As far as Lord Isidore was concerned, it was a perfect day. The sun was shining, the temperature was pleasant, and Achilles was about to die in a most horrific way. He could barely contain his glee as he watched the people file into the seats that surrounded the arena from his spot on the royal platform. In a few moments, the complication would be gone and that last little rebellious part of Paris would be destroyed forever. It was glorious.

"Good day, my friend," greeted Priam, interrupting his musings. Troy's king took his seat but Paris, who'd followed after him, walked to the edge of the platform and peered out. He couldn't take his eyes off of the place where Achilles would be fighting in a few too short moments. 'Please Apollo,' he prayed silently. 'Protect Achilles from both Lucius and himself.'

Lord Isidore slithered up behind him. "Is it not a fine morning, my prince?" he purred, breathing into the boy's ear. Paris flinched and refused to answer. "Of course, it will be all the more magnificent when the ground is stained with Greek blood."

Paris fingered the shell necklace around his throat and repeated his prayer not only to Apollo, but also to Thetis and any other god or goddess that was listening. He couldn't lose Achilles that day. Now that he had hope that a happier life was possible, to be robbed of it now would be worse than never having it at all. If Achilles was slain, Paris was sure that he would die as well.

"What an – unusual – piece of jewelry," continued the lord with a sneer on his face and a distinctly unpleasant tone. "Now, only one man would be crass enough give such a cheap trinket to a Trojan prince; in fact, I've even seen him wearing it. Tsk, tsk – what would your father do if he knew you were accepting love tokens from that brute? Do you think he would follow through on that threat of his?" He ran his fingers down one side of Paris' jaw. "You remember that threat, you wanton whore?"

"I remember them clearly," Paris hissed back. He couldn't take this man's molestation now, not when he had more important things to worry about! "But I'll take that risk. I'd rather be deflowered by a Greek mob than let you have the honors. So go ahead; tell my father that I'm taking love tokens. Tell him everything."

No, Isidore didn't like this new strength that Paris was displaying at all. He grabbed the boy's chin and forcibly moved his head as close to his mouth as he could in such a public place. "When I relieve you of your virtue," he growled, his lips just brushing against Paris' ear, "you will never forget the pain."

Paris ground his teeth to keep from showing any fear. "You won't live to touch me," he whispered.

"Is that so?" the lord smirked. "Who will stop me? That Greek? Do you really think he'll walk out of this arena alive? Let me correct that right now."

Releasing the prince, Lord Isidore turned to Priam. "My king," he said solemnly. "The rules state that the winner may have a prize of his own choosing."

"Yes," confirmed the king. "What of it?"

"Lord Achilles may very well triumph today," Isidore went on. "If he does, I have no doubt in my mind that he will demand something involving Prince Paris. How would it look, sire, if such a low and savage Greek practically announced to everyone in the city that he plans to bed a Trojan prince? It would be an even worse insult than the night he insisted on spending time alone with him."

"He won't do that, Father." The words flew out of Paris' mouth before he could stop them. Priam glared at him and he felt the heat rise into his cheeks. "I mean, why would the Lord Achilles even bother to ask for such a thing?"

"Do not speak his name, you stupid boy!" snapped Priam, bristling as if Paris had just insulted him. "In fact, do not speak at all, as it is not one of your attributes. Lord Isidore is correct; I will not tolerate such boldness from him. Should that brute even utter your name, he'll be put to death instantly."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Achilles could feel the energy in the air as he strode into the arena. The Trojans were cheering his opponent's name as Lucius entered the arena from the other side. The Greeks were behind him, screaming his name. Well, all but one; Odysseus was silent, though his eyes were burning holes into the back of his head. He couldn't see how this fight could do anything but destroy all talks for alliances and enflame the Greek/Trojan rivalry that had held the Aegean area in turmoil for so many years. Ithaca's king, like everyone else in the stands, was expecting a bloodbath.

The two competitors met in the middle, in front of the royal platform. "Good day, people of Troy and visiting Greeks!" shouted out Priam. "Today we shall see if the 'greatest warrior in the world' can indeed live up to that title. The rules are as follows: you must fight until one of you yields. The victor may ask for one thing for a prize; anything of his choosing."

Paris squirmed a bit in his place next to the king's throne. 'What's troubling him?' wondered the warrior, chancing a glance in the boy's direction. He looked nervous, but managed a smile when he saw Achilles looking at him. Achilles let the corners of his mouth upturn slightly when he saw Paris touch the necklace.

"Are you ready?" called Priam grandly.

"Yes," he declared.

"Yes, sire," growled Lucius.

"Then take your places and let the fight commence!"

The roar of the crowd echoed around the arena but neither fighter paid any attention to it. "I saw you," Lucius spat out under his breath. "Your eyes and mind are always on Troy's youngest prince, aren't they? I'm going to bleed all of that desire out of your body."

The ignorant young man was so busy threatening to kill him that he didn't notice that they'd reached the center. Without warning, Achilles whipped around and drew his sword. Lucius barely had time to dodge the ensuing blow. "And just how will you do that?" raged Achilles as the noble pulled out his own sword and began his attack. "There's nothing quick about you except your words."

As the fight continued, Achilles' mind began to clear of all things except the task at hand. He was approaching that place; a mindset in battle where all he wanted was to win. He would add to his glory, to his honor, to his reputation, by defeating this noble at all costs...

'And do what with all that?' a contrary voice popped into his mind. He was so startled that Lucius actually got a good blow in, drawing some blood from his arm. 'Will your glory, honor, and reputation love you back? Should you actually leave this arena after slaughtering a member of the nobility, then what? Paris begged you not to kill him. You will still have all of that if you don't kill him, even if that's harder to do. So what do you want more: to seek your own glory or to show Paris that you love him?'

With a roar Achilles put all of his strength and weight behind one powerful blow that sent Lucius' sword flying right out of his hands. The Trojan warrior dove after it only to see a booted foot kick it away. He gulped at he feel of steel at his throat.

Lucius looked up to see Achilles glaring down at him with blazing eyes. "Do you yield?" the Greek demanded through gritted teeth.

"Yes." There was nothing left to say.

Achilles slowly removed his sword from Lucius' neck and held it aloft. The Myrmidons cheered but everyone else seemed to be in a stupor. Where was the carnage? Where was the bloodthirsty, savage brute that they'd heard about? Achilles silently laughed at all of them as he marched towards the platform. Fools! He still had his glory and he had Paris, who was struggling to keep an ear-to-ear grin from breaking out across his face.

'Prince Paris,' Lucius thought, dazed and falling into a blind panic as he watched the Greek approach the royal seating. He failed and now that brute was ogling the young prince. How could he protect him now? His own honor be damned, he had to do something; Paris' honor and Hector's respect was at stake. Lucius grabbed his sword, jumped to his feet, and charged at Achilles, whose back was turned.

The change in Paris' demeanor was alarming. He was horrified, Achilles realized. There was danger approaching. He spun around just in time to bring the hilt of his sword down on Lucius' skill. A collective gasp ran through the crowd as the Trojan crumbled to the ground, unconscious.

An old man rushed into the arena and threw himself to ground next to Lucius, paying no mind to Achilles. "Lucius?" he cried. "My son? Please answer me!"

"Don't worry," the Greek told him grimly. "If I wasn't going to kill him, I wouldn't do it that way."

"I – I don't know why he did that," stuttered Lucius' father. "How could he do such a dishonorable thing?"

"I know why he did it." Achilles' eyes flitted to the royal platform, at both Paris and Isidore. Now that the fight was over, he found he actually pitied the naïve young soldier. All he could fault him for was being concerned about Paris and letting himself be swayed by an evil and powerful man. "And I respect him for it."

He raised his voice so that everyone in the arena could hear. "I have come to this land for an alliance, an alliance that binds the Trojans and Myrmidons together as brothers for the veneration of both our lands. This warrior fought not for his own honor but for that of the prince's" – they could make their own assumptions about which prince – "and I'll not shed the blood of a brother for that."

Paris' smile was smug as the crowd cheered. "I must compliment you on your plan," he couldn't help taunting Lord Isidore, who sat beside him. "Not only are they both still alive, thank Apollo, but now Achilles is a hero to Greek and Trojan alike."

"The hour is not over yet," glowered Isidore. "Sire! Is it not time for the champion to name his prize?"

"Quite so," affirmed Priam. "Lord Achilles! You have triumphed. Now, according to our customs, you may name anything you desire as your prize."

Achilles' eyes went immediately to where Paris was sitting. "Poor little whore-prince," clucked Isidore, leaning in close to the boy. "Now he's gong to die and you're going to have to live with the knowledge that in the end all he ever saw you as was a thing to be won."

"There is only one thing that I would ask of you, King of Troy," announced Achilles. Paris tensed and held his breath. "For the remainder of my stay, I would like to be seated in Lord Isidore's customary place of honor every night at the banquets."

The roar of approval that came from the crowd made it impossible for Priam to refuse. Achilles delighted at Paris' shy, joyful smile and Isidore's scowl. He wasn't a stupid man; he knew that actually naming a member of the royal family in his request would be perceived as an unpardonable offense and he'd be put to death. More importantly, it showed Paris that he didn't want to have power over him. And now he could allow the boy to maintain his dignity at the feasts.

On the platform, Paris was trying hard not to weep as emotion overwhelmed him. Achilles truly loved him. He didn't make him feel dirty and worthless like Isidore, Agamemnon, and his father did. Achilles was a brave, honorable, and respectful man who actually loved him. In that moment Paris felt his heart swell and he knew that he could – and did – return that love.

To be continued...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far!