Chapter 10
"How Much Longer"

Recommended Songs: "The Mission" – 30 Seconds to Mars & "My Hero" – Foo Fighters

Even with the Trojan's intervention, the war continued for more than a year. Had the Aetolians not joined the fight, undoubtedly the battle would have ceased much sooner, but as it was, Thoas led a fierce army of men who once in combat acted as a well-oiled machine. Hector found himself running into battle each time the army was called, and the men would cry out proudly as their crown prince cut his way through the Thessalian lines. He had proven himself to be a fierce warrior, and the Thessalian soldiers would push out of his way to avoid having to face him in combat. Through the fighting, he had become infamous and found his glory as he had always known he would. He bore the scar across his eye with pride, an eternal symbol of his evolution, and it was a constant reminder as well to those who looked upon it that even the crown prince of Troy would bleed beside his soldiers. This garnered him respect not only from the kings and generals but also from his men. The latter mattered more to Hector since they were the soldiers who ran with him into combat, and he was taught the importance of their loyalty in the midst of battle.

They had been fighting for the better part of the afternoon, and the Thessalian army would withdraw soon back toward Larissa. Hector was swift as he spun and cut his sword through the air, slicing open the Greek's throat who stood before him. The latter fell to the ground, and Hector turned to Aeneas who was a few feet away from him. They often enjoyed fighting side by side if only to taunt one another in a competitive manner. Lately, Aeneas had been prone to keeping count of their kills and reminding Hector every time he was falling behind. It was a morbid game, but after a year of fighting, Hector's initial disgust with battle had naturally waned. Though he still caught himself feeling disturbed when he considered the body count piling up from this war, he had simply become accustomed to it. War was old men talking, and young men dying. That was the way of things.

"Thirty-two!" Aeneas called out with a broad grin from behind his helmet.

Hector glanced down at the fallen soldier before him and rejoined, "Thirty-five!"

Aeneas' smile fell, and he swiftly reminded his friend with a hint of annoyance, "The two back there only counted as one. I will let you have thirty-four but no more."

Another soldier was thrown into his path, and Hector chuckled under his breath. "You may keep count, but I'm a little busy, cousin!" With that, the pair resumed their purpose and charged at the group of Thesslians being pushed to the front of the lines. The soldiers at the back had already begun to retreat, but it seemed they had one final strike left in them; and it came in the form of another contingent of Aetolian foot soldiers which surprised the Trojan forces from the left where they charged out of a narrow path. Another Greek soldier fell at his blade, and Aeneas pushed forward to catch up with his cousin and hopefully beat him. Hector's attention, however, was drawn to the left where the unsuspecting Trojans were being slaughtered. The lines broke, and they scrambled to meet the Aetolians who though small in numbers were fierce in battle.

"Euphemos!" Hector yelled out to the Ciconian king. The man paused in battle and turned to consider the prince who called him. Hector raised his sword and pointed to the left. "They need your spearmen!"

Euphemos looked toward the fight breaking out and cried out to his men, "Ciconians! Bear left!" The infamous spearmen followed their leader as he sprinted off to bolster the Trojans and keep the Aetolians from disrupting their lines completely.

Hector turned to his friend, and the Dardanian had already read his thoughts without a word being spoken between them. Aeneas gave him a curt nod with an excited grin displayed across his features, and around them, the Thracian and Trojan soldiers were pushing forward to force the Thessalains to retreat. Rather than following, the pair rushed off to the left to aid their people and fight off the Aetolians. Another Thessalian charged at him, but Hector was sprinting forward with too much speed to bother with a stray soldier. He bent down slightly with his shield in front, catching the soldier around his stomach and throwing him on top of his shield and over into the hungry Thracian forces waiting behind him. Another Thessalian rushed him, but Hector deflected his blade with his shield, pausing only briefly to bury his sword into the soldier behind him. The Trojan prince wouldn't allow his momentum to halt when he heard his men crying out in the distance. He pushed forward, catching another soldier's blade with his shield and twisting out of reach to elbow a soldier onto the ground. His allies behind him took care of the rest while he continued after his cousin who had already engaged his first Aetolian. Hector wasn't one to be left behind, and he sliced open a final Thessalian's chest with his dark eyes situated on his next victim. The Aetolian who sprinted forward was brave but stupid. The Trojan prince moved fluidly and swiftly, but his strike had such a force driving it when it hit the foreigner's chest that the Aetolian's legs were swept out from under him. He landed roughly on his back and screamed against the pain while the blood poured out of the deep wound. Without hesitation, Hector drove his sword down into his chest, ending his last struggle against death.

Aeneas was a few feet ahead of him, and Hector pushed around to his right, stopping an Aetolian whose sword was poised to strike his cousin. "You're still here?" Aeneas taunted before slicing open the Aetolian's chest who had attacked him first, driving his heel into his abdomen, and pushing him back into the other soldiers. They unwittingly caught their injured cargo and were forced back a few paces.

"Someone has to watch your back," Hector shot back as he threw the Aetolian's blade off of his own and pierced his sword through the man's chest. As the man fell, Hector saw one of his soldiers charged by two Aetolians and thrown backward onto the ground. He swung his shield, knocking one of them to the ground, but the other took the opportunity to drive his sword down toward his chest. The Trojan cringed, expecting the inevitable, but a bronze blade cut through the Aetolian's neck, stopping his advance. His own crown prince withdrew the blade, and the Aetolian crumbled to the ground. Hector then considered the injured Trojan and offered his hand. Numbly and still in shock, the soldier took Hector's hand, and the latter pulled him back up to his feet. Then Hector granted him a firm nod in response to his surprise as if to silently encourage him to snap out of it, but the Trojan's eyes weren't on Hector's face. Instead, his features fell in awestruck horror, and he immediately placed a hand on Hector's shoulder, forcing them both down as a bronze blade cut through the air inches from Hector's head.

Hector spun on his heel and shot up to face his latest enemy. The Aetolian backed away a few feet from the prince, and the plume on his helmet hinted at his status; but Hector wouldn't be intimidated by a general or commander –especially not one who had attacked him while his back was turned. Coward. He glared at him fiercely from behind his helmet, and the two began circling each other, carving out a slender circle of space for them to fight in. Around them, soldiers paused to watch the battle unfolding. Judging by the way the Aetolians tensed, Hector guessed his enemy was someone important in their ranks, but as before, the prince did not care. The man instigated the fight, but Hector would be sure to end it. Spurred by his thoughts, his eyes darkened, and the two men suddenly advanced toward each other. Hector watched intently with his muscles tensed in preparation to evade any movements from the other man.

The Aetolian swung with his shield, and Hector caught it with his own, using the momentum to twist away and face the Greek once more. Already his sword was cutting upward through the air, but Hector bent back, narrowly dodging the blow. He sprung forward once it had passed and swung down at the man who barely side stepped the attack. His bronze blade shone in the sun as he swung it at the prince, and Hector quickly deflected it with his shield. Keeping his shield in place, Hector dug his feet into the ground and pushed the man, causing him to tumble back several paces. The prince's breathing was drawn, and his eyes were dark from the day spent at war. The Aetolian took a moment to regain his bearings and yelled as he charged at Hector once more. This time, the prince held his ground until the man was only a few feet in front of him. He spun out of reach as the Aetolian flew past and took the offensive. The Aetolian barely turned in time to see the blow aimed at him, and as he evaded it, the tip of Hector's blade sliced open his thigh. He cried out in pain and stumbled back unsteadily. With a glance at his injured leg, he growled under his breath and discarded his shield which would have only added more of a burden. In response, Hector threw his off if only to face him on equal grounds. There was no valor to be had from defeating an Aetolian general or commander when he had an unfair advantage. No, Hector wouldn't let something so menial take his glory that day.

The Aetolian gritted his teeth against the pain but clearly had no intention of surrendering. Instead, he dropped his sword and held out his hand. A soldier tossed him a spear, and he immediately stabbed at Hector. The prince suddenly wished he hadn't dropped his shield so quickly. He dodged the advance, but by that time, the Aetolian had already retracted his arm and was springing forward with another blow. Hector tilted as swiftly as he could, but the edge of the spear barely grazed the right side of his neck. The wound was minimal, but it was a warning that the Aetolian was quick and dangerous with the new weapon. Hector knew he would have to find a way to disarm him, or on his next stab, the Trojan could be impaled by the spear. The Aetolian jabbed again, but Hector was prepared and barely missed it, locking the spear between his left side and his arm. His left hand grabbed hold of the spear, and he pulled with all his force. The Aetolian wouldn't release the spear, but he seemed to realize he was caught. He couldn't charge Hector since the prince still had his sword, but he couldn't dislodge his spear either.

Reluctantly, he released his grip on the spear, and Hector tossed it to the side, out of his reach. The Aetolian looked around for some sort of weapon, and one of his men tossed a sword in his direction. Hector didn't move to stop him, clearly giving him room to retrieve the weapon if he so desired. The Aetolian noticed this and seemed to reconsider his actions before he abandoned his battle stance and stood tensely in front of Hector. He removed his helmet, and Hector paused momentarily before he followed suit. The two stared at each other now that their faces were revealed, taking in the other's appearance, and the Aetolian spoke up suddenly, "Who are you?"

Hector's eyes narrowed against the bright sun over head, and he answered, "Hector, son of Priam."

"The Trojan prince." It wasn't a question, but Hector's silence was confirmation. The Aetolian grew more grave as he realized he was fighting such a significant individual. "I am Ilioneus... son of Thoas."

Hector had never faced another prince in battle before. Evidently the sons of Triopas either did not choose to fight or hid at the back of the lines. Thus, he considered Ilioneus with a hint of respect for being a man of royalty who fought beside his men. For this reason did Hector decide, "There has been enough fighting for one day. Collect your dead and leave. No one will stop you." The Aetolian prince subtly winced at being commanded by another, but Hector had not meant it in a malicious way. The utter reality was that the Aetolians would be slaughtered if they stayed and fought, so there was no other option. Ilioneus swallowed his pride and motioned for his men, and they began moving through the lines. The Trojans and Thracians stood down, but they were intently watching Hector in case the prince changed his mind. Hector, however, saw no need to continue the fight, not now that he knew it was the Aetolian prince. At that moment, he was incredibly grateful that neither had been successful in the fight. Had he killed Ilioneus, Aetolia would attack Troy with such a furious vengeance. It had been a stroke of good luck, and he offered up a prayer to whichever god had watched over him that day.

Ilioneus moved forward with his men, but he paused beside the Trojan prince and said, "I hope our paths never cross on the battlefield again."

"I have no need to kill a prince," Hector commented.

"Nor do I." Without another word, Ilioneus continued retreating with his men, and Hector glanced over his shoulder to watch them depart.

Likewise the crowd of Trojan and Thracian soldiers around them began to disband and head back toward the camps. The Thessalian army had retreated as Hector had known they would. The prince scanned the faces of the men lingering around him, and he recognized the injured Trojan soldier who had saved him from almost being decapitated. He approached the man and asked, "What is your name, Trojan?"

The young man straightened before his crown prince and bowed his head respectfully as he answered, "Lysander, son of Theramenes."

Without hesitation, Hector earnestly admitted, "I am grateful for your help today."

The man glanced up at the prince to see if he was speaking the truth, and he appeared stunned that Hector was thanking him. Spurred by some abrupt self-confidence, the soldier peered up at Hector, and rejoined, "I am honored, my lord… to fight at your side."

One corner of Hector's mouth lifted in an incomplete smile, and the compliment filled him with a sense of pride -especially since it came from one of his own soldiers. There was no deceit in his eyes, and Hector found himself uncertain how to respond appropriately. At length, he clapped the soldier on the shoulder as a sign of their recently found solidarity and rejoined, "As am I." He then turned away from the stunned soldier and headed back toward the camps to wash up and rest.

It had been a long day of battle, and the prince's muscles ached from his exertions. However, in the year at war, he had grown stronger physically as well as mentally. Hector had arrived on the shores of Greece a young man, but he had changed in many ways since then. From days spent at battle, his body had strengthened further, evening out his tall form with broad shoulders and developed muscles. He proved an intimidating man with his height and strength even to those who were unaware of his prowess in battle. The prince was proud of his transformation in the past year, and walking through the camps, he noticed how the people watched him, and it gave him a distinct sense of satisfaction.

Acamas happened to be heading in his direction, and his face lit up in a broad grin when he saw the Trojan prince. "Hector," he called out amiably.

"Acamas," Hector returned in greeting with a smile.

Acamas was in a hurry to speak with Dryas, but he patted Hector on the chest as they passed and called back at him, "You fought well today. A few more months, and we'll have won this war!" Hector chuckled under his breath. Acamas was constantly promising the war would be ended in a matter of months, but Hector saw no such future on the horizon. Triopas and Thoas were much too stubborn to surrender after only a year.

Continuing his trek toward his tent, he saw a familiar Thracian king step around the corner. "Euphemos," Hector said to get the man's attention, and the king turned to consider him. "My men are thankful for the aid of your soldiers."

"Without the Ciconians' spears, they would be dining in Hades," Euphemos answered with a hint of amusement to his voice.

This caused Hector to grin, and he shot back, "Instead it is the Aetolians, my friend."

To this, Euphemos sarcastically raised the cup of water he was drinking out of and tilted his head back in acknowledgment. "We will make the boatman wait a little longer, Prince Hector."

Hector couldn't agree more, and he was grateful for the allies he had made through this war. Though war was trying for both sides involved, this had been the right thing to do. Troy had no need to risk her alliance with these tribes, and Hector was glad he had a hand in maintaining these bonds. With this train of thought, he found his tent and slipped inside, grateful for a chance to rest in solitude. Unfortunately, he had a visitor waiting for him when he entered, and the old man turned expectantly toward him. "Father," Hector breathed with a hint of surprise. They didn't often see each other outside of meetings to discuss war strategy since Hector was normally in battle or recovering and Priam kept with the other kings.

"You've been injured," Priam returned with his blue eyes on the cut at Hector's neck.

It took the prince a minute to remember it since it was such a meager wound, but he drew a finger across the thin incision, causing it to sting. Ignoring the slight pain, he sat on the edge of his cot and began unlacing his skin guards. "It is barely a scratch." It was cooler inside the shade of his tent, and his skin tingled as he removed each piece of armor in turn, allowing the damp skin underneath to breathe.

"You called for the Ciconian spearmen to help our soldiers today," Priam acknowledged, and where he was going with this conversation, only he knew.

Hector was intrigued, but at that particular moment, he was too tired to guess what his father's end game was. "Our soldiers were ambushed by an Aetolian contingent. The Ciconians were the closest group who could aid them." While he spoke, he unlatched the cuffs at his wrists and unceremoniously deposited them beside his shin guards.

"You have surprised me, Hector." That one sentence alone made the prince stop dead in his tracks and peer up at his father, trying to read his intent in his eyes. Was it maliciousness? Priam was not one to often compliment Hector, and so the prince found himself assuming the worst. He untied the leather slung across his chest which attached to his sheath and tossed it aside as well. Priam realized his son wouldn't speak and explained, "You thought quickly and acted with haste. You made an important decision today."

Hector's eyes narrowed curiously. As far as he was concerned, it had been a rather simple decision. In fact, he had made much more difficult, trying, and confusing choices in this year at war, but this was the one his father took notice of? Still, Hector didn't say a word, and he removed his chest plate. Once it was detached, he breathed deeply, enjoying the freedom of movement without the weight of his armor. His blue undershirt clung to him from the sweat that had accumulated underneath his armor, but Hector would worry about that later. For now, he was comfortable enough and straightened to consider his father fully. "It surprises you that I called on the Ciconians?"

"You commanded a king." Priam's gaze was intense as he peered at his son. Despite how openly he looked at Hector, the younger man couldn't read his father's intent.

"I did not command a king," he clarified easily. "I asked an ally for help." He wanted to be sure the difference was made clear. There was a moment of silence where Hector tried to understand what his father's purpose in speaking with him was. Unfortunately, he couldn't get a handle on it, so he waited patiently for Priam to reveal what he was thinking.

"When you discussed wanting to come to Greece, I thought you were being selfish -that you only wanted to go to war to satisfy your own curiosity and boredom." Priam spoke slowly and deliberately so that with every word, Hector's anticipation grew. He mentally willed his father to be quick about it and spit out whatever it was he wanted to say. "Somehow you have managed to correct my hasty judgment. I have been training you to become a man worthy of leading the Trojan people, but I never anticipated that you would assume the characteristics so early in life. I thought you much less capable than you have proven yourself to be." Hector's jaw nearly dropped, and he ceased breathing completely as if one stray breath might shatter this moment between them. It couldn't be reality. His father never spoke so candidly with him. "But you must learn to serve before you can lead. You should choose your words wisely even in battle. Not every king will be so understanding when you call on them as if they are your subordinates."

The last statement was a complete turn from where he expected the conversation to go, but he should have known better than to hope that this would be a discussion applauding Hector for his behavior. The beginning had merely thrown him off the scent, but as usual, his father admonished him for any possible fault. Hector's fury flared without warning, and for once, the prince did not hold his tongue. "Euphemos knew that I was asking for his help and thought nothing beyond that. You find an ulterior motive in a man's breath. I wonder how you sleep each night when you are so afraid of someone stabbing a knife into your back if you roll over."

Priam lifted his chin slightly, and a stray ray of light slipped past the leather at the entrance of his tent, granting the inside enough light that Hector could finally see the anger in his father's ice blue eyes. Usually, Hector would be respectful, follow any direction his father gave him, and submit to his father's power, but the prince had had enough of blindly following him. He would no longer allow himself to be treated as a child when he deserved some respect even from his father. Priam stood then, and Hector followed suit if only to remind his father that he was larger. It was a petty manner of expressing strength and a certain amount of dominance, but Hector's silent frustration had compounded over the years, guiding him toward this one moment where he would not back down. Instead, the prince literally stood before him, wordlessly beckoning him to make another comment about his actions. Priam noted the shift in his son's behavior, but he did not speak a word about it.

"You are young, and you trust a man's word; but we cannot afford trust, Hector. Never forget that wolves are always hungry and await any opportunity for a quick meal. Even Euphemos would spear you if it served some purpose for him. Heed my words, or you can learn the truth yourself when your own friend betrays you. Do not be so foolish as to think it will not happen one day." Priam's tone was laced with venom, and Hector nearly trembled from the fury his father had incited within him. Priam, however, had no intention of allowing his son the final word. Rather, the old King of Troy turned and abandoned his son's tent.

Their unexpected conversation left Hector pensive, uncertain, and annoyed in its wake. For several minutes, he sat back on his cot in silence after his father left, simply replaying the words exchanged over and over in his mind. At length, he undressed and poured some water down his back and chest to remove the sweat, dirt, and blood from his skin. The water was cool to his heated form, and he splashed some on his face as well. Once he was fairly clean, he donned a pair of blue robes and decided to visit his cousin Aeneas. Surely he could take Hector's mind off of the bizarre exchange, and he was also curious what Aeneas thought about the battle that day. It was a relatively short walk to the Dardanian camp, and Hector nodded in greeting to the soldiers sitting around outside. He restrained a grimace as a now familiar smell hit his nostrils: burning flesh. A glance to his right revealed two men holding down an injured soldier while a third man pressed the red hot blade of his sword against a wound on the man's chest. A piece of leather in the injured soldier's mouth muffled his howls of pain. It was a brutal way to suture a wound, but in times of war, men often fell victim to such torturous methods. The Trojan prince turned away and located his cousin's tent with ease.

He carelessly push the leather flaps at the entrance aside and ducked his head while stepping inside. The moment, however, that he saw what was going on within the tent, he froze in shock. Of course he should have known better, but he was not thinking clearly in the wake of his conversation with his father. There was his cousin, completely naked, and hovering over a Bisaltae woman while he went about his business. The woman happened to notice Hector since his cousin was preoccupied and screamed at the stranger who had entered the tent. The prince swiftly exited without hesitation, and all the color drained from his face. He never wished to see that much of his cousin, and he roughly rubbed a hand over his face, attempting to wipe away the memory. Unfortunately the image had been seared into his brain, and he growled irritably under his breath. By now, he had paused outside Aeneas' tent, and he acknowledged this was a scenario where retreat was a viable option. He doubted his cousin would cease before he had his release in any case. The thought sent a shudder of disgust down Hector's spine, and he visibly grimaced when the image flashed before his eyes. Aeneas had certainly taken his mind off of the discussion with his father, but this was not at all how Hector had intended to forget: he had expected there to be talk of battle or perhaps wine. Several moments later, the Bisaltae woman sprinted out of the tent with her dress barely on, and Aeneas followed with a piece of material loosely wrapped around his waist.

The demi-god grumbled under his breath and turned to see his cousin. "You've scared her off... I liked her," Aeneas said with a hint of annoyance.

Hector was still scarred from the scene he had walked in on, but he quickly rejoined, "There is not a woman you do not like."

Aeneas considered such a comment briefly before smiling at his cousin and formulating some new plan in his head. "Her sister is fairer."

"We are at war, and you are more concerned with wooing women." Normally he would have chuckled at his cousin's behavior, but for the time being, Hector seemed less than amused.

"What use would I be in combat were I not able to clear my mind and enjoy myself at night?" Aeneas grinned wolfishly.

Hector raised his brow dubiously as he commented, "You already fight like a woman."

"How can you even see me in battle, cousin? You are always so far behind."

"Cleaning up the mess you make. You blindly charge through the lines, and I'm left to handle the men you leave behind."

"I leave the petty soldiers to you. I prefer a greater challenge."

"Challenge?" Hector scoffed. "Perhaps you find the foot soldiers a challenge."

"That is you, cousin."

"I did not see you fighting the Prince of Aetolia this afternoon."

At the reminder, Aeneas pointed out, "You could have captured him. Thoas might have abandoned this war if it meant having his son returned to him."

Hector had not considered that option earlier, but he thought the possibility over for a time before deciding, "I doubt once the prince was returned that Aetolia would remain an observer. From what I have heard, Thoas is vengeful."

Aeneas nodded in agreement and commented, "I do not think this war will be finished soon."

"Nor do I," Hector returned.

"So long as we claim victory in the end, I will remain and fight."

The Trojan prince smirked. "A few more months, and you will have run out of Bisaltae companions."

"Then I will start on the Pieres tribe," Aeneas rejoined without hesitation. This caused Hector to laugh heartily, and Aeneas clapped his friend on the shoulder. With that, he disappeared back into the confines of his tent and finally managed to dress himself to Hector's relief. He never wished to see so much of his cousin again. They soon joined his soldiers outside and met the night with cups of wine in hand. It was easy to forget his argument with his father when he was surrounded by the soldier's rowdiness.

However, once night fell, he was alone yet again within the confines of his tent, lying on his back on his cot and staring up toward the black top overhead. He absentmindedly tossed the gold pin while he thought through all the events that had happened in the past year, and when he caught the pin next, he held it in his hand and rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. It had become a calming ritual for him at night, and he wondered how long it would be before his saw his home, family, and friends again. Already he had grown tired of war and wished for some sort of break. Considering the pin in the dim light, he inevitably thought of the young girl who had given it to him and wondered how she had fared this past year. He liked to think that she was happy, and that the gods had smiled on her family, granting her father and brothers luck in their catches. There was some part of him that hoped she hadn't outgrown their friendship. Would he return to Troy once this war had run its course to find that she no longer wished to see him? With such a train of thought, it was hours before his exhaustion overcame him, and sleep granted him a momentary reprieve from the violence of his world.

Author's Note: Hey lovies! Feel free to make fun of me for using "My Hero" as one of the recommended songs, but I couldn't help myself. It came on shuffle on my iPod while I was writing this chapter, and I was like YEA! Hahaha I'm such a dork. A very, very big thank you to AmyLNelson! Your review seriously made my day, so thank you for taking the time out to give me some feedback! When I started writing this story, I really wanted to do something different from your run of the mill Hector love story sooooo you telling me it's original is like the biggest compliment you could give me :D I hope you liked this chapter and will continue reading. Hector will return to Troy in the next chapter, and that is when the real fun begins! xoxo