Disclaimer: All characters and setting belongs to Warner Bros. Well, technically they belong to themselves because they're historical, but whatever. In this context they belong to Warner Bros.
Sometimes Paris annoyed the hell out of Hector.
He remembered his anger when he found out that the Queen of Sparta was en route to Troy without her husband's bidding, blessing or even knowledge. He remembered the way Paris had looked, defiant and stubborn, and remembered his bitter unhappiness and disappointment with his brother and his illusions of love and glory.
"Love," he muttered to himself. "He says he knows love."
And then, he saw the way Paris and Helen looked at each other, and thought of his own wife and child.
"Paris," he said softly, putting his head against the cool wall. "Little brother, what have you done?"
As if on cue, there was a knock on his door.
"Come in," he said, straightening. The door creaked open slowly, and Paris walked slowly in. The younger Prince of Troy knelt in front of his brother, head bowed.
"Brother," he said. "I'm sorry."
Despite what his heart told him to do, Hector remained still. He would hear his brother out. "What for?"
"I angered you today. I should not have. But I love Helen, and I would have her as my wife." Paris chanced a glance at his brother. To his surprise, Hector's gaze was pensive and melancholy.
Softly, his brother replied. "Do not forget, little brother. She was another's wife, the wife of one who is not to be trifled with. And you have offended him by taking his wife away."
Paris did not say anything, merely returning his stare to the ground.
After observing Paris for a while, Hector sighed. "Tell me, Paris. How much do you love her?"
His brother's head whipped up. "Much, brother! As much as the sand on the beaches of Troy, as much as the constellations in the sky, as much as the prayer and worship that go up to the gods everyday!"
"And I, brother?" Hector shot back. "How much do you love me? Less than you love her?"
Paris stared unhappily at him, his eyes beseeching him not to ask such a question. But Hector didn't stop there.
"And our father, Paris? Our father is old. Our father brought Troy peace. And Troy, brother? Our home? How much to do you love her? Do you love her beaches as much as you love her? Do you love her people? Do you have the ability to love Troy, if nothing else? I ask you again, brother. What do you know of love? And how can you love, brother, when you cannot bear the responsibility?"
"I can, brother, I can!" Paris said earnestly.
"You can? You do not have the responsibility that befits a Prince of Troy. You take the Queen of Sparta away from her husband without any thought of what that could do to Troy, of which, if I may remind you, you are Prince of, and by doing so you break our father's heart. You therefore lack a son's responsibility to his father. Furthermore, by doing all this, you show that you lack self-control. How can you love if you can't even be responsible for yourself?"
"Brother, she is not like any other woman. She-"
"And so because she is different, you must have her? Stop, Paris. This conversation was over this afternoon. You should not have brought it up again. I do not wish to discuss this anymore. I am disappointed with you, Paris. I can accept your actions, but I cannot forgive them."
The look on Hector's face as he turned away and the tone and finality with which he spoke to Paris with struck the young Prince in a way that tore his heart apart. He never meant for his brother to be so affected, so torn up over this matter. Paris knelt for a while longer to keep his emotions in check, and then got up. He walked to the door before pausing and turning decisively. He said in a voice thick with misery, "I love you, brother. If I were given permission to choose another man to be my brother, I would pass up the chance. Because what you've done for me since I was young has touched me, and I remember them as tokens of our love. I understand if you cannot forgive me, brother, but please, please do not stop loving me. I would break if you do, because I treasure your love much more than any other." Paris turned to go, only to hear a rustle of cloth and to feel his brother's powerful hands on his shoulders, turning him gently around.
"I won't, little brother. I won't stop loving you," he said, staring earnestly into Paris's eyes. He pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "No matter what other foolish things you do, no matter how angry you make me, no matter how much you break my heart, I won't stop loving you. Because you are my beloved brother, and I love you." Paris stared unhappily and miserably at the ground, but Hector pushed his chin up, leaned down and kissed him gently. After a few seconds of just holding his lips in his own, the older Prince broke away and tenderly tucked a stray lock of Paris's hair behind his ear. "Remember that, brother," he said gently. "Remember that. Now go back to Helen."
Paris moved back and tentatively smiled his relief. "Thank you, my brother."
Sometimes Paris annoyed the hell out of Hector.
He remembered his anger when he found out that the Queen of Sparta was en route to Troy without her husband's bidding, blessing or even knowledge. He remembered the way Paris had looked, defiant and stubborn, and remembered his bitter unhappiness and disappointment with his brother and his illusions of love and glory.
"Love," he muttered to himself. "He says he knows love."
And then, he saw the way Paris and Helen looked at each other, and thought of his own wife and child.
"Paris," he said softly, putting his head against the cool wall. "Little brother, what have you done?"
As if on cue, there was a knock on his door.
"Come in," he said, straightening. The door creaked open slowly, and Paris walked slowly in. The younger Prince of Troy knelt in front of his brother, head bowed.
"Brother," he said. "I'm sorry."
Despite what his heart told him to do, Hector remained still. He would hear his brother out. "What for?"
"I angered you today. I should not have. But I love Helen, and I would have her as my wife." Paris chanced a glance at his brother. To his surprise, Hector's gaze was pensive and melancholy.
Softly, his brother replied. "Do not forget, little brother. She was another's wife, the wife of one who is not to be trifled with. And you have offended him by taking his wife away."
Paris did not say anything, merely returning his stare to the ground.
After observing Paris for a while, Hector sighed. "Tell me, Paris. How much do you love her?"
His brother's head whipped up. "Much, brother! As much as the sand on the beaches of Troy, as much as the constellations in the sky, as much as the prayer and worship that go up to the gods everyday!"
"And I, brother?" Hector shot back. "How much do you love me? Less than you love her?"
Paris stared unhappily at him, his eyes beseeching him not to ask such a question. But Hector didn't stop there.
"And our father, Paris? Our father is old. Our father brought Troy peace. And Troy, brother? Our home? How much to do you love her? Do you love her beaches as much as you love her? Do you love her people? Do you have the ability to love Troy, if nothing else? I ask you again, brother. What do you know of love? And how can you love, brother, when you cannot bear the responsibility?"
"I can, brother, I can!" Paris said earnestly.
"You can? You do not have the responsibility that befits a Prince of Troy. You take the Queen of Sparta away from her husband without any thought of what that could do to Troy, of which, if I may remind you, you are Prince of, and by doing so you break our father's heart. You therefore lack a son's responsibility to his father. Furthermore, by doing all this, you show that you lack self-control. How can you love if you can't even be responsible for yourself?"
"Brother, she is not like any other woman. She-"
"And so because she is different, you must have her? Stop, Paris. This conversation was over this afternoon. You should not have brought it up again. I do not wish to discuss this anymore. I am disappointed with you, Paris. I can accept your actions, but I cannot forgive them."
The look on Hector's face as he turned away and the tone and finality with which he spoke to Paris with struck the young Prince in a way that tore his heart apart. He never meant for his brother to be so affected, so torn up over this matter. Paris knelt for a while longer to keep his emotions in check, and then got up. He walked to the door before pausing and turning decisively. He said in a voice thick with misery, "I love you, brother. If I were given permission to choose another man to be my brother, I would pass up the chance. Because what you've done for me since I was young has touched me, and I remember them as tokens of our love. I understand if you cannot forgive me, brother, but please, please do not stop loving me. I would break if you do, because I treasure your love much more than any other." Paris turned to go, only to hear a rustle of cloth and to feel his brother's powerful hands on his shoulders, turning him gently around.
"I won't, little brother. I won't stop loving you," he said, staring earnestly into Paris's eyes. He pulled him close and kissed his forehead. "No matter what other foolish things you do, no matter how angry you make me, no matter how much you break my heart, I won't stop loving you. Because you are my beloved brother, and I love you." Paris stared unhappily and miserably at the ground, but Hector pushed his chin up, leaned down and kissed him gently. After a few seconds of just holding his lips in his own, the older Prince broke away and tenderly tucked a stray lock of Paris's hair behind his ear. "Remember that, brother," he said gently. "Remember that. Now go back to Helen."
Paris moved back and tentatively smiled his relief. "Thank you, my brother."