An Unlikely Union

Quick Comment: Another chapter! I know that they are coming thick and fast at the moment, this is because I had drafted a few chapters a while ago ... after this one, I think it might slow down as I have lots of work to do on the rest of the story. I have also had to up the rating due to some slight sexual references in this chapter (not gratuitous, all imperitive the story, of course! ;o) ). Keep up with the reviews, please!

Fallenangel26: of course you can use my heroine's name, I'm chuffed you are! LadyHades: I see you point regarding the Beslan tragedy. I didn't think :o( but I did write the chapter about 6 weeks ago, I promise! I am leaving it in because it is core to Sofia's character and it didn't seem to offend anyone (oh, and have had some great ideas with the pending A/H fic!)

4. Breaking Point

They finally came.

Not one night, demonic shadows moving in the darkness like the prisoners assumed they would. But in broad daylight, even before the ring-necked doves had flown across the sky to roost for the evening. They had come for Hector. They must have. All those big men where not required to overwhelm Sofia ....

It seemed to Sofia that the entire Greek army had poured into the cell that afternoon, four days since Hector had arrived. They had burst in so suddenly, door thrown back, a chaos of arms, feet and helmets crowding the tiny space. She had not even heard their approach in the corridor beyond as if they had magically glided across the ground for their entrance. Everything from then on began to unfold in slow motion, as if the gods had decided to halt time, frivolously tossing the hourglass and spilling the sand on the ground. Shouts and yells were momentarily blocked out of her ears by the sound of her own blood rushing around her head.

Hector, who was slumped in his usual corner suddenly sprung to his feet on the offensive, his self-preservation mechanism kicking in as fast as his strong heart was pumping. Amongst the confusion, his eyes momentarily darted to where Sofia sat. They held a concerned expression, as if he was checking her composure or even pleading with her not to get involved. She drew her legs close under her chin - her version of a self-preservation mechanism - too scared and too enraged to cry. For a brief moment the cell door was tantalisingly left wide open and her mind raced, weighing up options ... she could make a run for it, she was easily small and lithe enough to slip between the guards and through the doorway like a tiny fish. But a grabbing hand could reach out and seize her by the arm or by the hair ... and the idea of losing her hands was not an attractive prospect.

Three guards entered first, immediately rushing Hector, trying to overpower him by tactically using speed and surprise. They were not fast enough; he fought them off with all the strength he could muster. He had somehow snatched the mangled breastplate which had lain dejectedly on the floor and wielded it as a makeshift weapon. He unleashed his aggression on the first guard that approached, knocking him to the floor in one good, clean blow. The guard rolled there for a moment in the dirt, becoming covered in just as much dust and straw as the prisoners. Sofia saw that his face had been smashed; his nose had burst in a shower of blood and tissue like a tomato squashed under foot. If Hector had been at his optimum, his other two assailants would have been lying at his feet in a bloody mess too – but he wasn't quite fit enough.

The two remaining guards managed to pin Hector to the wall, the breast plate falling to the floor with a clang, forcing his arms over his head and into the manacles. Hector acted like a threatened wolf backed into a corner, nostrils flaring, breathing heavily and struggling so violently, the metal bands began to cut into his tanned wrists and leave red welts. His rage made his mouth pucker, his dark brows sink and gather to the bridge of his nose, his eyes blacker than obsidian. Sofia had witnessed this primal face before, she feared it. The guards would have feared it too if their quarry had not been restrained.

"What in the name of the gods is that pathetic piece of bronze doing in here?! Get that guard out before the smell of blood excites that barbarian anymore!" a weighty voice shouted as the pandemonium subsided.

The injured guard was dragged out as the remaining visitors crowded around and waited for Hectors fury to wane as if they were at the theatre, watching intrigued and amused at the spectacle. It took some time for him to stop struggling and snarling. An authoritative looking man dressed in a heavy-looking red robe, his neck dripping in fine jewellery, broke from the crowd. He was shorter and at least twenty years older than Hector, carrying a golden staff as he sauntered slowly up to vulnerable prisoner, as if to highlight his superiority. He had a despicable countenance, one of greed and arrogance, it was written all over his face and his body language. The man looked the restrained captive up and down mockingly, and then reached out with his free hand, snatching at Hectors chin; He squeezed it, forcing his face to turn side wards, forcing his black defiant stare away. He meant to humiliate the prisoner in front of the responsive audience. The man laughed heartily as he finally dropped his grip on Hector, and then tossed his own long grey curls over his shoulder. The others laughed too. It echoed around the cell making Sofia's ears ring. She closed her eyes in agony – she did not want to witness the awfulness that was about to unfold. But she had no choice.

"What have we here? The great Hector, Prince and Commander of the Trojan armies! What have they done to your handsome face?" The man joked, turning to his audience as he addressed Hector, marvelling at his own wit.

Hector was motionless like the calm before the storm. Nostrils still flaring, he did not once drop his defiant stare.

"Oh come, come Hector, you desired peace with the Greeks once ... who would have thought it, the great Hector, a pacifist!" The man teased, moving closer in overconfidence.

Hector spat at him and struggled again, trying to lunge at the man a few millimetres out of his range. The man, unthreatened, calmly wiped the saliva off his face with the tips of his podgy fingers and struck Hector across the head with his staff in retaliation, his face starting to boil at Hectors 'insolence'.

"My dear boy, you are certainly no longer in a position to quarrel with me!"

"JUST KILL ME AND FINISH IT ONCE AND FOR ALL AGAMEMNON, YOU SWINE!"

Hectors yell was so sudden, loud and rebellious that it made Sofia flinch. As he shouted the man's name, Sofia realised that the despicable figure was King Agamemnon of Greece. It was his ships that had bought the Greeks to Trojan shores; Sofia had seen their black bows with her own eyes. They had taken her on one of those ships, imprisoned her in its belly, and bought her here. Unadulterated hate welled in her heart like water during a flash flood. She was sure that if she had a dagger to hand right at that moment she would have plunged it in to his heart as if he were a sacrificial calf. In fact, she began to fantasise about it.

Agamemnon struck Hector twice more with the staff before the captive's gaze finally dropped, only to spit blood out of his mouth and on to the floor. The thick drops exploded on the flagstones like a volcano raining fire and brimstone.

"No such luck for you Prince – death would be too easy. You are our bargaining tool ... your incompetent father would rather see Troy's walls crumble than lose his pride and joy! If the walls crumble before, Priam will pay a handsome price in gold for his precious first-born son! Your army will fight for me, whatever happens"

"The Trojans will never fight for you, my body will be dust and my sprit will wander blind, deaf and dumb through the underworld before I allow it." Hector growled.

"If that is your wish, I will personally oversee that it is carried out!" Agamemnon laughed. So did the others, probably just to humour their leader.

"I do not fear death and I do not fear my enemies!"

"Such a brave words. We will see guards, shall we not, how far his bravery extends? You only have my permission to disfigure him as he is no good to us dead, not at the moment anyway. Make sure you break his spirit and some crack bones before sunset!"

Agamemnon raised his staff to his waiting guards, in signal for them to start carrying out his orders.

But a lady sashayed out from behind them before they could respond. She was an astonishingly beautiful sight, dressed grandly in a light, sophisticated robe, a rich embroidered blue that draped over her shoulders and part of her head. It wafted softly in the air as she passed. Her brown-blonde hair was ornately braided, adorned with a golden diadem and her sharp features were slightly lined with experience and affluence. Sofia had never seen such a magnificent woman in her life; she was transfixed and at the same time she felt so inferior.

"Agamemnon, dear husband ... do you have to damage this handsome specimen so?"

She pouted and spoke softly, trying to manipulate her spouse. Agamemnon said nothing. In response to her partner's silence, she approached Hector as overconfidently as her husband had.

"There would be so many women of the court who would pay highly to have this infamous warrior at their disposal in their chamber." She said as she examined Hectors form, narrowing her eyes as if she was picking out a bracelet at the market.

This amused Agamemnon:

"Yes, my dear and I also do not doubt that a few men in my army would pay highly to have him be of service to them in their bedrooms too! Women of the court you say?! Perhaps you, Clytemnestra?"

His wife shot him a furious glare:

"You take who you please as a lover, why can't I?!"

"He will not be ready for that my love, at the moment he would kill you with his bare hands rather than caress you with them. He needs to be pacified first; perhaps I will have him castrated. But then you would not lust for him, would you my dear?"

A low ripple of merriment surged about the crowd. Clytemnestra pouted again.

"Don't you dare! There would be no fun in having Hector attend my bed without all his ... masculine intensity"

She drew herself closer to her object of desire, flaunting her ability to do so and trying to infuriate her husband in the process. She stood on her toes, pressing her lightly-covered breasts up against his broad chest seductively, attempting to brush her pink lips against his. Hector, who was glaring at her with all the distain he had shown her husband, turned his face to the side suddenly, nostrils still flaring and eyes momentarily closing in revulsion. So as not to admit defeat she purred in his ear instead. Hera herself could not be more persuasive.

"I hear it has been a while since you have had a real woman in your bed ... would you not like to come to my chamber one night, I am skilled at pleasuring a man, so much more than these slave girls you are used to ..."

Her voice tinkled like wind chimes, full of promise. She stroked the inside of his left thigh with her nimble fingertips as she made her proposal, waiting for a non-verbal reaction to betray him. But Hector's manhood did not stir. The assembled crowd roared in laughter at her. She stood there dejectedly for a moment, arms limp at her sides. She looked as if she was either about to cry or throw a tantrum – but instead she decided to take her humiliation out on Hector. She gently pressed her body against his again and bought her slender hand up to his face. But this time she spitefully pulled her long fingernails deeply down his left cheek in spite, causing little channels of blood. Hector closed his eyes again, drawing his breath through his teeth. The burning, throbbing sensation emanating from his cheekbone to his chin was more uncomfortable than any blow he had received from her husband.

"Perhaps you are right ... Once he accepts his fate and learns some respect he will be invited to my bed."

Clytemnestra waved her delicate hand dismissively as she walked away, and stood back in the ranks of the crowd, between a guard and another man - the sixth member of the party. He stared at Clytemnestra with as much loathing as Hector had. He stood; thick muscley legs planted wide apart, his arms crossed over his massive chest as he quietly watching proceeding with cold eyes. He had not joined in with the merriment as the others had; he just silently raised a one blonde eyebrow. He was the biggest man Sofia had possibly ever seen, like a fabled giant. She noticed how strikingly similar this man and Hector were in manner – both arrogant and aloof but dignified like all aristocrats were supposed to be. And he must have been an aristocrat judging by his grand armour, Sofia thought. It was so shiny and bronze that the world reflected in it took on a wonderfully golden hue.

"Clytemnestra, do not take his rejection to heart! Hector was disgustingly faithful to his wife before her death and rumour has it he has not lain with a woman since!"

Wife? Death? Agamemnon's anecdote drew Sofia's gaze away from the giant and concentrated her attention back to Hectors torment.

"You know, your abstinence is a fault, Hector. Perhaps if you had a physical release you would not be so stupidly violent. Or perhaps it is just lack of virility – how your wife ever endured that I will never know." Taunted Agamemnon

"Leave my wife out of this!" Hector shouted suddenly, becoming agitated at the deeply personal comments that were being bandied about as gossip.

"Ah yes .... the lovely Andromanche, who could forget such a fine woman? Compliments on you wife Hector but sorry to hear of your sad loss. However, it was said that she had a voracious appetite and had lain with many men, Greek and Trojan, whilst you busied yourself with politics and war. Rumour has it your unborn son was not from your loins and that their tragic deaths were punishment from the gods at her wantonness ...."

Agamemnon was clever, sensing that his fictional comments would injure Hector more than any physical punishment he could issue forth. The last straw, Hector went ballistic, struggling in the manacles again so violently that dust expelled in small clouds from the stone wall where the fixture bolts were becoming loose.

"Guards!"

Agamemnon raised his staff once more, signalling their moment to beat the restrained Prince. The dull thud of skin against skin filled the cell, like a butcher kneading salt into his meat. The hurt Sofia was witnessing in Hectors eyes was not being caused by physical blows. Sofia closed her eyes shut tight, nauseous with rage and pity. Suddenly everything made sense .... Oh Hector .... Her legs shook with adrenaline. Finally she could bear it no longer. Her wolf cub-like bravery was about to get her into trouble once more ....

What happened next was a blur. She flew off the bench like a banshee, attempting to pull one of the guards from Hector

"Leave him alone, he has had enough!" she screamed, tugging at arm of a guard using the full weight of her body.

Unfortunately this did not have great effect, the laws of physics meaning that her size could not displace the mass of the guard. He looked down at her in amusement, unmoved as she still tugged with all her might, as if she was trying to uproot a tree with her bare hands.

"Well what have we here?" the guard exclaimed "He needs a woman to fight his battles!"

He slapped Sofia in the face, bloodying her mouth and knocking her to the floor. She landed on her back with her forearms supporting the top half her sprawled body. Dazed and momentarily blinded, she only started to fight back when she could feel somebody grab her ankles. She kicked hard, whimpering and trying to inch herself away backwards from the assailant who was attempting to drag her towards him. As her eyes focussed again she could see the other guard standing over her, loosening his armour and then robe.

"I'll shut that wench up!" he said with a throaty cackle.

Immobile with panic, she could feel that his friend who held her legs was now moving around to pin down her torso and arms. A hand, as large as a plate was placed around her mouth to stifle her screams. Her robe was being pushed up over her knees as her legs still kicked. She was about to be raped.

"Stop! Let loose you play thing! She is to remain pure and untouched ... a gift for my brother Menelaus, a concubine for his palace. He will force the determination from her soon enough ..." Agamemnon ordered, halting the appalling proceedings just in time.

They set her free, grudgingly. Blinking hard, she sat up on the floor and systematically rubbed each wrist, still stinging from the guard's grasp.

"The girl is right Agamemnon, Hector has had enough, you said yourself that he is no good to you dead." The giant suddenly spoke.

Sofia thought it an almost ill-mannered and over-firm way to speak to a king. Agamemnon paused and thought for a minute, his cruel eyes flickering ... but then he hesitantly signalled for Hectors release. As the manacles were unlocked, the Prince dropped to the ground like dead weight, putting his hands out just in time to buffer his fall. Sweat dripped off the tip of his nose, his eyes transfixed on the floor beneath as if he wanted to rip through it with his fingernails. As Hector crouched there, the visitors began to leave the cell, disappointed that the show was over.

As the door clunked shut once more, Hector let out a loud yell, an outlet for his pain and suppressed rage that echoed around the cell. It bounced off the walls, invading every living thing.

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