Hector was his brother's protector in every sense of the word.
No other man was as willing as Hector was to lay his life on the line for Paris.
No other man defended him as Hector would.
And no other being that had ever existed, loved him as Hector did.
Even after Hector had essentially thrown the battle when he rescued Paris from the blade of Menelaus, he still loved him.
His heart had stopped when he saw his brother before the Greek king; wanting nothing more than to rush to his aid.
And even though Paris had disgraced himself by crawling to him, he would not have had it any other way than his brother being alive.
He would always defend Paris, no matter what the cost.
No matter what.
-
Paris lay bleeding that night in his bed.
He sent Helen away and received no attendance for his wounds.
Clinging to his brother's feet that day he had forfeited everything.
His pride, the lives of his people, the safety of Helen and probably, the war itself.
He was a coward and he lay as such, uncaring what should happen to him or his leg. Loss of blood was the last thing on his tattered mind.
A knock on his door burst him from his wallowing, "I will see no one." He called. The knock repeated itself and he pushed himself up onto his elbow, despite the biting pain in his thigh, "I said, I will see no one!"
The door opened and he reached for his knife, "Put it away." The gentle voice said.
"Hector..." He breathed, pushing himself up onto his arms.
Indeed, his brother stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
He approached the bed carrying the needed bits to doctor Paris. But the younger man turned away from him.
"Leave me be, brother."
Hector ignored him and sat on the side of his bed, placing what he was carrying on the floor.
He turned and set his hands on Paris' shoulder, "Paris..."
"I shamed you." He whispered, "I shamed Father... I shamed Troy."
"You shamed no one."
Paris turned back around, "I'm a coward." He breathed, pushing himself back up, close to Hector's face, "I feared so for my own life that I crawled upon the ground to you."
"There is no shame in fearing death."
"There is for me."
Hector placed his hands on the sides of his brothers head, "No more so than for me." Slowly, he began to stroke back the damp strands of hair, "There will always be another battle. Cut your losses and move on."
"What glory is there in losing?" Paris whispered, tears beading in his red eyes.
But Hector shook his head and kissed Paris softly, "Do not look for glory, brother. Leave that to the Spartans."
After a long moment, Paris bowed his head and cried. Hector pulled him close around the shoulders and held him, allowing his brother the needed time to cry.
"There is always tomorrow." He whispered, lips brushing his ear, "Look to tomorrow, Paris."
He pulled back and Paris nodded, wiping at his eyes, "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize." He said with a small grin, gently caressing his cheek.
For a moment their eyes met and the world seemed to stop. Paris wanted nothing more than to pull Hector to him and curl up under him. But he didn't move.
"Let me care for you now." Hector said.
Paris nodded and sat back against the headboard, allowing Hector to access his leg.
The cut was cleaned and sewed back together, leaving Paris with a dull ache in his leg that throbbed with every beat of his heart.
He breathed a sigh of relief and lay down when Hector sat back and looked at his handiwork. He brushed his rough fingers around the wound, "It'll scar, but no damage."
"Thank you." Paris said, taking the hand in his own and drawing his brother up towards him.
Hector shifted and drew up towards his side, letting his fingers run through Paris' curls, "You're welcome."
Paris shook his head, "I don't mean for that." Hector shook his head, not understanding, "I'd be dead without you." Hector opened his mouth to stop him, not wanting to think anything of the sort, but Paris didn't let him, "I'd have died on my stomach in the dust had it not been for you."
"I wouldn't let him kill you, Paris." Hector breathed vehemently, not looking at him.
Hands came up to cup his cheeks, drawing Hector's gaze down upon him. There was another moment of silence and Paris leaned up, kissing Hector before continuing, "I need you." He whispered. "I love you."
Hector closed his eyes and breathed in harshly through his nose, giving Paris the distinct impression that he was trying not to cry. A rough hand pushed back his hair and held it there as Hector, eyes still closed against his thoughts, covered the younger man's mouth with his own.
Paris folded his brother in his arms and pulled him down on top of him, opening his mouth to the questing tongue pressing at his lips.
They kissed for a long minute before Paris realized that he felt tears on his cheeks. Tears that were not his.
He closed his eyes tighter, fighting off his own and kissed Hector harder, "I love you." He panted against the older man's lips.
Hector pulled back and looked down upon his brother. Calloused fingers traced along the smooth jaw line, "I will fight for you."
Paris opened his mouth in protest, "Hector, I-"
"Don't, Paris... don't."
Tears welled over in Paris' dark eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He sent his soft hands into his brother's hair and pulled him back down.
It took only a moment before Hector was climbing on top of him.
"Speak nothing of war tonight." Paris begged, still touching his hair, "Please."
Hector pulled back and looked at him. He loved his brother more than anything. He was far more valuable than any treasures placed at Apollo's feet and his face could launch a million ships, if such a fleet existed.
And Hector knew that he would be at the head of that fleet, fighting for his brother.
"Only one thing more..." He whispered, hands framing the tan face and speaking close and quiet; their eyes locked, "As long as I draw breath... I will let no harm befall you. I love you, Paris... Prince of Troy."
"I know." Paris breathed, kissing the mouth before him, "I know."
"I love you." He said again.
"Show me." Paris whispered.
The two had not engaged in such a way in years, but tonight it just seemed right.
Hector searched his brother's eyes to be sure this was what he wanted before his sealed their mouths again and rid the both of them of their clothes.
Paris closed his eyes, holding Hector tightly to him as he spread his shaking legs.
"Relax." Hector breathed in his ear, nibbling on the lobe and bringing his fingers to Paris' lips.
He pushed them in and out of the younger man's mouth, soaking them with his saliva. Paris whimpered at the feeling, knowing where those fingers were going to be.
When he withdrew them, Hector pushed himself onto his side, allowing himself easier access to the body below him.
His mouth covered Paris' keeping him quiet as he worked his fingers slowly in and out of his opening.
The younger man moaned in discomfort and buried his face in Hector's throat, "Now..." He breathed.
"Are you certain?"
He didn't speak, but nodded, keeping his eyes tightly shut.
Hector moved back over him, lifting his legs around his waist and pushing forward; opening his body up to ease the way.
"Look at me." Hector ordered quietly.
Paris obediently opened his eyes, meeting the darker ones of his older brother.
He gasped in pain as Hector pushed inside of him, clinging to the man above him.
After giving Paris a moment to breathe, Hector set a pace that left both of them panting within a matter of minutes.
It didn't last long. Paris came first, holding Hector to him as he shook with relief, laying his sweaty head down on his brother's shoulder and pressing a kiss to the rapid pulse.
Neither spoke, as Paris stroked his hands up and down Hector's scarred back, both relishing in the temporary peace they had with one another.
And neither had to say the words that they knew the other was well versed in hearing.
The two Princes of Troy shared the deepest bond imaginable and expressed it to one another that night, one last time.
-
Credit to Homer for recounting the tale of the final ten years of the city of Troy in his epic, The Iliad.