Achilles' Last Stand Ch. 3 (Part 1)
Chapter 3
Part 1
Paris lay awake in his bed; next to him Helen was asleep and snuggled against him. He loathed her presence, but was too troubled at the moment to move her. His mind was in turmoil over the Greek warlord who continued to pursue him. Days before all he could think about was sinking his manhood into Helen’s soft, tight quim. But now - now his mind was continually preoccupied with thoughts of Achilles. The warrior’s golden mane; hard, muscular body; and his mind’s vivid imagination of what the warlord’s very large penis would look like. Paris thanked the gods that he had actually not yet seen the member; but with the size and strength of the Greek, he figured it would be quite large.
Paris had never had a sexual relationship with a male and all he knew about male love was rumors he had heard from some of his father’s soldiers. As the youngest Prince of Troy, he was not permitted to leave the palace unless accompanied by a large, heavily armed contingent of guards. Both his father and older brother were overly protective of Paris. They treated the young prince as though he were a delicate, fragile female. Paris hated their constant need to keep him safe. He knew that he was of a slighter, leaner build than most males, but he could shoot a bow well, and was improving his swordsmanship. He would never be as legendary a fighter as Hector, but he was able to defend himself. But, his father and brother could not see that or they simply chose to ignore it. Ever since reaching his majority three summers prior he had been adamant about not needing an escort of royal bodyguards to simply step outside the palace walls into the streets of Troy. He didn’t need an army of soldiers always protecting him. But, his father and brother both insisted be take numerous bodyguards with him.
Paris’ inner monologue froze as the sickening truth hit him hard. He wasn’t able to defend himself. He had been attacked twice by Achilles in his father’s own palace. Each time he had been easily overpowered and subdued. The Greek had taken what he wanted from the Trojan Prince and Paris had done nothing to stop him.
Priam’s youngest son sat up and quickly left his bed. He breathed a sigh of relief noting that Helen had not awaken. The prince didn’t think he could stand her nagging at this moment. Paris wrapped a cloth skirt around his waist and walked onto his balcony to breath the crisp, fresh morning air. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the sky was grey with the coming dawn.
The young man leaned against the railing and watched soldiers patrol the top the city wall. He didn’t know how to prevent Achilles from getting to him. The warlord, despite the palace swarming with royal guards, had achieved access to both his father’s garden and his private bedchamber. Achilles freedom in such a heavily guarded complex made Paris no longer felt safe anywhere in his home.
The young man wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball on his bed, buried deep under the sheets, and weep for the unknown innocence he had lost and for the other untouched parts of him that he would lose if that monster won this war. Paris absentmindedly rubbed is raw wrists. The ropes Achilles had used had left marks on his fair skin. The burns were fading, but still stood out in stark contrast to Paris’ only lightly tanned skin. He had been careful to wear a long robe that covered the evidence of his attack, and so far no one, not even Helen, had noticed. The young Prince could only hope that the marks faded quickly before anyone discovered the damaged wrists, least of all his protective brother.
Paris leaned heavily on the railing and hung his head. He didn’t know what to do and he had no one that he could turn to. He would be humiliated if his brother and father found out. Paris could just see the look of disgust and disappointment on brave Hector’s face when he learned that his beloved little brother had been bedded like a Greek whore or slave by his worst enemy, Achilles. It did not matter that he hadn’t been mounted and penetrated yet. He had still enjoyed the warrior’s ministrations and he had been involved in many vile acts.
Paris’ thoughts were interrupted by a set of small hands sliding around his waist. “What troubles you, my love, that has pulled you from our bed?” The high pitched, grating voice asked.
Turning around, Paris pulled Helen’s arms from him. She gave him a confused look as he extracted himself from her grasp and moved away.
“Helen, I just . . . I need my space from some time.” Paris began.
“Your space! Why do you need you space? Don’t you love me, Paris?” Helen again tried to wrap her arms around her beloved.
“Helen, I need some time alone.” Paris turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. “I will move you into the lavish guest apartments.”
“Is that all I am now!” Helen sobbed. “A guest! Yesterday, I was your lover.”
“No, Helen. You’re not just a guest.” Paris tried to soothe the sobbing woman. “I love you and I want to be with you. It’s this war. I need to focus all my energies on helping my brother, Hector, defeat the Greeks.”
“But, I can help you. . . I can give you support and see to your needs.” The ex-Spartan Queen sniffled as she stared teary-eyed at the youngest Prince of Troy. She was determined not to lose Paris’ love.
“No, Helen. It’s just not possible, right now.” He quickly walked passed her and to the door of his chambers. Exiting his chambers, Paris began to wake all the servants that would be needed to remove Helen from his rooms and move her to her own chambers.
***
“Prince Hector, you must talk with your brother. I am imploring you. He is not well. Last night, my beloved was very agitated and then this morning he moved me from his bed to the guest chambers.” Helen had accosted Hector in his rooms and was harping him to convince his younger brother to take her back into his bed.
The crown prince of Troy suppressed the urge to strangle the harpy right where she stood. He had never liked Helen. She would seduce any type of creature just to get her way. Hector was glad that his baby brother was finally seeing reason. “Helen, if that is Paris’ wish then you must respect it and leave him be. Now, I have many important matters to attended to concerning your war.”
Turning to the guards at his door, Hector waved the over. “Please escort, Helen to the guest chambers and make sure that all of her needs are seen to.” The guards bowed to their Prince and motioned for the ex-Spartan Queen to come with them. They knew that Hector had also meant for them to make sure that the young woman stayed in her rooms and out of his and Paris’ way.
As soon as Helen and the guards were gone, Hector made his way straight to his little brother’s chambers. He found Paris lounging on a settee, hands crossed on his naked chest, just staring at the ceiling. He appeared deep in thought and didn’t seem to hear the Crown Prince enter the room.
Hector quickly crossed his brother’s bedchamber and squatted down next to his stretched out form. Placing a hand gently on Paris’ shoulder, he gave him a little shake.
“Paris.” Hector said softly, trying to get his younger brother’s attention.
Paris turned his head to look at Hector. “Hhhmmm.”
“What happened with Helen? She came to me sobbing that you have kick her out of your bed.” Hector asked, concerned.
Sitting up, Paris swung his legs over the edge of the couch. He placed his hands in his lap, careful the entire time to ensure that his robe covered his injured wrists. Hector rose and sat down next to the young man. He patiently waited for his brother to speak.
Paris took a deep breath, before trying to explain to his older brother why he had removed Helen from his rooms. “I just needed some space, Hector. My heart is heavy from the war and I felt smothered by all of Helen’s attention.”
Hector patted his younger brother’s leg in understanding. “Do not trouble yourself too much, baby brother. It is true that your actions started this mess, but eventually Agamemnon would have come anyway. Men still would have died and blood still would have been spilt on Trojan soil. It was but a matter of time.”
The Crown Prince could still see that his the boy was not consoled. Picking up Paris slender hand, he gave it a squeeze. The movement of the young Prince’s hand upward caused his sleeve to slide down his arm, revealing a raw and bruised wrist. Hector’s expression darkened and his eyes flashed in anger at the evidence of someone harming his little brother. He had seen those kind of marks before on captives who had been bound tightly with ropes.
“What is this? Who committed such a crime?!” Hector growled, his voice laced with rage.
Paris tried to pull his dainty wrist from his brother’s strong grasp, but Hector’s grip was like iron. Before the younger man could hide his other hand, it too was captured by the warrior.
Hector gingerly ran his thumbs other the abrasions and hissed in anger. “Paris, tell me who did this.” He ordered.
The young Prince couldn’t meet his brother’s steely gaze, so instead he kept his eyes fixed on the floor between his feet. He knew Hector needed some kind of answer, but everything he thought of sounded like a blatant lie. Finally, he mumbled, “‘Tis nothing Hector. I was foolish and wore my bracelets to bed.” Paris knew it sounded weak, but it was the only answer his frantic mind could come up with.
Hector took a deep breath and pushed down the urge to shake his brother till his teeth rattled in his head. He could feel Paris trembling in his grasp and knew he needed to be gentle with the boy. Releasing the injured wrists, Hector gently took Paris’ chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised his head. Eyes wide with fear and shimmering with tears stared at him.
“Paris, whoever has done this to you must be punished. It is an affront to both our father’s house and the Trojan empire. You are this nation’s Prince, and as such, harming you is a declaration of war. I will protect you and your honor, but you must tell who did this.” Hector spoke softly, as though speaking to a terrified child.
Paris opened his mouth to answer, but the words died before he could utter them. How could he tell brave, strong Hector that he had lain with Troy’s greatest enemy. Paris closed his eyes and dropped his head, the shame burning on his cheeks.
Hector was growing more and more angry by his younger brother’s reluctance to talk. Grabbing Paris’ left wrist he hauled him to his feet and dragged him out of his chambers and down the hall toward the Conference Room. Their father was currently in a meeting with his advisors, a meeting at which he was not supposed to be disturbed unless the walls of Troy themselves were burning to the ground. Hector consider this even more urgent.
The guards standing at attention in front of the large doors, opened them upon seeing thier Crown Prince heading their way, with a grim, determined look on his face. The entire time the larger man dragged him along, Paris was futilely trying to dislodge his hand from Hector’s grasp. He knew that if his father found out, not even the gods could save him from the old king’s wrath.
All too quickly, they were in his father’s elegant Conference Room and heading straight for King’s Priam’s throne. He was manhandled by his older brother down the aisle that was flanked on either side by seated advisors and up to the dais where his father’s throne sat. A crimson tinge spread across his cheeks as he thought about his father’s entire council learning of his shame.
Hector stopped in front of their Sire, still holding Paris’ wrist tightly so the boy couldn’t flee. “Father, I need to speak with you, alone.” He announced with an air of authority that came with being the Crown Prince.
Taking in the grave expression on his eldest’s face and the way his youngest looked ready to melt into the floor with discomfort, Priam new that something was terribly wrong. “Very well, Hector.”
Turning to his council, he addressed the room. “We will resume this meeting later.”
After all the advisors had exited the room. Priam led his sons into his own private office. He ordered the guard in front to admit no one and that he was not to be disturbed. Once they were alone, the old King turned to his boys. He noted that Hector looked ready to explode with fury while Paris stood behind him trembling and trying not to look at anyone. “What do you wish to speak to me about that is so urgent?”
“Father, someone has done something to Paris.” Grabbing his younger brother’s other hand, the Trojan warrior held up both injured wrists.
Priam gasped in shocked and then stepped forward, taking Paris’ smaller hands in his own. Gently and lovingly and he ran his fingers over his son’s wounds. “Who did this, my dearest child?” Priam whispered.
There was a long silence as Priam waited for his answer, but none came. The King turned to look at his eldest with a questioning look on his face, but Hector just shook his head.
“He wouldn’t tell me either,” he answered disapprovingly.
“Paris,” the Trojan King said sharply. “Tell me who did this! Or so help me, boy, I will get it out of you one way or another.”
Priam’s anger was rising quickly at the thought of someone, especially a Trojan, abusing his beloved son. He knew the boy was beyond beautiful. He was blessed by Aphrodite and had a charm and grace that made him irresistible. If Paris had been born an uncivilized Greek he would have had both men and women chasing after him, for he had a slender frame and a delicate masculinity that made him the ideal lover for any man. Priam knew that his youngest was a prize well worth sacking an entire nation to acquire.
The Trojan King couldn’t fathom why Paris was refusing to answer their questions. The boy just hung his head and starred at the ground refusing to meet his father or brother’s gaze.
Paris desperately wanted his father to hold him and tell him everything would be alright. He wanted to weep away his pain in his father’s embrace. He wanted to tell his father and brother everything and let them keep him safe. But, he was a Prince of Troy and Princes didn’t do these things. They were strong and brave and did not debase themselves to barbarian warlords.
The great shame he felt kept him from speaking the truth. Instead, he stuck with the lie he had told Hector. “It was nothing, father. I was foolish and slept with my bracelets on.” He mumbled, knowing that his father would not believe him.
Priam released Paris’ hands and nodded his head. “Very well, Paris. If that is how you want it, then you leave me no choice. I don’t want to do this, my child, but I must protect you from whoever has committed this crime and from yourself.”
Turning to Hector, the old King addressed his eldest. “Hector, place Prince Paris under house arrest until he is ready to truthfully explain his wrists and tell me who did it. He is not to leave his bedchamber and no one save the most trusted of my royal bodyguards are to enter. Also, have him examined by the royal physician. I want the results as soon as the healer is finished.”
“Yes, father.” Hector answered. He say the pain and hurt in Paris’ eyes, but he agreed with their Sire’s decision. This was for Paris’ own good and he would do whatever it took to keep his little brother safe.
“Guards!” As two royal guards came in, Hector motioned them over. “Restrain Prince Paris.”
The guards stood on either side of the young man, and each wrapped a strong hand around one of his biceps. But, Paris paid them no attention. He just stood, staring at his father, with unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. “Father, please. Don’t do this.” He sobbed.
Priam walked up and took his son’s face in his large hands. He placed a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Paris, what I am doing, I do out of love. I do not like to see you distress so, but I must find out who has been harming you. As soon as you tell me everything, I will release you.”
Paris just looked at his father, trembling in fear and shame. Priam took a step back from his young son and motioned for the guards to take the prisoner away. Paris was propelled along, following close behind Hector. Each guard had one hand wrapped around his bicep and the other on his shoulder. The Trojan Prince didn’t bother to resist; meekly allowing the guards to march him along after his brother’s imposing form.
Hector led them to Paris’ bedchamber. Opening the finely crafted doors he entered the room with the guards and Paris following close behind. Once inside, the guards released Troy’s youngest prince and stepped back.
“Paris, sit down on the bed.” Hector ordered as he walked the guards to the door and out of Paris’ hearing.
Hector knew exactly which royal body guards he wanted inside the room guarding Paris and which ones he wanted outside the door. His father had a contingent of royal body guards, whose function was to guard the royal family. They were the most elite and trustworthy soldiers Troy hade to offer. Hector had decided to use the best of them along with his most trustworthy soldiers to guard his little brother.
“Theleus, fetch Captain Damian, Abantes, Leonidas, Kritias, Sinon, and Aktor of the royal guard and send them to Prince Paris’ chambers immediately. Tell them it is of the utmost importance. Then run and find Officers Belos, Pantites, Lycaretos, Meidias, Telemachus, and Damiskos. Belos, Lycaretos, and Meidias should all be down in the war room aiding the commanders. Pantites and Telemachus are out checking the troops and the defenses. I don’t know where Damiskos is, but Lycaretos may know. Send them up as quickly as possible.” Theleus nodded and saluted than ran off to do as his High Commander bid.
Hector then turned to the other guard. “Coeranus, find two royal guard and post them in front of this door. Then fetch Areisius, the healer.” Coeranus saluted the Crown Prince and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.
Preparations underway for Paris’ imprisonment, Hector went back to the younger man, who sat slumped on the end of his bed. Sitting down next to the young Prince, he ran his hand soothingly in small circles on the boy’s lower back.
Continued in Part 2