Disclaimer: believe me; I don't want to claim them, not right now.
Summary: pointless Paris POV. The morning Hector fights Achilles.
A/N: I totally blame this on D6; she was the one that dragged me here in the first place. Kind of parting from her story, so go read her stuff! Though this should be a surprise to her, but who knows? Maybe she had seen this coming. See?! This is what Morfosintaxis does to my brain, I tell yer, its pure eBil!!
Doom and honour
Paris sighed leisurely and bid sleep goodbye; his lids lifted slowly to reveal a pair of dark, liquid orbs, he blinked a couple of times and finally focused on the warm flesh resting beneath his head. He kissed it reverently and looked up to regard the sleeping face over his.
Hector looked relaxed and perfect, his eyes closed in slumber, his features still and fair, the perfect image of peace he thought, or death.
Guilt clawed at his chest, his brother seldom relaxed this days, he was too worried with war, the war he had started and could have ended but didn't.
He saw it, as clearly as he could see the enemy king standing above him; he would die. For him this did not mean bringing honour back to Troy and pay in certain measure the fault he had committed; but exchanging his beloved face for the endless of Hades. Helen, he desperately decided, was not worth it.
So he turned away, he crawled and clung to his brother's leg, letting the fear of losing him diminish at the warmness of the skin against his face. He could feel Hector's impulse to gather him in his arms and flee to the palace's safety, forsaking war, and victory with it.
That night he begged him between moans and touches to forgive him for being too selfish to lose him.
He knew Hector thought he was careless of the situation the city was going through because of him, but he also knew that Hector did not care, even if he wandered about the Achaeans army and handed Troy to them, his brother could not hate him, he could get angered at him, he could ignore him, but he could not hide his love for Paris, if he swore to despise him, he would love him through his rage; if he pretended he was dead then he'd be in love with a ghost.
They had whispered it so many times and in so many ways that not even Hades could end it nor deny it.
What Hector did not know was that his nights were spent on his knees, begging the gods kept him for another day, just another sunset so he could see him one last time before they decided to dismiss his prayers and ripped him from his side.
Hector moved beside him and Paris stared at his brother's now opened eyes, he saw himself, doom of Troy, lying in his the arms of his brother, the brave Hector, Honour of the city.
But before his mind could sew another thought, his brother made to stand up. He could only look at him and utter the silent plea he made every time the Sun found them together. 'Stay'
Hector smiled sadly at him and stood up to put on his garments. The younger prince lowered his gaze, fighting to find his voice.
"Please" he whispered. But his brother was already gone.
Paris dropped to his knees and began to pray for another day.