Chapter 3
"Only Human"

As the heir to the Trojan throne, Hector's days were not usually free. Each morning, his father would meet with him to discuss a new lesson or to test his knowledge of the numerous previous ones. Luckily for Hector, Priam's afternoons and evenings were generally spent considering matters of state, addressing the council, and remaining up to date on affairs beyond their walls. Most days Hector was excused while Priam exercised his duties, but now that he was growing older, the king often enjoyed having his son's company at such events. Hector assumed it was so that he could see how the kingdom's business was handled and could view it as a sort of practice run, but they were generally very boring topics. For example, at a hearing, a man accused another of trading him an unsatisfactory cow for some of the man's chickens. He understood, naturally, that it was a rather serious matter since it concerned the man's livelihood and feeding his family. Still, when the man chose to discuss the cow's udders in grave detail, Hector had to restrain a laugh. His father, on the other hand, always handled the situations so diplomatically and neutrally that Hector was amazed each time. He wondered if he would be able to display those qualities one day when he was faced with such an absurd dilemma as the integrity of a cow's udders.

Currently, however, the prince was forced to use each afternoon to search for his father's horse until Priam decided he had suffered punishment enough. In the morning, Hector groaned loudly and stretched his sore muscles. They contracted mercilessly around his form, and every step was painful due to his two consecutive afternoons galloping bareback for hours about the Trojan coast. In particular, his back was a mountain of tense muscles, his legs were sore from gripping the horse, and the muscles of his abdomen were taught from steadying his form when he rode. Although every movement was lined with pain, he would not allow any to see him appear even the least bit uncomfortable. Early in his age, he had learned to hide his vulnerabilities from his father and others. It was important to appear strong, confident, and knowledgeable at all times despite what he might be truly be feeling at the time. Consequently, as he headed to meet his father to discuss his latest lesson, he held his head high, kept his shoulders squared, and moved with as much fluidity as he could muster. His jaw was taught in his painful discomfort, but that was the only sign that there was anything amiss with the prince. This particular morning, his father had chosen to meet in one of the many palace gardens so that he might enjoy the beautiful day or perhaps he had something else planned.

"Any news of my horse?" the king asked immediately when he saw his son.

"None yet, father," Hector said and masked his irritation fairly well.

"You disappoint me, Hector," Priam said so casually he might as well have been discussing the weather, but Hector's eyes narrowed under the pain of his words. "I thought I had taught my son to not lose a duel, and yet you were bested by a common thief." The prince bowed his head shamefully, and his gaze fell to the stone floor beneath them. Though he had only lied, he had ultimately brought his father dishonor, and that hurt him more than any amount of torture for it tore at his insides from his soul outward. "I wish to test your agility and discover for myself the fault in your techniques." At that moment, Hector heard steps on the stone, and he lifted his head to see Glaucus round the corner and meet them in the garden. He respectfully nodded his head to the king, and the prince noticed that he held two wooden practice swords in his hands. His father's intent was clear to him then, and he restrained a growl of annoyance. Glaucus was a young general in his father's army and perhaps ten years older than Hector, and the prince had practiced with him on a few occasions. Hector knew he could beat Glaucus, but in his current state, his muscles were taught and would not move with the swiftness Hector had come to master. It was an unfair test, but Hector suspected his father knew that. Perhaps he expected Glaucus to win and shame Hector further. The prince steeled himself and resolved that he would not allow that to happen.

The general haphazardly tossed one of the wooden swords at Hector who caught it and was immediately made aware of how his sore muscles already restricted his movements. 'Think of his sword and your sword and nothing else,' he reminded himself, and he refused to show any mercy toward his body. There was no room for error in his current state, and he would push himself to perfection as he always did. He swung the sword a few times to loosen the muscles of his shoulder and chest as best he could and to assess the weight of the wood. In mere moments, his mind noted it was slightly heavier than his usual practice sword, and he mentally made the necessary adjustments to his strategy. It would require greater strength to maneuver as quickly with the heavier blade, but he had already decided that he would manage. Likewise, Glaucus shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head from side to side, and prepared for the inevitable combat. Hector watched him take a few practice swings with mute interest and noted that he didn't place as much weight on his left knee. It could have been an old battle injury that had flared up, and the prince thought he might use it to his advantage if the time came for that.

Priam granted them a moment before nonchalantly saying, "You may begin."

The two men approached the center of the space warily, and Glaucus seemed fairly confident as they circled each other. After all, he had true experience in fighting and had killed many men when at war. Still, he was careful not to allow his confidence to blind him. The prince though young trained religiously, and Glaucus had seen how fluidly and swiftly he was able to move despite his tall, broad form. Speed and strength were a deadly combination if mastered appropriately, and Hector seemed a prime example of that. Today, however, his movements were different, and Glaucus wondered what that meant in terms of their inevitable combat. They continued circling each other, and neither man wanted to make the first move since it was not always an advantage. Sometimes it was easier to find fault in a man's technique by observing how he moved and searching for weak spots could be achieved by watching how a man attacked. Often defense was the best offense, and lying in wait for the ideal opportunity in a duel of this sort was key. The anticipation and tension between the two was palpable and mounted with every passing second. Hector realized Glaucus would not move first and began mentally talking himself through his strategy as his muscles coiled in preparation to strike. Evidently it was not necessary because Glaucus swung without warning, and the prince lifted his sword to meet the blow. Glaucus was bulky, and his brute strength was what made him a difficult adversary. Normally, Hector would have been able to handle this, but he realized only too late when their blades collided how his muscles nearly gave out without his control. The prince swiftly stepped to the side when Glaucus' strength overcame him, and he narrowly missed the blade.

'Great start,' his mind growled at him sarcastically, and his eyes lit up with rage. 'You have to be faster. You have to be stronger. Defeat is not an option.' Glaucus looked slightly surprised that he had been able to best the prince so easily, but his wariness was also still evident. Perhaps he thought Hector was trying some new tactic: make Glaucus think he was weak, then attack when the man grew too confident and provided an opening. At least Hector hoped that was what he was thinking, and that he didn't realize the prince was not one hundred percent today. Luckily, Hector was able to channel the rage in his body into his strength, and each move though painful was loosening his taught muscles. Maybe if he could get past this initial difficulty, he would be in a position to claim victory. Spurred by his thoughts, Hector swung downward, and Glaucus met his blow before he quickly stepped forward, threw Hector's arm off his blade, and swung at the prince's exposed chest. Immediately, Hector shot backward and was barely out of reach of Glaucus' arm, and he luckily had a longer wingspan than the shorter, bulky man which was an advantage that even his soreness couldn't take from him. Hector took the offensive once more and swung up across Glaucus' chest. The other man twisted out of reach while Hector used the momentum to spin on his heel, and he noted out of the corner of his eye that Glaucus was already returning the attack. Swiftly, the prince tossed his blade into his left hand and caught the blow while he drove his right elbow forward and knocked Glaucus across the face. The general stumbled in surprise and seemed angry that he had momentarily underestimated the prince.

Hector's strategy, however, had merely been to entice the man and convince him to attack. Hector wouldn't last if he were forced to be on the offensive. His muscles were already exhausted, and he would use up his strength too soon. He needed to wear Glaucus down. That was his only chance, and he hoped Glaucus would take the bait. He knew the general's personality fairly well from years spent at his father's side, listening to him discuss war strategy with his generals. Glaucus was sharp, but he was too impulsive. He often let his emotions get the better of him and cloud his judgment. That was precisely what Hector was betting on right now. When he saw the look in Glaucus' eyes, he hid a smile for he had been correct. The general charged Hector then and swung with such a force that it knocked the prince back several steps. Hector struggled to maintain his balance and keep Glaucus from forcing his weight over his heels. The younger man twisted suddenly to slip away from the sword, but Glaucus didn't cease his advance. Apparently any kindness initially afforded to Hector because of his status had disappeared when the prince landed a blow on Glaucus' face, and now the general charged swiftly at him. Hector struggled against the soreness in his muscles to meet each of his advances, but Glaucus was showing his true strength. Hector realized he was being pushed too far back, and on Glaucus' next swing, he forced the entirety of his weight forward, digging the balls of his feet into the ground. He leaned against their blades caught between them, and Glaucus easily did the same. Their eyes met over their blades, and they momentarily stared each other down. Swiftly, Hector placed his left hand on the man's shoulder and used his strength to literally throw the man backward a few paces and grant himself some space to maneuver in. If he hadn't, Glaucus could have backed him into a corner with a few more moves.

Unfortunately, the push drained quite a bit of the prince's strength, and he became aware of how his breathing had already quickened considerably. Glaucus backed away then more out of a desire to keep the fight going than a wish to grant Hector any space. Evidently the general was having fun, and he smirked at the prince to show his approval. Hector didn't grant him any sign in return except to take a few steps forward. It was clear Hector would have to take the offensive once more, but he was not in any position to do so. Still, he couldn't just stand there. He lunged forward at the general, and at the last moment, Glaucus side stepped around him. He then unexpectedly grabbed Hector's forearm and pulled him. His momentum was already driving him forward, and with Glaucus' unwarranted help, the prince stumbled off balance. As Hector fell past the general, Glaucus drove his elbow down square in the center of his sore back. The pain shot through his body like sharp knives and fire, and Hector couldn't restrain the groan as he fell onto his hands and knees. He was barely able to roll over onto his back and lift his sword in time to catch the blow Glaucus already had aimed for him. Hector's teeth gritted against the pain still pulsating through his back from Glaucus' elbow, and he suddenly wanted more than anything to break the other man's nose as reparation. Glaucus lifted to swing back, but Hector caught his wrist and used all his force to pull the other man forward onto the ground beside Hector. Glaucus tried to fight it at first, but Hector remembered his injured knee and extended his leg to catch the general behind his knee. Glaucus howled in pain when his knee gave out, and he fell. The minute his back touched the ground, Hector swiftly rolled onto of him and held his sword against the man's neck. His chestnut eyes were ablaze in his fury as he looked down at the man, and though he had already won, part of him wanted to press on out of his sheer anger driven by his pain.

"That's enough," Priam called out when it seemed his son might continue. Hector's eyes narrowed at the command, and he reluctantly released Glaucus and stood from the ground. Sharp pains shot through the muscles of his back with every movement, and he exhaled angrily through his nose as he turned to his father. Glaucus stood up behind the prince and was glaring daggers into the young man's back. It wasn't necessarily becoming to have hit his injured knee like that, but Hector thought it was worthy retribution after the man drove his elbow down onto the prince's already injured back. He hadn't expected it to cause him such pain, but it had felt like a red, hot iron on his back. Glaucus could bear his shame and limp about the city so that all knew who had bested him, and perhaps he would remember not to cross Hector again. Mercy despite his anger clearly hadn't been a lesson the young man had mastered yet. Priam took in his son's furious form with neutral ice blue eyes.

"Does this please you?" Hector asked when his father didn't speak a word.

"You still have much to learn," the king noted, and it angered Hector further. He was a worthy warrior who had just beat one of his father's generals. Did that account for nothing? "You will visit our allies in Dardania to continue your search." Without another word, he abandoned the courtyard and left his son to seethe. Hector could have skinned the man alive at such a command. With his already injured back, riding to Dardania was some cruel, unusual form of punishment for a deed he didn't even commit. In his endless fury, he turned on his heel and roughly pushed past Glaucus to head to his room.

"Mind your temper," the general cautioned for he had had to master his long ago, and he saw a similar fire in the prince.

Hector didn't acknowledge the statement though in his mind he saw himself swinging around and granting the general a black eye to go with his limp. Instead, his pace increased, and servants nearly dove out of his way when they saw him storming through the palace corridors. It was a smart idea for if any had accidentally stepped in his way, there was no telling how the tumultuous anger rolling off him would be unleashed upon the unlucky fool. As it was, Hector made it to his quarters without killing anyone, and he paced anxiously up and down the room. The pain in his back, however, soon caused him to abandon this means of expelling his anger, and he sat on the edge of his bed and groaned as he bent forward, pulling against the tight muscles. After the initial pain, the position actually felt quite nice, and he breathed deeply against the mild discomfort still stemming from his injury. His chestnut eyes considered the floor of his quarters and noticed a small bundle that remained unopened. He had forgotten about Myrina's gift, and he idly picked it up off the floor. He winced when he straightened up once more to examine the pack. Obviously he hadn't felt the need to open it yesterday when he returned to the palace, and he absently tossed it in his hand while his mind remembered their encounter yesterday. He had been short with her, and he recognized that each time he ran into her, he never seemed able to show himself to be an honorable man. As a boy he had snuck up on her when she was upset, two days ago he had nearly tackled her to the ground, and yesterday his anger had bested him so that his company was doubtfully even bearable. He felt slightly guilty for this because she always managed to seem happy and treat him with unwavering kindness. At that moment, he noticed something odd when he caught the bundle next. Something hard hit the palm of his hand through the thin material, and he wondered what she would have packed that would be so unyielding.

Curiously, the prince untied the knot holding the contents inside, and he unceremoniously sifted through the small bits of food until his fingers hit something cold and metal. He lifted it into the light and considered it with interest. It was tarnished to show its age, and he recognized it immediately as a pin used for robes. All at once the memory of that day in the courtyard when they first met hit him, and he recalled giving Myrina one of the pins from his robe as a gift to mark their friendship. 'It can't be,' his mind thought in disbelief as he moved it closer to his face and inspected it thoroughly. Sure enough, despite his dubious thoughts, it bore the royal emblem. 'She held onto it. She kept this insignificant pin for five years.' The realization simultaneously left him surprised, impressed, and confused, but ultimately it deflated his anger. In fact, for the moment he forgot completely his encounter in the palace garden only minutes earlier while he handled the pin. She had hidden it in the pack like a surprise for him, and he momentarily realized how easily he could have dismissed the bundle without ever discovering this unexpected treasure. At length he decided, "You're an interesting one." He had no malice in his voice, and he actually smiled in mild amusement though he was still unsure what to make of the gift. How did she expect him to react when he found it? Hector couldn't be certain of that either, and he simply sat for several minutes of pensive silence while considering the pin.

Eventually, however, his thoughts returned to his journey to Dardania, and he stood with a groan of annoyance to gather a few guards to accompany him on his trip. Though the prince had been riding solo the past couple of days searching through the areas closest to Troy, he knew it was wise to bring guards with him when he was travelling a longer distance. There were always those who would take advantage of his status and seek to rob him, harm him, or hold him for ransom. Having guards would obviously help protect him from such threats, and it wasn't long until he had a small group assembled. It would take most of the day to make it to Dardania, so they swiftly gathered some supplies for the trip before galloping out of the gates and toward the smaller city which guarded the northern portion of Troad. Though the Trojan horses were bred to be strong and swifter than most, the riders still had to stop every few hours to allow the horses to rest as well as the men, and with every passing moment, the tension in Hector's back grew until it was nearly unbearable -not that Hector would let anyone know that. Of course it wasn't always within his control. By the time they reached the city, his back was so stiff that it hindered his movements, but the prince pretended not to notice.

When they arrived at the palace situated there, the group was welcomed by the Dardanian prince Aeneas who was Hector's distant cousin but close friend since there was only a year difference in the boys' ages. Anchises, Aeneas' father, was crippled allegedly by a lightening bolt thrown from Zeus for revealing his relations with the goddess Aphrodite which resulted in Aeneas' birth, and consequently, Anchises was not able to come greet the group at that time. Anyone who doubted whether Aeneas was truly the son of Aphrodite merely needed to look upon the young man's countenance. He was fair like Paris but in an entirely different manner. Where Paris had boyish good looks, Aeneas was the sort of man sculptors used as a muse. Thick golden curls the color of straw crowned his head. He was nearly as tall as Hector, but his frame was the perfect medium between muscular and slender. He had large, bright blue eyes that constantly seemed laced with some sort of silent amusement as if the entire world were his private joke, and he had a narrow, straight nose situated over his trademark grin. His tan skin was flawless and taught across his developed muscles. Needless to say, the Dardanian prince was an infamous wooer of women, trickster, and the closest thing Hector had to a best friend.

"Cousin," Aeneas said with a broad smile as he clapped Hector on the shoulder. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"

Hector likewise patted the other man's shoulder in camaraderie and answered, "My father has sent me. It seems his prized horse has been stolen, and I was hoping I might search the northern part of Troad for it."

"Business then?" Aeneas asked with his smile falling into a grimace of distaste at the notion. "Come. Night is falling, and I'm sure you're weary from your journey. I'll help you search for the horse in the morning, but tonight," once more his smile lifted the corners of his lips, and his eyes were laced with mischief, "I will show you our utmost Dardanian hospitality."

Hector chuckled and shook his head. No good could come from Aeneas' "hospitality", but that might be what Hector needed right now. He was undeniably still angry with his father, and his back ached fiercely with every move. Who was to say the Trojan prince when away couldn't enjoy himself slightly? In fact, he felt as though he deserved it after the day he had endured. "If I recall, last time you granted me 'Dardanian hospitality' we were about fourteen, and you nearly drank yourself into a stupor."

"I don't believe I remember that," Aeneas lied with a grin. "How are you faring? It has been some time since I saw you last."

"Well enough," Hector said though his mind was unable to avoid the tightness in his back.

"You don't look well," Aeneas said flatly with a glance at the Trojan prince who even in walking was restricted by his back. "You look as though you've been to Hades and back."

Hector shot the man a glare for pointing out his evidently visible weakness, and he admitted with a hint of annoyance, "My back was injured, and the journey has irritated it slightly."

"Ah… Perhaps I can offer you a remedy."

"What would you recommend?"

"Her name is Dianthe," Aeneas answered and granted Hector a wolfish grin before they slipped into his father's quarters where Anchises was waiting to welcome the Trojan prince. With Aeneas' latest offer, however, Hector's suspicions were confirmed. No good would come of Dardanian hospitality, and he would expect no less with Aeneas playing host.

"Hector," the old, crippled man said when they entered. "You grow each time I see you." Hector bowed his head respectfully as he stood before Anchises.

"My father sends his regards."

"I'm saddened to see that he has not joined you. It has been too long since I've spoken with my dear friend. Is he well?"

"Yes. He'll be pleased to know that you inquired about him."

Anchises adjusted himself and shifted from the appropriate small talk to wonder, "What brings you here, my boy?"

"Someone has stolen my father's horse. I am searching for the culprit. I wondered if he had fled north."

"I am sorry to hear of such a misfortune, but you may use any of my men at your disposal. Unfortunately in these sorts of matters it is often difficult to catch the thief's trail."

"I'm grateful for your generosity," Hector answered with a polite nod of his head.

"Anything for the son of my old friend," Anchises rejoined earnestly with a broad smile. "You must be weary from your journey. I hope you are not too tired to grant us your company at dinner?"

"I would be honored to join you," Hector assured the man. In fact, the prince was famished. Dinner to fill his stomach, wine to ease the pain in his back, and a place to rest sounded like the equivalent of the Elysian Fields to Hector at that moment.

Anchises chuckled softly at such a polite answer, and Aeneas helped his father to his feet while a servant offered him the cane he required to walk. "Come, my boy. I am eager to hear about your father and the state of affairs in Troy. You must tell your father to visit me." With that, the small group made their way to the dining hall where a feast was served to honor the Trojan prince's company. Hector was flattered by their hospitality, and it was nice to speak with his relatives who he did not see nearly enough. He had especially missed his cousin Aeneas and his sense of humor. As a prince, true friends were hard to come by: friends who didn't care about his title or crown.

Inevitably with such a train of thought, his mind wandered to the young girl who Fate seemed intent on bringing to him time and time again. He had naturally wondered if she was interested in his friendship only because of his status. However, she was so earnest and innocent that he wasn't entirely sure if she had it in her to deceive him. Of course he didn't know her nearly well enough, but he didn't feel as though she were the type of person to lie and scheme for some ulterior motive. Was it possible that she only cared about him for the manner of his character? Somehow he doubted that considering how he had been behaving around her lately, but he was unaccustomed to having such a friendship. In fact, he wasn't even entirely sure that a bond between them was an option. Hector hesitated for a plethora of reasons. One that was currently ruling his thoughts was how improper their friendship was. He was a young man of royal standing in line for the throne, and she was a mere girl who was a daughter of a fisherman. It was not that Hector looked down upon her status; he simply was aware of the importance of his reputation, and he feared what gossip could spread if others caught wind of his unlikely friendship. Would they think he was molesting the poor girl or performing other unfavorable acts? The notion made Hector grimace, and he recognized that the innocence of his childhood was waning as he stood poised in the doorway between the boy he was and the man he would become. Befriending a young girl seemed like a step backward when all Hector desperately wanted was to finally be viewed as a worthy man. It was foolish, but the prince actually wished for a battle so that he might expedite his transformation. If he proved himself a worthy soldier in combat, none could consider him a child any longer.

Hector hadn't realized how caught up he had become in his thoughts until Aeneas spoke to him, "Has some woman caught your eye, cousin?"

Hector chuckled and shook his head. "Unlike you, my thoughts are not constantly ruled by women."

"Nor are mine," Aeneas assured him. "I often consider my father's health, harvests, and when we will go to war next." He paused to take a long sip of his wine before deciding, "But women are much more entertaining."

"None can doubt that you are truly the son of Aphrodite," Hector joked good-naturedly to his friend. The prince had thus far had a few encounters with women and couldn't deny that he enjoyed a woman's company though he was still exploring that side of his life. It was difficult to find time to really dedicate to it considering his daily training; but he was only human, and even he had the needs of a man. The thought of taking a mistress was something he had toyed with briefly, and he wondered if one day he might have one or two. What stopped him? He wasn't sure he was ready for such a commitment ironically enough. Yes, it was only a mistress who served a specific purpose, but he was not in a mood to woo some woman at this specific point in his life. Not to mention no woman in particular had really caught his interest.

"I enjoy what every man does. I'm only more open about it," Aeneas commented with a grin as he took another sip from his cup.

"It is a small wonder all of Troad is not aware of your conquests," Hector taunted with amusement in his chestnut eyes.

This caused Aeneas to laugh heartily and clap Hector on the shoulder. "Jealousy does not become you, my friend."

"What have I to be jealous of?" The Trojan prince rejoined swiftly. "Keep your concubines, Aeneas. Trojan women are not so easily had."

"It is well known that Dardania holds some of the fairest women. Your so-called Trojan women may as well be marched out into battle alongside the men."

Hector lifted his brow in surprise at such a statement though the two men were only taunting one another as a show of their camaraderie. "If you are intimidated by our women, cousin, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Only real men can handle them."

Aeneas grinned and retaliated, "It would take a large man to wrestle one of them to the ground. Tell me do you ever find it confusing separating the women from the men?"

"Not so much as here," Hector answered without pause over his cup of wine where it was poised at his lips.

The two men laughed then, and Aeneas made a motion toward one of the servants situated along the dining hall. "Perhaps I can show you a true Dardanian woman and correct your hasty judgment."

"Bring me a pitcher of wine then for that is the only way I could recognize her beauty," Hector commented with a chuckle. Aeneas had an uncanny ability to bring out the more comical, lighthearted side of the prince of Troy, and Hector enjoyed being able to relax and drop his guard for the night. After all, with Aeneas' record, Hector didn't exactly have to worry about shaming himself. Such a comparison between the two could not be made, and when Hector left Dardania, he would once more assume his disciplined resolve. For the night, however, he allowed himself to enjoy the revelry.

Aeneas granted him a caddish wink and assured his friend, "I doubt you will need it. I promised you Dianthe, and I would only grant the best for my beloved cousin."

Hector bowed his head graciously and raised his cup of wine with a sarcastic smile displayed across his features. "I believe I've missed Dardanian hospitality."

"Most do," Aeneas admitted and met his raised cup. "May the gods keep our allies at our sides and beautiful women in our beds."

As it turned out, Hector only needed several more cups of wine to decide Dianthe was a fair companion for the night, but he had no interest in sharing his bed for any longer than such a deed called for. Consequently, the Trojan found himself in his borrowed bed alone with his hands cupping the back of his head while he stared absently up at the ceiling. Aeneas had been right, and Dianthe had worked a miracle on his back, which the prince was undeniably grateful for, and had also granted him momentary pleasure. However, it was the sort of feeling that faded like the alcohol already metabolizing in his blood. In the morning, he would wake as alone as he was that very moment, but Hector had long learned to find solace in that feeling. He was forced to be independent, and he had discovered long ago that he didn't need anyone else. Though it was true that family, friends, and female companions for the night were all gratifying in their own respects, Hector fared well enough on his own -a lone wolf as some would say. Still, it would be nice to have a true confidante that he could trust and consult from time to time. As before, his thoughts shifted from his current predicament to the young Trojan girl bent on winning his favor. He had packed the pin along with the few things he brought to Dardania though he wasn't sure why, and he retrieved it to consider it in the moonlight. Perhaps he expected the token to come to life before his very eyes and reveal Myrina's secrets to him so that he might judge if she were a worthy ally. Obviously that didn't happen, so the prince simply recalled their conversations from his memory and thought through each in turn. He acknowledged yet again how improper their relationship was.

On the other hand, Myrina was so innocent that he felt guilty for betraying her trust when he had granted her his word that he would visit her and had possibly led her on to conclude that they were friends. What harm was there in visiting her once more? If nothing else, he could do his best to explain that they could not be friends. Their statuses were too different, and there was no way that their paths could cross again. He would not be mean or spiteful about it. He would comfort her if she grew upset, but it would be the best course of action for both of them. As a young lady, she did not need a man arriving unannounced to visit her. How would her father react when he found out about their meetings? Better yet, how would potential suitors react? She might have been too young to understand the significance of a girl's purity, and he would not steal her innocence so callously. "No," he decided as his resolution grew with each passing minute. He would spare them both any adverse effects. It was his duty as the older, wiser person in the relationship.


Author's Note: Hey guys! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I know it's going a bit slow, but I kinda have to set the stage. I also wanted to try to keep the story from going along too swiftly or too easily so that it seems a little more realistic. I promise it will pick up in the next few chapters. I know that in the movie they make Aeneas really young, but he's supposed to actually lead the Dardanians into battle in the Trojan War so I decided to make him older and have him play a more active role in the story haha I also wanted to just say that I'm by no means an expert on ancient Greece and Troy (no shit Sherlock, right? haha). I do research to the best of my abilities to keep things as realistic as I can, but sometimes I can't figure everything out. If that happens, I just go with it and hope it sounds believable haha So if any of you out there are more knowledgeable than myself on the matter, please excuse my ignorance and feel free to tell me if I've got something incorrect xoxo