What transpired next happened all too quickly for Paris' comfort. Achilles laughed good naturedly at the situation as a whole: Agamemnon being killed, Clytemnestra gifting him with Paris as a token of thanks for his outward disdain for her former husband, Paris' reaction to the transfer of ownership. He was in a famous mood, and waved jovially to his men to truss up his prize and bring him along to their ship, which they did gladly, though not cruelly, as if they acted through their leader's good mood. Their contempt for the disinherited prince seemed momentarily gone, and laughed as contentedly as their commander as they tied Paris' arms together with thick rope and led him away. Paris looked back at Tenedos as he want, who was smiling and waving goodbye. Paris felt tears well up again. He'd only known the gentle gardener for a few hours, but he was his only friend in this harsh Greek world, and now he needed one more than ever. Tenedos must have caught his baleful expression, because he yelled after him cheerfully;

"Have heart, my little prince!" and Paris almost chuckled himself at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. He thought about Briseis as he was marched briskly down to the ships. Would Clytemnestra feel as though she should be punished because of her late husband's desire for her? There would be no way for him to even try to help her now- not that he'd even done a good job of it before, he thought contemptuously. Perhaps if he asked…

"Achilles!" he shouted at the warrior, who was far ahead of the band of the myrmidons escorting Paris "Achilles! Wait!"

"So Ho!" Exclaimed one of the soldiers "The pretty little Trojan longs for his master already!" Paris didn't make a retort, he only looked to Achilles, who stopped and turned around, bemused.

"What is it?" he called.

"What about my cousin, who is still inside?" Paris demanded.

"What about her?" Achilles pretended not to understand.

"You promised!" Paris became indignant. "You promised me last night that you would protect her! That was the only reason that I-"

"Promised you?" Achilles guffawed back at him. "I have no obligation to keep a promise made to a prisoner of war." He paused "Especially one made in the heat of passion."

Catching his meaning, the entire company of Myrmidons burst into riotous laughter and jeering, and Paris' cheeks flushed hot with the humiliation of it as he bowed his head and let a few tears slip down his face. It was all too true. A promise made to a slave didn't have to be kept – something he'd known since his early teenage years when he'd promised a slave girl his age that he would marry her if she slept with him, a proposition she'd earlier refused on account of her still having been a virgin. After the deed was done, of course, he'd explained to her that he really couldn't marry her. She'd run off crying, and made enough noise for several people to see her leaving his chambers. By morning, everyone in the palace knew of her shame and she'd been so humiliated that she begged the King's permission to work on one of his many country estates.

Hector had been livid, Paris remembered it well

"You fornicating brat!" he'd fumed, when Paris was sent to him by Priam to be 'dealt with' (as, secretly, Priam could never bear to punish Paris in any way, with exception of the horse incident) "You ruined that poor girl's life!"

"Oh, please," He'd replied nonchalantly "She wasn't complaining when I-"

"Do not finish that sentence. How could you, Paris? How could you make such a promise without any intention of keeping it, for such a shallow reason?"

At the time, Paris had wanted to point out that it wasn't his fault that the beautiful girl had so persistently denied him, and that that had made him all the more desperate and determined to have her, because he didn't think it would go over very well with his big brother.

"Come on, Hector. It was really her own fault. I'm a prince; I never could have married her even if I'd wanted to. She should have been smart enough to-"

Hector had hit him then, not at all hard, but he'd never done it before. Paris was barely able to bite back tears.

"I…I don't even know that to do with you, Paris. You don't even understand why this is serious, why you should be sorry. I don't know if you ever will. I hope…I hope that you never truly fall in love with anyone. If you did, the gods would have a good time showing you a thing or two about pain."

Paris sighed. Hector had been right; the gods were indeed having a good time showing him what pain was. Now he knew how that poor girl had felt, the degradation of it. Of being so lowly that if someone superior wronged you in this fashion it was your fault for being ignorant. The shame was yours, not theirs. Trying to block out the jovial, lewd taunts of the soldiers, Paris did his best to comfort himself thinking of the girl. He could not remember her name, but she had been given permission to serve at an estate on the other side of Mount Ida. She probably fell in love with some kind farm boy, who saved up enough silver to buy her freedom and married her, and they'd had a lot of cute little children that looked after their sheep. They wouldn't have been in the city when the Greeks had come. They were still safe and happy in their little farm house. But Paris' mind was still plagued. How was it that Hector had been ale to protect an entire country of people, and he could not even protect Briseis?

By the time he was finished picturing the little story in his mind, he had already been led onto one of the Myrmidon vessels, and down below decks, where he was made to sit down on a little bench and have his feet shacked to the wall. He sat quietly as he was chained, although it was completely unnecessary. Where would he run off to, in the middle of the ocean? He smiled. Well…perhaps there was one person that might be happy to receive him should he decide to take a swim. But the gods themselves didn't know what Oenone got herself into. Sometimes, when she and Paris had been lovers, she would disappear for days on end, and never tell anyone where she'd been.

Oenone had been the one lover that Hector had actually approved of, because she knew how to 'keep Paris in line'. It was true. Paris had been so smitten with Oenone that he had literally been willing to do anything to make her happy. He certainly hadn't had time for any mischief whilst he was dancing to the sea nymph's tune. Paris realized that he hadn't thought of her in a long while, and that he missed her. Missed the simple life they could have had together.

Inevitably, his thoughts drifted back to his brother. All the things they had done together, all the things Hector had done for him. Paris had never known Hecuba, his mother, but Hector had made up for it as far as he was concerned. Hector had been the one to teach Paris how to walk, and rocked him to sleep as a baby. They played together and ate together and whenever Paris was afraid he slept in His big brother's bed. During Paris' infancy his big brother trusted almost no one else with him, save Priam and a few female relatives, and when Paris was held, it was usually by him. Paris' first words had been battered attempts at 'Hector' and 'Brother' although in the end he actually managed 'big' first. In retrospect, Paris saw that Hector had given him everything. Knowledge, nurturing, protection. Had there ever been even one occasion when Paris had helped him?

Ah yes. There was that time…

"I love Andromache, truly and honestly, but still…we have not been able to have a child together." Hector was miserable with it, and it was tearing Paris apart like nothing in the world had.

"Do…you think that you are impotent? I am sorry for suggesting it, but there are potions they have that can-"

"I am not impotent, Paris."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am positive." Paris wanted badly to question this- for the only way his big brother could be absolutely sure he was not impotent would be that he'd gotten some woman pregnant. But now was decidedly not the time.

"But then…Andromache…do you think she could be barren? It seems unlikely. She is such a beautiful and healthy woman." Hector was silent for a long time, and then turned to face Paris.

"Father has decreed that if Andromache is not with child by the end of this year…I must divorce her and wed again." Paris' mouth dropped open and his eyes bulged.

"You can't…you can't be serious. Father would never do such a…he can't mean that…you…you love her! That…that's not right, Hector. You love her, that's not right!" Hector sighed.

"You are very young, baby brother. You do not understand the importance of my having an heir. But still…" he paused again, staring intently into his brother's eyes. "If there were a way for you to help me in this…would you?"

"Big brother!" Paris cried, eyes welling with tears. "How can you ask? You know I will always do anything I can for you!" sincerely touched with his little brother's adamance, Hector pulled Paris into his arms and embraced him tightly. "But then…you mean to say there is something that I can do? Tell me." Hector let him go and stood.

"Come with me." Paris immediately obeyed, following Hector all the way to the temple of Demeter. They went below, where all the sacred rituals and rites were performed. They stopped in front of a large stone table outfitted with restraints. Hector took Paris' hands in his own. "This is the solution father and his advisors came up with. They seem to think that since she has denied us so far…the goddess wishes for one innocence in exchange for another. To obtain an innocent life, we much sacrifice another."

Paris couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You…you and father…" he began shakily. "You and father would kill me in order to get Andromache with child?"

"No! Never!" Hector shouted indignantly. "Paris, you misunderstand the nature of the sacrifice. It is not your life that must be taken, but your virginity." Paris face moved between confusion and embarrassment.

"Hector, you know well that I am far from being a version even though…I am young enough that I should be."

"Ah, yes. You've slept with many women."

"Yes."

"More than you could count."

"I could count them…if I wanted to." Paris retorted.

"But have you slept with a man before?" Paris thought about it.

"No…I don't think so, now that you ask. I suppose I just haven't gotten around to it yet. Women are very distracting." Paris stopped, putting two and two together. "You mean…"

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to. But father said that if I agreed to perform this ritual, he would give me more time with Andromache, and I-"

"I've already told you that I'd do it. Don't you remember?"

"Of course. But then, you didn't know what it was that helping me would entail."

"It doesn't matter, Hector. I said I would do what I may to help you, and I shall." He said it stoutly, and he meant it, although he did inquire. "Who will be…presiding over the ceremony?"

"Well…I volunteered to perform the rites, actually, with the priests and priestesses here as witness. The only people they let stand in for an actual priest is the King or his heir. So if it isn't one of us, it would have to be the presiding elder. And well…I didn't think you'd want…" he trailed off awkwardly.

"I don't, you're right, I'd rather it be you. And…thank you." Paris said. "When do we do this?"

"We can do it now. By the law of the temple you must be bathed and purified by the elders and the acolytes, but they won't be stepping in once that's through, except with prayers. Are you ready?"

"As ready, I suppose, as I will ever be." Paris smiled up at his brother to let him know that he was fine, and that he truly was glad of the chance to help him. Hector fetched the priests of the temple and all of a sudden there was a rush of solemn activity. Several acolytes, both male and female, all dressed in white, removed Paris' clothing and shoes, and let him off to be bathed. The temple bath was smaller than Paris had imagined it, but the acolytes had put lavender and chamomile into the water, and he felt wonderfully relaxed, even with innumerable hands touching all over his nakedness. The acolytes half-entered the water themselves, so that they could suspend the prince in the water and bathe him thoroughly. At some point Paris noticed that all of the elders were watching intently, making sure no errors were made, and blatantly approving of his body. Yet the humiliation he felt was half-hearted, even as the acolytes washed his private parts, and deliberately coaxed him to hardness under the hot water.

The acolytes lifted him up out of the water and lay him down on a bed of cloths, then began to rub precious oils into his skin. The oil tingled and seemed to heighten his arousal, yet also calm him further as the bath had. They spared no part of him, the myriad of hands massaging his belly and chest, his upper thighs and nipples, his penis and his buttocks and even his anus, which had never been touched before. Paris felt as though he should cry out, but felt so calm and heavy that he gave a non-committed gasp, marveling at how erotic this ceremony was.

The priests stepped forward then to examine his anus, and see if he was tight enough to truly be an innocent. Paris felt a little bit offended, and he could see Hector off to the side out of the corner of his eyes, fists clenched looking murderous. They had explained to him that it was a necessity, that the ramifications would be severe if the rite was performed with a non-virginal sacrifice, but he still felt as though his word should be more than enough. The presiding elder gave his approval, and the acolytes carried him back to the table and lay him down on it. He gasped again, because it was cold, but calmed when Hector came near.

"Don't be afraid. I will not hurt you."

"I'm not afraid, Hector. I know you won't." Hector murmured his own silent prayer as he disrobed, and Paris tried very hard not to appreciate his brother's nakedness b too /b much. However, he was unsure as to whether he succeeded, because he'd never seen such splendor in the flesh. Hector looked like a marble statue of Apollo, except that every perfect muscle moved and flexed. He turned Paris over onto his belly, and Paris heart the priests mumbling something he couldn't discern.

This time, Paris did cry out as what could only be Hector's massive organ slipping into him gently as possible.

"Shh…" Hector soothed, but did not cease his advances until he had buried himself to the hilt in Paris' virgin passage. "Are you ready for more?" he whispered.

"Yes." Hector slipped his hand around and under Paris' belly to find his still-hard penis, and as he began to stroke it, he also started to pump in and out of Paris' tightness. Paris moaned as he felt something deep within him pushed at, and the feeling gave him immense pleasure of a sort he had not come across before.

"Oh, Ohhh what is tha-" But Hector placed one hand over his mouth for a few seconds. Apparently there was no talking allowed. Paris didn't care as long as Hector kept stroking him and pounding that…whatever it was…inside him. The nature of their pairing absolved Paris of any guilt he may have felt for receiving such sexual pleasure at the hands of his brother, and though there was a sharp pain along with that pleasure, the latter was all he let his brother knew he felt. Was this how it was for a woman her first time?

The pace quickened, and Paris understood what Hector was feeling. He wondered if he could grip his brother as the wife of that visiting Egyptian dignitary had him. Though it hurt, he tensed up the muscles in his sphincter and delighted in the harsh groan he drew from Hector. Apparently, he could. A few more tries at that had Hector spilling into him as he himself came onto the stone table, and at once the acolytes tended to them both. Taking them away to separate chambers, praying over them, cleaning them off and sending them to sleep.

When Paris woke up, he was in his room at the Palace, fully clothed in fresh garments. Had they drugged him back at the temple? He moved and realized that his nether regions were a bit sore. He wondered who had carried him all this way and dressed him until he turned around and saw something at his side.

It was his horse. Not a real one of course, but a soft, miniature replica of Titan, the first Horse Hector had ever tamed and ridden. Paris had wept and wept when he'd discovered that Hector was going to learn to ride a horse without him. Hector had had the little stuffed toy made and presented it to his little brother as a gift until such a time has his then toddler limbs were strong enough for Hector to teach him to ride as well. Paris grabbed Little Titan and pulled him close.

Exactly three weeks later, the castle was in song about the news that Princess Andromache was pregnant.

At dinner one evening soon after, a mission to Sparta was proposed, as a gesture of Peace with their King, Menelaus, whom the Trojans had warred against many times. Many advisors and courtiers suggested Hector to be the one to go. Priam, always eager to stop useless bloodshed, agreed with the idea heartily and asked Hector if he would go. Hector, of course, acquiesced.

"Maybe I could go along too, Father." Paris chimed in hopefully. "I have never been able to travel across the sea before." Priam frowned.

"I am not sure I want you so far away from the safety of your home, Paris."

"It's Troy that will be unsafe if Hector is going to be leaving." He said with a smile. The court laughed good-naturedly at his open adoration.

"Still, I don't know. It doesn't seem like a ...prudent idea." Paris didn't understand his father's refusal.

"Why ever not? What could be the harm in my going along? I wouldn't be a bother, right Hector?" But Hector didn't even look at him. He looked to Priam, then away.

"I'm rather in agreement with father. You do have a way of finding trouble."

"Zeus' breath!" Paris swore, feeling jilted. "What am I going to do, sink the ship?"

"We're more concerned with you sinking some Greek's wife!" came the voice of an unknown courtier, followed by a copious amount of laughter. Paris looked up to find Hector concealing laughter as well, and felt a sinking feeling himself.

"I see," said Paris, standing. "Well, if that's your will, then stay I shall. Excuse me." Be bowed to his father, and to Hector, and left with an uncharacteristically stoic look on his face that shocked everyone. Paris complained when he didn't get his way. This behavior was erratic at best.

"Paris, wait!" Hector called after him, and for the first time in his life, Paris did not go to him. He caught up, of course, and grabbed his arm. "Paris, come now, it's not so bad-"

"What's not so bad?" he snapped. "That everyone in Troy thinks all I'm good for is sex? I would have thought you at least would have defended me, and not laughed at whatever rude noble that was back at dinner. But then, given the nature of the only kind of aid you've b ever /b solicited me for, I suppose I ought not be surprised you're in agreement." Paris yanked his hand out of Hector's grip and returned to his room. He wanted to toss Little Titan into the hearth, but didn't have the heart to, so he settled on stuffing him roughly under the pillows.

When Hector had given Paris what he thought was a suitable amount of time to steam, he came into his room to find him eating honey cakes sulkily. He sat on the bed beside him.

"May I have one, baby brother?" he asked gently, with a smile.

"You may not." Paris replied coldly. Hector tried not to laugh.

"Oh Paris, please don't be angry with me. This is a very important mission. It's true we always manage to beat back the Spartans, or whatever Greeks come over here with unsavory ambitions, but we also always lose lives in the process. Good, Trojan soldiers who are my comrades and friends. Do you understand why becoming allies wherever we can is the best option?"

"Of course I do. I don't want our countrymen dying any more than you do. But I do want to see the world. I don't like being held up in the city walls like a prisoner. What harm could I do?"

"There is a vast amount of things you might do that could jeopardize this mission.

"But…" Paris stopped. "Hector, I love you. You were everything to me as a child. I would be so lost without you. I would have thought that maybe…that maybe you would want me along. But I am also Father's servant- and yours. If you want me to stay, I shall do so, and not complain of it any more."

Hector seemed surprised at Paris' level of maturity. He patted Paris on the head. Reached his hand under the pillow and retrieved Little Titan as though he knew that he'd be there, and smacked Paris with it playfully, then left.

He was impressed with Paris, and so was Priam when he told him what Paris had said. They'd both agreed that Paris might be mature enough to go along…

But they had been wrong.

Paris had fallen asleep in his fetters, and that is how Achilles found him when he went below decks to tell Paris that Briseis had been given a position as the Queen's handmaiden, and would be safe and well-cared for. He watched Paris a bit, and saw a tear slide down his face.

Gods! The boy even wept in his sleep!

"Eudoras!" Achilles snapped at the man by his side. "Did you let the soldiers manhandle him, because I told you not to-"

"We did not, my lord, I assure you."

"Well then why is he still crying?" he demanded, feeling angry at the ungratefulness of it.

"My lord," Eudoras said reasonably. "The boy has had a hard time these past few weeks."

But this logic did not please Achilles. He had no use for a sullen slave boy. None whatsoever.

All of a sudden, Paris' eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Achilles, his master. Achilles stared back at him, looking as if his good mood were gone- but Paris had the remedy for that. He smiled up at him brightly and inclined his head politely as he could not kneel.

"Master," he acknowledged. Achilles' blue eyes widened in shock.

It was true that he would spend the rest of his existence in thrall to his brother's killer, and he dreaded it. Dreaded that he would never be free again. Dreaded that he would not be able to love whom he pleased, or even pair with whom he pleased. Dreaded that he could not wake up and walk by the sea when he couldn't sleep at night. Dreaded that he would never again feel secure or protected. Dreaded that he would probably, at times, be forced to warm the barbarian's bed. Dreaded that he didn't really dread that part as much as he should.

But...this was suitable punishment, he thought as he smiled up at his master again, and he would bear it humbly.