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: Our Spartan women have finally come to Troy and meet the rest of Trojan royalty while the Greeks are approaching. Welcome to my new favs/followers: delphine83, Wolfy-Queen, poukie-scrapbook, and Twilight Dark Angel. Thank you, guys, so much for your support! Sorry for the late update. Just got done with midterms.
Responses to reviewers (guests): Please but a name so I can address all guests individually. I'm not sure what reviews belonged to what guest so please clarify so I can respond.
Response to Ginger Spice: Thank you for reviewing. Lots of drama will be happening this chapter!
Response to Guest: Yes, she is attracted to Hector, but still retains her loyalty Achilles. This will be a challenge in later chapters. Briseis will be involved, but not like in the movies. Thanks for reviewing!
Response to guest (bless you): lol loved the name you put. Thank you so much. Detail is very important to me!
Response to guest (Percilla): Thank you. Glad you like it!
Response to guest: I received three reviews from you and I cannot express how happy I am that you have taken such an interest in my story. Loved your responses. Definitely motivated me. Achilles still does need to mature like you said and that is why Panthea is attracted to Hector. They are complete opposites so hence her dilemma. And yes, Paris only cares for himself, ultimately making an enemy out of Panthea. Thank you for reviewing!
Response to guest (guest 1): Sorry, can't give away the ending. Briseis will definitely be a temptation to Achilles. And yes, I totally agree about Hector and Achille's attitudes. Achilles is definitely like a spell love where Hector's appears more genuine. Thank you for reviewing! No problem, love to write.
Ch. 9
"Do the gods light this fire in our hearts or does each man's mad desire become his god?"
~ Virgil, The Aeneid
Panthea looked out on the dark blue waters of the open sea, her eyes unwavering as she watched each wave rise and fall. Her hands clutched the railing of the ship lightly as she balanced herself against the movement of the vessel. The wind blew gently through her white-blond hair, fluttering for a moment before dying down and then picking back up. The breeze was enough to keep the direct rays of the sun from warming the occupants of the ship too much, but the glare still blinded many. It was peaceful, much more relaxed compared to the past few days Panthea had been through. Her stomach still bothered her, but was not violently torturing her as it had been.
Hector stood next to the Spartan princess, keeping vigilance as she took her first breaths of fresh air out on the desk after being stuck inside the close confines of the cabin below. He watched her, scanning her face for any signs of pain. For the past days, he had been caring for her, rubbing her stomach to keep the pain down. His large palm had traced the muscles of her stomach several hundred times and now it was almost routine to him to wrap his arms around her center and pull her close. They were both used to the contact, something that would end once they reached Troy.
Panthea let out raspy gasp as she suddenly leaned over the railing of the ship, coughing up bile that had made its way up her throat. Hector was behind her immediately, rubbing her back soothingly and speaking to her in hushed tones. Pulling her hair back from her face, he waited for her to stand upright again. Panthea breathed deeply and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before leaning back into Hector, closing her eyes as he began to rub her stomach again.
"Does it hurt?" Hector questioned, referring to her sensitive stomach. He tensed as her head leaned into the crook of his neck and her cheek touched the bare skin of his upper chest as she adjusted in his arms. He could smell her delicious scent and inhaled deeply.
Panthea's pale face regained color before she spoke. "A little," she said quietly as she turned to face Hector. He removed his hand from her stomach as she turned, his hands grasping her hips lightly. Panthea placed her hands on her middle as she cast her gaze to the patterns of the wooden deck. She had no idea what she was doing to Hector as he cast his darkened gaze on her figure. He tried to remove his thoughts from his head, cursing himself for the inappropriate images floating through his mind. He could only groan at the idea of Panthea beneath him, staring up at him with trust in her eyes as he took her.
Panthea lifted her blue eyes to meet Hector's dark ones, her forehead creasing when she noticed he was now looking over her shoulder at the sea with an almost angry expression. "Is something wrong my lord?" she asked respectfully, an edge of worry in her voice. Hector's lips formed a thin line at her words, but he said nothing as his eyes connected with hers. Instead he searched her eyes for an answer to his question. Why had she been in her sister's prophecy? Was she really who he thought she was? What was her purpose? What did she mean to him? He frowned at her formal tone, not liking how she was addressing him.
"No. All is well Panthea." Hector removed his hands hastily from her hips before sitting down on one of the barrels on deck. He let out a frustrated sigh as he sat, getting tired of this game the gods had thrust upon him. Panthea watched him warily before shrugging her shoulders and plopping down in his lap unceremoniously. Hector was taken aback by the gesture, his eyes widening in surprise as he felt her body weight on his lap. It took him a moment to get accustomed to her weight before feeling comfortable. Panthea smiled at him brightly when she saw his temper had disappeared and she gave out a little giggle at his change of attitude.
Hector couldn't help, but feel as if a weight had been lifted off his chest as he gazed at the sight before him. Panthea was giving him the best gift of all: her smile. She was a vision with her hair surrounding her head like a halo and her eyes only focused on him. Sitting on his lap, Panthea again looked out on the blue waters, not paying any attention to Hector as she stared at the never-ending waves approaching the ship. Her hands regained their former position on the railing and she laid her chin against it as well, humming to herself. Hector was confused on what to do, his hands held awkwardly in front of him. He eventually gave up and placed one hand on his thigh while the other placed itself lightly on the middle of Panthea's back. The gesture was neither forward of him nor just a simple motion. It lay on the boundary between familiarity and wanting more.
Hector was mesmerized, everyone on deck could see that. Some of the sailors even chuckled at the prince's behavior, never having seen him so perplexed at a girl's behavior. However, all knew that would change once they reached Troy, when Hector would throw himself back into the duties of the crown prince.
The Trojan vessel had finally reached Troy after a few weeks at sea. Hector exhaled a breath of relief as he looked on his homeland, a great smile apparent on his face that he would be reunited with his wife and child. He internally cringed though, eyeing Panthea out of the corner of his eye. She was still weak from her illness as well as the trip overseas, her body leaning against the side of the ship for support and her face a little paler than normal. She still refused to talk to Helen and when Paris attempted to make conversation, her sharp gaze shut him up. Hector was worried how she would adjust in Troy and if she would still act the same with him as she had been. It was much too informal for them to carry on in the way they had, but Hector had a small sliver of hope in his heart that she would disregard the formalities of court life.
Heading towards Panthea, Hector came up behind her and rested his hands gently on her waist. Panthea wasn't started like he thought she would have been. She had looked so absorbed in her own world that Hector had thought she might have been too busy to notice his approach. Instead, Panthea looked up at him with apprehension at what was about to happen. She looked like a frightened little dove the way her eyes searched his for comfort. Wrapping her arms around his body tightly, her hands grasped the fabric on his back as she pressed her face against the hot contours of his chest. Tears sprung to her eyes and fell onto Hector's bare skin.
Hector wrapped his arms around the Spartan princess, pulling her flush against his chest. He whispered in hushed tones to her, saying that everything would be alright and that he would watch over her. He tried to tell her how Andromache would be there as well, how she would welcome her with open arms, but it did little to halt Panthea's tears. She only wept harder and buried herself further into Hector's embrace.
"I want to go home," Panthea spoke woefully through her tears.
Hector tensed at her words, his body becoming rigid. He had expected her to say something like that, her being blunt and all when speaking, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. "I know little one," he spoke softly in her ear. He held her for a few more minutes, waiting for the crying to stop and for Panthea to calm down again. She roughly wiped her eyes, now red from crying, and pulled away from Hector's arms as she squinted up at him.
"You should probably go and put your formal attire on my lord," Panthea said. Hector frowned at her formal tone again, knowing she was only trying to close herself back up again. Not having it in his heart to scold her, he nodded and departed below deck, leaving Panthea to her own devices while he changed. Discarding his blue chiton, he noticed Paris changing as well, Helen nowhere to be seen. The brothers both donned their armor, their formal garments used for important occasions such as this one.
"You know this changes everything." Hector's eyes darted angrily to his brother. Paris hadn't spoken to him in days, hesitant that Hector would lash out at him again. His temper had been short since Paris had brought the Spartan women with them and Hector still did not forgive him.
"Really Paris? I didn't know." Hector's tone was sarcastic as he spoke to his younger brother. Adjusting the straps on his ornamental armor, Hector went to leave the cabin, not in the mood for talking to Paris. He had more important matters to worry about. However, Paris roughly grabbed his elder brother by the arm before he could go back on deck.
"I see the way you look at her, at Panthea." Hector froze in his steps, glaring heatedly at his brother. Paris had the audacity to not back down, holding his ground as he stared at his brother with a meaningful look. "You care for her. Admit it. And you want her, just as father predicted you would." Hector gritted his teeth at Paris, yanking his arm from his hold and brushing past him to climb the ladder that led to the deck. He was furious, rage pooling in his veins. Paris had obviously been eavesdropping again, another unprincely trait his brother possessed.
Halfway up the ladder, Hector turned around abruptly to address Paris. "If you ever say anything like that to my face again, I will not hesitate to rip your arm out of its socket. Father's and my conversations are none of your business and my situation is the complete opposite of yours. I didn't steal someone's wife." Paris looked at him, ashamed. Hector had put him back in his place, as he should have. Hector then ascended up the latter and back onto deck.
The ship was almost to shore now and Hector could see the fishermen and dock boys at their stations, going about their everyday business. They had no idea what the Trojan princes had brought back with them. Hector sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose and preparing himself mentally for the introduction of the Spartan women to the Trojan people, the court, and most important of all, his father and wife.
Once the shipped docked at port, a bridge was laid between the dock and the exit of the ship. Paris escorted Helen off first, gently holding her waist as she exited the ship. Panthea followed, although she was some distance behind the couple and made sure Hector was not far along. An impressive escort had been arranged for the Trojans' return, almost as if they were celebrating some grand holiday or a festival for the gods. The Apollonian guard and footmen were present as well as servants to walk diligently beside their masters while holding parasols and such to keep the sun out of people's eyes. A grand chariot had been brought for Paris and Helen to use and was situated at the head of the parade. Hector rolled his eyes knowing Paris would be gloating with all the glory bestowed upon him as he was leading the procession to meet Priam and his court.
Hector's favorite stallion had been tacked and made ready for him instead of a chariot. He mounted gracefully for a man of his being and situated himself in the saddle before spotting Panthea looking slightly uncomfortable as Helen urged her to step into the chariot with her and Paris. Panthea shook her head, showing her refusal, but Helen persisted. Panthea was her daughter after all and she was trying to reform their maternal bond. Hector ended the discussion immediately, guiding his horse between Helen and Panthea, and scooping Panthea up into his arms. Hector placed Panthea in front of him in the saddle as she held on to him like a child, her face nuzzling the crook of his neck and her arms around his waist. His face was passive to all and Helen frowned at his intervention when she saw Panthea smiling from her position in his lap. First it was Achilles and now Hector. As a mother, Helen could only take so much men paying attention to her daughter.
The company then started making their way towards the city walls along the sandy beach, Panthea timid as she watched the gates of Troy open. She didn't want to be there, she wanted to be home. But, she could do nothing about her current situation. Priam would decide what to do with her now. Distracting her from her thoughts, Panthea stared at the ground as Hector's horse kicked up sand. It was boring to watch, but it took her mind off things. Hector chuckled at her behavior, making Panthea stick her tongue out at him in a childish manner.
The group then made their way under the arch leading into Troy, the magnificence of the city being revealed. The white-wash walls of the city, golden temples, and great statues were just a few of the many outstanding qualities of the grand city. Panthea took it all in with an awe-struck expression in her eyes as she practically bounced in her seat, Hector looking on in amusement. She had only been to her uncle's domains until now and Troy was a new adventure for her.
Thousands of onlookers lined the road, cheering for their princes' return. Many threw flower petals into the street, making a makeshift pathway for the royals. Some stood off to the side, dancing amongst themselves joyfully as musicians played a pleasant tune. Other Trojans stood on the roofs or balconies of their homes, waving excited to the retuning Trojan royals and guards.
Paris stood proudly in the chariot next to his lover, smiling brightly to his people. A soldier walked behind them, holding an umbrella above their heads to keep the sun away. Helen was a vision in white as she stood next to Paris, her peplos decorated with a golden pattern. A golden laurel had been placed in her hair and the pearl necklace Paris had given her was on her neck. Hector followed behind the pair on his stallion, Panthea placed in front of him in the saddle as he waved to his people. Panthea had chosen a light blue color for her peplos and unlike her mother, she only wore the necklace that she had been kidnapped in. It was the one Menelaus had given her as a present for her upcoming birthday, pearls with a large diamond placed in the middle of the arrangement.
Nearing the palace of Troy, Helen became uneasy as more and more women continued to point at her. Some were merely curious, others were spiteful, making clear their distaste of the Spartan woman. She lowered her eyes shamefully and tried to ignore them. Paris noticed her discomfort and grasped her hand in his, giving her a small smile to calm her fears. Panthea just stared at all the women defiantly, knowing they were probably thinking of her in the same way as they were her mother. They all turned away, unnerved by the Spartan princess's cold stare.
The entourage finally made their way to the palace steps. Members of the Apollonian guard awaited their arrival on perfectly groomed chestnut stallions and saluted the princes respectfully. Paris helped Helen exit the chariot and they began their ascent up the palace steps, several servants following behind. Hector dismounted his steed effortlessly before helping Panthea down, gently holding her body as he placed her down on the ground. Panthea stumbled for a moment before regaining her balance. Her face looked pale and she appeared unsure of herself, making Hector halt for a moment. His eyes scanned her body and face worriedly before looking up to the palace. He was ready to be reunited with his family.
Seeing the anxious expression on his face, Panthea masked her emotions and gave Hector a small smile of reassurance. "I'm alright my lord. You should go see your family." Hector immediately returned his attention back to Panthea, a questioning look in his eyes. "I'll be right behind you. I just…," she hesitated for a moment, "I need a moment." Hector nodded in understanding, gesturing for his head Apollonian guard Tecton to remain behind with her. He then made his way up the palace steps and to the awaiting Trojan court.
"My son," Priam bellows excitedly as he embraces Hector. Hecuba and Cassandra stand by the monarch's side as well as his other children. The courtiers and advisors stand behind, watching the joyous reunion.
"Father," Hector answers just as happily. He steps aside to make room for Paris who stands behind him nervously, waiting for his father's scolding. Instead Priam gives him a knowing expression, neither one of anger nor one of elation. Priam merely looked at Paris with his eyes of wisdom that seemed to understand Paris's situation. "Paris," he speaks, holding his hands outward to embrace his other son. He kisses each of Paris's perfect cheeks gently before holding his face gently in the palms of his hand, a fatherly gesture to all.
"Father," Paris speaks, gesturing to the quiet woman behind him. Helen stood there with her hands clasped gently in front of her, her eyes cast downward demurely. "This is Helen," Paris continues, reaching out for Helen. She took his hand in hers as she was formally presented to the king of Troy. She bows to him, paying her respects.
"Helen? Helen of Sparta?" Priam questions, making Helen embarrassed as she casts her gaze downwards again. He looks to Paris for an answer, testing him.
"Helen of Troy," Paris announces proudly, taking account for his actions. Priam only nods at his son's words, not showing any emotion at his son's revelation.
Priam turns his full attention to Helen now, making her shake in anticipation. "I've heard rumors of your beauty." His voice is gentle as he addresses the Spartan woman. He pulls her forward, embracing her as he did his sons. "For once, the gossips were right," he continues. Helen smiles at his words, now feeling welcome and gratified to the great king. "You are welcome here Helen."
An eagle suddenly appears out of the sky, flying expertly through the vast blue domain. He lands on one of the many decorative pillars in front of the palace and lets out a loud screech, attracting Priam's attention. As a superstitious man, he was very curious as to why the symbol of Zeus would appear so blatantly in broad daylight. An owl, a symbol of Athena, also reveals itself, hooting as it lands on the second pillar in the courtyard. Priam stands there, astonished at such an occurrence.
It is then that Panthea shows herself, escorted by Tecton as she climbs up the palace steps. All eyes are on her as the Trojan court takes in her unique appearance. Several people chuckled at her late arrival, not knowing who the young girl was. Panthea ignored them, walking straight ahead with her head held high, eyes locked on Priam. She stops in the middle of the courtyard, now noticing the two magnificent birds that were present. The owl hoots at her, turning its head ever so slightly, while the eagle again screeches. Panthea is frozen in place, remembering the dream she had the night before. The gods were comforting her, saying how they would be there to guide her in her time of need and would reveal themselves to her. She realized it was them and she gasped as she turned to fully face them. Of course, only she knew the truth.
Panthea stands there for a moment, breathing deeply as she analyzes both birds. The eagle was golden in color, a true bird of prey with its intense gaze and sharp talons. The snowy-white owl seemed to emit wisdom as it hooted at her with its big blue eyes, blinking at her rapidly. Both were studying her as well, taking in their great champion. The birds were merely disguises for the great gods beneath.
Both birds then take off from their perches, the owl flying off into the distance while the eagle circles Panthea overhead. It swoops down, landing perfectly on her shoulder. Panthea doesn't move, waiting for the eagle's move. It nuzzles against her cheek almost lovingly, dropping a laurel tree branch into her hands. Panthea hadn't noticed it before, but the eagle had held it in its talons the entire time. Seeing the so-called package had been delivered, the eagle then takes off, not a mark left on Panthea. She turns to watch as it flies away before looking at the Trojan court in front of her.
Panthea blushes when she notices everyone is staring at her with awestruck expressions. Helen has her hands covering her mouth in shock while Paris's mouth hangs open unattractively. Hector has a serious look in his dark depths as he watches his father for a reaction, knowing what he had just witnessed could not be cast aside so easily. Priam descends the palace steps hastily and Panthea kneels immediately when she sees the oncoming king. Priam does not pay attention to her formalities and motions for Panthea to stand up. He takes both of his hands and places them on her red cheeks.
"You are most welcome here my child," Priam says in a fatherly tone as he kisses Panthea affectionately, making her want to cry. Panthea chokes up for a moment, a stray tear falling down her face. She missed her father desperately, especially the way he would hold her face in his hands and kiss her just as Priam had done.
"Thank you my lord." Panthea's voice is barely above a whisper as she speaks. Priam only smiles at the homesick princess, completely understanding of how she was feeling. He holds his arm out to her, guiding her into the grand palace. His courtiers clap at their king's hospitable behavior, making Panthea blush even more under the scrutiny of others. Hector's body language is tense as he watches her, his dark gaze never faltering from her form. His trance is broken once the clapping stops and he begins to look for his dear Andromache.
Hector spots Andromache standing to the side of the crowd, his pale skin and dark eyed beauty clad in a light blue chiton with a golden wrap. Her hair was styled in the customary way and she was bejeweled as fit her station as the crown heir's wife. He makes his way towards Andromache and embraces her lovingly before placing a passionate kiss on her lips. Andromache pulls away breathlessly as their foreheads lean together and Hector wraps his arms tightly around her body.
Andromache pulls away and gestures behind her where a nurse is holding their son. "Look," she says excitedly. She takes Astyanax from the nurse, his little body covered in layers of white cloth. She pulls back the thick material by his face and Astyanax coos at the sight of his father. His blue eyes connect with his father's dark brown ones as he kicks his legs up enthusiastically.
"He's grown," Hector speaks proudly, gazing on Astyanax's figure. He had missed so much in the past few months, and now that he was home, he hoped nothing would tear him from it.
"He's strong," Andromache replies in the same vigor as her husband.
"Lord Hector," a small voice says behind the couple. Hector turns around to see his father had left Panthea on her own in the crowd of Trojan nobles. She looked so lost in the sea of chaos that was occurring around her and her innocent eyes bore into his. Andromache gave a small smile to the Spartan Princess and looked to Hector for his answer. Instead she was taken aback by the look he had in his almost black abysses. They were filled with hunger, such animalistic hunger that it frightened Andromache. She wasn't scared for herself, but for the girl that stood before them, looking so naïve and ignorant of Hector's expression. She knew of Priam's plans to marry Hector to this girl. Instead of being a jealous wife, she welcomed the idea as Astyanax could possibly have more siblings. However, looking at Hector now, she was overcome with so many emotions. It scared her. Hector only looked at her with love, but seeing him now, he appeared to be overcome with lust for Panthea.
"Is this your son?" Panthea said, oblivious to the behavior of both Hector and Andromache. She smiled at Astyanax in Andromache's arms and giggled when he started speaking baby gibberish to her. "Can I hold him?" she questioned Andromache, who then passed her son to Panthea with a blank expression. She did not mind that Panthea wanted to hold her son, but she was disturbed by Hector's intense stare. Panthea looked down at Astyanax with pure adoration and lifted a finger up for him to grasp in his tiny palm. "He has a very strong grip your grace," she spoke, delighted at the baby's actions. Andromache merely nodded, still staring at her husband.
"Briseis," Paris speaks enthusiastically. A young woman of 18 years old appears from a side staircase, clothed in the robes of a priestess. She has a vain type of attitude as she eyes the two Spartan women and her walk indicates her aristocratic status. She flounces down the stairs towards the younger Trojan Prince.
"Paris!" Briseis exclaims with the same eagerness. Hector is snapped out of his stupor when Briseis speaks and he turns his attention to her, kissing Andromache's cheek gently and sparing one last look at Panthea before heading towards his brother and cousin.
"Is something wrong your grace?" Panthea questions Andromache, concerned with the pallor of her face and silence.
"Of course, little one," Andromache responds, forgetting her troubles for the moment and returning to her cheerful demeanor. "Come, you must be tired. How about we go and rest until the feast tonight? Let me get your mother." Panthea shakes her head profusely, confusing Andromache.
"Please. I don't want to be with her right now. I'd rather be with you." Andromache nods at Panthea's words, worried with Panthea's desperate tone. Apparently, there was some conflict between mother and daughter that could not be resolved. Andromache couldn't blame her though. She would feel the same if her mother had dragged her across seas just to have an affair with a foreign prince. The two royals depart, Astyanax still in Panthea's arms and servants following the pair. Both women are now occupied with Astyanax and their fears are forgotten.
"Beloved cousin, your beauty grows with each new moon." Paris kisses each of Briseis' cheeks before turning to make sure Helen is in good hands. She flutters her long lashes at him, reassuring him and Paris returns his attention to his cousin.
Hector approaches the pair and kisses Briseis as well. "Briseis," he says in a gruff voice. "A servant of Apollo now?" he questions, shocked with her decision. Cassandra had been a servant of Apollo and the gods only knew how that had turned out for her.
Priam then enters the conversation. "The young men of Troy were devastated when Briseis chose the virgin robes." Briseis blushes at his words and Priam leans forward to press a kiss to his niece's forehead.
"I know this is the last thing we need." Hector and Priam now reside in the meeting hall a few days after arriving in Troy. Statues of Olympian gods line the high-ceiling room and torches burn brightly in the hall, shedding light on the throne at the head of the room. The two stand near an archway looking over the whole city. It is market day, the busiest day of the week, and everyone is up and about. The fish mongers are selling their catches of the day, seamstresses yell out what new clothes they have made, and others boast about their wares. How Hector wished to be them, a common person rather than the heir of Troy.
"It is the will of the gods. Everything is in their hands." Priam is wise in his words, remembering the display he saw with the eagle and Panthea yesterday. He hesitates before continuing, "But, I'm surprised you let him bring her. I'm surprised you brought both of them."
"If I'd let him fight Menelaus for them, you'd be burning a son's body instead of welcoming a daughter, and perhaps a granddaughter." Hector tries to reason with his father.
Priam thinks for a moment before speaking. "We could send peace envoys to Menelaus."
"You know Menelaus," Hector says, exasperated. "He'd spear your envoys' heads to his gate."
"What would you have me do?" Priam sends Hector an unsettling look.
"Put them on a ship and send them home." Hector's voice sounds determined and final. Priam considers his son's words before looking out on his country.
"Women have always loved Paris and he's loved them back. But this is different. Something has changed in him. If we send her back to Menelaus, he'll follow." Priam's countenance is sorrowful as he thinks about what his younger son's fate could be. He wants peace with the Greeks, but he knows his son has changed for the better. He walks out onto the balcony overlooking his city and Hector joins him.
"This is my country. These are my countrymen. I don't want to see them suffer so my brother can have his prize." Hector's love is evident in the desperation of his voice. He wants nothing more than to protect his people and to protect his family.
"And what of your prize, my son?" The comment strikes home with Hector and his dark orbs dart to his father's figure with anger. He ignores the side comment and continues with what they were originally discussing.
"It's not just the Spartans coming after them. By now Menelaus has gone to Agamemnon, and Agamemnon has wanted to destroy us for years."
"Enemies have been attacking us for centuries. Our walls still stand." Priam belives in his city's invinicibility. Others would be cursed for their pride, but not the great Priam.
"Father, we can't win this war." Hector sounds defeated, an emotion that the Prince of Troy had never felt before.
"Apollo watches over us. Even Agamemnon is no match for the gods." Hector rolls his eyes and sighs at his father's words. Priam puts so much faith into superstition that he is blinded by his own pride.
"And how many battalions does the Sun God command?" Sarcasm is laced in Hector's voice.
"Do not mock the gods." Priam reprimands his son, a serious look on his face. Hector bows his head, not having it in his heart to argue. He holds his tongue.
"When you were very young you came down with scarlet fever." Hector nods impatiently, having heard this story many times before. He only wants his father to see reason. "Your little hands were so hot. The healer said you wouldn't last the night. I went down to Apollo's temple and I prayed until the sun came up. That walk back to the palace was the longest of my life. But I went into your mother's room and you were sleeping in her arms. The fever had broken." He pauses, reminiscing the moment. "Your mother and I promised that day to dedicate our lives to the gods. I will not break my promise." He was resolute in his decision. Hector could see there was no dissuading him now. "For thirty years, I've worked for peace. Thirty years." He emphasizes the word to Hector. "Paris is a fool sometimes. I know that. But I'll fight a thousand wars before letting him die." His face looks fierce as he finally spits out his decision.
A solemn expression is on Hector's face as he speaks. "Forgive me, father. But you won't be the one fighting." Hector bows to his father and leaves the old king alone in the great hall. Walking through the corridor, he hears a commotion coming from one of the courtyards and makes his way towards the noise. He spots a crowd in the courtyard surrounding Paris as he spars with one of their younger brothers, Polydorus. The lad was about 12 years old, so he had no hope of winning. Hector smiled at his effort though, knowing that Polydorus only wanted to please their father.
Andromache sat on a bench to the side, observing the match. Panthea lay next to her with her head in Andromache's lap, baby Astyanax in her lap. The two were getting along quite well and Andromache doted on Panthea as if she were a younger sister. Helen sat on another bench, looking miserable as she watched her daughter across the courtyard. Panthea was hostile to her, wanting nothing to do with her. Every time Helen tried to speak to her daughter, Panthea would walk away or pretend like she had never even heard her. It was affecting the young princess though. She barely ate anything and when she did, it was at the urging of Andromache.
A loud cheer arose as Hector came to stand beside his wife, greeting her with a kiss and patting his son on the head. Paris had just knocked Polydorus off his feet and he lay in the dirt defeated. Polydorus frowned up at his older brother as Paris bragged about his victory. He brushed himself off and headed towards Panthea who smiled brightly at him.
"It's alright little sparrow. You'll grow and be the greatest warrior the world has ever seen." Polydorus blushed at Panthea's words, a big grin appearing on his face. He favored Panthea, probably because she didn't treat him like a baby as his mother did. Across the courtyard, Hecuba stood talking with Priam, Cassandra silent beside them. She watched her son conversing with Panthea before returning to the discussion with her husband. Cassandra stared at them, a strange look in her eyes. She rarely spoke, but since Panthea's arrival, she came out of her rooms more and spent time with the Trojan Princess. The two were becoming fast friends and Hector was very grateful for that.
Paris continued being an egotistical prince, asking if anyone else would spar with him. No one answered, but continued joking around with each other, that is until Panthea rose to the challenge. It was unexpected. One minute she sat playing with Astyanax, and the next she was accepting the challenge with a wicked look in her eyes. The court started laughing, thinking it humorous that a princess of Sparta wanted to fight, that is until she ripped the lower half of her peplos off, revealing the smooth skin of her calves.
"I'll fight you Prince Paris," Panthea spoke mockingly as she bowed to Paris. Hector and Andromache chuckled at her behavior, but neither of them knew what was in store. Hector's eyes lingered a little too long on Panthea's legs, but only Andromache noticed. Gesturing behind her, a servant brought a bundle to Panthea. Uncovering it, a sword was revealed beneath, Panthea's own sword given to her by her father. It had been shined and sharpened to perfection, the hilt having the crest of the house of Atreus. Swinging back and forth, testing for its balance, Panthea took a starting stance. Paris gave out a hearty laugh, thinking she was jesting with him. Only Priam, Helen, and Hector knew that was not the case and they prepared themselves for the worse.
Paris swung at Panthea, trying to scare her, but she merely stepped to the side and avoided his swing instead of crouching down as he thought she would. He swung again and she side-stepped again. Panthea began to circle him, her sword held tightly in her hand. Paris followed her with his eyes, gulping inaudibly as he realized he had gotten himself into something dangerous. Helen was shaking in her seat, her eyes fearful for what was to happen.
Panthea then began to lunge forward, her sword and her as one. Paris met her move with a block, trying to push her back. Panthea held her ground, pushing all her weight into her upper body as she dislodged their swords. She swung again, cutting the side of Paris's shoulder. Everyone gasped and Paris hissed at the contact, pulling back to assess the wound. Fury was apparent on his features. In his madness, he blindly swung at her. Panthea was not fazed by his inexperience and expertly knocked the sword out of his hand before tripping him and making him fall hard on the ground. She held her sword to his throat as he tried to push himself off the earth and he looked up at her, panic evident in his blue orbs. She put some pressure into the handle, making Paris move his head farther back to avoid his throat from being sliced open.
No one made a sound, only Panthea's heavy breathing could be heard. She looked like Athena in that moment, a wild look in eyes like she craved blood, Paris' blood. Sweat stuck to her body and dirt covered her feet from the fight. Hector was the only one who dared to move forward, taking small steps towards her so as not to startle her. Panthea did not notice him as she began speaking, tears staining her face.
"You've taken everything from me. You took me from my home, from my father, from my people. How could someone do that to another human being?" Panthea's voice was steady, but sadness still creeped in. "Someone without a heart, without a soul. Do you think the gods would care if I killed you little prince? I think they would feel pleased with me, with you taking a wife from her husband." Paris only stared at Panthea dumbly, looking to Hector for help.
Hector motioned for Paris not to give up his position, but Panthea had already noticed him. She was a warrior after all. "I see you my lord. I'm not stupid." Her glare now tuned to Hector, the fury of a thousand suns evident in them. Hector paused and raised his hands up to show her that he meant no harm.
Panthea paid him no attention, but then turned her anger on her mother. "And you," she said, looking towards Helen who was trembling, tears of her own falling down her face. "How could you leave Hermione by herself? How could you leave her, your own daughter behind, for a man you know nothing about?" Helen only shook her head, refusing to answer. "Tell me!" Panthea screamed, her hand wavering in its grip on the sword.
Moving quickly, Hector knocked the weapon out of her hand and pulled her to her chest. Paris sprung up, backing away from the pair and moving towards Helen who embraced him tightly. Panthea fought against Hector, hitting her hands against his chest roughly. She yelled at him to let her go, even when she accidently smacked his face. But he still held her firmly, whispering to her that she needed to calm down. She collapsed in his arms, tiring herself out. Hector lifted her up, gesturing for Andromache to follow as he carried the princess to her rooms. "I just want to go home," cried Panthea. She clung to Hector like a child, crying her pretty little eyes out until they were red.
Both Hector's and Andromache's hearts felt for Panthea in that moment, both breaking a little as they heard her frantic plea. Polydorus followed, amazed at what he had just seen. He stuck his tongue out at his older brother, making a point, and swiftly followed his elder brother. The court dispersed then, overcome with excitement at the event just witnessed. Priam watched as he son and daughter-in-law carried Panthea away. He was perplexed with Panthea's behavior. She acted more like a man than a woman with her headstrong nature. He knew then that he had something that the Greeks did not have and that was the gods champion.
Helen stood on the terrace of hers and Paris' rooms, looking out on the open waters as twilight descended on Troy. She had her arms wrapped around her as the chill of the wind blew against her. Paris was behind her, pacing nervously. Small scars were visible on his shoulder and at the base of his throat where Panthea's sword had slightly cut him. Something was wrong and both could feel it, but unlike Helen, Paris ignored it.
"They're coming for me, for Panthea and I. I can feel it. The wind is bringing them closer." Helen's voice was laced with dread.
"What if we left? Tonight, right now, what if we went down to the stables, took two horses and left. Ride east, keep riding…" Paris moves towards Helen and take her in his arms, trying to calm her fears.
"And go where? What about Panthea? I can't leave her." Helen knows what Paris says cannot be. They would not be able to go anywhere and if they did, they would be found immediately.
"Away from here. I could hunt deer, rabbit. I could feed us." Paris' words possess determination, but he forgets the harshness of reality. Helen turns to look at Paris with a look of disbelief. She has faith in him, but not to run away and leave their problems behind them. She couldn't put Panthea through that type of life, where they would always be on the run. Her daughter was so young and had a life ahead of her that Helen could only dream of.
"This is your home." Helen urges Paris to see reason. He was acting like a green horse, impetuous and inexperienced. She raises her hand to stroke his chiseled cheek. Paris leans into her touch.
"You left your home for me." Paris stares dead into Helen's eyes, attempting to convince her to obey him like an obedient wife. She breaks from his embrace and walks the length of their bedchamber, distressed with Paris' choice of words.
"Sparta was never my home. My parents sent me there when I was sixteen to marry Menelaus, but it was never my home." Helen's tone is downcast while she remembers the moment her parents abandoned her to her somewhat cruel husband. She was just a child and too young to be separated from her mother. Paris disregards her comments, determined to begin his newly hatched plan. Helen sits on a golden chaise in her room, looking to Paris as he continues to speak.
"We'll live off the land. No more palaces for us, no more servants. We don't need any of that." Paris' face is like that of a child, filled with longing and joy at the prospect of being his own man. He would have no duties, no one to scold him, and would only worry about Helen and Panthea to care for. He would be their protector.
"And your family?" Helen cannot believe what she is hearing. How could Paris give up his life for her? For Panthea? The girl wasn't even his child nor old enough to be with their 10-year age gap.
"We'd be protecting my family! If we're not here there's no need for a war." Helen can see Paris' point, but it's not enough for her.
"Menelaus won't give up. He'll track us to the end of the world," Helen murmurs. Terror is evident in her voice and her body is shaking as she relates this to Paris.
"He doesn't know these lands. I do. We can lose ourselves in a day." Helen rises from her position on the chaise and launches herself at Paris. She has a desperate look in her eyes as she grasps Paris' shoulders.
"You don't know Menelaus. You don't know his brother. They'll burn every house in Troy to find us. They'll never believe we've left, and even if they do, they'll burn Troy for spite." Tears are in Helen's blue orbs as she discloses this information to Paris. Her former husband and his brother would stop at nothing to find them and would punish those who harbored them. Paris considers her words and looks down at the floor, accepting her words.
"Then I'll make it easy for him to find me. I'll walk right up to him and tell him you're mine." Paris' dark depths are filled with a type of fire as he speaks. Helen wraps her arms around Paris and presses her lips to his in a chaste kiss.
"You're very young, my love."
The sun rises on the horizon, casting light on the grand city of Troy. Extra soldiers have been placed at the watch tower for precautions sake. Soldiers are preparing fortifications on the beach or standing guard. Many of the fortifications include sharpened spikes dug into the ground. There is earnestness in the men's efforts as they think about the questionable arrival of the enemy. There is no chatting, merely an overseer calling out orders to his men.
Priam kneels before the statue of Zeus, praying to the mighty god that his kingdom would remain safe from harm. His wise eyes look upwards at the face of the statue and his arms are outstretched as if he were begging, pleading with the Olympians to take him and not his children, not his people, not his Troy.
The temple of Apollo stand erect on the Trojan beach, the golden statue of Apollo shining brightly in the sun. Encased within the great temple are the priests and priestesses of Apollo, Briseis among them. She sprinkles ceremonial wine around the sacrificial fire as the priests prepare offerings on the altar of the gods. Pieces of pig fat are sliced and laid out delicately as the priests chant under their breaths.
Hector sits on a lounge chair happily in his bedchamber as he watches Panthea play with Astyanax on the tiled floor. Blankets and pillows surround them so Astyanax would not accidently hurt himself whilst rolling around on the cold tile. Panthea is holding the lion in her hands that Hector had carved on their journey back from Sparta. She giggles as Astyanax kicks his legs up in glee and tries to reach for the toy. Andromache watches as well, wiping her hands off after washing off the spit up Astyanax had gotten on her. She sits next to Hector and places her head on his shoulder as they watch the pair. She had come to care for Panthea very much in the past few weeks she had been in Troy and she wished for a moment to discuss with Hector what he intended for her.
Suddenly, a loud ringing echoes throughout the palace. The sound is harsh, but it alerts the occupants of Troy of nearing danger. Astyanax lets out a loud wail at the noise and Panthea holds the child to her chest before passing him to his mother. Hector hastily rises from his position and makes his way towards the balcony, looking out on the ocean horizon. His eyes widen in shock and horror as he spots hundreds of Greek ships sailing towards his home.
Turning around, Hector gazes at the two women before him. Andromache is frantic as she looks at her husband, clutching their child to her chest. Her arm is wrapped around Panthea tightly as she awaits her husband's orders. Panthea appears calm, but the look in her eyes is anything but. It is a combination of worry and panic, relief and elation. She didn't know what to feel as she looked at Hector. He steps towards them, embracing his wife and the girl of his passions tightly. Andromache clings to him desperately, while Panthea loosely wraps her arms around the Trojans and buries her face in crook of his neck.
"I won't let them touch you," Hector growls aggressively in their ears. The warrior within him had been awakened.
On the other side of the palace, Paris and Helen are woken by the ringing of the bell. Both make their way towards the balcony, Helen trembling in fear while Paris holds an unwavering glance at the approaching ships.
The Greeks had arrived in Troy and a war among wars was about to begin.
A/N: This was mostly a look at the arrival of Helen and Panthea in Troy. So excited for the next chapter! Things are about to get heated. Lots of love, WhiteRoseQueen xoxo
P.S. sorry for the typing errors if there are any. I am going to go through and correct all chapter errors soon