Chapter 8: Not Worth Royalty

My stomach lurched from under me; I sank to my knees in a coward's pull, thrusting my legs up to my moist chin and clammy face. I shook violently and felt my stomach roll in me. I heard the death curtly screams in my head, envisioned once more my father's weapon coming down, the spear being thrown and the sicken thud to the ground. Thinking of what mattered most, my spared life, kept me from not vomiting again all over my self. The world spun around underneath me and I felt as if nothing would ever be the same again. Those men were not lying; my father killed them for their insolence. And now I was expected to follow his orders as well. I slammed my head against the wall, sending stars swirling around my head but at least it took me away from the thoughts whirling in my brain.

"Aldreana!!" My father shouted at the top of his lungs in an anger voice. I quivered with fear, trying desperately to rise to my feet, but my knees would not obey and stayed bent at my chin. "Where are you?!" His voice startled me, taking my breath away in a distressed gasp. I forced my arms to push me to my feet, scrambling best I could to escape the dreadful hallway. Suddenly my father's footsteps rang in the hall and he ran up the stairs, appearing at the foot of the hall. His face, once so gentle and trusting, was masked in anger, hatred and fury. Tears instantly began leaking from my eyes and my voice begged him not to hurt me in a gurgled cry. My father's peremptory glare sent my knees into shakes and I collapsed back down to the ground with a hard thumb. My father's rage lessened as he saw the torture I was in. "Oh my daughter," he whispered in sympathy. I stared at him with watery eyes and stunned confusion. He crept down next to me and swept a hand towards my tear stained cheek. I instantaneously pulled away and he looked hurt at my raw actions. His eyes flickered with anger and he swept his hand back to the hilt of the sword that he had dropped on his way to me. I saw the wet, thick blood pool around the blade. His anger took over the last fragment of pity there a second before. He picked up the sword and pointed it at my neck, the tip barely stabbing my throat. I trembled inside and heard a whimper pass through my lips. Father just sneered at me.

"Never again will you disobey me is that understood?" he asked. Quickly I nodded my head, thinking of only the worst that could happen. His sneer was the evilest I had ever seen it to be. "I wouldn't want to rupture our little plan, now would I?" I shook my head in agreement, averting my stare. He dragged the tip of the sword all the way up, slowly, to my cheek and rested the cold, hard and moist metal there for pure pleasure of seeing my face cringe. With one last devilish grin he tore the sword off my skin and trailed down the dark hall back to his disheveled room. I waited to hear the door slam before wiping the blood off my cheek in pure disgust.


I awoke in a cold sweat, the sheet of my bed sprawled against the floor. I sat up, taking deep breaths to control my stomach, which sat empty and alone. I realized I hadn't eaten in hours but cared not about that as I looked to my balcony. The sky was a hazy gray, informing me dawn was just moments away. I climbed out of bed and quickly washed my face with cold water from the basin last night. Wiping it clean with a new rag, I went into my wardrobe and pulled forth the new green chiton and pale yellow garment to wear over it. Throwing my nightgown aside, I dressed in a hurry, finding my belt under the wad of sheets from where I had thrown them off during the night. Then I took a rapid look in the mirror, only to find my hair could be brushed with a comb. The coloring was turning lighter by the second and I hastily caught it up in a leather cord. Curls already withdrew from the band but I cared not as I grabbed my cloak and dagger from where I had left them. I tied the cloak around my neck and slipped the hilt holding my dagger into the belt loop and walked out of my room without a backwards glance. My terrors of never returning to the city again from last night had already faded from existence. I walked briskly down the hall, hoping to meet no one on my way out besides the servant who I had asked to wake me up. I turned around the corner, not hearing a door open and bare feet step out onto the cold stone floor. I was down by the door that led out the city, when a man's voice called from behind me.

"Aldreana?" I spun around, coming face to face with a sudden awakened Myles.

"Myles!" I exclaimed. I felt my eyes grew wide and my palms began sweating with apprehension. Myles rubbed his eyes once more to gather all the alertness he could, yet seemed on edge already seeing me up like this, already half concealed in black fabric.

"Aldreana, what are you doing?" he asked. I faltered for an answer, but came up with the most rational thing, only to have it squashed by another question that escaped his lips. "Are you going back to the camp?" I opened my mouth in incredulity at his guess, and then closed it again. I chewed on my lip before answering.

"Myles I have to," I objected. I turned around to leave, but his hand suddenly snapped out and grabbed my arm, tightly and firmly. His eyes were vigilant now, ready to intervene with my plans.

"No you don't. Hector doesn't want you as his spy anymore," he contradicted. My head snapped back so I looked him straight in the eye.

"Hector also doesn't want servants who evade private conversations they were never meant to hear," I retorted angrily with. Myles was stunned silent by my crude comment and he instantly let me go. I stepped aside and turned back around to leave. My hand was on the door latch when he spoke up once more, once more to try to tangle me back into his life.

"Going back there is only going to get you killed. Anyone who befriended you will now stick a spear through your throat. Appearances can be deceiving," he advised. I spun back around, now annoyed with his pleads and claims to bring me back.

"You just don't want me to have what you don't," I alleged with an angry voice. Myles stopped dead in his tracks, his whole body turned stiff. I cared not what came next and opened the door, banging it shut behind me.


Patroclus crept out from his tent, sleep just fading away. Eudorus met him on the way to Achilles' tent and together they walked in to await their leader's orders for the battle arriving. But Achilles sat on his bed, strewn out and still eating, nibbling plainly and nonchalantly at his food. Eudorus looked over his shoulder to Patroclus, who shook his head in as much confusion as the other man. Eudorus turned back to Achilles.

"My lord, the army is ready to march out today," he said.

"We stay. We stay until Agamemnon groans to have Achilles back," Achilles said sternly. Eudorus bowed his head and headed out the tent. Patroclus resided, looking down at Achilles for a better explanation than the stolen maiden Agamemnon took last night. Achilles peeked at his cousin out of the corner of his eye.

"You ready to fight, ready to kill?" he asked. Patroclus took a deep breath.

"I am," he responded ingenuously. Achilles grinned with pleasure, then his face turned sour again as he picked up his goblet of wine.

"I taught you to fight but I never taught you why to fight." He sipped his wine, liking the taste, and took big gulps of it. Patroclus rolled his eyes. He was sick of this torture and tried his best to contain his anger.

"I fight for you," he said quickly.

"And who when I'm gone?" Achilles didn't allow the question to be answered as he continued. "Men fight for and die for kings they have never even met." Patroclus's temper flared.

"Soldiers obey," he reacted curtly. Achilles shook his head in disagreement. He took another sip of his wine. Patroclus would give anything to steal the cup and throw it at his cousin.

"Don't waste your life following some fool's orders." He cocked his head and looked at Patroclus sidelong. "Besides, you have another problem waiting for you in that city." Patroclus uncontrollable swept his hand towards the hilt of his sword. Achilles ignored it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Patroclus shouted furiously. Achilles waved his hand in the air.

"Go," he ordered. Patroclus took his hand off his sword and grudgingly came out of his cousin's tent, only to watch the end of another body sweep into his.


I crept slowly into Patroclus's tent, finding it empty. Eudorus had led me to an empty tent? Achilles said I could have confidence in the men, that they wouldn't lead me into danger. But cruel jokes were not what I had in mind either. I walked around the tent, picking at the sparse items: belts and extra clothes, weapons and shields and the bed with a thick blanket rolled at the end. I looked at the swords and shields, picking up the scabbard to one and holding the hilt firmly in my hands. The metal seemed to work perfectly in my fingers, warming up from my body heat and awaiting me to pull it forth and fight with it. I wanted to hear the metal ring as it was pushed against the casing that held it; I wanted to see the metal shining brightly in the light streaming in from the sun. A hand suddenly grabbed and twisted it. The other held a knife and had it pointed at my throat, ready to tear it to pieces. My body stiffened and I drew a quick breath in. I wasn't breathing at all when he started to speak.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The voice said, hardened by anger. He wrapped his arm around me and spun me around. The tip of his knife caught on the edge of my drawn up hood, pulling it off to reveal my face. I breathed again when I saw his face. "Aldreana? I could have killed you." Patroclus instantly dropped the knife and his face turned a deathly pale. His hands came up to my cheeks, he caressed where his knife had been across my neck softly. I inhaled a sigh of relief, welcoming myself into his open arms. I buried my face into his chest, the pleasure of being in his arms again draining everything about Hector and my betraying actions dry.

"I knew you would never kill me," I said into his chest. All he wore was a black tunic where the sleeves cut off at the shoulders, his arms full of muscle exposed to me. He pulled himself away and looked at my face. He was awestruck by my eyes. His anger that had flared moments ago was once more destroyed by my presence.

"No Aldreana, I would never kill you," he said flatly. I smiled at him, feeling the muscles of his arms pulse at the slightest movement he made. He considered me, sighing as he looked me up and down. Then we both could stand it no longer. Our lips met and the kisses we shared were better than before. His tongue was heaven; I never wanted to taste another. Moments went by but we didn't care, Patroclus held me in his arms as we sank to our knees, kissing passionately. It was moments like these that made war believable. We massaged each other's tongues as the kisses grew more zealously and fanatical. I felt my back hit the end of his bed and the blanket was underneath me as he pushed me towards the makeshift cot. Then he let go, his breathing rapid. I sucked in a deep breath, my lips puffy and damp. I licked my lips and could taste him still, before opening my eyes. He gazed down at me with adoration and I found him irresistible. He stroked my hair, just letting the silence and our calming breaths drift us to peace. Then I realized one of the reasons why I came.

"Paris will challenge Menelaus today, now," I said promptly. Patroclus stopped his gazing and averted his eyes.

"I know that, Achilles will not let us fight today. He sits in his tent sulking now while the rest of the Greeks gather for battle. I would give anything to go after them and leave Achilles behind," he whispered.

"Then go!" I announced. Patroclus's head sprang up in surprise. "Leave Achilles, go!" Patroclus shook his head in argument.

"No, I won't leave to face Achilles' wrath," he concluded, but I still retorted back.

"Then I'll leave now," I remarked. Patroclus grabbed my arm.

"You would leave me right after that?" he said slyly. I smile crept to my lips as he drew me closer. "I want you to stay here, with me." His voice became compassionate, making my heart melt. I let him brush away a curl that escaped the cord, and then nodded my head. He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. "I have never-"

"Patroclus, we are-" Eudorus entered and at the sight of me stopped where he was. "Achilles wished me to inform you that we are leaving." Patroclus leapt up to his feet. He picked up a shield and spear. Eudorus's twitch of a muscle in his jaw told Patroclus to set the weapon and defense down. "Achilles has picked a spot where we can watch from afar, the men have just left." He glanced at me with little trust once more before the flaps of the door waved that he was gone. I rose to my feet and looked to Patroclus. His face was full of anger and disappointment. He chucked the spear and shield back to the ground and miserably threw himself on his bed. Thinking of nothing else to do I sat down beside him.

"You don't want to anger him anymore, you should go," I said. Patroclus glanced out of the corner of his eye to me. Accepting the decision as final, I stood up and began lifting the tent flaps. His strong hand reached out like a snake and grabbed me. I spun my head around. Patroclus stood up and walked up beside me.

"Who ever said that you were leaving?" he quirked an eyebrow, making me grin with delight. He lifted the tent flaps; his hand guided my back and leading me outside. I left my cloak where it was around my back, bothering not with the hood. The Myrmidons had already gathered, each took a stare at me then looked away. Most had seen me walk into the camp already this morning. Eudorus glanced at Patroclus, still clenching his jaw as Achilles walked out of his own black fortress. He took one look at me, and then glared at Patroclus. I grabbed his hand, but he didn't falter. Achilles drew his hands to fists, and then unclenched them. He started walking forward, and then spun around on his heel. He pointed his finger at me.

"You are here on your own free will, no one protects you," he said firmly, deliberately.

"Do you think that threat would send me back to the walls? I knew that already," I snapped back with. Patroclus began walking, ignoring my rude comments as to not get himself in trouble. Achilles walked lightly, yet made it to the front of the group and led them to the hills of Troy. Patroclus began walking slower and slower, till I caught up with him again.

"Is he always like that?" I said cutting into the silence. Patroclus winced at my anger, and squinted past the sun to catch a glimpse of the mighty man.

"He feels that he shouldn't follow any king in war. War irritates and agitates most men; they are never truly at peace," Patroclus noted, standing up for his cousin.

"Of course no man finds peace, you are killing. Any man who finds pleasure in that is not worth living," I spontaneously said back. Patroclus seemed confused at my words. I tried to explain my feelings best as possible. "Following orders is different then taking contentment in killing men. I have killed men before because I needed to, I didn't take pleasure in it. I have seen men die in bloodbaths and I hate it. But yet I yearn to hold a sword, I love to fight with one, against opponents." I looked over to Achilles, his black leather armor was the dullest I had ever seen, yet seemed to sparkle in the sunlight with dignity. "Your cousin, he was born to end lives, or so the legends say. But does he love killing?" Patroclus took one look at his cousin, the one who taught him, took care of him. Without any second glance, he shook his head. I drew silent, creeping into my own thoughts and watching the army, the Greeks march into the wide open land between the sea and the walls of Troy. "Perhaps Paris is the smartest one of us all," I suggested sardonically. Patroclus frowned, looking at me with mocking eyes. I shrugged my shoulders. Patroclus chuckled softly. "What?" I asked in a frivolous tone.

"You are the most mysterious person I have ever met," he exclaimed. I felt my cheeks turn crimson and he saw that too. "Not that that's bad, but it's…different. I don't think I'll ever meet anyone like you again. You are the first girl- woman that I have…seen act like this." He hesitated between words, making him lose concentration. I felt ready to bear my heart and soul to him, but in the worst of times. I smiled at him, looking back up the path. We were now mingled with the group of Myrmidons, making our way to the front by Eudorus and Achilles. I craned my head to look over the tall men and gasped at the sight I saw. The ruins, crumbled yet standing, laughed and tormented me. I instantly stopped walking, taking Patroclus by surprise. He stopped next to him, resting a warm arm on mine. "Aldreana, what is it?"

My father scolded me once again. "Aim for me, think of nothing else but defeating me!" I shook my head, trying desperately to get the images out of my head, but to no avail. "Harder, come at me Aldreana, don't hold back!" My father ordered at me, turning my determination into annoyance and anger. I wanted to scream at him, stab my sword into him for everything he did after that, but it was the past now. Wincing, I looked up to see his blade's tip pointed at me. "I've won," he merely said, his face grave. I refused to let him defeat me again. "Nothing, just a memory," I responded curtly. Patroclus still didn't move.

"Is it of your brother?" he acquired. I shook my head and began walking up the path to the ruins. Achilles glanced over his shoulder, than turned away.

"No, just my father." Patroclus saw the disturbed look on my face and let the subject go. We walked silently the rest of the way to the ruins. My mind grew troubled with such thoughts, memories of my father I never rekindled with till the start of this adventure I had willingly embarked on. It was because of this the realization came to mind. It is not just because of Patroclus that I am here. I am still running from my past. My past was in Troy, and now here I stand with the enemy. Perhaps here is where I belong in order to fix and live what was stolen from me. The hard ground made it uneasy to walk on. I inelegantly fell over half buried rocks, Patroclus catching me from bruises and cuts. Each time I knew I was dazed, so overcome with thoughts and voices that I barely noticed the man who caught me from my falls. The ruins had knocked down pillars and caved in walls, with stone flooring. Distinctively, I swore I found blood stains on the stone floor as I walked upon it to go down to the small curve in the land, where the last of a few pillars and wall remained. It was spattered spots, as if who ever died was brutally murdered. A line of drops seemed to follow after the large spots, chasing after it in an endless race. I blinked, taking an inch look back to the stone, the stains were gone. I rubbed my head, the sun getting to my eyes. When we arrived at the center of the ruins, which to me looked like an old run down temple, the Myrmidons sat in a group, Achilles behind them on the mount of flooring and balcony still left in the ground. We waited mutely. Patroclus stood next to Eudorus and I squatted down on the ground in front of the men, the soon to be battle field filling my entire vision.

We waited noiselessly, the wind ringing in our ears. Everyone seemed restless, even Achilles, to jump into battle and fight along side the men. Most of all was Patroclus, who I eyed watchfully out of the corner of my eye when my head was turned. His hand was on his sword hilt, the knuckles growing white with frustration. I clenched my jaw, wanting to toss him my own dagger and yell for him to scram down the hill. But soldiers obeyed, and Patroclus was considered of the highest honor in the group to be trained by Achilles himself. He of all of the men would be the biggest block head to disobey the orders. I held my anger and turned back to the fields. In the distance, I began to hear the drumming, the drumming of feet. My body grew tenser as I edged closer and closer to the end of the hill, the Myrmidons all but winking out of existence to me. I took in quick, exaggerated breaths till I held it. My heart thumbed loudly, so loud I swore others heard. Their feet crunched on the ground, kicking up a small trail of dust that swirled around me.

The gates to Troy suddenly sung open. Leading the heavily armed troops were Hector and Paris. Hector hated this as much as any other man, but held a dignified look as he rode forward. Paris I could tell was trembling inside, but his face belied his true feelings as he rode next to his brother. The men, so many men, followed after their princes. All bared shields and held spears, their swords still tucked into their belts. Hector lead them just outside the wall, and arrayed them in straight lines. I instantly noticed his first tactic from days of proper training. The Greeks will never beat them; they will march too close to the wall. I was swimming in thoughts when a gentle tap flooded my nerves. I jumped, spinning my head around. Patroclus kneeled down next to me. He wrapped an arm around me, sending goose bumps all over my body. Patroclus noticed.

"Relax Aldreana. This hasn't been the first war you've seen," he accredited. I nodded, agreeing with him.

"But have you ever seen a war where you fought for both of sides of it, in between it?" I retorted back anxiously. Patroclus drew back, his hand slipping off my back till finally he heaved a sigh as he stood up and walked back to Eudorus. I felt warmed by his company, but not chilled without it. Such things as these were best experienced alone.

The Trojans had fully ensemble themselves when another drumming caught my hearing. I turned my head right and instantly they grew wide. My palms became sweaty and I could feel the apprehension rise in the men behind me. They were like a wave, a tidal wave that took everything, destroyed everything in its path. The Greeks marched up the few miles and I could almost picture Paris' mystified face. I could see his jaw drop. Hector would turn his head to his brother, claiming this as his last chance to turn around and go back. The Greeks marched closer and closer, till only a small area was separating the great armies. I blinked in amazement; the two opposing forces took my breath away. My feet crunched the sand underneath me as I stepped even closer to the hill's end, till I could literally sprint my way down. Feet scrambled behind me and Patroclus roughly grabbed my arm.

"We don't want to be seen, especially you," he hissed. I protested, trying to break from his grip, but his strength held me firmly. He stood up and hulled me to my feet, bringing me back to the group. I refused to kneel now, standing beside Patroclus. His arm twined it self around my waist from underneath my cloak, unseen by Achilles.

The chariots of Agamemnon and his leaders, including Menelaus, rode out into the open. Hector and Paris kicked their horses into a slight tort and rode out to them. I could already imagine the words. Patroclus wrapped his arm tightly around me, sending shivers down my spine. I blinked, closing my eyes and embracing the moment. If there was one thing to learn from my brother, it was to seize the moments when they come for they will never happen again. Hector and Paris climbed off their horses and walked out to where Agamemnon stood with Menelaus, Odysseus and two other men I didn't recognize, but took the larger of the two to be the famous Ajax I had heard of in camp. Hector spoke humbly, I could tell of the posture he threw himself into. Paris on the other hand was shaking all over and when all heads turned to him I knew he had proposed his idea. I could vaguely see the smile appearing on Agamemnon's face, but my face still sprouted in disgust anyways. Patroclus leaned into me, the wind gathering up my hair and hiding his face from Achilles.

"Go back, you shouldn't see this," he whispered. My look that was glued to the armies told Patroclus I was not about ready to high tail it out of here and he sighed in disappointment. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and he still stared at me. His eyes made me melt where I was, so much I wanted to fall and have him catch me just for the sake of the moment. I cared not when Paris and Hector walked briskly back to their horses, Paris putting on a helmet and bearing his father's sword. I watched not when Menelaus and Paris started to meet each other. All there was in my mind was Patroclus. My hood that gathered up behind me concealed everyone from the kiss me and Patroclus shared. Menelaus swung his sword back and forth in the air, catching wind and smiling with pleasure of finally killing the man who stole his wife. Paris took his own pace, the pace full of fear.

The hard thump of Menelaus' shield pulled us apart. I had to catch my breath, fully aware of Achilles eyes on my back, a body of fury pacing back and forth. Menelaus instantly began slicing away the air; Paris unskillfully deflected all of the elder's death defining blows. Paris, instead of moving forward with his own swings, kept edging back, giving Menelaus the bigger advantage. Soon Paris was crouching on the ground, Menelaus whacking his shield and tearing it to shreds. Finally, Paris grew so low that Menelaus kicked his shield, taking the Prince off guard. His shield, the only protection flew from his hands and his helmet fell off his head. Hector's lips moved, I knew he was saying words to get Paris back on his feet. Agamemnon's chest bounced up and down in a chuckle. Paris quickly grabbed his shield and began fighting back, but his blows were useless to the ones Menelaus was wailing on him. Menelaus caught Paris' sword with his own and swung him so their backs touched, then twirled around skillfully. Paris sung again, this time Menelaus threw out his fist, hitting the Prince squarely in the jaw. Blood spilled down Paris' chin and franticly he threw his body weight into his shield, bashing into Menelaus.

But Menelaus quickly grabbed the shield and pulled it back and forth harshly till Paris was thrown off it. Then he tossed the shield aside, sending laughter into the air from Agamemnon. The King pointed at his brother's obvious victory, taking great joy and amusement in watching this. Paris lifted up his arm, but Menelaus just grabbed it and twisted it. Paris yelled out in pain and then thrust his own fist the other's jaw. Menelaus let go off Paris' arm and spit out the bloody tooth that Paris and knocked out of his mouth. Then their swords clashed, again and again till Menelaus swung and found flesh. Blood spilled form the gash in Paris' leg and he shirked in agony and fell to the ground. Menelaus sneered as Paris tried to get back up and fight, but suddenly Menelaus struck the Prince's wrist, sending the sword flying out of Paris' hands. He fell to the ground, and Menelaus walked up and held the tip of his sword to Paris' neck. But when he lifted it, Paris suddenly found the adrenaline to crawl back to Hector, whimpering in fear as he clung to his brother's leg in fright.

"No, the fool," I whispered in disbelief. I bowed my head so Patroclus did not see the tears of shame that sprung to my eyes as the pride of the Troy fell into a nose dive. "The coward."

Menelaus threw up his hands in skepticism. "Is this what you left me for?" he screamed to Helen, knowing she was watching from the walls. I felt an ache of wretched sympathy for the girl, the naïve girl who thought not of her consequences as she led Paris naked to her bed. He walked up to Hector, who was in just as much pain as his brother and Helen. "Fight me, you coward fight me!" Menelaus screamed to Paris. He stared up with angry beady eyes at Hector. "This is not worth royalty. He must fight me or Troy is doomed." Agamemnon pulled out his sword.

"The Trojans have violated the agreement, prepare for battle!" he commanded. Instantly every Greek lifted their weapons. Menelaus still cursed at Hector and Paris, who still clung to his brother's leg. He ranted that the fight was not over, but Hector disagreed with a shake of his head. Menelaus hefted his word and ran to chop up Paris. Suddenly Hector pulled forth his sword, and shoved it into Menelaus' gut. The man dropped his sword, gasping violently, blood pouring out of his body. When Hector pulled out his word from the King's flesh, the man was already dead and toppled to the ground in a bloody heap.