Lord Isidore had his hand on the boy's thigh yet again, but that night Paris didn't need to concentrate too much on ignoring it. He was too busy trying to wrap his mind around what had taken place earlier. He had opened up to Achilles, cried in front of him, even leaned on him for support, and he didn't feel ashamed. Quite the opposite, in fact; releasing so much emotion after holding it in for almost half of his life made him feel...free. It should've felt ridiculous; Achilles was supposed to be a brutish barbarian. But he made Paris feel safe and even empowered. The thought that Achilles would gladly break the lord's hand for touching him in such a way flitted into the prince's mind and the beginnings of a smirk twitched onto his lips.

He sneaked a glance in Achilles direction and risked shooting him a small, shy smile. The corners of Achilles mouth curved in response. The warrior knew that he should feel too old to be acting like a lovesick puppy but steadfastly fought that instinct. He was too happy to tolerate any other emotion interfering with that. For the first time since he was a child, he was able to push aside all thoughts of war and carnage and just focus on being happy. Why, he could even imagine himself being content not to fight in another battle just as long as Paris was by his side and they could live in peace together.

"The prince won't vanish if you look away for one second," whispered Odysseus nervously, thoroughly annoyed that his friend seemed to refuse to consider the safety of their peoples and homes. "I suggest you stop staring before anyone else notices."

Achilles did glance away for a second, but only to scowl at Ithaca's king. "Worse things than vanishing could happen to him," he shot back. "I just wish I could take him in my arms and help him leave all of this behind."

"Don't say that out loud!" Odysseus hissed frantically. "By the gods, you'd be executed if a Trojan overheard that! Stop acting like a fierce lion in love."

"Why should I?" demanded Achilles. "I am in love with him."

This was getting worse and worse! "Achilles," said Odysseus, pacing his words deliberately to keep his temper in check. "This is madness. How could you of all people be taken in by a pretty face?"

Achilles' expression darkened and Odysseus knew at once that he'd said the wrong thing. "I warned you before," growled the warrior through clenched teeth. "I am not just attracted to Paris because of his beauty, nor do I just want him for sex. I love him! Don't force me to make your wife a widow by saying anything like that again."

"I'm sorry," apologized Odysseus. "But there is much at stake here."

"On that we agree."

"And the peace and alliances that we seek to build with Troy would crumble in an instant if King Priam even suspects that you and Prince Paris are," Odysseus paused, groping for the correct words, "are whatever it is that you are."

"I don't fear the all-mighty Priam," smirked Achilles. "How would that old man keep me from his son?"

"He is not just an old man!" Odysseus hissed in horror. "He is the ruler of what is now the most powerful city in the Aegean. With a wave of his hand he could bring the entire army of Troy down on you and your men. Is all of this worth risking the slaughter of the Myrmidons?"

"And what would you risk for Penelope?" the warrior asked. "When you answer that question, you will have the answer to your question."

Before Odysseus could respond, King Priam rose from his seat and cleared his throat. "My most noble guests," he announced dramatically, if insincerely. "I hope that the feast tonight was to your liking. Now it is time for the night's festivities to begin!"

All around the table the men rose, eager to blow off steam by emerging themselves in Troy's finest entertainment and methods of celebration. Odysseus, however, remained rooted in place, distracted by the interaction between the king and the prince. Paris was speaking, looking especially submissive and timid and Priam was nodding his head. Paris bowed and turned away. He had given Paris permission to leave, Odysseus realized as he watched the boy leave the hall.

Odysseus sighed with relief. "Well, maybe now we can talk without you being," he said, turning to – nothing. Achilles had left without a sound while he was observing the Trojan royals. "So distracted," he concluded, the defeat evident in his voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nervousness and an emotion that he didn't quite recognize formed a lump in Paris' throat as he sneaked to the garden to meet Achilles. Why was he doing this? It seemed insane that he would risk his father's wrath, risk the chance of being offered as a pleasure toy to the Greeks. But Achilles had promised to protect him from that, and against all common sense Paris wanted to trust him at his word.

Achilles was already waiting for him when he arrived. "Good evening, Paris," he said with an unreadable smile playing across his lips.

Paris quirked an eyebrow, hoping the gesture would disguise how flustered and confused he was feeling. "Are we forsaking the formalities of proper titles, then?" he asked, trying to sound as neutral as possible but failing miserably.

"You're the only one here who would still find them necessary," replied Achilles. "I do believe that the way I feel about you goes far beyond the bounds of polite formalities; therefore I don't see why I should still address you as "prince."

"Oh?" asked Paris cautiously. "And what exactly about your feelings for me would grant you the right to be so forward?"

Achilles' smile widened. "That I'm in love with you, Paris of Troy."

The blood in Paris' veins ran cold. Priam's words slammed unbidden into his mind. He wanted so badly to believe that Achilles didn't just want him for sex, but that's all his father apparently thought him good for.... "I don't believe you," he whispered fearfully.

"Why not?" asked Achilles, trying not to show his alarm at the sudden change in Paris' mood.

Paris tried to dart away but the Greek grabbed his arm before he could do so. "Let me go!" he cried in alarm. Startled, Achilles complied immediately. "What were you going to do? Your charms weren't getting me into bed fast enough, so you were going to force me instead? I wanted so badly to believe you cared..."

Achilles grabbed both of his forearms and pulled him forward, causing the boy to cry out wordlessly in wild panic. "I would never, he said forcefully, looking into Paris' eyes intensely, "bring an unwilling partner into my bed. Not by tricks, or brutality, or even money." He let go and breathed deeply, closing his eyes as a memory he spent his whole life burying resurfaced. "I know what it's like to be terrified that someone's going to rape you."

"How?" Paris was truly stunned. "You're –"

"You're surprised?" inquired Achilles, his voice and expression full of grim humor. "I'm not pleasing enough to the eye for someone to carry off?"

"You're very pleasing to the eye!" Paris blurted out without thinking. Redness crept into his cheeks and he ducked his head. "What I meant was," he stammered, wishing for a kind earthquake to come and end his embarrassment, "that I'm surprised because you're, well, you're Achilles."

"I wasn't always Achilles the greatest warrior in the world," he informed Paris wryly. "Not back then. I was a seven-year-old boy, the son of a powerful man and a goddess. A prize catch for kidnappers, really."

He sat down heavily on a bench. Paris slid down next to him and unconsciously took the warrior's hands in his own. "They just came out of nowhere," Achilles continued. "Kept telling me that they'd get money out of me one way or another. I sat on that boat, scared out of my mind, while some disgusting imbecile spared no detail in describing everything he wanted to do to me."

Paris swallowed hard. "Did they –"

"No," replied Achilles with a curl of his lips. "It's not a good idea to kidnap the child of a sea goddess and then try to carry him off on a ship. I was with them for about a half-hour before the waters rose up. The boat was destroyed entirely and everyone else drowned while I was transported safely back to the beach near my father's lands."

"She must love you very much," commented Paris, with just a touch of envy in his tone.

"She was fuming," the warrior recalled. "She was trying not to show it, of course; she didn't want to scare me any more than I already was. She just handed me a shell necklace and said not to worry. 'Any fool that would do harm to my child will be a dead fool soon enough' were her exact words, I believe."

Paris reached up, tentatively touching the necklace that Achilles was wearing. "Is that when you got this?" he asked quietly.

"No," Achilles told him, gently covering the boy's hands with his own. He felt them tremble, but neither one of them pulled away. "My mother always gives me a shell necklace every time we meet. It's her way of letting me know that she's always with me, I suppose. She gave me this one just this afternoon, right before I realized I'm in love with you."

"Why do you keep saying that to me?" Paris asked plaintively, not realizing that he just licked his lips. They were sitting so close together. "Why are you even telling me all of this at all?"

Achilles cupped his cheek gently. "I've never told anyone else any of this," he murmured. "But I want you to know that there's more to me than just the myth of Achilles, just like there's more to you than the tales of your beauty. Also, because it's not enough for me to love you," he added, his eyes straying to the prince's lips and then back up at his warm brown eyes. "I want you to love me back."

"But, but," stammered Paris, not understanding the ache in his heart. "But I don't."

"You don't need to love me right now," said Achilles with playful exasperation. "I just want to know that there's a possibility that someday you could. I'll be quite content with that hope."

"I – I don't know," Paris hesitated. "I've never been in love before; I wouldn't know how it felt even if I was."

"What do you feel when you look at me?" Achilles asked him. "Nothing but a Greek brute who's lying to you, who only wants to conquer you so he can brag about it to everyone he meets?"

"Not at all," Paris whispered, tremors in his voice. "I want to believe everything you tell me. I want to feel safe and cared for, like I did when you held me on the beach this afternoon. You tell me that you love me, that you'd take me away from all of this with just a word, and all I want is for that to be true. My father would just say that all of that is just more evidence of my stupidity."

"It's not," growled Achilles fiercely. Protectively, Paris realized. "It's evidence of how you're capable of feeling deep emotions that he could never even entertain. That your heart is good and your spirit hasn't been crushed by him yet."

Paris hadn't felt this way in a long time; he was happy. Achilles was saying all of these nice things, trusting him with such a painful secret, and it made his soul sing with joy. Sure, it could all end in heartbreak, but what of it? It seemed like he'd gone around for years with a broken heart. Any pain would be worth enduring as long as he could feel this way for only one more moment. "You," he breathed, then smiled. "I could fall in love with you, Achilles."

With that declaration, he closed the space between them and placed a tentative kiss on Achilles' mouth.

To be continued...