Forbidden Gods
XVII. Unspoken Guilt
He laid there on the bed; trembling, to get over the pain and embarrassment of being touched in such a way. His hand was feeling much better, and it must have been a sprain that could have been over come if he thought about it much. But no, the terror of what was happening to him didn't give him anything, or at least time for him to overcome his pain. He thought Agamemnon was a kind and gentle man, with morals and a pedant of wise virtues. In the end the king brought coquetry into the prince. And now Paris was both low in spirit and hope. He felt so low and small to the world. Any moment now, he will wake up. And bring his wrath on me once more, if not the same way then worse; death. Just laying here was endangering to him, eventually he sat up.
All over his body was ridged and that longing sleep never came. He grabbed his skirt and tunic; and also brought along a sword if any threatful dangers crept up behind him; he wasn't taking any chances in committing what he was about to do now. He capered over Agamemnon's fallen body and made sure the door was entirely closed behind him, before making his way to the apocryphal dungeons below.
The rooms where the palace kept its lawless individuals were next to the kitchens with a narrow stairway leading you down into the abyss in a pall room of cells. He passed the giant conflagration that roasted its meat; ignoring the surprised looks of the cooking woman and men. Then, stepping lightly went to the cells. Midway on the stairs he silently slide out his sword from its sheath, knowing that there will be opposing forces not wanting to give up their greatest captive.
Anxiety and apprehension gripped his mind and soul but to his surprise, there were none to fight. Actually there were no guards on duty at all in the room! "You didn't forget that I am Achilles." Paris swiftly twisted his direction over to Achilles' cell. There, outside his barrier walls; were piles upon piles of dead guards. "What happened?" Paris dropped his sword and strode over to grab Achilles' hands through the bars. "They didn't learn from their former soldier's mistakes. So I've had to constantly twist necks." For the longest time, the prince finally laughed. "Come on get me out of here."
Paris jumped to find keys hanging off one of the dead men's hips and finally got Achilles out of there. When the last click indicated his freedom, he pushed open the door to embrace Paris. "I was so scared he harmed you." Achilles whispered. Paris dropped his arms immediately and stepped back slowly from Achilles. He knew. Achilles could sense that something dreadful did happen to his docile lover. Something in Paris' eyes now carried some kind of disturbing weight in them. "oh no." he whispered.
Anger was building up in Achilles but that didn't matter. He grasped Paris' face between both of his hands. "What did he do to you." He spoke hard and it scared Paris even more of the attack. He felt weaker next to Achilles, like a little toy that always had to be watched and never have the confidence from him that he could ever continue on alone. "nothing" he lied. Achilles didn't believe him. "WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!" he screamed still grabbing Paris' face, only this time his face was dyed red with anger, and tears whelmed up in his eyes. Paris was embarrassed and wished it never happened this way. The prince began to cry even harder, he tried making out 'nothing' but it was a lie that he couldn't swallow.
Not my Paris! The only pure thing that I could call my own was now spoiled by Agamemnon's hands. Everywhere I touch now, I know he kissed or invaded. Did Paris like it? Is that why he was crying because he is guilty? No, it's not possible. Achilles drew Paris completely into his arms. I'll kill him before he will even think of ever doing this to my love again.
His head kept running images of him climbing the stairs and entering Agamemnon's bedroom. Then seeing red blood spill from his sword and his body falling, making a satisfying thud to the ground. But he just stood there. Somehow, he couldn't let Paris go no matter how much he wanted to run and kill. He just stood there, wrapping his wounded love in his arms and burying his face in his locks to take the pain away by his smell. "Don't go." Paris finally able uttered something understandable through his sobs. It took a long while for Achilles to make his decision. He so much craved for Agamemnon dead but wanted Paris to be confronted most of all. If he left him, he knew Paris would be alone once more and he didn't want to part from him anymore. It was a mistake to leave him for the first time if he could easily just take him away. But then they would have been caught together. What's the use! It was bound to happen; only a matter of time could have stopped it.
"I will." He announced. Achilles could feel Paris' once tightened shoulders drop instantly in relief. Paris didn't care if Agamemnon will ever be punished in the slightest way for what he's done to him. He just wanted to be with Achilles and never go back to that monster. "We must leave now, if we ever want to get out of here. If not any sooner our protection home will be lost, and we will have no cover up wandering through the lands. It's best that we join the players now then be caught by any of that bitch's soldiers." Paris smiled weakly on Achilles' neck, then forced himself to let go of him and release from Achilles' comforting hold.
Achilles took a soldier's sword and Paris picked up his own then the two stealthily hustled out of the palace using the same way Achilles left before, only this time no army of archers met their end. The sun was down completely, and it had been a long time since Apollo rode his chariot trail of sunlight away. No moon shown its light this night, which Achilles thanked for it, was a better advantage to slip through the town unnoticing the prince. "They told me this was the place where they were going to stay until I come back.'
Paris knew what this building was and began to doubt the diligence and trust Achilles had in these players. It was a whore house, the dingy appearance and foul odor reeked the meaning of its structure. He slowly turned his head to Achilles and said "Who are these people that we must trust our lives with?" Achilles felt a little embarrassed how Paris was taking all of this. "Um... players" He grabbed Paris' hand and lead him inside the dark building.
Slow exotic music played in the back corner and naked beauties danced to it. Everywhere Paris looked some drunk was occupied with a woman, or more! Some girls were all over other men and women, and versa via. Every column had to be giving some support to a couple while making love. "Where are they?" Achilles asked as he scanned the room for any familiar faces. "Let's go up stairs." He suggested again dragging Paris by his hand. When they reached the top of the stairs to enter another room with beds and couches Achilles caught one of the players. He was a middle aged man, drunk already from the wine that bobbed in and out of his mouth.
"Argento... Argento!" He began. The man woke up started. "Wh- what! Oh, Achilles, you scared me." "Where is everyone?" Argento thought for a second, collecting his thoughts. "All of them are performing at some lord's banquet tonight. Won't be back till dawn." Great! Achilles thought, leaving behind the meaningless drunk. "What are we going to do?" Paris was again worrying, but this time his outspoken thoughts annoyed Achilles. "We'll stay for the night then at dawn, we'll leave." He left Paris to find an unused room for them to stay at leaving Paris where he stood. "Great!" he scowled.
Achilles never found a room, and discovered that the only private vacancies were the two great rooms below, and above. So he just picked a corner not in use where there weren't that many moaning woman and groaning men in sight. Paris joined next to him staring around the room. As Achilles watched all these different parties making love on benches, railings, walls, and columns made him in a more, dirty vibe. I don't think Paris would want to do that in front of everyone. But there are many men slobbering over each other as there are woman groping each other. What's the harm to try?
Achilles wrapped his arm around Paris' shoulder, and then his other went up Paris' thigh. The prince would be more then happy to touch him in this way but then his hand touched the bruise that Agamemnon made not long ago. "No!" He hopped on his feet away from Achilles. The warrior got up and slowly walked towards Paris. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what came over me. Promise I won't do that until to you again ready for that kind of contact." He opened his arms for an apologetic hug. "What he did to you will never happ" "I don't want to talk about it!" Paris released himself from Achilles and started walking away with his warrior following behind him like some puppy. "Paris, you can't pretend that it didn't happen. What's stopping you from telling me anything how you feel about this! Come on, you can tell me anything." "Not this thing! You will never understand, so stop pushing it.!"
He stopped to let Paris be. Everyone has a way to deal with different things, while Paris went to sit next to Argento, Achilles left the building and found himself in the courtyard in the back. Images of that man raping his beloved made Achilles wince. It estranged his mind to think of that over and over again. Why did I leave him?! It's my entire fault; I could have been there to protect him. I should have used another way to get in, and used it to go back and not meet Agamemnon to catch me. All the pain will forever stain his skin and the disturbance of it all will haunt him in his sleep. Because I was too stupid to find a better way in. He continued to blame himself of their distance to each other. Until all of the flaws he made today were all identified he had nothing else to say and was back to where he started.
He felt a solid lump of anguish like a stone travel from somewhere near his heart and burst out of his mouth in a scream that filled all the spaces in his head, and after the scream came the tears, like a torrent. His rampaged went on unnoticed in the nosy building, and he thanked the gods that no one heard him weep. Only woman cry in public and he shouldn't. At this time and situation, he didn't give a damn.
Achilles' voice slowly became hoarse from all the screaming and crying; and was exhausted. His body gave an occasional shudder getting over all the emotions he was going through. An olive tree stood in the middle of the garden, as if it was meant for him to lean on at this time. Paris wasn't here to comfort him, his beloved cousin was dead and so was his mother. So again he was all alone. Before he knew love, he yearned to be alone because he believed people brought to many questions, thoughts, drama, conflicts, and made life complicated. And of course, all of it was true...But Achilles wouldn't want it any other way.
Please review of what's going through your minds right now. I've made spaces in my paragraphs as you see, so I actually do read the responses you give me. Any comments, questions or protests I would be happy to receive.