Author's Note: This is Paris's POV. In case you can't figure out the context, he has just lost the duel, and the sword of Troy, to King Meneleus. Hector has killed Meneleus, and Paris is safe, if swordless. But Paris's attempt to redeem himself goes horribly wrong, and when Paris is captured by King Agmemmnon, it puts more then one prince in danger.

Other Author's Note: Paris is a coward in this story. Shut up and stop flaming me. He will get better as the story progresses. If you want a fearless fighter Paris, read another story. I tell things as they are.

I should have died next to the sword of Troy, not running back to get it.

Hector killed my enemy for me. Hector's done everything for me.

But I still can't bear to think of dying. Even when guilt washes over me, I still can't bear the sight of my body in the sand.

No, don't think, just run. Pick up the sword. That's it. Go.

"Not so fast, my boy."

I scream. Someone's grabbed my shoulder and I can hear their breathy laugh in my ear.

I'm spun around, and my first panicked thought is that Meneleus is going to kill me, like he never got the chance to.

Then I realize it's his brother, Agamemnon, laughing in my face.

"What do you want?" I gasp. Stupid thing to say.

"Oh, he's a brave one, now that his brother's gone and killed for him. Courageous now, aren't you?"

"No."

The king bears down on me, like a lion to a lamb. He's pulling my head back, bearing my neck.

"Ah, you'll need courage soon then. A cut throat is a painful way to die. Slow, watching your own blood pool on the ground, while your brother is helpless to save your pretty face. It's the only death where you can't scream as you watch your life ebb away."

I can't scream now, as I watch the knife blade come down to my neck. I feel like there's glass in my throat, making me gasp at my complete helplessness.

"Hector, Hector, look at your brother!" Someone's shouting, "We're going to cut his throat, and he's going to die right in front of you! How do you feel about that, brave prince?"

But both armies are charging, and if Hector hears, he can't save me.

I'm struggling like a fish out of water as the knife comes to my throat. Agamemnon's fat hands are too strong for my desperation.

But suddenly the knife stops.

"Odysseus?" the king shouts, angry and surprised.

"My lord." The man has the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Wouldn't it be better if we brought the prince to the tents, as a captive? Killing the boy would only make Troy angrier, more willing to take the offensive, while taking the boy would lower the city's morale and draw Hector right into our camp."

"You think so?"

"I saw the look in his eyes when the prince was about to die. Believe me, Hector would kill himself for this boy."

"I should spare him after the cowardly swine ran away from a fight and got my brother killed?"

"Yes, you can afford to spare him after the cowardly swine ran away from a fight, and got your brother killed. Trust me."

Odysseus's cool logic seems to win over the king, and I begin to breathe again.

"Not so fast, prince!" Agamemnon hits me in the jaw, the same place his brother struck. I choke and start to bleed.

Odysseus looks on calmly."To the tents?" He suggests.

No, not to the tents. Anywhere but the tents. Somewhere with Helen, inside the walls of Troy, safe, far away.

Yes, and with Hector fighting my battles. I asked for this.

Agamemnon may spare my life, but he's not going to make it easy for me. He yanks me by the hair into a gigantic tent.

Even choking on fear, I'm surprised at the lavishness of it all. There's more gold in this tent then there are in most of my father's rooms.

"Like it, boy? Once I have Troy, there'll be more."

What does he want with Troy when he has this wealth at his disposal? What does he want with Hector, with me?
I'm dropped like a rag, too frightened to resist, as a pair of men with muscles bigger then Hector's duck into the tent. They force my knees under me and tie me up quickly, pulling the knots as tight as their rage lets them. I see it in their eyes, I am a coward, a weakling, a boy who ran away and let others do his dirty work. I see their eyes reflected in my own.

The rope cuts my wrist, and I wince. Agamemnon snorts out a laugh when he sees me struggling.

"Still trying to run away, eh? Your brother will make a better prisoner then you, I'll say."

A head pokes into the tent. It's another muscled man, with iron gray hair.

"My Lord, the Trojans are retreating. Odysseus has ordered the Greeks to fall back as well, as we're still in range of the archers-who's that?"

"The Trojan swine, who ran back to get his sword. Odysseus says we can use him to catch the other prince."

The messenger grunts, not sure how to reply, when another man walks into the tent.

"King of kings?" He asks, pointing a questioning finger at me.

"I've explained the swine once already. You'll just have to wait until everyone else gets here."

"We'll have to wait a long time then, because Achilles has gone back to his tent."

"That bastard! I'll tear him away from his Trojan whore if it takes the entire Greek army. I am the king!"

"Yes, yes."

"Heard of Achilles, Prince?" Agamemnon turns to me.

"My-my brother told me about him."

"Your brother's already afraid of him, hey? Well, soon you can be too."

Agamemnon's wrong. From what I've heard, I'm already afraid of him.

There is a restless murmer of voices outside the tent. The king stalks out. The murmur turns into a screaming match, with Agamemnon and Odysseus out shouting each other.

"I want that insolent idiot to respect me!"

"This isn't about Achilles! This is about using that coddled prince to get Hector!"

I'm going to kill my brother because of my stupid mistakes. I should have died on the battlefield, I should die now. Will these monsters ever be satisfied? Isn't one Prince of Troy sufficent? I am the guilty one, the one who started this filthy war. Not Hector. Me, my filthy impulsive sin, me! Is this not enough?

But even when I wish for death, I'll run away when it comes.