his arms tightened, his mouth kissing a trail down her silky throat as his own hips pressed voraciously into hers, male flesh meeting female flesh in a wildly exciting caress.

"But now?" She quivered, small pleasurable tremors wracking her slight form, as he held her fully against him. There, in the pit of her stomach butterflies took flight while she stared into his eyes and it was clear to her what she was feeling.

“Now,” he breathed, his hand moving to absently caress her full, ripe breast in a loving touch. “Now, you may hold a king’s heart in the palm of your hand.” He ran a long, warm tongue along the line of her lips.

Her eyes went wide with wonder, with awe. "Truly? Do you mean such words Odysseus?" She questioned as she stroked the back of his neck, her finger trailing along the warm damp skin.

His smile turned slowly from heated light to teasing mischief. “Have you ever known me to lie to you, little one?” His fingers tweaked the budded nipple as he kissed her with passion and verve. “Ah, Melior … I have yet to leave you and my body aches already.”

Melior's smile fell slightly as she thought about his words, her body aching anew for him. "No. You have not lied to me but I have only known you a very short time, Odysseus. I did not know if your words were teasing or if you could have such feelings." She spoke openly, her heart feeling as if it had been squeezed by careless hands.

His fingers touched her chin, lifting her eyes to his as face turned tender, yet heated. “Melior,” he said with aching softness. “My heart has been touched by one woman alone from the time of my youth until now. Like you and Hector, I have sought the solstice of women’s bodies, feeling nothing grander than the strongest of friendships. But … with you…” He sighed, seeing in her eyes her disbelief in his words … yet he had gone too far to stop now. “It would take but the slightest nudge to turn my heart over to your safekeeping for the remainder of living days.”

Pulling her lower lips between her teeth she worked the flesh gently, her eyes boring into his and seeing nothing but the truth there. As her smile returned, she felt as if she were light as air. "Tell me of this nudge so, that that I may properly execute it … for I believe I would like to have you for the rest of your life. I would like to have you, Odysseus, for the rest of my life."

“Perhaps, we shall discuss this nudge …” He took advantage of her opened lips and quickly maneuvered her tongue into his mouth, sucking deeply. “Discuss it in detail … upon my return?”

"I would like that, my lover," she whispered against his lips, her tongue delving back between his lips.

His voice rumbled as he pulled slowly away from the warmth of her mouth, his body pressing rubbing seductively against hers one last time. “Ah, temptress … your body beckons me to stay! And my duty beckons me to go.” He kissed her hard and quite thoroughly. “Need I tell you which will easily win?” He smiled impishly.

"You need not speak it. I can feel which wins. But I can not allow it; I must send you on your way so that all may be set right for Troy and Greece," she soothed, trailing her fingers up into his soft brown hair, caressing his scalp gently. "I will miss you terribly, Odysseus."

“But a few hours, dear one,” he whispered, his mouth lavishing attention on her neck. “And I shall be searching high and low for you.” His eyes sparkled as the lifted to hers. “There will be no place for you to hide.”

"Why would I hide from the one who holds my heart, lover?" She tilted her head, simply staring at the beautiful man that well and truly owned her heart.

Tender eyes turned hungry and sexual as his hand boldly slipped between them to grasp the still, moist triangle of womanhood that so obsessed him, his fingers mingling with and caressing every portion of her fleshy, feminine lips. “Swear to me that we will never hold back from each other.” His fingers teased her … loving the reaction he felt. “Swear.”

"This I swear to you, lover. I could not hold anything from you … ever," she replied instantly, not even taking a moment to think on her response. It was natural. It was true to her.

He smiled, her honesty and sensuality coursing through his veins as he stroked, subconsciously claiming her in a territorial fashion. “Nor I from you. Know this from me know, Melior … this king will hold nothing from you.” He leaned forward and kissed her sweetly as his hand moved tentatively away. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I can return to your bed.”

She took his face between her soft smooth hands then and smiled lovingly. "Then you will not hold your heart from me? I will have it, Odysseus, and will not be happy until it is mine."

He covered her delicate hand with his, his face one of complete truth and emotion. “If you want my heart as well as my body, Melior, it is yours to take. No other has laid claim upon it since the death of my wife so many years ago. I will not hold it from you … but it is you that must take hold and grasp it … knowing, of course, that if you grasp the heart of a king … you must take all that that entails.” His eyes bored into hers, having felt early on this woman would welcome him as a man, yet reject queendom should it be offered her.

"Quickly tell me what that entails, Odysseus, so that I may understand what is expected, for I swear I love you and will do what I must to make you love me in return." Her eyes danced with the excitement of her newly realized feelings.

He moved back then in stunned surprise, his face alight with hesitant pleasure in what he heard. “The woman that captures my heart will not be merely mistress. She must be willing to partake of marriage, making her ….” He let the word trail, knowing she would understand.

She gasped in surprise, her brows drawing upwards nearly to her hair line. "Gods! Truthfully I had not thought to be offered more than mistress. I had not even let myself hope that someday I could be wed to you, Odysseus. I would be queen of Greece." She shook her head and shrugged. "I know nothing of being a queen, of how I should behave, of the things I should have to do..."

His hopes fell, then, understanding the easy way she chose to refuse his emotional intensity. He stood, adjusting his armor and moving to caress her cheek with his war, roughened hand. “It is nothing that cannot be learned, little one. The most important thing about being queen … or king, for that matter, is remembering to be yourself.” He stroked the softness of her skin with his thumb. “Your words have not gone unheard by me, little one. I understand your … thoughts.”

"Odysseus?" She instantly felt a distance between them that had not been there a moment before. "Say to me what is in your heart?"

“Little one,” he said soothingly, the need to make haste his departure gone for the moment. “I understand your reluctance to wear a crown … to rule a nation … to take on such immense responsibilities.” He pulled her to a standing position, embracing her tightly. “As for what’s in my heart …” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. “It is filled with the very thought of you."

She caressed his check lovingly, adoringly, as she stared at him. "As my heart is filled with you, my love." She purred sweetly. "I do not want to shame you with my ignorance of such a position, Odysseus. I would not for all of Troy or Greece do anything that would cause you to be looked upon other than the great Kin...Man you are."

His brows furrowed. “Shame me? Melior, never could I be shamed by the woman I love and choose to offer my heart.” He smiled softly. “There is nothing you could do that would shame me … or any other man who calls himself a man.”

Her eyes brightened, and a wide smile creased her lips. "Truly?" She longed to hear him say he loved her, he loved her without reservation but she was prepared to wait. "I will be all that you need, Odysseus, all that you want. I will love you as no other can."

“My words are true,” he said with the aura of sincerity in his heartfelt voice. “My heart cannot be taken unless I allow it to be. And for you, I give it gladly.” He leaned in and kissed her soundly, but with the sensuality of one who meant to allure. Pulling her closer, he gently rocked his body to hers. “Think during my absence … decide if you find the idea of being my queen … as well as my love … is one that you can find pleasurable for a lifetime.”

The answer to your question I already know, Odysseus, but I will save it for your return." She laughed lightly, light hearted now that she new all was perfect with the world.

A fiery thrill raced through him as her smile pointed toward her feeling. Kissing her again, he pulled away and shivered. “I will return … and soon.” One last, lust filled look, and he backed away, his arms already itching to have her again. “Until then, Melior … my love.”

"Odysseus...Wait..." She moved towards him before he could retreat fully and leave her. She searched her mind for something, something to give... "Have this...take it with you..." She reached to the pile of ringlets atop her head and pulled one of the ivory combs free and handing it to him.

Taking the gift as if it were them most precious of jewels, he brought the comb to his nostrils and breathed deeply the scent of her. Placing it into the leather pouch hanging from the front of his armor’s belt, he smiled gently. “I shall treasure it always,” he said breathlessly. Then, reaching to his own hair, he releasd his light brown locks from the confines of the leather thong and placed it in the palm of her hand. “My remembrance …from the man, not the king,” he explained away the simplicity of his gesture, knowing she would understand the bearing it held.

"From my Odysseus," she breathed, clutching the small token in her hand. "More precious than gold." She whispered, tears sparkling in the depths of her eyes.

One last touch of her cheek, and he disappeared into the darkness of the night, his promise to return the last thing on his lips as he faded.