Chapter 36
"A King's Decision"

Recommended Songs: "The Cave" – Mumford & Sons & "One and Only" – ADELE

High atop the lustrous white stone walls of Troy one of the bronze bells resonated three powerful notes that echoed through the streets within and out across the plains where the army was approaching. It rang once to alert the townspeople and royalty, again to open the gates, and a final time to welcome them home. Like a mother brings a child against her breast so Troy opened to them. The heralds led the way carrying the royal hallmark of Troy high on their posts, some foot soldiers followed, and Hector was swept inside soon after donning a proud smile to see his countrymen line the streets and celebrate the return of their Crown Prince with the last of the troops. He lifted his hand to recognize their support and glanced to his left where she rode anxiously beside him. A superstition had struck him after catching her in his arms again, and he wouldn't release her from his sight for so long as to return her home. Home. This was her home now –beside him. His attention shifted down the street to the palace shining brightly beneath the sun where it rose high in the center of the city and imagined his father staring down on them infuriated by Hector's insistence to present his betrothed before his people. His grin lifted substantially, and he noted the gossips perched upon the rooftop of a nearby building chattering on behind their hands. He wished to call to them, 'Spread this news you loose-lipped women that Hector, Prince of Troy, returns from Cilicia with his bride!' Instead he nodded his head to them causing another eruption of whispers like chickens disrupted momentarily and nervously settling back in their group.

Myrina had been sucked into the city with the pressure of the army contracting around them to funnel through the gates and up the main street. All too late did she realize the throngs of townspeople gathered to meet them, and there was no space for her to turn her horse or at least slip from Hector's side. She had developed her own superstition against displaying their relationship so flagrantly. It felt too soon. Surely only bad luck could follow. Her heart was thundering in her chest as she tried to take in the crowd gathered, but every face was foreign and that of a stranger. The colors seemed too bright, their calls too loud, the street too hot. Her black cloak was still drawn around her narrow shoulders out of modesty more than a chill. Hector had found a gown to replace her ripped peasant dress before they left the outpost on the border. It was dark copper and styled in the fashion of the Trojan dresses she had seen but not nearly so ornate. There were no jewels hanging from it or beautiful trimming, but there was a lovely embroidered pattern in gold thread where it fastened at the shoulders. It was the sort of gown she imagined a merchant's daughter might wear, but she had no jewelry to accompany it –not even that Thracian shell necklace she had once loved so dearly. Part of her hoped the cloak could shield her from those endless pairs of eyes, but there was no hiding beside Hector. With his hand raised and lips parted in a smile, he practically beckoned them.

Her instinct was to glue her chin to her collarbones and keep her gaze on her horse's mane, but showing weakness and insecurity was not an option. How then could she prove she was worthy of him? Her jaw set tensely where it was parallel to the ground, her eyes locked straight ahead of them, and her shoulders were squared atop her straight spine. Around them the crowds shifted restlessly, and soldiers kept the lines at bay. It occurred to her that this was what made a nation. These people proclaiming their love for a man they didn't know, and Hector looking upon them with as much love as though each of their faces bore the resemblance of a brother or sister. What a powerful feeling being in the center of it, and the awe and admiration tore her attention away from her stoic purpose. Her eyes landed on his profile, and she watched him interact with his people while they showered flowers upon him. It felt surreal and magnificent, and she was as much a spectator as the rest, enthralled by his charisma. He recognized her gaze over the others and shifted to sustain it. 'How have you been so lucky to have him?' she asked herself. He called something to her, but she couldn't discern it over the volume of the crowds. She shook her head and lifted two fingers to touch her ear, and he seemed to understand. Still he smiled, and it felt so much wider surrounded by his dark beard.

It was a short eternity before they were within the palace gates. Servants took their horses, and Myrina followed him up a wide set of stairs toward a level she had never seen. Of course that wasn't difficult to manage. There was so much of the palace she hadn't seen. With her dress gathered in her hands, she remained a step or two behind Hector feeling safer from this position where he would engage anyone first, but he glanced over his shoulder from time to time back at her whether to check on her nerves or simply to be sure she hadn't strayed. Each time their gazes locked for a silent exchange since no words had fallen between them after they entered Troy. She was too nervous to speak, and he couldn't decide what he should say to her. Ascending the steps she almost thought she could overpower her anxiety like it were all a matter of will, but when they reached the summit and she saw the people gathered there, she forgot her courage instantly. Hector's pace hastened, and she struggled to catch up for fear of being left behind while recognizing the faces as those of his family. One particularly tall and slender man rushed forward before all the rest and embraced Hector tightly. 'Paris,' she presumed and couldn't help smiling at the seeing the two brothers reunited.

Hector took a step back to take in his younger sibling, and he taunted, "You haven't changed the slightest."

"Mother says I've grown," Paris threw back stubbornly, and as a testament his head now reached Hector's nose.

"She's indulging you," he assured him and laughed. Paris' attention shifted past his brother to the young woman lingering a pace behind them, and a giant smile broke out across his face when he recognized her though she shyly looked away. Perhaps Paris wasn't as dull as gossips suggested, and he turned to Hector to confirm her presence. Unfortunately the eldest prince had caught sight of his father lingering beneath the shade of the canopy and waiting to speak with him. The hand resting on Paris' shoulder tightened, and Hector nodded meaningfully toward Myrina before clapping him a final time and setting off to meet the King of Troy and the rest of his family.

Myrina moved to follow him, but Paris sidestepped into her path and smiled warmly down at her again. "You must be thirsty from the journey," he said as an offer, and she tensed when his fingers touched her elbow. It was only to guide her down an offshoot while he chatted about how he had never travelled so far, how he much preferred life within the palace walls, and how his father favored Hector. She might have found his open charm and loose tongue amusing if she weren't so preoccupied looking over shoulder where she watched Hector's back disappear behind a corner.

"Father," Hector said after he had greeted his other family and now approached old King Priam who welcomed him with open arms. He could nearly smell the air of disappointment radiating off his father, but in his soldier's uniform he felt prepared for any battle.

"Hector," Priam returned in a measured tone. "You received my message?"

"Yes, I implemented the changes you requested."

He nodded his approval even as he pale blue gaze moved to follow the young woman Paris was leading away. "And you returned with company."

"I returned with a wife," he said stiffly.

Those icy eyes slid back to his son's features, and Priam noted, "Not yet."

Hector maintained his gaze with unwavering determination. "I won't argue with you on this matter. It's no longer your decision to make."

"Spare me your imprudence." He turned and led them within the vestibule which opened to the royal quarters and toward his chambers where they would have more privacy. No need for the servants to gossip about any more of this than they already would. "You're not yet king, Hector. It is my responsibility to protect Troy's sovereignty through my line, and I won't have you corrupt it with a village girl."

"Any son she bears is mine. You find that corrupt?"

"The Princess of Cilicia wasn't to your liking… Very well." Soon they entered the King's atrium at the exterior of his quarters where there was a plentiful garden and room for him to receive guests. Priam dismissed the servants with a wave of his land and turned once more to his son. "I recognize your judgment on this matter. Pick any princess you please. I'll have the negotiations handled forthwith."

"I've chosen my bride."

His expression was relaxed almost bored looking like they had exhausted every outlet of this conversation. "You parade her through my city like your trophy and expect me to bow."

"It is my city as well. They should know their future princess."

"I won't allow a crown of Troy to touch her head."

"Then forfeit a son." The four words resonated so powerfully they shifted the energy of the space in an instance. Where his features were fatigued, they now sharpened with hawkish intent settling into a familiar expression that had broken Hector when he was a child. He swallowed heavily but met that look without bending the slightest. "I won't argue with you."

"You think it significant to abandon this for love… What glory is there in surrendering your country? Your arrogance is an insult to Troy!"

"What is so noble in a loveless union? You've been blessed with many sons, father. Paris is still young enough for you to train."

"The gods didn't grant Paris the mentality of a King. He is a lord among women perhaps, but he cannot wield a sword or command an audience."

"He'll win wars by wooing our enemies' daughters."

"Don't mock me."

"Then Deiphobus or Helenus or Polydorus-"

"Enough!" he interrupted sharply. "It is treason to threaten the King."

"You've handed me the tools to follow in your line, yet you do not trust me to command them. Instead you accuse me of treason for disobeying your wishes and refuse any responsibility for my judgment." A muscle in his jaw flexed to betray his increasing frustration. "This is the son you raised… Are you so ashamed?"

It halted Priam in his tracks and nearly broke a father's conviction to hear such words come from his child's mouth. "I'm ashamed by the man she draws out of you. Your behavior in Cilicia was detestable."

"You put me in that position! You knew it was never my wish to marry her."

"The fault is mine then? I suppose the wrong in every child is the sin of a neglectful parent."

"There's no fault in correcting a wrong."

"I've conceded, Hector. You may choose any princess you like. King Acamas would be interested, and the allegiance of the tribes of Thrace is particularly valuable."

The final line was drawn, and Hector could shoulder no more. "Don't overlook this like everything else in my life!" The words fell from his tongue sharper than his dagger's edge. "I have never betrayed you, father. I've followed your orders without a single word of a reproach. Tell me why you cannot grant me this. Tell me why you find her inadequate."

Priam's eyes shifted in an unnamed challenge to meet his son's abrupt show of anger, and suspicion flooded Hector at the sight. "You're certain she is your match?"

"Yes."

"Bring her to me."

"You've no reason to speak with-"

"It wasn't a question, Hector," Priam interrupted and settled comfortably on a stone bench. "These are my terms."

Despite the dismissal, he stood tensely before his father not trusting the old man as far as he could throw him and almost wishing this war of words had transferred to physicality. That was a battle he could win with ease, but he was realizing increasingly from whom he had inherited his stubborn streak. Neither would bend, and what then was left? "You won't speak crudely to her," he commanded as more of a threat, and his eyes bore into his father to sear the words.

Priam waved him off as though he were swatting away a pest. "Call her. I've little patience for this matter. You're convinced of her character then I will grant her the opportunity of my presence, but my decision is final." He motioned toward the exit and pressed, "Now."

Partly he wanted to stand his ground in pertinacity, but such a show of dominance would hinder, not help them. Nearly growling beneath his breath at his own impotence, he turned and strode out of the space to find Paris and Myrina. Minutes later he returned with Myrina trailing safely a pace or two behind him, and Priam straightened to see the young woman threatening Hector's succession. Beside Hector, she appeared petite and slender now removed from the black cloak that had swallowed her, and she presented the oddest of contrasts against his son's preeminence concentrated in his uniform. They both paused before him, and while Hector's stance challenged him, she respectfully kept her attention downcast.

"That will be all, Hector," he murmured with his eyes still appraising her like a merchant determining her worth.

The young prince didn't so much as blink, and Priam shot him a sharp warning look to be heeded. He exhaled uneasily and shifted away with a reluctance and distrust Priam could almost taste, and Myrina barely turned her head to follow Hector's exit with her eyes. 'Where is your shield now?' the King wondered dryly. He had no need to be ferocious or pitiless, but this game had continued on long enough.

"What is your name?"

"Myrina, daughter of Diokles."

"What right do you have to my son?" he asked sharply though not in malevolence, but it set the tone for their conversation. If she reserved any doubts about his tolerance, she understood now he would try to undercut her as swiftly as possible and force his own agenda.

She was intimidated for no other reason than his stature and her innate sense of her social inadequacy, but she needed to stop thinking like that if she wished to prove herself worthy of Hector. "None…" she admitted as though she were revealing a fact she wished weren't such. "But what right do any of us have to another?"

"The Fates have woven our paths, child. There is a right and wrong in every action and every individual."

"You're insulted by my station… And the right I lack from birth, but is it not more telling what you earn than what you're given?"

"You suggest you deserve a place beside him, a crown of Troy, and the affluence of our rank. I recognize the interest in my son." The weight of his words were intended to cut her down like he were a father scorning some childish fancy. She was made painfully aware of her dirty nails and curled her hands to hide them, but she refused to show any further insecurity.

"For you they're one and the same, but my only interest is Hector. Even if it meant a life of poverty, a house with one room, days tiring over work… By my birth, I don't need your palace or your crown or your riches. I've never had them, and I've found happiness without them."

"Hector is Troy as Troy is Hector. You cannot separate the two. It is the legacy of royalty, and the price each king has paid. To lead through a life in service. He's toiled for years to rise after me, and I won't let a village girl spoil it."

"I could never spoil something Hector loves as much as his country or his countrymen," she hesitated before continuing in a softer tone, "and if you think he were so weak as to let me, I doubt you know your son."

"I never said my son was weak." It was a swift rebuff as though she had insulted him and a salient flash of his power. It silenced her without further words. "He's stubborn, bullheaded even, but I know what man I've raised… I also know the influence of a woman."

"I have no influence," she assured him but regretted making herself sound so common.

"You deny your power?" Priam's brow was knit in a frown, but it didn't daunt her because she saw Hector in that face. "He could have broken a powerful alliance with Cilicia rejecting their engagement days before the wedding. That was foolishness and ill-placed importance."

"I never asked him to do that-"

"You never had to… That is your power, and the power of every woman who catches a man's eye and heart." He bowed his head momentarily, and she swore she heard him mumble, "Sirens among us."

"You worry Hector will make poor choices for me because you believe Hector made a poor choice in choosing me." It came out too wordy, and she immediately chastised herself for that.

Priam bound before she could continue, attacking in her moment of weakness to finish this business. "I was not far from Hector's age when I was first married," he commented, and her tongue caught for lack of an appropriate response. After a tense moment, he continued, "I soon realized there is much more to a marriage than love however pure it is. Why does any prince or princess marry?" Her lips remained sealed, and he smiled ironically. "Not for love. It is for acquisition of wealth and influence." He spelled the words out carefully as though it were the lesson for her this day. "Power is not in men's words. It is in action, in union, in pacts formed. It is an opportunity for alliances to be forged where both countries prosper. There are contracts drawn up to ensure this. The family of Hector's bride would receive a bride price and an assurance that she would be cared for if she were widowed. We would receive a portion in return among other concessions… It may be easiest for you to see it as a transaction. Each country pays a price, but the reward is not the marriage. The reward is the merging of powers, the influence gained, and the prestige. Any woman can bear my son an heir. Love can be learned. But power… it is a birth right and crucial." Her gaze had fallen, and he bent forward to be sure her defeat was complete. "You understand now? You are a loss."

She frowned heavily to be given such a burden while he eradicated her entire sense of self in one attempt, but she realized it was so simple. Neither Hector's words nor her own could ever sway Priam because her station would never change. So infuriatingly simple. "I am not," she said with such influence as she rose along her spine lifting herself further up into the space as if she grew before Priam's very eyes. "You speak as if Troy will fall tomorrow without a suitable match for Hector. I do not have a kingdom to my name or have an appropriate portion to give you, but I know that Troy is lacking neither of those. Hector speaks of your alliances, the ones that every King of Troy has worked to maintain, and I see the richness of this country. How many ports do you claim, how many legions of armies, how many pieces of gold do you have at your beck and call?" Her tongue was getting away with her, and she gathered her wits as demurely as she could. "I may not yet understand court customs or the discipline of royal life, but I know Troy. I've seen the people till the earth, I've watched the fishermen returning with their catches, I've spoken with the merchants in the market… I understand the foundations that your crown is built upon because I am a servant of Troy. Is that not more advantageous than what a princess of Cilicia or any other country can offer?"

The simple wisdom in her words made old Priam reluctantly take a step back to abandon his offensive stance. His anger deflated in a slow exhale while his gaze remained steady on her, but she felt the shift from biting through her to something much more neutral. Was the Great King of Troy retreating? To her? He realized she was less a threat to his empire than a young woman blindly in love with his son, and in light of this he pointed out, "You are offering yourself to this position when you do not even understand the responsibilities or implications."

"I don't need to." She couldn't miss the sore look from Priam and undoubtedly he assumed she had misunderstood their entire conversation. She quickly explained, "Hector will rule in the service of Troy, and as his wife, I'll act in his service." Her pride turned despite herself, and she admitted, "I may not be a submissive woman."

"Hector would not have one," Priam grumbled more to himself than Myrina, but it drove her on like a spur in her side.

"But it is not submissive to love. I've learned that finally. I will be what he needs of me and give him whatever I can. I'll support him and care for him until my body is burned… If Hector wants what is best for Troy, and I want what is best for him, how can that be an unwise union?"

She nearly watched the words pass her lips, but they never seemed to make an impact. His features remained slack almost with a void absence, but the abruptness of his eyes sharpened out of his face so that she was mesmerized with their raw presence like an open door giving her a glimpse of what lay within. No amount of courtesy or manners could tear her attention away, and she was waiting anxiously for the crack, the thunder to echo the flare of his eyes. But it never came. A heavy sky looming in absolute silence. The air was dense with the threat. And when it felt like her patience could bear no more, he returned from a journey inward to memories or thoughts or questions she wouldn't ever name or understand. "Very well. You have my blessing."

For her, time broke in that second. The end of her breath, the halting of her heart, the numbness of her mind, the pressure of her eyes trying to witness something they had never expected, and the rest of her was lost in the space between. One steady beat in her chest, and it all caught up with a siege of senses taking in the heat, the smell, the breeze, the weight of her dress… It took her too long to formulate the words, but when they were spoken, she realized it wasn't her voice.

"Your word?" She twisted to look behind her where none other than Hector had brazenly stepped out from his hiding place. She should have known he wouldn't leave her, but he was looking past her to his father seated on the bench.

"Yes," Priam breathed in defeat, and though there was no joy to his voice, it didn't matter. "We'll have a feast tonight to celebrate." Now those chestnut eyes burned into her, and the happiness springing up unhindered within her was magnified so much more intensely to see it reflected in his eyes and feel it mutually with him. A final victory among them, and she doubted she would ever cease smiling. Years from now, and the absolute satisfaction of this moment would be still be branded across her face. She could cry if she had the will to do, but for the life of her she was too happy to do anything but smile. Priam watched the tension building between them and fought back an askew grin of his own as he decided brusquely, "Rejoice outside this space. I've much to plan and discuss."

There was no need to tell them again, and she approached him nearly shaking from the effort to keep herself from running like she had never before to him. The space felt like an eternity, but when she reached him, he grabbed her elbow and drew her out into the corridor. As soon as they were out of earshot he turned to her, catching her face now so that he could see her properly, and she couldn't understand the amazement lining his eyes. "I heard every word. I've never heard you speak like that."

She smiled guiltily and admitted, "I'm not even sure what I said." The tension of the moment had weighed too heavily on her. Whatever fell her lips came from deep within her conscious. She could never have imagined she had the strength to face a king like that.

"I'll never forget," he promised and guided her further down the hallway, and she tried to push through the shock still wrapped around her mind to speak.

"How did you know he would not see you?"

"I had help." They turned a corner, and there was Paris leaning against the wall with a scowling, thoughtful look.

The minute his eyes landed on them he sprung forward and pressed, "What did he say?"

The grin never left Hector's features, but it widened even more as his arm circled his brother's shoulders affectionately, drawing Paris against him so forcefully and roughly that the younger man struggled to maintain his balance and not collapse completely to the floor. "You'll have another sister soon."

"I knew it!" Paris perked up beneath the oppressive weight of Hector's arm, circling the dense muscle with his hands to try and leverage it away. Hector held on tighter close to catching Paris' head in his arm like they might spar or wrestle in the middle of the hallway. She grinned to see them so rowdy and elated like her two brothers had once been. Paris somehow twisted himself free using his slender build to weasel out of tight spaces while Hector's muscular body was made to face obstacles. "I've spent years listening to his conversations."

"I'll know where to look," Hector threatened, reaching again to grab his brother.

Paris narrowly dodged it, and where Hector was good-naturedly sparring, Paris was not nearly so lighthearted. He knew too well how easily Hector could overpower him. "I've plenty of positions to choose from."

Finally Hector caught him not pausing before he fit him into the crook of his elbow, and Myrina couldn't help laughing to see Paris writhing to free himself. "Why can you not put this strategy to good use, little brother?" he chided paternally.

"And outwit you daily?" His throat constricted as Hector's bicep flexed, but Paris wouldn't stop yet. "The thought hadn't occurred to me." The pressure grew around his neck, and he tapped Hector's arm to be released.

He straightened out his robes and donned his most perturbed expression, and Myrina stepped forward to take both his hands in her own, squeeze them tightly, and say, "Thank you."

She could hardly believe her eyes to see the young man's cheeks subtly darken before her, and he ducked his head sheepishly though he was grinning in a childish way. "I did nothing worthy of your gratitude."

"I'm happy you did anything at all, and I assume it means I have your approval as well?"

He straightened abruptly empowered by the importance her words gave him, and she knew she had won him over if she hadn't before. His gaze travelled down the length of her in a manner he must have thought was menacing, but the nervous, excited energy lingering in his doe eyes made him anything but. "Yes," he decided with a firm nod once his attention returned to her face, and he squeezed her hands as well. "I could use another sister, and I'll make a wonderful uncle."

Myrina laughed lightly and fought off a blush of her own at the mention, giving Hector a sidelong glance, but he was ready with a quit-witted response, "My child? You won't be allowed near him."

"You can't do that!"

"I can."

Paris retrieved his hands and pointed accusingly at his older brother. "You're worried they'll like me more, aren't you? They will!"

"Because you are a child as well? I agree."

"No," he snapped back in annoyance.

"Are you two always like this?" Myrina spoke up curiously.

"No," Paris answered with a charming smile thrown her way. "Usually he's too busy to be bothered. Nevermind the war. I barely recognized him this afternoon. I haven't seen him in years!" Hector smacked him roughly on the back of the head to shut him up, but he wasn't deterred so easily. "And now I doubt I'll ever see him." The cheeky comment wasn't missed by his older brother whose look hardened immediately, and Paris backed off before he pushed any farther. "Shall I tell Cassandra and Deiphobus and the others?"

"It will be announced at supper," he rejoined with a much more solemn tone, still evidently annoyed that his brother had insinuated such a comment toward his bride -even if it were true.

"Then you'll stay?"

Myrina turned to Hector and commented with a hint of reluctance, "We must tell my father, and I should spend what time before the ceremony with them."

"Yes," he agreed in a similar tone. "It's only proper." 'But soon,' he thought, 'soon I won't let you go.'

Author's Note: Hello lovelies! My goodness! Feel free to make fun of me, but I totally got writer's block in that conversation with Myrina and Priam. I like outwitted myself, and just stared at the argument thinking, 'RATS! Be smarter, Nola!' haha Guess what's next? Nice day for a white wedding, anyone? :)

Thanks to AmyLNelson, klandgraf2007, Syrena Swift, Avatar2009, KawaiiHawaiian, and MoonlitSorrows! You guys are the greatest 3

Amy: Hey gorgeous! You're always first. I love that :D I'm so glad you like Lysander haha I kinda love him too, and I also don't know why since as you pointed out he really has not been developed at all. But he's such a likable guy. Myrina met Paris! Was it all you hoped for? haha I hope you enjoyed this chapter xoxo

klandgraf: And here's another! ;)

Syrena: You're so adorable haha Babies will come after the wedding cause I'm old fashioned all... Well not really. They did already beat everyone to the punch line, but what has two thumbs and doesn't care? This chick! Hope you liked this update! :)

Avatar: My mysterious lady come back from beyond haha First time and make up sex all rolled into one. That does sound kinda nice doesn't it? Just re-read the chapter and pretend it's you haha I encourage that fully, and I take your attraction to Hector as a compliment. I'll try to keep that up ;) Hope you enjoyed this chapter xoxo

Kawaii: Dialogue junkie! Does this count as a happy ending? Ignore the first paragraph of the prologue. Never happened haha I hope you liked this chapter! :)

Moonlit: You're too sweet! Thank you so much haha This was soon, right? Thanks for the support, and I hope you enjoyed this one! xoxo