I am very, VERY sorry about the delay in this chapter. It took longer than anticipated, and I truly apologize for taking so long. Thank you for being patient and thank you for all the kind reviews I received!

Notes: I have officially mapped out the last few chapters of this story. There will be four more, including this one. Please note this is not an AU fic, and Hector WILL be dying at the end of it. I know it's sad, but it must be done. Also, though I am aware that simply scripts has a copy of "Troy" to read, its being stubborn and not working on my computer, so some scenes may be a little off.

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I stood on the wall for hours, contemplating how exactly I would go about apologizing to Paris. I didn't want to, knowing my pride would be sufficiently wounded when I admitted I was wrong, but I knew that things between Paris and I would only get worse the longer I let them fester.

It can wait until tonight. I reasoned. I don't have to do it right this moment.

As the sun dawned and the morning truly began, people started to filter out on to the wall, eager to watch the battle unfold on the plains below. When Andromache came up to the section of the wall where the royal family sat, she strode over to me, obvious worry written on her face.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" she said in an anxious voice, scanning the developing army below with her eyes. Hector wasn't out with the troops yet.

"Of course he'll be fine, Andromache, he's Hector. He's the best warrior there is." I said, trying to comfort her.

"Hector?" She said, looking at me with a bewildered expression. "I'm worried about him, of course, but he's not the one fighting today. I was talking about Paris."

"Paris?" I said, half laughing. "Paris doesn't fight! Why would you be worried about him?" She was silent for a second, then realization dawned on her face.

"Oh." Said Andromache quietly, looking at me with a sympathetic expression. "No one told you."

"Told me what?" I said, a dull panic beginning to build. What in the name of Apollo is she talking about?

"Paris is challenging Menelaus to a duel, Charis." She said.

Her tone was gentle, but I knew what she meant- any duel, at least in this war, was a duel to the death. I shook my head, refusing to believe her. "You're wrong, Andromache. He'd never do something like that- he's Paris!"

"He's going to fight Menelaus today, Charis. I know it's hard to believe but Hector told me himself."

"But…" I said, my voice adopting a pleading tone against my will, "I haven't apologized to him… he can't fight…why would he fight?"

"Honor." She said simply, staring out at the field. Hector and Paris had just appeared below us, and the Greek Army was started to come into view on the horizon.

"Why didn't Hector stop him then?" I said angrily. "He's supposed to protect him!"

"Hector thinks it's good that he's doing this. He said he needs to learn to defend his honor."

"Honor?" I said, frustrated. "They all fight for honor, all the time! Tell me, Andromache- what is so wonderful about honor that it's worth a life? Or-" I said, my voice escalating. "The lives of thousands of innocent people?"

"I don't know." She said, and I let it drop, knowing that she was feeling the same thing, knowing that if she could, if we both could, we would have killed any love for honor either of them-Hector or Paris-had. Because we both knew honor would be their downfall.

- - - - - -

We watched in silent horror as the troops gathered on the plain. I fought the urge to turn and run, knowing that this could possibly be the last time I saw Paris alive. In fact, it was very likely it would be. Ignoring the majority of the Greek Army, I focused instead on the two at the head- they must be Agamemnon and Menelaus. Watching the way they carried themselves and their physical appearances, I judged the one with the lighter hair to be Menelaus, since he was the younger.

He was large, obviously a lover of food and drink, and older than Paris by a good 15 years, at least. Most people would have gazed on him with relief for Paris, but I knew better. His stance was that of an experienced fighter and his eyes held the fiery expression of one who wanted to kill. It was different from the stony indifference Hector's eyes held when he fought- a way of separating himself from the task he was forced to complete. But Menelaus- Menelaus was looking forward to killing Paris, to spilling his blood all over the ground and not stopping until he was no longer recognizable. I shivered.

Behind me, Priam was talking in a low voice to Helen, who looked positively terrified. Hecuba was no where to be found. I didn't blame her- I would not want to watch my son be mutilated either, which seemed to be Paris' fate at the moment.

Andromache, who had taken a seat to the right of Priam, motioned for me to sit down next to her. I obeyed rather reluctantly, knowing she was on edge enough as it is and it wouldn't be a good idea to push her. My blood was racing and my heart was moving at the pace of one of Hector's horses- I could barely calm myself to the point of sitting.

Just as I sat, Hector and Paris moved towards the empty spot in the plain. Agamemnon, Menelaus and an older man that I did not know the name of did the same. My hands were shaking.

Charis, you are a fool. I thought sadly. We're in the middle of a war and you choice to be angry with someone you love? Now you're going to lose him! How could you be so stupid?

Words were exchanged between the two parties on the field. They were too far away to actually hear what they were saying, but by the smug look on Agamemnon's face I knew he was asking for the forfeit of Troy. I couldn't see Hector's face, because his back was to me, but it was obvious what his answer was. I smiled slightly at the snarl on Agamemnon's face. Troy will never submit to a foreign ruler so long as Hector draws breath.

Then Paris came forward; Agamemnon was balking at his statement, refusing to let Paris fight. He wouldn't let this war be stopped, that I knew. It seemed Paris was the only one who didn't know, at this point. Menelaus grabbed Agamemnon's arm and pulled him aside, saying something quietly into his ear. Agamemnon nodded, and Menelaus strode back to Paris while Agamemnon and the older man rode back into the ranks. Hector said something quietly to Paris, mounted, and went back to the army.

I had never seen Paris in full armor before; in fact I had never seen him with the intention of actually fighting at all. It was unnerving- he looked so small, practically defenseless. I remembered how much Hector in armor had scared me when I was younger. They were so different, even if they were brothers. Hector would be able to take down Menelaus with his eyes closed- but Paris? I knew this would be a fight for Paris' life.

A clash of swords brought me back to my senses. I looked down. Paris was moving to avoid Menelaus sword, and Menelaus continued to hit him with all the force he could muster. Paris' shield was up, trying to keep the blows from hitting him.

"Paris, for the love of Apollo, move!" I hissed under my breath. "Keep him moving! He's older than you, he'll tire easily!" I had witnessed enough of Hector's training programs, and had asked enough questions afterward, to know exactly what Paris was doing wrong. Behind Paris, Hector was muttering under his breath, as well.

I balled my hands into fists, watching the flurry of movement beneath the wall. With each new blow, Paris was weakening, in both strength and morale. His helmet and shield were lost as Menelaus continued to issue harsh blows to Paris. Blood dripped from a cut on his face where Menelaus had punched him. Menelaus, too, was bleeding, though his own cut was bleeding much less freely. He spit some of it on to the ground, grinning and motioning up to the sky, saying something to Paris.

I gasped as Menelaus cut a large gash into Paris' thigh, damaging the tender flesh there. Beside me, I could see Andromache slam her eyes shut as Paris fell to the ground, dropping his sword. Priam was muttering something from his position in the center of the group, and Helen was even paler than usual. And then Paris did the unthinkable.

He crawled.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU LEFT ME FOR?!?" laughed Menelaus, raising his voice so Helen could hear him. I winced. The embarrassment, the utter shame that Paris was bringing to his family, his lover, himself, was almost too much to bear.

Paris ignored his screams and continued crawling. Back to the Trojan lines, back to his own country, back to Hector- he was abandoning any honor he had ever had. Menelaus followed swiftly, his sword at his side.

They were close enough now so that I could hear what they were saying.

"Step aside, young Prince." Menelaus said angrily. Paris clutched to Hector's leg pathetically.

"It's over, Menelaus." Hector said firmly. "He's not going to fight anymore."

"We had an agreement!" Menelaus roared. "Step aside!" He raised his sword, and Helen gasped. But I knew better.

Helen had only been here for a month, and she could not understand. I had been here for 12 years, and I understood all too well. Hector loved so fiercely, so passionately, that he would never let any harm come to one he loved. Even when it was a rash, foolish decision, he would never let any harm come to his loved one. Even if it would cost more than it was worth, he would do it. Just as he had risked his life to save me from drowning, he would risk Troy for Paris, this I knew.

Unfortunately for Menelaus, he didn't seem to know that. In fact, the look on his face when Hector's sword found its way (rather effortlessly, I might add) into his stomach, was quite surprised indeed. The whole Greek army seemed to wear matching looks as he fell to the ground, dead. The plain was absolutely silent.

Agamemnon came to his senses first.

"He has violated the pact!" he roared. "ATTACK!"

And then, all hell broke lose.

The Greek army rushed toward the Trojan army, yelling and screaming. Hector and Paris ran back to the army, stopped as Paris ran back to get his sword, and continued back. The Greeks were getting closer, screeching war cries as they came. Hector rushed Paris back to the gates as the Trojan soldiers got ready. The gates opened. The archers got ready. The Greeks kept coming. Hector put on his helmet. The gates closed. Helen disappeared. The Greeks were still running- and then-

"Yes!" I whispered triumphantly. "They're too close! They're in range!" A volley of Trojan arrows rained on the Greek Army, causing numerous casualties, and my suspicions were confirmed. I watched in rapt attention as some of the Greek army managed to get through, Hector and his men swiftly cutting them down. Another volley. More men fell.

A large man hurtled toward Hector, knocking him off his horse. Blind panic gripped my heart and I saw Andromache turn pale. The man was huge, and was using a large spear-like object, throwing it at Hector with all his might. Hector dodged, then swung his sword at him. The man grabbed him around the waist and pulled his sword back, bringing his arms with him. Hector yelled in pain and I winced. Dropping his sword, Hector moved his arms to either side of the man and rammed his head into the man's, causing him to release Hector. I watched, horrified. Hector didn't have his sword, anymore, and the man was still equipped with his gigantic ax-like spear. Hector fell, and the man brought the ax down. Using another man's shield, Hector blocked, then rammed a spear into his gut, then his sword. Finally, the man fell. I breathed a sigh of relief. I could take no more of this fighting. I left the wall.

I ran all the way back to the palace, across the lower villages and all of the other things between the outer wall and the palace deep within Troy. I needed to see Paris. By now, I reasoned, Helen will have cleaned and stitched his wounds and I would be able to see him and apologize.

I was only half-right. Helen had cleaned and stitched his wounds, but when I reached the door to his quarters, she would not let me in.

"I need to apologize to him." I said quietly.

She smiled sadly at me. "He doesn't want to see you."

"What?" I said, shocked. "But … I need to apologize…"

Helen put her hand on my head and gave me the same sad smile. "Apparently, he was not as moved by my speech as you were." She turned back in to the quarters, leaving two men to guard the door and keep me out.

That was the second part of my lesson for the day- there aren't just two sides to every argument, but two sides to everything. Two sides to every conversation, two sides to every apology. And if Paris was not ready to hear my apology, then I could not apologize.

I turned and left, going back to see Andromache and find out what had happened in the battle.