SPECIAL NOTICE
On this date, Dec 3rd 2011, I have, after more than five years, finally returned to this story! Sorry it took so long. However in coming back to this story, I realized that I kind of hated the original. So, as a humble token of my apology for taking so long to return, I ask that you please accept a re-write of the first four chapters! The story is still the same, but the characters are better developed and certain scenes have changed. There are even additional scenes scattered amongst the originals! I'm working on chapter five right now, but I've changed quite a bit so far, and would like to advise that anyone who has been waiting for more of this re-read these four chapters. To anyone new - hello, please enjoy, and kindly leave me a line to let me know if you like it! :)
Summary In order to secure safe passage for his troops back to Greece, Menelaus captures Prince Paris and holds him hostage. It is up to Hector to return to Sparta in order to get his brother back.
Pairing Hector/Paris; Menelaus/Paris; Paris/Helen
Warning Violence, adult situations, abuse
Author Notes This story can be counted as an AU, as it does not follow the canon storyline. Achilles does not go to war with the Greeks, and Troy does not fall to Agamemnon. Paris was not sent away as a baby and has grown up in Troy (in that note, it moreso follows the movie than anything else). Also as a last note - this story has incestuous brothers (don't worry, they still love the women in their lives). Deal with it.
As he watched one of his men tend to the vicious looking wound his brother had taken at the hands of Prince Paris, King Agamemnon looked back to the battlefield, watching with frustration and anger as his men were systematically being slaughtered by the Trojans. Returning his attention to Menelaus, the King of Greece frowned as his brother let out a hiss of pain. Looking again to the battle taking place before him, Agamemnon dismissed the man once he had finished tending to Menelaus' injury, then addressed his brother.
"We were perhaps too foolish for our own good. See the way our men drop to the Trojans. Curse that Achilles for refusing to take part, and curse us for requiring his help!" Agamemnon winced as he watched the battlefield. Though their army outnumbered the Trojans, it seemed that on this day, Troy was living up to it's reputation of being unbeatable. Looking to the walls of the fortress where King Priam watched over his warring army, Agamemnon scowled.
"Loathe am I to suggest it, but might we try and find a way to get our men back to the ships before we are completely overrun?" As Agamemnon turned his scowling face to Menelaus, the Spartan King begged an audience with him. "Perhaps if we were to find some way of securing ourselves a way out, something that would cause the King to call off his soldiers..." Waiting to see if the other man would pick up on his train of thought, Menelaus watched as Agamemnon's scowl turned to a smirk.
"Upon landing that blow to you, brother, it would seem that prince Paris would be likely to adopt a false sense of confidence." Nodding his head in agreement, Agamemnon's smirk grew wider.
"It has been said that in matters concerning the younger prince, Priam has a weakness. If we were to somehow capture the boy, no doubt could we force him into calling off his soldiers."
"It is worth a try, at least. I would imagine you have an ulterior motive for selecting young Paris as the captive." At this, Menelaus broke into a grin.
"You see clearly through me, my brother. It seems I underestimated the boy, or rather perhaps Apollo was guiding his hand just earlier. I would love nothing more than to exact yet another revenge upon young Paris."
"I would never dream of denying you that pleasure!" Agamemnon laughed, his thoughts turning to this new plan. "But how do you suppose we are to capture the young one? I wonder now if he even still lives." Straining his neck in order to get a better glimpse, Agamemnon's gaze slid over the field, looking for the youngest prince of Troy.
"In this case, my dear brother, I am but already ahead of you. As you know, I was led back to safety here by our trusted friend Ajax. I informed him that it would be greatly appreciated were he to ensure the prince reached no harm, unless it be by my hand. It seems the man understood well my intention, as he promised me he would do all he could to ensure the young Trojan was captured alive. Let us move closer to the battle. Perhaps we may soon see if this war proves to be distraction enough in order to prevent prince Hector from sheltering his younger kin." As both Greek kings broke into laughter their eyes roamed the edge of the battle, looking for any sign of a captured Trojan prince.
~earlier~
Golden rays of sunlight glared down upon the battlefield as though the Sun God himself was angered at both sides for daring to wage war on his ground. Hector raised his hand to his chin, scratching it absently as he wished to remove his helmet and wipe the sweat from his brow. But in the face of the enemy, that would only count as a sign of weakness, and that was one sign he could not afford. Looking to his right, he focused on the man sitting astride the horse beside his own. Clearing his throat, Hector tried one last time to dissuade his brother from participating in the battle.
"Paris, are you certain you won't go back inside? Given your skill with a bow, you would be far more useful there, and your presence would certainly do much to raise the confidence of the other archers. You need not confront him, my brother." Hector's heart nearly stopped as Paris turned his head, his brother's chocolate-brown eyes meeting his. Paris smiled, but Hector saw through the bravado.
"I have not changed my mind, Hector. I must atone for my actions. I am the cause of this war, and I must confront Menelaus. You could speak no words that would dissuade me from my chosen course." Paris fought to keep his tone confident. Back behind the walls of the castle, after he'd spoken initially to his brother, he'd felt calm and almost confident about his battle. But now that he was out here staring down the enemy, he longed to run for the walls and leave Hector to fix his problems, the way he always did.
"You do understand that it does not matter if you actually face him, don't you? Agamemnon did not bring all the armies of Greece to fight his brother's battle. He came for Troy. They will attack us even if you do win. The battle with you would be but an appetizer to Menelaus."
"Enough, Hector. This decision is mine to make." Paris turned his eyes away from his brother, focusing instead on the line of Greek soldiers before him. "The least you could do is be supportive. If I go into battle knowing that you of all people expect me to die, then how am I to win?"
Hector frowned and moved his horse closer, reaching out to touch his brother on the arm. "Forgive me, brother. I fear I cannot help but worry and expect the worst. You and I have a history, after all. You start fights, and I always end them for you. How can you expect me to accept this decision of yours without a heavy heart?"
Paris sighed and turned his head again, understanding his brother's feelings but still disappointed in them. "This battle isn't only for me, or for Helen. I want to fight for you, brother. If I die today, I would at least wish that I would die and have you be proud of me. Too many times have I sought refuge behind you, Hector. That ends today."
Emotions warred in the heart of Troy's captain, fear and pride and desperation and hope all conflicting inside of him. He understood his brother's reasons all too well, and while he did applaud Paris for them, he also wished they hadn't come on this day. Menelaus was too experienced, and Hector could not hope to interfere. "Alright, Paris. You have made your decision, and my words could not sway you. This is your battle, brother. You have already more than earned my respect and pride in choosing to fight it."
A small smile tugged at Paris' lips at his brother's words, and he felt grateful then for the family the gods had chosen to grant him. "Thank you, brother."
Hector could not help but smile back, his brother's curved lips and sparkling eyes still infectious even on the field of battle. "After you defeat Menelaus, we will beat down the Greeks, and then you and I will feast on the bodies of dead Spartans tonight, little brother." Hector tightened his grip on Paris' arm, fingers clutching desperately to the brother he loved deeply, hoping this wouldn't be the last time.
"I'll hold you to that, Hector," Paris replied, grateful again for his brother's support. He then turned his head to look out before him, feeling numb as Hector's arm slipped away from his own, and then he dismounted his horse and walked out to meet a smirking Menelaus, feeling more alone than he ever had in life. He unsheathed his sword and held his shield in front of him, standing before the Spartan.
"What business have you, prince, in challenging a warrior as great as myself to a duel? Hand over Helen now, and spare yourself the pain. Spare your loved ones the pain of watching you fall in battle! You must know you cannot win." Standing his ground, listening as the Spartan's words caused his soldiers to stamp their feet and holler their agreements, Paris waited for them to quiet before speaking.
"You underestimate me, Menelaus. If I am able to steal your wife from right under you, why then should I not be able to steal your life as well?" Though he fought to not tremble with fear, Paris could not help but suppress a grin from adorning his face. While certain he could best the king in a battle of wit and words, he had to be ready for Menelaus' sword.
"Your arrogance does not sit well upon you, young prince. You shall live to regret your actions and words, if it be for only a short while longer! Prepare to meet your death, Paris of Troy." Finally unsheathing his own sword, Menelaus advanced upon the prince, his eyes ablaze with fury, attempting to intimidate Paris with his appearance alone. But the Trojan prince was prepared for that and held his ground. Growing frustrated at Paris' refusal to back down, Menelaus lunged suddenly at the younger man, hoping a display of brute force would change his mind. Swinging his sword wildly, but not too close to the Trojan lad, far back enough to avoid a swing should Paris retaliate, Menelaus began the fight. But the youth simply stepped back a pace, out of range, still appearing calm and confident. Watching the king, Paris thought back to the words of advice he had heard this morning upon making a final declaration that he would fight Menelaus. 'Let him chase you, he will tire easily, and when he tires, then you must strike him down.' Heeding that advice, Paris moved to circle the king, looking for a good angle at which to strike out, but what would also give him an opportunity to move and force the Spartan to come after him.
Seeing such an opportunity, Paris lunged in, swinging his sword at Menelaus' side. The king blocked it easily and Paris retreated, feeling a small surge of confidence as Menelaus ran to catch him. If only he could keep this up long enough to notice the large man tire, he might possibly have a chance. A small chance, but a chance nonetheless. Ducking as Menelaus charged him, Paris retreated again, whirling to watch as Menelaus came after him. This time he met the king's sword with his shield, his body shaking from the strength of the hit. Swinging his own sword, Paris was able to hit the king's leg, opening a small wound there. As he turned to flee once again, taking advantage of Menelaus' very temporary distraction, he turned back in time to see the king's eyes light up with anger. Glancing at the thin line of blood that ran down the Spartan's leg, Paris readied himself. Hoping Menelaus' anger would only distract him further, instead of give him yet more energy, Paris ducked as the heavy sword of the Spartan came at him. Using his speed, he slammed himself shield first into Menelaus' side, causing the king to stumble, and giving himself time to retreat again.
To his surprise, their fight continued on in the same manner for some time. Perhaps it was only mere seconds, but it seemed to last an eternity to Paris. He hadn't escaped completely unscathed yet. One time the sword tip of Menelaus had grazed his arm, and while it had not been a severe cut, it was bleeding. Ignoring the sting of the cut, Paris watched as Menelaus came at him again. Quickly moving out of the way, Paris swung his weapon at the king's sword arm, grazing it. But the injury affected the huge beast of a man less than it would have affected Paris, and for this he counted his luck that Menelaus had only managed a small scrape to his arm. As he ducked once more to avoid another swing, Paris noticed this time that Menelaus was not quite so quick to pick his sword back up to it's usual stance again. His mind giddy with glee, Paris realized the Spartan king was tiring. Goading the man into another swing and miss, then running to retreat once more, Paris readied himself for this time.
Menelaus came at him, his sword raised and ready to swing. Remembering the warrior's pattern so far, Paris ducked this time in the direction the blade swung, barely escaping it's arc. However he now had the chance he had been seeking. Seeing the open path, Paris swung his sword up from below, plunging it into the king's shoulder. Such was the hit that it forced Menelaus to drop his sword, and Paris sensed victory as he heard the Spartan king roar with pain. Dropping his shield as well and clutching his shoulder, Menelaus retreated quickly toward his men, his face contorted. Though Paris thought it only right that he should strike Menelaus again, he noted sourly that the king was too close to his own men and looking at the expressions upon their faces, he didn't doubt the Greeks would hesitate in cutting him down if he came too close. Instead the Trojan prince settled for watching Menelaus slide in amongst his men, crying out for them to attack. Having no time to waste, Paris quickly returned to his horse, remounting the glorious steed amidst cheers from his fellow warriors. Chancing a glance next to him, his eyes briefly met Hector's and Paris' heart swelled as he saw the look of pride on his brother's face. Returning his gaze to the men before him, Paris had no chance to revel in his win over Menelaus as the Greek army closed in. Regardless, the sense of confidence he now felt after having bested the Spartan king quelled any fear he felt regarding his own skills. Instead of concentrating on his weaknesses, Paris now understood to concentrate on his strengths and on the weaknesses of the enemy.
As Agamemnon's men advanced on him, Hector had no time to think about Paris and his victory, and the intense relief he felt that his brother still lived. He found himself staring down an army of angry Greeks intent on his death. Cleaving his way through the crowd, Hector's sword brought down many men, as all who appeared in his path fell. Taking a moment to glance around, Hector sought out his brother, sighing with relief as he saw Paris still fighting. His younger brother wasn't faring too poorly, either, and Hector felt a sense of pride return as he watched Paris. It was short lived, though, as he barely saw the sword swinging for his side, and moved his own sword to block it. He reminded himself that he had no time to worry about Paris, that if he allowed himself the opportunity to check on his brother again, it would only result in getting a sword in his own back. Concentrating once more on the men before him, Hector slew all who appeared, his sword arm never tiring.
Dodging a wildly-swung sword, the elder Prince of Troy felled the man who swung it quickly, his blade slicing through the man's neck, a spurt of blood spraying across Hector's mount. As he raised his sword to deflect another blow, Hector mused momentarily on the dirtiness of war. So much blood was spilled upon the field already, more yet would be spilled today. It was a wonder the grass on this field did not grow red for all the battles the ground had witnessed. Chiding himself for distracting his thoughts from the battle at hand, Hector deflected yet another swing, stabbing another man through the shoulder as his shield deflected a blow dealt from the other side. His horse reared - not high enough to unseat it's rider, but high enough to kick another offending Greek soldier from his feet.
Readying his sword as another soldier charged at him, Hector's eyes flickered to his right where his brother fought. He noticed that a man advanced towards Paris - a man nearly twice the size of his brother. As Hector opened his mouth to shout a warning to him, a sword glanced off of his shield, rendering him unable to protect his brother. Paris was upon his horse, sword and shield in hand and fighting valiantly, using his learned skills well; though his arm still bled, it seemed of no distraction at all to the young prince. A fair share of bodies littered the area surrounding his horse, and still they came at him. Paris continued to block slashes from the soldiers around him, too distracted to notice as the giant of a man known as Ajax came up behind him. Hefting his maul into the air, Ajax brought it crashing down into the haunch of Paris' horse, watching as the beast crumpled to the ground. Paris crouched behind his shield as he sank to ground level atop his horse, stunned into momentary shock that the animal had been taken out. The young prince had not expected that his horse would become a target, his inexperience in battle explaining his sudden lapse into grief over the beast. As a rapid succession of swords beat down upon his shield, he was jolted back to the realities of warfare, narrowly avoiding having his foot cut off. Paris swung his sword in a wild arc at the men in front of him, pulling his feet free from his saddle; he wondered how he might possibly get himself out of this situation, and was shocked when he heard a command issued to the Greek Soldiers.
The command was simple: do not harm the prince. Looking behind him, Paris had no time to prepare himself as he felt strong hands grab him, yanking him to his feet. He was now face to face with the man who had felled his steed - the mighty warrior Ajax. Paris attempted to wrench his arm free of Ajax's grasp, but this action only succeeded in the Greek warrior grabbing his other arm, knocking his sword and shield to the ground. Thrashing wildly as he fought to escape the steel grip of Ajax's hands, Paris feared that death would soon claim him, but the prince was surprised as Ajax appeared to have other plans. Bringing to mind the words he had heard issued only moments ago, he began his struggle to get away with even more furor. It was to no avail, as Ajax simply hefted the much smaller man over his shoulder, and began making his way back through the mass of Greek soldiers, carrying the younger prince of Troy back to safety.
"Hector!" Paris no longer felt his earlier strength as he called for his brother - he was being carried away by the enemy, and all he could hope for was the protection of his kin. "Hector!" Twisting about in the man's grasp, Paris searched the field behind him for any sign of his brother, finally seeing the elder prince. Hector was still, frozen in shock. When Paris' eyes met his, however, his brother sprang into action.
"Paris! PARIS!" Fighting his way through the wave of soldiers, Hector tried to get to his brother. But there were too many men in his way, and they all seemed intent on holding him back. New cries were heard as Paris was swept back into the enemy's lines.
"King Priam, Prince Hector, tell your soldiers to hold off, or else I shall slit the throat of the young prince myself!" Searching for the new voice, Hector saw Agamemnon grinning wickedly as he held a knife to the throat of a struggling Paris; Hector called to his men immediately, urging them to stop fighting. He heard shouting from above, but could not make out what was being said, nor even who was saying it. All he could think about was Paris and the fear in his younger brother's eyes. Once the fighting had somewhat ceased and all attention had been turned to Agamemnon and Paris, the Greek King spoke again. "I demand an end to this battle! Call your men back inside the walls of your fortress, and allow us to make back for our ships. If you do not comply, I shall kill your prince now. His corpse shall be brought back to Sparta and desecrated at the hands of my brother, so that your son may not live on in peace even in the afterlife!" The king's words rang out sharply, and they were heard by every man. Though he knew they should be able to defeat the Greek armies attacking his city, Hector could not bear the thought of watching his brother die before his own eyes.
"What of Paris should we comply with you, Agamemnon?"
"He will accompany us to the ships, and only after every ship has left the shore shall he be thrown overboard, where he can swim back to the safety of the shores, should he have the strength left in him. I have no need for a prince of Troy in my home. What say you, Priam? Is the life of your son worth the battle? Could you forsake Paris to an afterlife spent wandering, haunted? Will you do that to your youngest, Priam?" Turning his gaze upon the wall where his father stood, Hector prayed that the King would not doom his brother.
After a moment spent debating the proper course of action, it seemed that the King of Troy also shared his eldest son's desire to protect his youngest. Priam yelled for the gates to be opened and for his men to retreat inside, and Hector saw a small bit of fear ease from Paris' face. It was obvious the young prince was still frightened, and rightfully so. Hector only hoped that Agamemnon would keep his word. As the battlefield cleared of Trojan soldiers, soon only Hector remained.
"Allow me to ride to the shore so that I might be there to receive my brother once you are free on the water, Agamemnon. You have my word, I will cause no problems. I would see no harm done to Paris." The Spartan King stepped away from the younger prince of Troy and approached Hector.
"Certainly, prince Hector. I wish only to secure safe passage for my men. It is obvious that on this day, we underestimated the strength of the Trojan army." Hector nodded, relieved that he would have no trouble in following the men down to their boats. He had no reason at the moment to fear that Agamemnon would take action against him; his worry lay only for Paris. Hector followed the retreating Greek soldiers from a safe distance and watched from atop a hill as the soldiers prepared their ships to set sail. Hector's eyes were trained on his brother. Three of Agamemnon's guards surrounded the prince, shoving him forward. Tripping over his own feet, Paris stumbled, only to be caught by the largest of the men. The man grabbed him by his hair, pulling him up and around, his fist connecting with Paris' jaw. Quelling the rage that threatened to overtake his senses, Hector prayed that his brother would have the strength to get through this without too much damage done to his ego. Not only was Paris responsible for starting the war, he was now also responsible for ending the war prematurely, when the Trojans had had the upper hand.
Hector watched as many of the ships pushed off, the Greeks wasting no time in retreating to their homeland. Every ship now had departed from the shore and only one remained. That ship belonged to Menelaus and Hector advanced towards it, watching as his brother was roughly pushed to stand beside the Spartan King, looking down to the beach where he stood. His heart constricted as he watched the ship push off into the water, despite Agamemnon's promise that Paris would be released only when every ship was off the beach. But now that no more ships lay on the sand, Hector felt a sudden pang of fear hit him, as he looked up at the smirking grin of Menelaus. He would have felt more confident in believing the Greeks had it been anyone else who was now beside Paris.
"Hector of Troy, my brother gave you his word that when my ship was upon the water, I would release your brother." Hector nodded, his fear diminishing slightly. "I have decided otherwise." Hector erupted. The bit of hope gleaned from Menelaus' words suddenly crushed, the elder brother prepared to charge into the water himself and climb into the boat, take on all of Menelaus' men and save his brother. "Upon closer study of your brother, I have found that his beauty matches that of my stolen wife. So, I have decided that as punishment for stealing Helen from me, I shall punish Troy by stealing her youngest prince. Say goodbye to your beloved brother, Hector, for if you follow me, I swear on the glory of Sparta that I shall kill him. Give my regards to your fool of a father, Prince Hector!" Hector watched in fury as Menelaus grabbed Paris, forcing the young man to stand in front of him and stare back into the eyes of his brother. Hector stiffened as Paris was made to scream his name, a command that the younger man was more than ready to fulfil. His heart torn, Hector still wanted to swim to the ship and save his brother, but he knew not to doubt Menelaus' threat. He knew the best course of action would be to return to the palace and inform his father of the treachery of Menelaus. Feeling as though he were rooted to the beach, the cries of his brother keeping him from turning and riding back to the palace, Hector watched the ship until he could no longer make out his brother's face. Then he turned and urged his steed to fly back to the palace as quickly as possible. The horse seemed to understand his rider's sense of urgency.
The gates opened once Hector approached, and if he listened, he would have been able to hear the shouts of confusion as he rode back inside, alone. He came to the middle of the courtyard where his father, among others, stood waiting for him. Hector slipped from his horse, barely able to focus for the severity of the situation.
"How foolish we were to trust in the lies of the Greek King, father! What fools does Troy breed?" Flinching as his father grabbed his arms, unwilling to meet the King's eyes, Hector bit down upon his lip. He had never heard Paris scream for such fear before. The look of terror upon his brother's face was an image that time would never burn from his mind. "Menelaus did not give him up, father. He has decided to keep Paris, as revenge for Helen." His voice quieted. Hector closed his eyes, unable to look upon his father anymore. He felt a failure. He should have known, should have suspected that Menelaus would interfere.
"Hector, we must go after them, then. We must depart at once, send out a ship full of our best soldiers! We cannot let him keep Paris. I cannot lose my youngest son." Hector met his father's gaze as he opened his eyes and steeled his emotions as a tear slipped from Priam's eye. Bringing a hand up to wipe at his own eyes, Hector fought to get a hold of himself. Now was hardly the time for breaking down, no matter how responsible he felt for his brother.
"No, we cannot. Not yet, at any rate. Menelaus said that if he saw any ship of ours following them back to Greece, he would kill Paris. No, father, I am afraid we must wait at least a day before following. When we do go after them, we must take precautions to ensure that he does not realize our intentions. He will be expecting us, father, and you know as well as I that Menelaus will not hesitate to kill Paris simply to wound our hearts. We must think the situation through with clear minds. As much as I hate to think of Paris alone with them, we have no choice." Hector struggled to control his emotions, saying no more in fear that his voice would break. Paris was now held captive in the Spartan King's ship. His anger giving way to fear as he contemplated Menelaus' parting words, Hector refused to believe that Menelaus would actually dare to touch his brother. But what now was happening to Paris? Countless scenarios played before his mind, each one more horrible than the previous. He had to get Paris back. He could not afford to lose his brother to the greedy king of Sparta.
"You would do well to obey any command I give you, young prince. Have you not realized that you are completely at my mercy? Given your performance this morning, you are in no position to speak out against me; Apollo may have been on your side earlier, but now I would not hesitate to say that he has deserted you. Trust in Priam to raise a spoiled brat of a child." Breaking his fall with his arms, Paris looked up at Menelaus from his position on the floor of the ship. The Spartan king glared daggers down at him, but the young man was defiant still; prisoner or not, he would bow before no king other than his own father.
"Do with me as you wish, Menelaus, for my brother will see that you are properly re-paid for whatever harm I may come to!" A boot to the face silenced the Trojan prince, who sprawled backwards.
"I suppose I should take liberties not to damage you too harshly in the facial region, eh Prince? I do not want to spoil your pretty good looks. But the more you rebel against me, the harder I will be forced to hit you back. Do you want that, little prince?" Grabbing a fistful of Paris' hair, Menelaus forced the young man's head back.
Unwillingly looking up into the hateful gaze of the king, Paris was surprised when Menelaus' eyes conveyed some amusement. "What a pretty thing you are, boy. I can see why Helen had the nerve to leave. She may be the most beautiful woman we have known, but what good are women? You, however, little prince, I would say that you are the most beautiful man to ever grace our land. Unlike Helen, you have more use than only that of a pretty face." Menelaus watched as brown eyes widened before him, not exactly certain where the Spartan king was going with his comment.
Grabbing Paris' arm, Menelaus jerked him up off the floor, pulling him very close. Pushing his face into Paris', Menelaus felt the young prince squirm and he enjoyed every moment of it. "What good are women, young Paris? For a man as experienced as you are among lovely ladies, I imagine you must have some idea of their worth." Refusing to speak, Paris averted his eyes from the king's gaze, instead resting on Menelaus' bandaged shoulder. "Not feeling quite so confident in yourself now, are you, little prince? Just as well." With a hard push, Menelaus sent Paris crashing backwards into the bunk by the wall of the ship. Laughing at the Trojan prince, Menelaus made for the stairs.
"I must see to my men. I suggest you make yourself comfortable, Prince of Troy, for once we reach my homeland, a prince no longer shall you be." With that parting comment, Menelaus disappeared from Paris' view, leaving the young man alone below the deck. Out of view of all Greeks, Paris drew his knees up to his chest, his feet resting on the bed. Hugging himself into a ball, the youngest prince of Troy lowered his head to his knees, already feeling his eyes grow damp with tears. If only he hadn't been so stubborn and had listened to Hector, he wouldn't be in this position now.
Hector. Paris trembled as he thought of his brother. Hector was doubtlessly breaking the news now to their father, likely blaming himself for allowing his little brother to be captured. Cursing his own name, Paris succumbed to guilt. Hector would come after him and risk his life to bring him back. If only he had listened to his brother, on all matters as of late, none of this would be happening. In the span of less than three days, Paris had managed to start a war with the Greeks, end that war prematurely when Troy was winning, and get himself captured by the enemy. Not bad for the king's younger son.