Their first glimpse of Alexander the Great, King of Conquerers, was underwhelming.

Fortunately, Diarmuid had expected that. The poor child was only twelve? Fourteen? That was a terribly awkward age. Still, he didn't quite expect an uncoordinated scarecrow in the middle of a growth spurt. The red hair was obviously inherited from his mother and on her, was silky and shiny. On poor Alexander it looked like an alley cat's pelt. His clothing was all too short, another victim of the growth spurt. Altogether, Alexander did not cut a fine figure at this point in time.

The young prince was also not pleased to see them.

"How do you think you'll replace my Parocles?" Alexander demanded and Diarmuid blinked, his opinion of the child abruptly going up. He was mourning his dead bodyguard. Would Phillip have ever felt that way? HAH! Yet, he didn't know what to say.

Fortunately, Hector did.

"We can't. The living can never truly replace the dead," Hector said compassionately, meeting Alexander's eyes. "We can only do our best with you and eventually, you may find room for us in your heart."

"So you can die too?" The raw pain there. Diarmuid felt like he was watching a private moment between Alexander and Hector, they were so deeply involved in each other.

"Perhaps. We are warriors after all and our place in the world is to die. And if we do I hope you will remember us, as you remember your Parocles, and take us with you as you go." Hector paused for a moment before giving Alexander an understanding smile. "I am very pleased to hear this from you, my prince. A lord who never asks such questions is not truly a man worth serving." Ah yes. Diarmuid could suddenly see the seeds of greatness in Alexander. Men would be loyal to him because of who he was, not simply because he was the King.

"I… see." Alexander rubbed his eyes for a moment before squaring his shoulders. "I know I need new bodyguards, it's just rather soon. Still, I have to get used to it. Diona, can you please show them to their quarters?" An older woman bowed before gesturing to them. From the collar on her throat she was a slave yet Alexander had addressed her by name. Truly, this child had potential.

And speaking of potential.

"Hector, you had a real moment there. Keep that up and you might actually get somewhere," Diarmuid said, and Hector actually blushed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. Archer added his piece.

"Yes, that was impressive. I had no idea how to handle that, good job." Archer said and Hector hunched a little, looking embarrassed.

"I probably shouldn't have but well… I've lost a few people over the years," Hector said, suddenly sounding melancholy. "Quite a few…" He rubbed a ring on his hand. Diarmuid had noticed that ring before because it appeared to be real gold and could fetch a pretty penny, but Hector never sold it. He'd never asked about it and didn't intend to but thought he could assume it was very important to Hector. "Ah well." Then they reached their rooms and Diarmuid had to correct the woman slightly.

"Archer and I share a room." They should have spelled that out earlier. She looked surprised but handled it well, letting them move the beds – just fleeces really – together into one room. "Thank you." She accepted the thanks with a nod.

"I bet it's big enough for three!" And Hector was back to being an idiot. Archer and Diarmuid exchanged an amused glance.

"Keep dreaming Hector, keep dreaming," Archer said calmly as Diarmuid settled in their meager belongings. Hector got taken off to his own room, which was right beside theirs. "He's much smarter than he acts," Archer said in a low tone and Diarmuid nodded.

"Well, we never really thought he was stupid." Hector behaved like a feckless idiot but there was a fine brain between his ears. He was just disinclined to use it. Or sometimes, he used it all the wrong ways. Diarmuid vividly remembered the money making scheme he'd hatched with a few of the other men, selling painted eggs. Hector had managed to sell them as sacred to the gods and the whole thing had gotten off the ground… before splattering on priestly disapproval. "Well, whatever. We'll just have to make sure he teaches Alexander the right things." He could learn a lot from Hector as long as he ignored the stupid bits.

After settling their possessions in they all got to experience the hot springs. In the camp, you typically bathed in a bucket if you bathed at all. Getting to settle into warm water was incredibly pleasant. To Diarmuid's intense amusement, he caught Hector staring at Archer's ass as he got into the pool. Well, it was a very fine ass. Hmm, they could use a strigil. It was a combination of brush and backscratcher, used to remove oil and dirt. Diarmuid glanced around and saw a few against the wall. Leaving the water, he went to fetch them.

Hector is staring at your ass, Archer's thought was full of amusement and Diarmuid chuckled as he got the scrapers and turned around, seeing Hector abruptly looking away, a blush on his cheeks.

Maybe we should give him a pity fuck someday, Diarmuid said, meeting Archer's eyes as he joined him in the pool. Archer met his gaze evenly for a moment and Diarmuid worried that he was upset. Then Archer's lips quirked up, just a little, and he breathed easier.

Perhaps, but not until we're surer of him. That was good sense. Hector might still prove to be an enemy, although they both thought it was unlikely. Diarmuid settled back into the water with a sigh, setting the strigil within easy reach. He'd use that a bit later.

And so he did, first on Archer. Archer rested against the edge of the pool, his chin in his arms as Diarmuid scraped him down. There was plenty of old oil and dirt, buckets didn't do a marvelous job. To his further amusement, Diarmuid noticed Hector watching them with a warm gaze. He was just lazing on his side of the pool and Diarmuid noticed he had a fine chest, although marred with a very ugly scar.

"When did that happen? You're lucky to be alive," Diarmuid asked and Archer lifted his head to look. Hector looked down at his chest with mild surprise before chuckling.

"Oh, that. Promise not to laugh?" Hector's smile was a bit sheepish. Diarmuid shook his head. "When I was just a boy I loved taming horses." Archer's gaze suddenly sharpened and he stared at Hector intently. "I was a bit, um, overconfident and I took on a stallion who was a bit too much for me. He bucked me off and I hit a tree branch. Broke a bunch of ribs and took off a lot of skin. Never any real danger though, it looks uglier than it was."

"Ah, I know what you mean," Diarmuid said with a smile. "I've got a scar like that on my buttocks. A horse bit me," he said as they both looked at him. Hector's mouth opened soundlessly for a moment before he grinned.

"Let me guess, you were bending over the feed bucket?" Diarmuid laughed and nodded. "What a bastard! Was it a stallion?"

"No, a hell beast of a mare," Diarmuid remembered the horse with a bit of wry humor. "I got my own back though, we slaughtered her and ate her that winter." Diarmuid pulled the strigil away from Archer before moving to Hector. "Want a scraping?"

"I thought you'd never ask! Surely you didn't eat her for that though?" Hector said, turning around the same way Archer had, for a good back scraping. Archer had the second scraper and was working on the easy parts, pleasure on his face. Diarmuid shook his head as he began cleaning off Hector.

"No, she kept picking fights with the other horses. Father finally got sick of it when she beat up the damned stallion." Hilarious but not good for the herd. "So we had some good stew. I quite enjoyed it." One of the few decisions his father made that Diarmuid completely agreed with. The other horses hadn't seemed to miss her a bit, although it was tough to tell with animals. Hector chuckled softly.

"I've known horses like that. Sometimes they're just smart and spirited, not willing to tolerate idiots. But sometimes, they're just full of meanness. The first will make a marvelous mount for an excellent horseman. The second? Get rid of it, too much trouble."

"Mmm, yes." Diarmuid thought Hector was right. He'd known a few horses that were pure evil in his time. "I knew one demon horse, no one could ride him but his master. But for that one man, he'd do anything." What had that knight's name been? He couldn't remember. "They both died together in battle." The story said the horse had fought over his master's corpse until an enemy had hamstrung him. Diarmuid hadn't seen it but he believed it, with that horse.

"I don't know horses, just horsepower," Archer said with a completely straight face and Diarmuid snorted a laugh. To his surprise, Hector also laughed before suddenly stopping and looking away. Diarmuid couldn't see his face at all, curse it, but Hector shouldn't have gotten that joke.

"You mean using horses to pull stumps out of fields? That kind of horsepower?" Hector said innocently but Diarmuid didn't buy it. He glanced toward Archer and their gazes met. You don't think he could be?

I still don't see how it's possible. Hector of Troy can't be a Counter Guardian. Couldn't he? Diarmuid lifted his eyebrows and jerked a thumb at himself. Archer nodded a little, silently conceding the point. You might be right. Hector was also known as the Tamer of Horses. Oh really. If he is one of us, though, he's an ally and we shouldn't out him. Good point.

"Something like that," Diarmuid said aloud before leaving off the scraping. Hector grabbed his hand before he could leave.

"Let me help you out," Hector's tone was gently seductive, the smile on his face warm. Diarmuid nodded his acceptance, settling in for his own scraping. The feel of the strigil on his skin was mildly painful but in a wonderful way. "Speaking of things it's a miracle we survived, how did you get these burn scars? Must have been incredibly painful."

"Mmm, that was a fire as a child. I can scarcely remember it," Diarmuid said vaguely. In a way, the World had been merciful. The scars were just a memento of his death, he hadn't needed to endure the painful process of healing. "I was lucky to live though, they thought I wouldn't."

"Can you tell me how you lost your magic? Everyone says you used to be a sorcerer but no one really knows anything." Ah, now they were getting into the realm of outright fantasy. He and Archer had already talked out their story, though.

"Mmm, yes, I learned magic very young. Unfortunately, my father had enemies. They captured me and sealed me before returning me to my father. Then, he exiled me in favor of my younger brother," Diarmuid said and felt Hector pause at the scraping. "He was an asshole."

"HAH!" The scraping resumed, to his pleasure. "And how did the two of you meet?"

"I took a ship and ended up in Crete when they happened to be gathering up mercenaries. So I enlisted and we went on the same boat. Became fast friends and then it became more," Diarmuid said, glancing at Archer. He was gazing at them with heavy lidded eyes, in some danger of falling asleep. Heh. "Don't fall asleep, you could drown."

"Oh shut it, I think that's a myth," Archer murmured and Diarmuid laughed. Then he glanced over his shoulder at Hector.

"Well, that's our story. What's yours? Are you nobility?" Hector had that feeling, when he wasn't being completely feckless. Also, the ring on his hand suggested it. Hector sighed softly, a sad look on his face.

"Oh yes. Our enemies brought us low, utterly ruined us. I took a new name, travelled far away. This is my marriage ring," Hector said and Diarmuid blinked. Marriage? "She's dead, some time now. My child as well… ah well."

"I'm sorry," Diarmuid said softly, wishing he hadn't asked. Archer also murmured his condolences but Hector just shrugged.

"It was a long time ago. There, I think that's good." Yes, it felt good. Diarmuid turned over to see Hector smiling at him. "I love to see the two of you together. It's a beautiful thing, true love." …Dear gods. Diarmuid felt his face heat.

"Thank you Hector and we're still not going to fuck you," Archer murmured and Diarmuid laughed. Hector looked hurt for a moment before shrugging and smiling, scooping a bit of water up and dousing himself. Hmm, that looked nice.

When they were all about to turn into prunes, they vacated the bath. Diarmuid and Archer both got the pleasure of knowing Hector was watching them as they dried themselves. Honestly, it was amusing and slightly flattering, that he found them both so desirable. Of course, it helped that it was Hector. From some people, men and women both, that regard would have felt filthy. From Hector it felt cleaner, amusing and in good fun.

After they were done, they got shown to Alexander and began their duties. That quickly got interesting.

"I don't know if mother told you, but Parocles was also my teacher in skill at arms." Alexander said firmly, meeting Archer's gaze. Archer blinked slowly before dipping his head. "Are any of you able to teach?"

"I am, but my skill is primarily with my bow," Archer said after a moment before glancing at Hector. He shook his head.

"I'm good at teaching letters and numbers and philosophy and whatnot, but not the physical things. Could never slow myself down, my brother said I did it on purpose but I really didn't," Hector rubbed the back of his neck and they both looked at Diarmuid. He nodded after a brief hesitation.

"I've trained young men before, although usually they were already skilled." Although… "How far along are you?" Diarmuid asked Alexander and he began describing some of his training. It was reassuring to Diarmuid, since it all sounded right. "That sounds good, let's get started." If Alexander wasn't a total novice this might work.

And so it proved. Diarmuid quietly blessed Parocles and mourned his loss because he'd been doing excellent work. Alexander was well grounded with the sword and spear, handling them both with reasonable skill. His main problem was lack of coordination and that had a lot to do with the zany growth spurt he was going through, the poor child. Diarmuid worked the boy to tiredness but not exhaustion before calling a halt. They rested for a bit before Diarmuid made a suggestion.

"Was Parocles teaching you archery?" Alexander shook his head. "Then why don't we follow this with a session from Archer? He really is incredible with a bow."

"I don't know… bows don't seem like a very noble weapon to me." Alexander said and Diarmuid blinked, a bit bemused. Noble?

"War is about making the other man die, that's all. Although I admit, for dramas sake, very few kings wave around a bow," Diarmuid said and Alexander laughed. "Still, you ought to learn. If you ever get separated from the column, which can happen to anyone, you can use it to catch game." That suddenly caught Alexander's interest.

"Hunting! My father has been suggesting I go boar hunting but that might be even better." Boar hunting? Diarmuid winced a little at the thought. He was glad he hadn't died like that although his actual fate hadn't been a lot better.

Alexander was awful with a bow and demonstrated his incompetence, laughing at his own mistakes. Archer was a good teacher, though, and the last few arrows actually got near the target. Then, of course, it was time for lunch.

Lunch was absolutely awe-inspiring although not in the way Diarmuid would have expected.

I'm waiting for him to explode, Diarmuid thought in absolute awe as Alexander tried to single-handedly demolish the entire lunch course. Archer's lips were twitching as he dipped a piece of bread in olive oil before taking a bite.

I doubt the World would let that happen. And from how the servants are behaving, it's normal. Yes, that was true, they were replenishing the plates without comment. It's his growth spurt. I imagine he also sleeps a great deal.

Incredible. If he tried very hard, though, Diarmuid could remember a few scarecrow years of his own, where nothing fit and it felt like his balance was perpetually off. Hmm, he'd eaten a lot of food too, barley gruel mostly. Always a pot of that on… hey, had that been just for him? Diarmuid suddenly suspected it had been.

While he might be eating a lot you should try eating something. Oh! Diarmuid blushed before taking a sausage. It appeared Hector had been right about the sausages and he'd grabbed a plateful. Diarmuid noted with amusement that Hector was trying gamely to keep up with Alexander, despite it being a lost cause.

"After lunch we have to go shopping with my mother," Alexander said, sounding like there was nothing he less wanted to do. Poor child. He pushed back a bit of red hair from strangely red eyes. They reminded Diarmuid of Cu Chulainn, oddly enough. "I tried to get out of it but she insisted," he said with a grimace. "You'll have to decide which of you gets to be a bodyguard." Eh? "The others will be her pack mules." …HAH!

"Shall we dice for it?" Hector suggested, pulling out a set of dice and Diarmuid and Archer exchanged an amused glance. Hector wanted to avoid work but it wasn't likely, with his skill at dice. Well, they could humor him. Diarmuid took the dice, making the first roll.

It would be amusing to see Hector doing physical labor for a change.

How the hell did Hector manage to win?

"Ugh," Diarmuid muttered, struggling to carry his share of the purchases and see where he was going. It didn't help that the bitch had added a few jugs of wine. No idea. How are you holding up? Diarmuid blinked a bit of sweat out of his eyes.

Remembering my least favorite aspects of boyfriend duties. And Rin didn't buy half this much. Who? Diarmuid thought about asking but then decided he really didn't care about Archer's past flames. I wonder if Phillip conquers so much to fund her shopping habits?

HAH! Could be. Although there was a bit more to this trip than personal shopping. As Phillip's primary wife, Olympia acted almost as a chatelaine, taking care of many household aspects. She was placing all kinds of orders on this trip which the merchants would arrange to be delivered. However, a lot of random and expensive stuff was falling on them to carry. Oh god another jewelry shop. That habit was clearly out of control.

"This is so boring," Alexander muttered and received a sharp cuffing around the ear. "OW! Mother!"

"Be quiet! How do you think this one looks?" Diarmuid debated putting down the stuff and finally decided he had to or his arms were going to fall off. He squatted carefully and rested everything on the ground, thankful for the great baskets they used to carry it. Archer had already set his down, he noticed, and was looking deeply fatigued, sweat on his tanned skin. Hector was bright eyed and bushy tailed, the bastard.

I'm tempted to shoot him, Archer grumbled and Diarmuid rather agreed. Could he stop rubbing it in? Although all he was doing was standing there, hand near his sword as he stood with a kind of placid calm that screamed 'I am dangerous' to Diarmuid. He was sure Hector would be all over any attacker. It's still annoying.

I agree. Next time, the two of us roll to see who carries things. Hector didn't get to roll, the evil bastard. He was on carrying duty. Archer dipped his head in agreement.

Then there was the sound of a slap and they all turned, startled. Even Hector was distracted from his guard duties as Alexander stormed past them. Archer and Diarmuid exchanged a wide-eyed glance as Hector hurried after the prince. What should they do?

"ALEXANDER!" Now Olympia was flying after them and Diarmuid cursed under his breath before grabbing the basket and giving it to the startled owner of the jewelry shop.

"Please keep these for us and you will be rewarded," Diarmuid said as charmingly as he could. Then he took off after the group, followed closely by Archer. What the hell was going on? What altercation had he missed?

Even when they caught up it was hard to be sure because Olympia was suddenly sobbing all over Alexander, apologizing to him over and over. The boy had a mark on his cheek, already bruising, where his mother had slapped him. He was also trying to avoid Olympia's attentions which were, to Diarmuid's eyes, inappropriate.

Are you seeing the same thing I'm seeing? Diarmuid asked as Hector managed to take control of the situation. He started working on Olympia, assuring her that it was quite alright, they all understood it had been a trying day. At the same time, he gazed at her a bit too forwardly, obviously displaying his attraction. Diarmuid might have thought Hector was being a fool but he noticed how the flattery got Olympia's attention away from Alexander. Doing their part, Archer and Diarmuid helped Alexander.

"Are you well, my prince?" Archer asked as Diarmuid examined the damage. It looked superficial although there was a little blood, likely from Olympia's nails. Alexander rubbed his cheek with a scowl.

"It's fine," he said and the wobble in his tone made Diarmuid think it wasn't fine at all. "Where are your baskets?" Alexander was suddenly concerned but not for the items. "If they've been stolen father will make you pay for it!" And that would likely be a year's wages.

"We left them with the jewel shop owner. Likely he kept them for us," Diarmuid said. Any shopkeeper would want to be in good with Phillips' wife. Of course, they couldn't be entirely sure.

"Guarding you is always our primary duty. Such things come second," Archer said calmly and Alexander bit his lip before shaking his head.

"We should go get them. Hector, can you escort mother home?" That would leave Alexander without a functional bodyguard but Diarmuid decided not to argue. This was a botch already and Alex could defend himself long enough for them to drop the stupid baskets. Hector immediately consented and led Olympia away, letting her take his arm.

By the way, Diarmuid, I believe we saw the same thing, Archer's mental voice was a touch cold as they went back to the jewelry shop. To everyone's relief, the baskets were still there. She was touching him like a lover, not a mother.

Perhaps we were reading too much into it, Diarmuid said and heard Archer's dry, mental snort.

And perhaps we weren't. I believe Alexander is going to need a great deal of help to survive this childhood intact. Diarmuid's thoughts went to the lost Parocles and he briefly mourned the man again. In the normal course of Alexander's life that man must have been an incredibly powerful influence. What a horrible thing that his life had been cut short here. Mmm. It pains me, but his spirit can likely take comfort in the fact that his death will keep Alexander alive. We still have to protect him from something and if Hector is one of us, it's going to be big.

Yes. And Diarmuid was fairly sure now that Hector was a Counter Guardian. Not entirely sure, but close. How had Hector of Troy sold his soul? It would be interesting to find out. Diarmuid grimaced to himself as he felt more sweat trickle over his forehead, the pain in his arms. The baskets were so damned heavy! Fuck Hector he is carrying a basket next time. Archer's dry chuckle was pleasant to his ears.

Oh yes he is. Feeling a bit more cheerful, Diarmuid and Archer followed Alexander home.

If nothing else, they could look forward to seeing Hector pulling his fair share.