Take Me Home

Part 6

Sleep did not return to the princely couple who were still latched to each other as twins would. As they sat facing in the same direction, staring at the end of the horizon where a group of thick red clouds hovered motionlessly, they waited together for the sun to appear.

Unrealized, their action was a reflection of their first step in looking forward to the future as one.

The magical moment that both were thrown into, brook no words to break the tranquility. For now nothing would be discussed openly, still uncomfortable to reveal the true nature within the depths of their hearts.

Hidden from prying eyes and in the cover of half light, Paris felt at ease for not having to suffer the guilt in accepting solace from the same man who had uprooted him forcibly from the only life he had known. At least, Achilles was not humiliating him in front of the Myrmidons by displaying his moment of weakness.

Contrary to what they assumed, someone was watching them - very closely. Another pair of intense grey eyes bored into Paris and if it were tangible, the Trojan youth would have died with a hole through the side of his head.

Patroclus jes jealous to the core of his heart. He couldn’t understand why Achilles was so smitten by this one when they had only met five days while he had known the warrior since childhood. It was so unfair for him because his competition was hogging all of Achilles’ attention away from him.

The day began to break gradually, sending beams of light piercing through the clouds. The sky had turned red as if on fire, burning the clouds to ashes to reveal a new day. It was an awe-inspiring display. However, it was not enough to impress Patroclus from the handsome couple. Grudgingly, he had to accept that they did look good together.

Quite unexpectedly, something revealed itself to Patroclus that made him look at Paris with a different eye, forever. It happened that some of the light fell on Paris, casting his pale face to a golden hue. Being naturally curly, therefore against the morning breeze, his long, dark hair furled and unfurled in playful flirt behind him. In that flash of moment, the younger son of Priam had transformed himself to be the beautiful wine cup-bearer of Zeus - Ganymede.

Young Patroclus could not believe what he was seeing, so stunned he was by the sight. He blinked several times, thinking that his eyes were playing tricks on him but the cursed apparition refused to dissipate. It appeared that the vanity of Ganymede was mocking him, forcing him to accept the fact that his look was simply in no comparison to god god child.

Now there was another reason to hate Paris. Everyone knew of Achilles’ weakness when it came to a beautiful face and that Trojan youth had used his god-given endowment to seduce the Greek hero.

By full sun up, the trireme was alive with activity. A tent was quickly erected over a section of the ship, providing cover from the blazing hot sun. Men gossiped animatedly like women meeting each other at the agora, while mending their clothes or cleaning their armours. A few who were sitting quietly at one corner while sharpening their weapons, observed a cen bln blond young man sulking by himself.

The day was a long one when trapped in a ship in the middle of a vast sea with no land in sight. Unused to the long idleness, someone had started to sing, accompanied by the calming strum of the lyre. They sang of a hero’s deeds and bravery in battle or of a young girl’s faithfulness waiting for her handsome man to return.

However, the tempo soon picked up and became rowdy after a while. The men whistled and clapped encouragingly as they watched two of their comrades entertained the company with lewd dances and songs about prostitutes they had accosted at home. Despite the absence of wines (Achilles forbade alcohol to be served while in the small confine of the ship), the Myrmidons still had a good time.

Paris did not pay much attention to the raucous. Right after breakfast, he had kept very much to himself and away from the men and even Achilles. He stared out to the sea for hours, his depression returning.

Suddenly, a movement beside him pulled him out of his brooding. He became irritated because he didn’t want to be disturbed.

Intending to reproach the unwelcome intruder, he turned to see who was so bold. Patroclus had knelt beside him and he did not look happy. Then his face turned venomous, like a snake about to strike and Paris felt a sharp pain in his right wrist.

A sharp hiss escaped his lips before he could stop himself and when he looked, he found that the blond young man was gripping his wrist and digging his nails into the soft flesh cruelly. Blood was appearing where skin had broken.

“Let go,” Paris commanded through clenched teeth. He did not raise his voice because he did not want to draw attention. Besides, no one would help him and his ego did not allow him to make a scene among the infamously fearless Myrmidons.

Out of childish revenge, Patroclus twisted his hand, eliciting a sharp yelp from his enemy. His deceivingly thin body, still that of a youth not reaching adulthood, was really very strong because he had trained for many hours with Achilles.

“Let me go!” Paris scolded in a louder tone, but did not react physically. Patroclus was not afraid and he refused to back down.

Several men who were seated close by heard the outburst and immediately turned to regard the two boys in amusement. They smiled, seeing the fiery intensity in their stares.

Someone alerted the rest of the men nearby sta started taking bets on who would strike first and who would win. There was no doubt that they knew of Patroclus’ physical might compared to the fragile looking creature good only for display.

Achilles did not witness this because he was with the helmsman, studying the map. It was plain to see that things would certainly get out of hand if Eudoras had not inform his lord to stop the fight.

Within moments, Achilles stepped in and broke the youths apart. Patroclus glared at his cousin in silence and then back at his enemy before stalking away in obvious hurt and anger. Paris did not pursue the matter any further and offered no complain. He didn’t want to appear weak.

He inspected his injured wrist, dabbing the hem of his long sleeve to wipe away the blood.

“Stop that. You’ll cause more harm,” Achilles chastised gently and immediately knelt down to take a closer look at his wounds.

“You don’t have to help me. I’m not weak and a child,” Paris snapped and snatched his hand back. He turned away, burning in shame when he heard the soft snickering from the others.

“I am not trying to humiliate you by protecting you. Patroclus is a strong man and he could seriously hurt you. You do not have the strength to match him,” Achilles tried to explain but his well meant words had caused more problem.

That remark had cut a wound in Paris’ heart. He knew he was lazy and idle when it came to training his physical prowess and Hector had been quite unhappy about that. It was one of the many reasons his brother never allowed him into battle. Paris didn’t understand why he needed to train his stamina when he could shoot so well with his bow and arrow. He despised being treated like a helpless girl and Hector’s unwanted protection had made him even more rebellious.

“Go away,” Paris finally shot back, without looking at Achilles.

Eudoras had appeared and handed a long strip of clean cloth for binding and some salve in a small jar to Achilles. The warrior placed the items beside Paris and then went away. It was better to let the youth calm down first. Tonight, when everyone had gone to sleep, he would approach him again. He realized that away from a stranger’s scrutiny, Paris accepted his presence and concern easier.

So he went to confront Patroclus instead.

“What were you doing back there?” Achilles demanded rather harshly. That tone of voice hurt Patroclus even further.

“I thought you love me and this is how you speak to me?” Patroclus grated acidly.

Achilles’ features softened immediately when he understood the underlying problem. He sighed, combing his front hair back with displeasure. He hated dealing with this.

“I still do love you, Patroclus with all my heart. Nothing will change that but you have to understand, I had just taken him away from his home without his consent.”

“He’s only a war prize, a slave! How could you treat him with the same level as you treated me? After bedding him, you treated him even more precious. You’ve never even touched me!” Patroclus scolded brusquely, almost shouting. The men who heard them turned away, pretending not to hear the lovers’ tiff.

Now it was Achilles’ turn to be angry. How dare Patroclus accuse him like this? He had never bedded his cousin because he was so young then and besides, he was not sure at that time if Patroclus was truly in love with him because they had never brought up the subject before. He didn’t want to take Patroclus’ innocence due to his selfishness because his pure love for him would not allow him to hurt his cousin like that.

Instead of answering him, Achilles stormed away. Now the whole ship was quiet except for the sound of the waves against the side of the ship. Patroclus sulked alone at the stern while Achilles fumed quietly on the bow. He was standing at the very tip, one leg on the raised prow while the wind whipped his long blond hair about, waving like a proud standard set up to announce their victory.

Feeling alienated and hostility towards him by the other men because he caused the cousins to argue, Paris hid himself behind a large barrel, squeezing himself into the small confined space. He hugged his injured wrist against his chest.

It was so unfair. He didn’t want to be here and he didn’t ask to be Achilles’ bed warmer. How could he be accused of seducing the Golden Lion?

By night fall, the cousins still refused to speak to each other it it fell upon Eus tos to see to Paris’ needs. He didn’t blame Paris like the others because he had the sense to understand the issue of disputes. But the ship was too small for two restless lions without crossing each other’s path.

When the men were starting to settle down to sleep, only then Achilles sought out Paris. The youth had fallen asleep by himself, curled tightly and still wedged in the small room behind the barrel.

Standing there, Achilles took his time to study his lover. The chemise and loose trousers that he had given to Paris earlier were clearly too big for him. The man couldn’t help smiling to himself, seeing the folded revers around his ankles like a child wearing his father’s trousers and the huge, gaping hole hanging under his arms. It revealed too much flesh and though Paris was a man, Achilles did not like the fact that other men could leer at it. He would do something about that tomorrow.

Gently, he shook Paris awake and then pulled him up to his feet. Paris was still half dazed with sleep so he did not make any protest. Achilles moved the barrel slightly away before settling down on the same spot where the youth had sought refuge. After that, he made his lover sit on his lap and wrapped his arms around him like the previous night.

Paris did not make a sound all the while, accepting his master’s every affectionate gesture willingly. He settled himself comfortably against the hard torso and tried to get back to sleep.

Under the starry night, Achilles saw the bandaged wrist and remembered his earlier intentions. Picking it up, he placed soft kisses around the bandage and a few more on the warm palm before enfolding it in both his hands and resting on Paris’ lap.

The former prince did not shy away nor stop what Achilles was doing. He just accepted the loving gesture passively, still unsure of his own motive.