It took all of Hector's strength to pull back his swing, the helmet toppling a breath before due to his opponent's misstep. The black crested helm had tumbled, revealing the true identity of the Myrmidon before him. Not the famed Achilles, but rather a younger resemblance to him. It was all in the eyes, not the ruthlessly arrogant icy blue he had come to recognize. The spike of fear before the mortal blow had given the young boy away. Instead of a choking, gasping death, Patroclus found himself fallen on the ground. Tremendously sore.

But alive.

Breathing hard at his own close misstep, Hector took a moment to read the crowd. Everyone had stopped fighting to watch what should have been an epic battle between the Greek lion and the Trojan tamer. Yet there were none tenser in body and form than one of the dark-eyed Myrmidons with a bandanna, and another of the Greek soldiers with a keen eye. The former must be the famed Eudorus. And the latter... Odysseus.

Feeling as though he had barely grazed by a grave mistake, one that might have possibly cost the war itself, Hector stepped towards Odysseus, chest still heaving.

"This is enough, for one day." The prince said.

For the split second Odysseus paused, Hector feared he had approached the wrong person.

But Odysseus was merely getting his wind, nodding, "I agree."

All around them, soldiers sagged with first relief, then weariness. The adrenaline from battle wearing slowly off.

Eudorus made his way quickly over to the wounded boy, still caught up in frozen shock on the ground. Those dark eyes flicked up at Hector warily as he did so. The Myrmidons swarmed around them. Now it was Hector's turn to tense. He knew how tightly knit their group was. The tales of their camaraderie and brutal vengeance were renowned and widespread.

Had he made a mistake in sparing the boy's life?

Hector squared his shoulders and faced them all with barely a flinch. War this may be, but the man still had his morals. Yes, the boy was trained. Skilled. But too young and certainly too inexperienced. Judging by the look exchanged between the boy and the Myrmidon's second in command, he wasn't even supposed to be here.

The faint glimmer of respect in their eyes was not lost on the prince as they collected the foolish boy. However the look was quickly concealed as more Trojans wandered warily closer, preparing to defend their prince if need be.

It would have been seconds too late, however. Thankfully, they did not seem to crave his death just then. For Hector had no doubt he would not still be standing, were that the case.

Arm slung around Patroclus, who glanced at Hector as though he would change his mind at any second and send him to hades himself, Eudorus paused to cast a speculative gaze at the prince himself. He gave a slight nod, which Hector did not hesitate to return.

There could still be respect between enemies after all.

"He... is his cousin." Eudorus said, though he was not sure why. Something about how the Trojan prince carried himself demanded explanation, though he had been gracious enough to not pry, along with sparing the boy's life.

Hector's eyes widened slightly at the admission. Seems he certainly ducked beneath a sword swipe there. He could not imagine facing the fury of the Myrmidon's grieving lion.

Then the lethal, black-armored soldiers were gone.

Hector shrugged off his helmet, the blue feathery plume flailing in the sudden coastal breeze. The wind caressed his sweat-caked locks, and though he knew he faced a verbal beating back in the castle, he couldn't shake the feeling that everything changed because of this single incident.

-o-o-o-

"He. Did. WHAT!"

Patroclus shuddered outside the tent. He had been nervous to go inside, still quaking in his cousin's stolen armor. He would have marched in anyway, but Eudorus had held him back, his dark eyes promising to soften the son of Peleus's wrath. Achilles was not someone to cross when angry. Even if you were a dear younger cousin.

A hard thump was heard inside the tent. Followed by a bloody faced Eudorus exiting the tent calmly. He grimaced after attempting to give the boy an encouraging smile.

"Enter." The hardened voice beckoned.

As soon as Patroclus entered the darkened interior, he felt arms close around him. He cringed instinctively, expecting the same treatment as Eudorus.

But Achilles had merely grabbed the sides of his face, drawing them closer until their foreheads were pressed together.

Patroclus gaped. He has never seen his cousin so distraught. The way his hands clenched him, how his muscles trembled minutely... Achilles had been genuinely worried. Guilt filled the boy until his limbs ached. He had only wished to fight.

When Achilles finally opened his eyes, those burning blue orbs bit harshly into Patroclus's widened gaze.

Do not EVER do that again...

What actually came out of that low voice, however, merely ordered, "There is a small boat out on the beach-"

Patroclus started to protest, believing his cousin meant to send him home. But Achilles cut him off, shaking him hard as he growled, "Listen!"

When Patroclus immediately silenced himself, Achilles continued, "There is a boat, damaged beyond repair. I want you to take an axe, tear it apart for firewood. I don't care if takes you hours, or days. You will not stop until you've made every inch of it into kindling. You will not eat, you will not sleep, until the job is done. Understand?"

Blinking, the boy nodded. He would not send him home then?

Achilles shook him again, though gentler this time, gaze softening. He knew sending him back would break the boy's heart. Though it was what he deserved, he figured the order was punishment enough. His tone repeated less harshly, "Do you?"

Finding his voice, Patroclus nodded vehemently, gulping, "Y-yes, cousin."

Achilles let out a slow exhale, the tension sliding from his shoulders and out of the small room with that small gesture. He dismissed his cousin with a wave, turning away from the entrance as he did so.

Thoroughly relieved, the boy hobbled weakly to the door. His older cousin's voice stopped him just as he was opening the flap.

"Oh and Patroclus?" The boy stood rooted to the spot, daring a glance back as Achilles drew out the agonizing silence. The golden-haired man had his back to him, hands clasped behind him. Patroclus couldn't help flinching as his ever-loving cousin's tone shifted to ice, one usually reserved for the battlefield as he warned, "Disobey me again, and I WILL send you home."

The tone promised worse than just that, but Patroclus did not have the nerve nor heart to press his luck further.

"Yes... cousin."

-o-o-o-

Food preserves were running low, so it seemed only natural that Hector volunteered to go with a select group to hunt. They could not afford to dwindle their supplies. The siege had stretched past two years now, who knew how much longer they would have to stay cooped up within their city's magnificent walls. Thanks to Achilles and that damned Odysseus, all their secret trade routes from allies had been discovered and disposed of.

The forest grabbed at their leathers and tunics, wary of the noise or reflective gleam of armor during the dark hours. They had taken one of the passages on the eastern wall, farthest from the plains leading down to the beaches and enemy encampments.

It had all been going so well, no sounds of alarm, no unwanted beasts attacking from the forest's dark embrace. Perhaps the calm was what set Hector off, startling him from his mindless wanderings. The men had long split up, in hopes to take down more game in a wider net.

It was the squealing of the wild boar that first had his attention. He hefted his spear, creeping forward in a stealthy manner. Then he heard a man's shout of agony and fear. Abandoning all attempts of silence, the prince rushed forward, his heart already flowing forth to protect the fearful stranger.

He burst into a small clearing, taking in the scene in a matter of moments. The man dangling on the trunk, his leg impaled on the tusk of the rampaging beast. The failed escape attempt and certain impending doom as the man was dragged ruthlessly to the ground. The wild boar squealed and snorted, tossing its head as it backed up for a final charge, hoof pawing the ground.

Hector didn't wait another moment. Feeling the fluid rush of strength from his heel, to his torso, then finally shoulder and arm, he let the spear fly. It gutted the boar from hind to snout, stopping it in it's tracks. Unfortunately it was not before it tore another mangled shout from the stranger on the ground.

Hector rushed forward before the beast finished it's death throes, using a sandaled foot to topple it to one side, freeing it's unfortunate victim. His eyes assessed the immediate damage, knowing with as much blood as he could see, that the man had little time. Among his injuries, were an impaled leg, a shredded forearm, and bloody fingers. Hector went to pick the body up, his mind calculating the survival rate and how best to get the man treated, when a hoarse cough caught him unawares.

"It's... you, Trojan... prince..."

Hector balked, finally recognizing the black tint of armor in the dark. Those glazed eyes, echoing with a hint of fear among the depths of pain.

"The... cousin." Hector frowned, before approaching once more. He had thought it to be one of his men, though it really wouldn't have mattered who if was. It could have been Agamemnon or Menelaus themselves and he would have done the same.

Patroclus flinched, gasping in pain at the slight movement.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." Hector said gruffly, before continuing his approach and examining the wounds up close, aware of the hisses and shivers of the boy before him, "You've lost a lot of blood. We are a ways from the castle, but we may yet

make it. "

"Nghh..." Patroclus made a protesting noise, shaking his head once, weakly.

"You are in no position to argue," Hector frowned, reaching forward, "This is a matter of life and death."

Despite his weakened state, Patroclus stopped him with a bloodied grip on the Trojan's forearm with his undamaged arm, his pained eyes showing his understanding of the dire situation as he croaked, "Mmm... my camp... c-closer."

Hector frowned deeper as he processed the information and it's consequences. As he looked at the forest around them he realized with dawning horror that the boy was right. While it would take over an hour to trek back to the castle on more difficult terrain, it would only take a quarter of that to reach the beach. How had he not noticed he had rounded to nearly knocking on the Greek's door?

A pained cry from the boy jerked the prince from his thoughts. He was the enemy, but he couldn't let him die. With a grim face, he hoisted the boy over his shoulder, starting in the direction of the Greek camp. The cousin's best chance was there.

All the prince had to do was figure out how not to get caught.