Forbidden Gods

XII. Into the Loins' Den

The guards found Paris below the ship, alone, without any where Achilles in sight. As they lead him out to the palace where Agamemnon waits for his arrival, Paris stares around his new home that he will rule as prince, temporarily. It wasn't as grand and up kept as was Troy, but here you can tell that this city was only but a piece to the other cities that Agamemnon controlled in his political empire.

People stared at the new comer with suspension. Anyone can see that Paris wasn't Greek. His posture didn't show it, and his very dark features didn't reflect it; they all wondered why their king would want anything to do with him. Paris couldn't look into the eyes of the Greeks; they reminded him that they alone were the bars that would contain him in his prison here. I guess this is how Helen felt as she married that brute. Paris now understood why Helen hated Sparta so much, and why she (already knowing the dangers) went to Troy for a better life; even knowing it will lead to death.

It wasn't long after that, when the guards were leading him up the steps to Agamemnon's throne. "Ah, my son." He held out his arms open. "Welcome!" Paris stood motionless, fear and anger absorbed him. Agamemnon kissed him on both of his cheeks, just as would his father have done. "I understand your hatred towards us right now, but you must forget about it. Now you will not only be King of Troy when it's your turn, but ruler of all the lands I control." Paris continued looking him in the eye as his he had gone mad. "You think I would ever forget you plunging your sword into my fathers' chest." Agamemnon's smile dropped in disapproval, but Paris continued, advancing on him as tears weld up in his eyes. "You think that I would forget your men raping my sister Cassandra, you think I would forget you killing my brother, my people, and my love. Everything!"

The guards locked him in control by his shoulders, and with a wave of the king's hand they dragged him into his quarters. Though still Paris continued, shouting for all the court to hear. "And you still believe that I would accept you as a father!! Bastard!!" Agamemnon sat back in his throne, rubbing his headache away that he has already been receiving. "This is going to take a while." He spoke. His trustful advisor who really didn't fear Agamemnon boldly spoke. "NOO!! Really."

The guards pushed Paris to the floor of his new room. It was much bigger then his last one, but not at all cozy. It was grand, and every object was at its highest in value, but each one gave off a cold astrosphere. Paris was told to get dressed for tonight's feast that will be held for the victory of Troy and its prince. Maybe Achilles will be there! With that thought alone, he was looking forward for the feast and dressed his best for his hero.

As night approached, Paris was lead to the feast. It was just like the one in Sparta, so much movement, people, wine, girls. Just when his foot touched the floor of the room, Agamemnon beckoned furiously for him to join him by his side "Ah! come here my prince!!". He obeyed. Paris had no mind on what chore he would do; it just gave him more advantage to seek through the crowd more for Achilles. But he wasn't there.

His disappointment was overtaken when Agamemnon rubbed Paris' shoulders to awaken his attention. "Please! Greece, this is my new heir and son, Paris of Greece." All men clapped with their hands or wine cups. How fast they can like people. Not even a month ago, all these men wanted me dead. And now they applaud in my presence. The thought alone made Paris feel so low. He felt so naked and bare in front of theses men, but he tried not to show it. He wanted them to fear the day he would be king. What! I can't be king; I won't even be here when Agamemnon is dead. Paris was now more confused then ever. Well, I'll just make him think that.

Achilles never came to the feast, and Paris soon forgot the thought of him. He now was thinking how he was going to live with these people. The prince never touched the food, or wine, or girls, and Agamemnon noticed it all. He just toyed with his bracelets until he grew tired of the party and left for his room.

The bed was too large and he felt too small to lie in it. So he took the cold marble floor for the night. He knew the party was over or winding down from the decreasing noise. Then he heard his door open. It was Agamemnon. "Don't like the bed?" he was casual with his speech, as if he forgotten the war. He struggled to sit himself down next to Paris.

"Paris, I understand if you don't really like" "I hate it." Paris corrected him. After a short pause Agamemnon continued. "You hate this place and the people in it...But you must understand it as an outcome of your mistake. It wasn't right for you to take that girl, and look what you have; you don't even have her anymore." Paris began to agree with him and hung his head in embarrassment. "I am just trying to ease that pain you have. To bear the death of your family and city must be eructating." Paris nodded yes. Agamemnon's plan was working; he lifted Paris' chin to show his crying and face his fears. "That is why it must be you... You have felt the touch of war and the outcome it brings. I don't want my empire to go to the hands of a tyrant so it can spill more blood in the streets. And I've granted you this power so that there can be some light in your life. Something that will not make you to drive your desire to bleed."

Paris straightened up in shock. "How did you know!?" Agamemnon smiled at his own cleverness. "I've seen you adjust your bands that hide your own pain. You must stop this, if not for your sake, then for mine." Agamemnon held Paris' hands in his own. "You are too young to care for the troubles of things that cannot be helped by you...Please, I don't care if you will accept me as your king, but at least accept me as your new father because that is all that matters to me." Paris was too weak to not see the true meaning in Agamemnon's crooked smiles and gestures. He fell into Agamemnon's arms as would a son do in need of comfort from a father. The king let out a sigh, glad that he was done with this already and anticipating what will come next in this bond.

Three whole days and nights passed. Each night welcomed another feast after another. On the third was the last one held. Paris found himself enjoying each party after every time he attended to one. The world of Greece soon became to know his presence in only three days. And in those three days he's been in Greece, when alone he waited for Achilles to come. But he never did, and soon the prince lost hope of that promise they made. "I will come for you." Achilles said that to him, before he left. Those words rolled in his head. But soon they became a cliché and the meaning meant nothing more to him. "He's not coming." He said to himself. But it's not like its horrible here. The men are very humble when you get to know them. And Agamemnon is a true wise king, maybe even as my father. I wonder that was how all our enemies looked at him when he was alive?

Paris toyed around a necklace in his hands. The jewelry shown in the moon light of shells that could be identical to the radiance of pearls. It was the last thing Achilles gave to Paris before he left him to the Greeks. Before the prince of Greece went to bed, he left those shells on the balcony railing; and his hopes of being with Achilles.