Note: Apologies to everyone who has this story on their subscribed list: I edited the first chapter (again). There were some lines which I really didn't like at all and wanted to change so that's why you probably received an extra message. If you were confused, sorry.

Beta: Litrouke; Thanks to her Achilles' manliness was saved.

Chapter 14: Paris' Wrath and Forgiveness

"Have you nothing to offer me to drink?" Paris demanded once he had lain back down on his husband's pallet.

Achilles generally did not respond well to being ordered around (as Agamemnon could attest to). But he hesitated only briefly before fetching some watered wine. Paris drank deeply; he was parched.

"When did we arrive?" he asked curiously.

"Just a short while ago. Odysseus rode the horses through the night; it is early morning now. I checked your bandages and put you to rest."

Paris nodded. "The news I bring is dire, but a lot of time has passed since we left Phthia and even more will pass until we return to your homeland, so another moment's respite will not be of great importance." Paris paused, watching Achilles who sat next to the bed, his leg bent with his hands resting folded on his knee and his chin on top. He was tense, Paris saw, and if he looked closely then he could see that the Myrmidon looked as if he had not slept well recently.

"Do you remember when we met? What you promised me then?" Paris asked.

Achilles could and had stared down whole armies of warriors, the so-called best fighters of other lands and their kings, yet he could not hold his husband's angry gaze now.

"I remember," he admitted in a low voice, knowing already where this was heading.

"You promised me a good life; you promised to protect me. I, too, made promises. And while you left me alone behind in Phthia, where your father would have had me removed from our rooms, I kept my promises of fidelity though I admit I was tempted."

Still Achilles would not meet his eyes. "Aphrodite came to me and suggested as much. She said it was uncertain if you would return. I also saw you and Odysseus lying on an island. You were unconscious and I would have gone to find you but the goddess would not tell me where you were," the warrior admitted.

Again Paris nodded in acknowledgement. The fact that Achilles would have searched for him pacified him slightly.

"Tell me, was it worth coming here?" he asked.

Achilles shook his head slowly. "Glory does not wait for me anymore. And…" now Achilles reached for Paris' hand lying in his lap and took it gently, "I missed you."

The Trojan would not immediately answer. Achilles continued.

"Please," and it must have been the first time that word came over Achilles' lips, "stay. I promise to try to do better. I will not stray from your side anymore and if my harshness repulses you…" he trailed off helplessly. Paris tugged at his hand until Achilles leant over him. Reaching up, Paris wrapped his arm around Achilles, kissed his lips quickly to silence him before tightening the embrace and resting his cheek against Achilles' hair.

"We were attacked," the Trojan finally revealed. Achilles pulled back to look at him in shock.

"A man named Aischylos. He spoke against your father and raised his hand against me. Patroclus went to take revenge on my part, I think, and the men found him gravely injured after he had not returned. I do not know what happened exactly; I do not even know how badly he was hurt. That same night your mother sent me to find you."

"Patroclus," Achilles released him to jump up agitatedly. "We must leave immediately."

Paris had risen off his bed and supported himself with a hand behind his back, though it hurt.

"Yes, we do. But think, husband: it took us days until we were shipwrecked, and then we were further delayed until we had arranged for a new ship. We took a shortcut over land but the Myrmidons will have to take all of the ships. The return journey will easily take another few days! By the time we return more than fourteen days will have come and gone. We do not know what we will come back to, but we have to be prepared for the worst and acting rashly now will not help us."

"If we hurry, we will be able to break camp today and sail first thing tomorrow. I do not want any further delays, though you are right."

"You have a point as well. The sooner we leave the better." With a sigh, Paris lay back. Immediately, Achilles was next to him.

"Do you hurt? I am sorry, but Odysseus has already done for you all that is possible. I will change your bandages today but other than that there is nothing I can help you with."

Reassuringly, Paris patted his concerned husband's hand. "Do not worry about it. I am not dead and that is more than I can say about the man who attacked me. Did Odysseus tell you about that?"

"He said that you had met some rebels or bandits. He brought my sword as well, saying you carried it."

Paris chuckled. "Oh yes, your mother gave it to me. Odysseus and … another man taught me the best they could. But we were pressed for time and during that fight I was caught off-guard from behind."

"If you like, I will teach you more."

"That might be useful, yes. Go now to see to your men. I am tired and need rest."

Achilles stood to leave.

"Oh, and one last thing: offer Odysseus the hospitality due. You owe him twice for my life and also a good part of my return. He carries no fault in what happened."
"He should have protected you better," Achilles insisted.
"Nobody could have prevented what happened. He did his best. And besides, he is your friend and I would call him mine as well."
The warrior huffed a little but decided to give in. "Very well. I will do as you wish."

Achilles left the hut and Paris drifted off. Due to the pain, the sleep he fell into was only light. He did not realize that he slept the whole day away. When Achilles returned, the warrior joined him in bed, wrapping an arm carefully around the Trojan. Sighing in contentment, Paris laid his hand on the arm around his chest.

"I never wanted you to regret being with me," Achilles quietly told him.

"I know," Paris managed to answer sleepily before he returned to sleep.

The next morning, Achilles was loath to wake Paris. Dawn was just approaching, but his men were ready to leave and Peleus' son could not be delayed further. Paris could sleep on the ship, he thought, and he decided that he would disturb his husband as little as possible: the warrior pulled away the covers and lifted the Trojan carefully with his hands beneath his back and his shoulders, the head falling to rest on his chest.

His precious burden safely in his arms, Achilles carried him outside, taking care not to jostle the young man, but in the end it proved useless. The pain of his wound being jarred woke Paris and, with a groan, Paris opened his eyes.

"Achill…," he moaned, partly in pain, partly still asleep.

"Hush," Achilles tried to calm his husband. But once the prince realized that he was being carried, he struggled.

"Down," he instructed shortly and Achilles gave in, carefully setting him on his feet though his arms stayed around him to steady him.

Sleepily, Paris blinked at his surroundings. Working through the night, the Myrmidons had finished preparing the ships, thirty in total. The only task left was to load Achilles' belongings on board and break down the huts.

Paris yawned. His hand went for his injured side but Achilles intercepted him.

"Don't touch it. You will only make it worse. It needs to heal."

Leaning on Achilles, Paris watched the Myrmidons at work. If Paris had wanted, he could have gone to Achilles' ship and rested there. But there was one last issue to resolve. And as if the gods had been listening, several men approached them: Odysseus and the Ithacans. The king greeted first Achilles, then his husband.

"You know if we could, we would follow you to fight for your country immediately," the Ithacan said to Achilles.

"I know, my friend," Achilles answered, much more pleasant Paris noticed than the day before. "But your men are injured and exhausted. Besides, it is my country and I have men enough to put any usurpers to rout."

"You are right of course," Odysseus agreed. He turned to Paris. "So this is goodbye for us, at least for now. I still remember my promise to you," the Ithacan smirked. "And I'll be by next year or so, once I've seen my friend Diomedes and assured him of my perfect health."

Odysseus held out his hand to clasp but Paris would not leave it at that: taking the hand in his, he stepped close and wrapped the other arm around Odysseus' neck in a hug.

"Thank you. And I'll hold you to that promise," Paris said simply.

Odysseus smiled and returned the hug briefly. Then he clasped arms with Achilles.

"What promise?" the warrior asked slightly suspiciously.

Paris laughed cheerfully. "Nothing you need to know about," he answered, and Odysseus winked at him.

Standing mournfully with the other Ithacans was Phytheas. He threw admiring looks at Achilles but the fact that his newfound friend Paris was leaving dampened his spirits. Paris left the commanders behind to farewell him. They hugged tentatively.

"Maybe I get to see you next year when the king goes to visit Phthia. I would love to see you again. We might even be able to really train our sword fighting together!" Phytheas enthused.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow. "We'll see about that," he commented, causing Phytheas' face to fall.

"You can't leave him behind!" Paris argued heatedly before he caught the mischievous glint in Odysseus' eyes. "If he isn't with you when next you visit, I will refuse to see you," he added for good measure though he knew now that Odysseus had only been jesting.

"Where will you go now?" the Trojan prince turned to Odysseus.

"We might rest for another day or two and then return to Sparta – more carefully and without incidents this time I hope! Then we will take the ship to Ithaca, maybe drop in on Diomedes before going home."

"I see."

Achilles, concerned for his husband and seeing that the Trojan was still hurting, went to him.

"Come," he said, "let's go on board. You need rest."

Paris was indeed tired and hurting, so he did not protest as Achilles gave a final nod to Odysseus and then took the Trojan by the hand to lead him to his ship. Paris waved to Phytheas and followed Achilles.

If Poseidon held his protecting hand over them then, Achilles had predicted, they could reach Phthia in four days. They were both nervous as to what they would find once they were back home but there was no use making assumptions without even being near the island.

Paris used the time instead to speak to Achilles. He took care to name neither Thales nor Mykonos when he spoke of the voyage with Odysseus. Achilles noticed this avoidance; he knew already that his husband had been shipwrecked on Mykonos as Odysseus had told him, but the Ithacan had glossed over the details of their stay on the island. He decided not to call Paris on this. It did not matter, he thought, as the Trojan was back at his side where he belonged and he would not leave there as long as Achilles could prevent it.

They shared the same bed during the nights. Paris had difficulty falling asleep in the evenings due to his wound which had to be tended to every day; in the mornings, once he had finally fallen into a deep sleep, he was hard to wake and Achilles happily left him in slumber. There was nothing for the Trojan to miss.

The last morning before arrival, Paris woke early. For a moment he wondered why; then he became aware of the muffled pants behind him. Having been married for almost a year now, he knew those sounds well and he wanted to snort as he recognized them.

He turned to see his husband lying just next to him, eyes closed and forehead creased almost in concentration at which Paris wanted to laugh again. The covers prevented the Trojan from seeing exactly what his husband was doing but he didn't need to see the action to know that Achilles had decided to give himself relief without waking Paris. The Trojan did not appreciate being left out.

Boldly he shifted his body until they touched from shoulder to knee; Achilles' eyes opened in surprise but he had no time to react before Paris' lips hungrily devoured his and the Trojan's hand joined his beneath the covers. It had been a long time for Paris, too, and while he had not noticed it earlier, he found now that he had missed not only Achilles' presence, but also his body and the pleasure the Myrmidon could give him.

Achilles reluctantly broke the kiss. "Maybe we shouldn't…" he started though his protest was cut off by a groan that escaped him as Paris' thumb stroked over him teasingly.

"Yes we should," Paris enforced. Deciding that his husband would not take the lead without more encouragement, the Trojan took over by rolling on top of the warrior and engaging him in another hungry kiss.

Eventually, all arguments fled from Achilles' mind and he accepted the Trojan's offering. It was their first time since the Myrmidons had left for war, and their joining was frenzied, led by desire more than deep emotion; oil was spilled on the floor in their haste and bruises inflicted on hips and thighs.

Afterwards, they lay exhausted next to each other, sweat and other fluids making their bodies sticky and smell. They cared not as they rested in each other's arms and hands absently petted and stroked whatever skin they could reach while they calmed their breathing.

They were still dozing and near sleep when Eudorus knocked on their door.

"My lord," he called, "we are nearing home."

Achilles groaned into Paris' neck.

"Coming," he called back slightly muffled. Regretfully, he left the Trojan's arms. Their only possibility of washing was a basin of water and a washcloth. The warrior gave himself a cursorily rubdown, knowing that the smell of sex could not be disguised with such meager means and in short time.

He needed to get his mind back on the topic. Phthia was nearing which meant that soon they would either be welcomed by his father, or by the enemy troops of a usurper. He chose his warrior clothes. The armor would wait but the sword he strapped on immediately.

Abruptly, Paris rose as well and did as Achilles had. They climbed on deck together.

Eudorus was standing at the prow, his eyes trained on the shores of Phthia, which were barely visible at the horizon. Achilles and Paris joined him. It was near silent on the ship as everyone rowed and waited to hear from the commanders what they could see. The nearer they came, the more details they could make out: the difference in color between rocks and grass and beach, then the docks of the Myrmidons where Paris had been surprised by the disguised king of Ithaca.

Looking around, Paris felt somehow reassured by the many other ships next to them and behind them. Those warriors would surely support them should there be battle. Still, his hand tightened around the sword sheathed in the belt he had wrapped around him when preparing. Achilles noted his tenseness and laid a calming hand on his shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

"Should there be trouble," the Myrmidon instructed, "you will stay here below deck. I can leave some men behind to guard you if you want…"

The Trojan shook his head. "I don't want to remain here."

"Paris, it would be better if you were not in battle. I could not concentrate if I knew you were there as well and what if something happened to you again?"

Stubbornly, Paris wanted to refuse again. Achilles, however, pulled him harshly into an embrace, rested his cheek on Paris' hair and spoke into his ear in a low voice.

"You must stay. I will not lose you, do you hear?" The tone told Paris that the topic was not up for discussion and he knew that Achilles was right in that he did not belong into a fight. Reluctantly he nodded his consent. Achilles kissed his forehead and his lips in mute thanks.

They were near enough now to see the ships at the coast. Their number seemed neither particularly great nor small, which meant that trade at least had not stopped as it would during war and there could not be a significant number of outsiders in Phthia. None of the ships looked to be made for war. But still…

"One of the ships sails under colors," Eudorus commented. Achilles strained his eyes; indeed, while normal merchant ships' sails went white and unmarked, only a nation's ships carried a sign.

"Send a lookout to see what kind," he instructed. Eudorus chose a young man who nimbly climbed the mast. Achilles, too, leant over the railing as if he could see further then. At last the lookout called down.

"My lord, it looks like an animal. A dog maybe or a horse."

"A horse?" Paris asked, surprise and anticipation raising his voice.

Achilles frowned. He, too, could instantly name one prominent person who would most likely fly such sails. The question was: could he look forward to this meeting, if his consort was indeed right in his assumption?

The Trojan did not notice his husband's darkened features. His body tingled with impatience, his heart called out to step on shore soon and a single name fell from his lips with joy:

"Hector!"

That's it for today. I can't say when the next chapter will be posted as it isn't even finished yet. Still I'll give you a small glimpse of what I have so far:

Teaser

"His funeral has been taken care of?" - "His body has been prepared. We wanted to wait with the pyre until you had returned."

"Now you must choose: renounce your family ties to him or be the first to die!"

Thanks for reading; please leave a review.