Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC and parts of the storyline. All rights go to Wolfgang Peterson, the wonderful director of Troy.
A/N: Only a few more chapters until the movie really begins! I'm so excited. Hello to my new favs/followers: Tottering Fool, Wildcat717, Bluemachine, pentis17, Sarah Salvatore Everdeen, SilencEloquentBvbgoddess, my-brain-feels-funny, slaneville0615, anime-aquarion, Percilla, and Hayley-Belle. Hector and Panthea will finally meet in this chapter and sadly Achilles will be departing from Sparta
Response to Percilla (Guest): Thank you for reviewing. I'm glad you like it! I will try and update very two weeks but school just started so it may be delayed sometimes.
WARNING: MATURE CONTENT
Ch. 6
Tis not, Celia, in our power
To say how long our love will last;
It may be we within this hour
May lose those joys we now do taste;
The Blessèd, that immortal be,
From change in love are only free.
Then since we mortal lovers are,
Ask not how long our love will last;
But while it does, let us take care
Each minute be with pleasure past:
Were it not madness to deny
To live because we're sure to die?
To a Lady Asking Him How Long He Would Love Her, Sir George Etherege
It was the last day of the Myrmidons' stay in Sparta. Menelaus had decided to take his guests to one of his favorite spots near the palace, a secluded beach area where the royals and courtiers could relax in the sun as they sat near the Aegean's edge. The gods had blessed Sparta with a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly over the water and a light breeze could be felt, taking away the heat of the sun momentarily. The water was calm and translucent, making the sand at the bottom of the sea to be seen clearly.
Panthea and Hermione had been wading in the shallow water, both wearing delicate white peplos, their white blond and golden hair hanging loosely around their shoulders. The bottom of their garments were soaked, but that did not stop them from their fun. The girls were lightly splashing each other in the water, Hermione giggling whenever Panthea splattered water towards her direction. Panthea joined in with her sister's laughter, enjoying the moment of sisterly bonding between the two.
The girl's parents, the Myrmidons, and the members of the court were either lounging in chairs with tents above them or were walking along the shore line discussing affairs of Sparta or gossip of the court. Helen sat in her chair proudly as she was waited on by her maids and slaves, one girl refilling her cup with wine as it was emptied and another girl fanning her so she would not be too warm in the hot sun. Her eyes were vigilant as she watched the girls play in the water, a small smile on her lips. Looking over at her husband, she saw Menelaus talking animatedly with Achilles and other men about the glories of war. She rolled her eyes at the topic. That's all Menelaus cared about.
Watching Achilles for a moment, Helen's eyes narrowed at the man as she saw him dart his eyes from Menelaus to the girls and then back again. That man could never cease to irritate her even if the gods had intervened. She was quite satisfied that he was leaving Sparta, no longer having to deal with the man eyeing Panthea constantly and Menelaus discussing marriage proposals with him. Thankfully, nothing had been arranged and so Helen had an opportunity to sway Menelaus's opinion still.
Taking another sip from her chalice, Helen rose from her seat, swatting away her ladies in the process. Her feet made tiny prints in the sand as she walked and she was careful not to step on any shells. She made her way towards her daughters, giggling as Hermione almost fell into the water. The girls were now chasing each other, the water splashing up onto their peplos and soaking their bodies. Th sun shined brightly off her girls' hair, making them seem almost goddess-like as halos surrounded their heads.
Placing the chalice on the sand, Helen stepped into the shallows of the water. She pulled her peplos up so it was above her ankles, sighing as she was relieved a little bit from the heat. Hermione ran past her as Panthea chased her sister around her mother, grinning as Hermione tried to get Helen to join in. Helen complied with her daughter, running away from Panthea as she held on to Hermione's hand. Panthea followed the pair, that is until she tripped over a rock she had not seen the water.
A surprised gasp was heard from Panthea as she fell into the water, her peplos tangling around her legs and making it hard for her to catch herself better. She fell on her hip, her entire body now soaking wet as well as her hair. Several of the courtiers had noticed her predicament, some giggling at their princess's clumsiness, others rising from their positions in chaises or on the beach to make sure she had not injured herself.
Panthea blushed a deep red as she looked up at the courtiers, embarrassed that she had been so clumsy. The water came up to her waist as she pushed herself up and untangled her peplos from legs. Helen came running over to her daughter, Hermione trailing behind her.
"Are you alright sweetheart?" Helen questioned her eldest daughter. She bent down to look over her daughter's body for any injury, a worried expression on her face.
"I… I think I'm alright," Panthea replied meekly. The only thing she really cared about was how the entire court of Sparta had just witnessed this incident. Her face became more heated just thinking about it.
Reaching down, Helen tried to help her daughter up from her position on the ocean floor. Pushing herself up, Panthea came to stand next her mother. She was wobbly at first, trying to regain her balance. She tried to take a step forward, but was met with a searing pain from her leg. Looking down, she realized her peplos had been cut and gash had formed on her lower calf. She grimaced at the sight, the blood making her feel uncomfortable. She may have been trained to be a warrior, but blood still made her nauseous.
Panthea's vision became blurry as she looked at the cut, her body swaying as she swallowed down bile that had risen in her throat. Her already alabaster came became paler and she began to shake. Helen looked concerned as she held her daughter against her breast. Looking up, Helen noticed Menelaus hastening towards them, Achilles on his heels as well as the other men he had been conversing with. And it was a blessing that they had for Panthea began to faint.
At first, everything went dark to Panthea. It was if her eyes had closed on their volition. She tried to speak, but her words were caught in her throat. Time began to slow as she fell backwards. It felt like forever as her body began its descent to the ground. Achilles sped like a phantom through the men to catch Panthea before she hit the ground, no one noticing him until he held Panthea in his arms.
Helen was crying, fretting over her daughter's health. She didn't even care that it was Achilles that held her daughter. She ran her hand over her daughter's forehead, murmuring words to her that no one could hear. Menelaus began commanding his men to bring a carriage to them to send Panthea back to the palace. The combination of the sun and her injury proved too much of her and he did not want her delicate body to be harmed anymore.
Achilles looked down upon Panthea, his features unreadable to all. She was cold to the touch despite the sun beating down on their bodies. His fingers caressed the skin of her shoulders, though no one could tell. Menelaus then appeared beside him and Achilles passed the princess to her father. Both parents now cast their watchful gaze over their daughter. Hermione also seemed distressed for her sister. She clutched her mother's gown between her fingers, silent tears falling down her face.
The men hurried to follow their king's orders, fearing what would happen if his orders were not carried out quickly. A carriage soon arrived, driven by two bay horses. A soldier opened the door for the royals, Helen entering first and then followed by Hermione. Once she was situated in the carriage, Menelaus lay Panthea in her mother's arms carefully. His face was one of worry, an expression that was seen rarely. He waved the driver off and watched as his women were taken back to the Spartan palace with their guards close behind. Menelaus soon followed on his warhorse, his men and the Myrmidons following behind.
No one noticed Achilles though and he was glad for it. Once again Panthea had managed to get herself stuck in a situation she should not be in. First, she was cornered by bandits in the woods and now she happened to injure herself while playing in the ocean. The gods had decided an odd set of events for the princess. His face was set in stone, appearing neither concerned nor angry as he was feeling at that moment. His features were trained to remain in warrior mode much like his body.
The men hurried quickly to the palace, the horses kicking up sand in their wake as they traveled from the beach to more stable ground. Menelaus was pushing his warhorse to the limit, urging the stallion to go faster and faster even though the animal could not. The horse broke out in a sweat, breathing deeply as he galloped across the Spartan plains. The other horses were in the same condition as their riders tried to keep up with the Spartan King.
Once the company arrived at the palace, Menelaus helped to remove his daughter from the carriage. He dismounted from the stallion quickly and reached for Panthea in the carriage as Helen tried to maneuver her daughter's body towards him. She was still unconscious, but she was breathing normally, making it appear as if she was sleeping. Menelaus cradled her gently in his arms, making sure she was not uncomfortable as he carried her through the corridors to her chambers. Helen and Hermione both followed and the guards had dispersed around the palace to find the physician. Menelaus's court as well as the Myrmidons had been left to their own devices for a family matter was at hand. Even Achilles had to stay away, his being forcing himself to remain with his men and focus on something other than his little warrior.
It was excruciating for Achilles, to have to wait and not do anything for hours. His men and himself refreshed themselves after the ride back to the palace before they again practiced in the training arena and then prepared themselves for dinner. Achilles seemed uninterested in it all. His mind kept thinking about Panthea, how fragile and weak she looked. The cut on her leg appeared more serious then he thought. It was deep and looked painful. Panthea would probably have a hard time walking for a while as the cut ran from her ankle to the mid part of her calf. His fists clenched and unclenched as he thought about it.
Of course, there had been some humor in the matter. Panthea had appeared more embarrassed then anything, her face a deep red as she looked at Achilles and the other courtiers after she had fallen into the ocean. Her hair was a tangled mess, plastered to her face and sticking up at odd angles. Her peplos clang to her body, making her curves more apparent. The material was almost see-through when Achilles cast his heated gaze on her. Catching her eye, he winked, making the princess even more self-conscious. It was when she stood, that he noticed the gash on her leg. And when he looked at her facial expression as she looked at her cut, he became uneasy. Her red face had turned white immediately, making her skin take an unhealthy look. When she began to waver, he realized her injury had affected her more than normal. Men were accustomed to cuts on their bodies and blood due to battle, but to a woman, only her bleeding was normal, though he wouldn't know anything about Panthea's courses. The blood was affecting her just as the young men in battle were taken over by their fears of death.
And now the mighty Achilles paced in his room, worried about a girl of all things. No one would have expected this in a thousand years. Not even the gods. He never paid this much attention to women, using them for pleasure and leaving them in the morning. He was careful though, making sure no little Achilles would come of his relations. However, Panthea had changed him, affected him much more then he would have liked. It was if she was a disease that he could not get rid of, one that had remained in his bloodstream and took over his senses. He did not mind though. She was his warrior, his princess, his gift from the gods.
A knock was then heard on the door to Achilles' chambers. His head jerked in the direction of the sound, interrupting his thoughts. He briskly walked to the door before opening it and coming face to face with Patroclus and Eudorus. They both looked uncomfortable under the gaze of their lord, Patroclus shifting his feet while Eudorus dare not meet the stark gaze of Achilles.
"My lord…" Eudorus stuttered at first. The warrior collected himself before speaking again. "The lord Menelaus will not be joining us for dinner. Him and his wife will remain with their daughter for the time being. She was checked over by the physicians who are trying to stich her leg up at the moment. Menelaus is there to hold her down."
It was then that a loud scream could be heard down the hall. Achilles flinched at the noise, his eyes closing in agony as his heard Panthea's cries bounce off the walls. Too many times had he heard that sound during war. Thankfully, it was not too serious of an injury. Only infection would need to be worried about and if Panthea's bandages were changed every so often, she would avoid that fate.
Achilles nodded at Eudorus' words before the trio made their way towards the grand hall. Even if Menelaus was not in attendance, he would remain a hospitable host to his guests and offer them all possible accommodations to make sure they enjoyed their remaining hours left in Sparta. Achilles remained bored at dinner, sipping from his chalice nonchalantly and barely touching his food. Instead of wearing his traditional armor, he had donned a simple blue chiton and gold sandals. His eyes glazed over the hall, rolling his eyes at some of the courtiers' actions while trying to listen to Patroclus discuss some matter regarding when they returned to Aegina.
It was then that Achilles spotted Menelaus enter the hall, dark circles under his eyes but a smile across his face. The king of Sparta was back to his usual self after the occurrences of that afternoon, greeting his men and guests in the usual manner. Upon reaching Achilles, the warrior took a seat next to him before ordering a servant boy to fetch him some wine. When the boy returned with his wine, Menelaus chugged down the entire contents of the chalice before holding his cup out to be refilled again. He was commanding in his actions, his voice gruff and forceful. The servant boy's hands shook as he refilled his lord's cup before being dismissed. The lad scurried off without a second glance.
Menelaus sipped from his chalice again before relaxing his muscles and leaning forwards so his elbows rested on his knees. Turning to Achilles he began to speak. "One day, when or if you have children, you'll understand what it's like to have a daughter. How you wish her pain could become yours even if multiplied." He spoke thoughtfully before taking a gulp from his chalice. He continued speaking, "I've heard screams before, the screams of by men in battle as they bled to death. The screams of my wife as she gave birth to my children. It's nothing compared to my child's cries, the continuation of your bloodline."
Achilles nodded at his ally's words, patting the older man on the back in understanding. "I cannot fathom what you have gone through, my lord. Maybe one day I will understand." Achilles may not have understood what it was like to be a father, but he did know what it felt like to have his heart pained. He held his tongue though, knowing the warrior would not be pleased if he broached the subject of courting Panthea to Menelaus at that moment. That could wait for another time in the near future. Menelaus appreciated the other soldier's words and the men clang their drinks together in a brotherly gesture.
"To the gods," Menelaus spoke. Achilles shook his head, agreeing with Menelaus, but said nothing. He was not one to reverence the gods for everything.
The rest of the night went by fairly quick, the Spartan court enjoying the festivities with their king and the Myrmidons while Helen remained with their daughters. Achilles partook in the revelries as was expected of him, but his heart was not in it. All he wanted to do was to be in the presence of his Panthea and hold her in his arms during his last hours in Sparta. Looking over at his men, he saw Patroclus beginning to nod off. He chuckled at the boy, knowing he was not accustomed to being up so late nor partaking in the drinking activities. Locking eyes with Eudorus, he pointed his head towards the door. Eudorus obeyed his master's orders, rousing Patroclus and taking the boy to his rooms. Achilles soon followed, beckoning his men to do the same and bidding Menelaus goodnight.
Achilles footsteps echoed off the halls of the Spartan palace as he made his way to his temporary sleeping chambers. The cool sea breeze hit his skin as it blew through the hall, making noise in what would have been a usually silent corridor. Turning, his made his way down another hall to his room, halting when he saw a door open to Panthea's chambers. Hiding behind a pillar, he spotted Helen leaving her daughter's room. The youthful Queen appeared tired, her appearance bedraggled as her feet dragged her to her husband's chambers. Her golden hair was limp, her eyes were dull, and her always spotless peplos was covered in blood and sweat. Her ladies followed her, probably to help the queen prepare for bed and to get rid of the soiled garments. They had already helped Panthea to bed by the look of things and it seemed Helen would be spending time in her husband's rooms.
Stealthily, Achilles removed himself from behind the pillar, making sure his movements made no sound. Slowly, he made his way towards Panthea's door, listening for any noises coming from Helen's rooms. Only the chitter chatter of her ladies could be heard as they tried to coax their lady to calm down and bathe before going to bed. His footsteps were inaudible against the marble floor as he inched his way further towards the door. Reaching his hand out, he pushed the door open, hoping it would not scrape against the floor or creak as it was opened. It didn't. He held the door open enough so his body could fit through the door, effortlessly sliding his body through the crack. He closed the door unobtrusively behind him, leaning his back against it as he looked into the chamber.
A fire burned brightly on the right side of the room, the wood crackling as it was burned by the embers. It gave an orange glow to the room, contrasting with the black sky bright with stars. Casting his gaze across the room, he spotted his little warrior staring back at him with her blue eyes. She was not asleep like he thought she would be. Instead she studied him curiously, not moving from her current position on her bed. Her peplos had been changed, her damp hair indicated she had been bathed. Her stitched leg was propped up on a pillow as she laid on her side. It was red and looked irritated, but the wound was no longer bleeding. Poultices had been placed on her tableside so she could tend to them herself, probably not wanting a physician to come in her rooms every so often to change the bandages.
Achilles made his way towards Panthea, her eyes watching his movements as he neared the bed. He bent down, leaning on his knees so he could be eye level with her. Reaching out, his calloused hand brushed against the soft skin of her cheek. Panthea closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his touch against her skin. Achilles smiled at the gesture before speaking to his little warrior.
"You know how to give me a fright my lady," he said cheekily. "Are you feeling better now that they have your leg stitched?" Panthea nodded at his words, placing her hand over his. Achilles tone then turned serious. "I heard your scream down the hall. I hope you were not in too much pain."
Panthea blushed at his words, realizing that the whole entire palace had probably heard her cries of pain as well as her mother's loud sobbing as she fretted over Panthea. "I didn't mean to cause anyone trouble," she spoke softly, casting her eyes downwards in embarrassment. Achilles chuckled at her words, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"You did not little warrior." Achilles moved his hand from her cheek to her arm, rubbing in soft, circular motions. "You only worried me. Menelaus and Helen were as well. It's only natural." He continued stroking Panthea's arm, looking down at Panthea's injured leg. She fidgeted as he looked at it, uncomfortable with his staring. Looking back up at her, he said comfortingly, "It will heal. There may be a scar, but it will not mar your skin badly if the dressings are changed as they are supposed. You have nothing to worry about Panthea." Panthea smiled at the great warrior in front of her. She trusted him and knew his words were true and sincere.
It was then that Achilles leaned forward, testing the waters as his face stopped inches away from Panthea's. She shivered at the close proximity, letting in a deep breath as her eyes moved from Achille's piercing eyes to his lips and back up again. She had never made the first move before, Achilles often engaging first. Her eyes looked into his innocently as she bit her bottom lip. She urged herself to meet him the rest of the way, closing her eyes as their lips met softly. Their mouths moved together in sync, Achilles reaching forward to hold the back of her head in the palm of his hand while the other grasped her waist.
Panthea whimpered at the contact, holding on tightly to Achilles shoulders with her hands. She could feel the heat of his body as he loomed over her, menacingly and protectively. He was like a predator and a protector combined, eliciting emotions from Panthea that only he could make her feel. She felt dominated as he plunged his tongue into her mouth, exploring every corner and crevice as he did the same with his hands on her body. He then slid her nightgown down the length of her arms and upper torso, exposing her chest to his greedy eyes. He scanned every inch of her body, lust overtaking him minute by minute. Panthea let him look, looking at the expression on his face. She laid her arms by her side and did not try to block her body from his view.
Achilles descended on Panthea like a starving man, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. When he bit down or nibbled on her soft flesh, Panthea would make the most beautiful sounds fall from her lips, making Achilles grin. He settled between her legs, being careful not to budge her injured leg, and lifted her nightgown up the length of her body until the material rested on her upper thighs. He grasped the unwounded leg and positioned it around his waist, his hand rubbing up and down the exposed skin. Panthea explored his body, her hands moving of their own accord. Her nails dug into the skin of his chiseled chest, earning a growl from the warrior above her. In response, Achilles placed one of Panthea's rosy pebbles in his mouth making her pull him closer as his attentions turned to her breasts. Switching his mouth to the other breast, he palmed the one he had abandoned for that small sliver of time.
Panthea cried out in ecstasy, her back arching off her bed as she let the pleasurable sensations run through her body. It was as if a fire had engulfed her soul. Her noises urged Achilles onward as he moved his hand on her upper thigh closer to her intimate place between her legs. She froze for a moment, her hand darting out from its position on Achille's chest to his wrist. He halted then, his eyes filled with desire as he looked into her frightened doe-like ones.
"It will not hurt," Achilles spoke huskily. Bringing his face next to Panthea's ear, he nibbled on the soft skin. Panthea shuddered at the feeling. "Let me pleasure you," he spoke sensuously.
Achilles then continued the movements of his hand, Panthea having released her grip on his wrist and instead, had locked her arms around his neck as she pulled him down to kiss her. She was trying to distract herself from what he was about to do, that much was apparent to Achilles. He chuckled at the naïve maiden underneath him. He had never had a girl this inexperienced before, but then again, that was why Panthea was special to him. To hadn't been corrupted by the ways of the royal courts and with a mother like hers, she was sure to keep her maidenhead before marriage.
Tentatively, Achilles ran his fingers over the folds of Panthea's center. She bucked her hips up, biting on her lip as she accustomed herself to the feeling of his hand between her thighs. Achilles removed himself from her lips, staring down as he watched her facial expression change as he touched her. She breathed deeply as he gently moved his fingers over her folds before circling her clit. She began to whine breathlessly as he continued the motions, relishing in the way she was thrashing beneath him. Achilles then moved his hand to her opening, his pointer finger running over it for a moment before he plunged inside. Panthea gave out a loud cry as he entered her, her body jerking upwards. Achilles groaned as well, his finger sliding in and out of her wet folds. She felt just as he thought she would, tight, slick, and soft. It was as if she was the softest of silks.
Achilles pace became faster as his animalistic hunger took over, his finger quickening inside of Panthea. She began yelling his name out now as she gripped the sheets beneath her firmly. The pleasure he was giving her was so much. Overtaken by his own feelings, Achilles hand made his way under his chiton and grabbed his hard length. He began pumping himself, building himself up for release as he did Panthea. Panthea heard the noises that were coming from his actions, but paid no mind to them. She was lost in her own world as well. Within seconds, Panthea's climax came, her screaming out Achilles name in rapture. Achilles followed, roaring out his climax as his essence spilled onto the sheets below him. They both breathed deeply as they came down from their highs.
Removing his hand from his length and his finger from Panthea's core. Achilles hands rested on either side of Panthea as he laid on her between her legs. His head rested on her chest as his arms circled her waist. Panthea ran her hands through his golden mane as he listened to the sound of her heart thumping in her chest. Lifting his head up, the pair's eyes connected, both filled with happiness.
Reaching his hand forwards, Achilles hand stroked Panthea's cheek as he leaned in to press a chaste kiss on her lips. She smiled at the gesture, knowing what they had just done only brought them closer. Situating themselves, the two fell asleep together, Achilles resting behind Panthea. Her back was facing him as he held her tight against her chest, not wanting to let go for tomorrow would separate them.
The sun shone brightly in Panthea's chambers that morning, the light filtering through the opening that led to the balcony. It awakened Panthea from her slumber when it crossed her face. She opened her eyes, irritated that the light had appeared. Her vision was blurry at first, adjusting itself to her surroundings before becoming clear. Sitting up, she saw Achilles was gone, but the space beside her was still warm. He had just left to avoid being caught by Helen and the servants who would already be attending to their duties. A smile lit up her face as she thought about what had transpired between them the night before. Her leg was stinging, but it was nothing compared to the searing pain she had felt yesterday. She dressed the wound as she was supposed to before preparing for the day. Rising from her bed, Panthea stripped out of her nightgown before changing into an elegant blue peplos. The dress was held in place by two silver clips and a silver belt hung from her waist. She left her hair in a simple braid, not wanting her hair to be made elaborate that day. Soon after she finished readying herself, her mother and her ladies entered.
Helen and her head lady, Alexandra, were both surprised the princess was already awake and ready as she rarely woke early, choosing to sleep away the day. Helen went to embrace her daughter, examining her injury in the process. "Are you feeling better now sweetheart?" she questioned her eldest daughter. She had been worried sick all night, letting Menelaus comfort her which she never let him do.
"I am. It doesn't hurt as much now," Panthea answered meekly.
Helen nodded at her daughter's words. "Well, that is good." She then began leading her daughter to the door. "We must be off now. The Myrmidons are to leave within the next half hour and must bid them farewell before they depart." A frown appeared on Panthea's face before she turned it into a neutral one. Helen had caught the expression though, her mouth forming into a thin line indicating how she was not pleased with what she had just seen.
The group made their way through the walls of the Spartan palace before coming to the entrance. The grounds before the palace steps were in a frenzy. Carts were being packed, horses tacked, and orders were being yelled out across the courtyard. Menelaus was seen at the bottom of the steps embraced in a brotherly hug with the mighty Achilles.
"You and your Myrmidons are always welcome Achilles," Menelaus spoke. He enjoyed the man's company unlike Agamemnon who despised the warrior. Achilles nodded respectfully at the man's words before glancing behind the king of Sparta. Helen and Panthea both stood at the top of the palace steps, the princess looking beautiful as always. She gave him a gentle smile, blushing as his eyes darkened with desire. His jaw tightened just thinking about her naked beneath him. He turned away, taking a deep breath and getting control of his emotions before setting his gaze back on Menelaus's women who were descending the stairs.
"Your graces" Achilles spoke, bowing before Panthea and Helen. Helen eyed him suspiciously like she always did before standing next to Menelaus and leading him a few feet away, whispering to him in hushed tones. Panthea took that opportunity to move herself closer to Achilles, passing to him a golden chain she had hidden on herself. She gave it to him discreetly her hand brushing against his and depositing the trinket in it.
Whispering to Achilles, Panthea murmured, "To remind you of me." Her eyes were gloomy, a downcast expression on her face. "I don't not want you to go." She felt vulnerable in that moment, but she did not care. Her heart now belonged to Achilles and it was leaving with his departure. A tear trailed down her cheek before she brushed it off.
"I do not either my little warrior." Achilles sported a grim look. "I will wear this all the time so you will be with me always." Discreetly, he lifted Panthea's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to it. Panthea gave him a small smile in return. Hearing Eudorus call to him, he bid Panthea farewell before turning and mounting his warhorse. Once he was situated, he called out orders to his men to get in a formation before they took off. Galloping down the road, Achilles cast one more glance back at Panthea. She was still watching him, her white blond hair blowing in the wind. He then focused back at the task at hand. He had begun discussing his courtship of Panthea to Menelaus. Gods permitting, the king of Sparta would send the terms of their agreement to him soon.
Looking out on the horizon, Hector let out a sigh as he watched the waves crash against each other. Poseidon had blessed their journey so far, their ship having not encountered any storms or problems. He and his company, along with Paris, had set sail for their diplomatic mission to Sparta a few weeks ago and would arrive soon. A troubled look appeared on his countenance thinking about the conversation he had with Priam before they left Troy. Priam was still determined to make permanent ties with Sparta with a marriage contract along with their peace agreement. He had again guilted Hector into making it his duty as the heir to the Trojan throne to seek out another wife. However, Priam had agreed that if Hector disliked the girl that one of his other sons would be offered for the match.
Hector was not looking forward to the meeting as he would have his father's conversation on his mind as well as the fact that he would have to worry about Paris's extracurricular activities, otherwise known as bedding all women regardless of their marriage or social status. He did not want to deal with Paris's immature behavior, but Priam had insisted he go along anyways, thinking the trip would give Paris some type of responsibility. All he wanted to do was get this trip over with and be reunited with his wife and son.
Hearing the yells of the sailors brought him away from his thoughts. Land had been spotted, the coast of Sparta. Hector then descended onto the lower deck to change into his traditional armor. Paris was present, changing into his formal attire as well. Speaking in a threatening tone, hector said to Paris, "Whatever you do, do not make a fool of yourself and embarrass our father. Do you understand?"
Paris looked terrified of his older brother, gulping audibly and shaking his head at his brother's words. Hector scanned his brother's face for sincerity before returning to the upper deck. As the company reached the harbor, the Trojan barge was met with Menelaus and his courtiers. All of them sat upon their magnificent steeds, waiting for the Trojan princes to exit the ship. Giving commands to the captain of the vessel, Hector and his company descended onto the Spartan shore and were met with cries of welcome from Menelaus. As he greeted the King of Sparta, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, a woman with white-blond hair, such a unique trait in a woman of Greece. It was then he recalled the prophecy of his sister, Cassandra, and his jaw dropped: A princess of fire covered in snow. Could this be the woman his sister had been speaking of?
A/N: Hope you liked the chapter. It's my longest one yet! What do you guys think of the interactions between Panthea and Achilles? What about Hector's reaction to seeing Panthea? Had to end with a cliffhanger, makes things more interesting ;) please review
