A knock sounded on Achilles' door early the next morning but it wasn't the reason why he was awake. In truth, he never went to sleep at all that night; foregoing the rest to pacearound the chambers, planning his next move. First, he would order his men to get ready to leave as soon as possible. Then he was going to hunt down Priam and kill him in the most hideous way he could think of. Finally, he would collect Paris and flee that wretched city. Once they were safely in his homeland, Achilles was content to leave it at that. His young love could still believe anything he wanted about his brother – the warrior would let Hector be as long as he didn't try to come after them. If he did, he'd make sure that the elder prince met the same fate as his father.
Achilles was just pondering the positive and negative aspects of disemboweling someone when the knock rudely interrupted his train of thought. "Enter," he barked gruffly.
The door opened to reveal Patroclus. Achilles snorted with annoyance at the serious expression on the younger man's face. "Has it come down to this?" he wondered aloud.
"What are you talking about?" asked Patroclus, confused, as he closed the door behind him. "Is it wrong for me to visit you now?"
"It is when you come on the business of that old fox," Achilles told him. "He sent you to talk me out of what I have to do, didn't he, cousin?"
"Odysseus came to see me rather late last night," replied Patroclus. "He was in quite a state; told me everything about his conversations with both Priam and you. He asked me to, as he put it, 'talk some sense into that cousin of yours' stubborn skull.'"
"He's unbelievable," growled Achilles. "Well, if that's all you're here for you can save us both the trouble and leave now."
Patroclus simply crossed his arms and smiled. "I didn't say that's why I'm here," he smirked. "Odysseus wanted me to somehow subdue you, but I'd rather hear what you're planning to do."
"It'svery simple, really," Achilles ticked off each part of his plan on his fingers. "Gather the Myrmidons, slaughter Priam, grab Paris, and sail off before the sun sets tonight. That means that all of us are going to have a busy day, so stop bothering me and get your things around. We're going to have to leave in a hurry."
The younger Greek ignored his cousin's abrupt dismissal. "What would you do without me?" he asked. "Besides get murdered by Trojan guards, be the target for an angry mob in the city, all while totally destroying Paris' trust in you, I mean."
"This isn't a joke!" said Achilles sharply.
"No, it isn't," agreed Patroclus. "I'm dead serious. Let's start with the big problems and work our way down, shall we? I don't suppose you plan on killing Priam in a quiet way, a way that won't make him scream and will result in them not discovering his body for hours?"
"He doesn't deserve a peaceful death!"
How Achilles hated it when Patroclus rolled his eyes! "So let me see if I understand your plan. The Myrmidons will be moving everything that they brought with them through the city, out the gates, and down to the beach in broad daylight," the younger man gestured out the window towards the shining sun. "While we're engaging in that rather large task, Priam will be screaming as you inflict as much pain as possible before killing him."
"Sounds good to me," asserted Achilles firmly.
"Does it?" demanded Patroclus with raised eyebrows. "Then perhaps you can tell me how you plan on fighting off every palace guard all by yourself since, as you would do well to remember, we're going to be at the beach. Oh, for the moment we'll just say that you did and move on. After you somehow get through that throng of vengeful guards and find Paris. From there, you're going to grab him with the same hands that are drenched in his father's blood and drag him – quite possibly against his will – through the army of Troy, that will be blocking the gates by that time, and to the ship. Do you really need me to point out all that is wrong with that plan?"
Achilles really resented Patroclus' logic at times. "He can't just stay here," he argued. "It won't be against his will – he wants to leave Troy, to come to our homeland. The only thing that's delaying our departure now is the fact that he wants to say goodbye to Hector first, but Hector surely knows about their father's plans. He'll stop Paris from leaving."
Patroclus held up his hand. "I'm not saying that he should stay here," he informed the warrior. "I happen to like Paris and I know he deserves more than a father like that and a future as a prostitute. I just think that you should talk to him before you kill his father and this whole thing becomes a leave-now-or-die situation."
"He didn't tell me," Achilles said suddenly. That fact had been weighing heavily on his mind ever since his conversation with Odysseus the previous night. "I told him things that I've never told anyone in my adult life. He told me when Priam hit him, and about all of the threats. I thought he told me everything, but he never told me about this."
"Perhaps he was afraid that you would do something violent and rash," commented Patroclus ironically. Achilles' face screwed into a look of warning. "Maybe he was just ashamed. Or else for a number of reasons that he himself doesn't understand. I won't pretend to know what Paris' reasons were for keeping this a secret, but it's important that you understand them. That's why you need to talk to him."
Achilles sighed in resignation. "I will," he promised, sounding quite put out as the time of departure got pushed even further back.
"While you do that, I'll find Odysseus and tell him that you're sufficiently calmed down enough not to start any wars at the moment," smiled Patroclus.
"You're going to lie?"
"No; that's why I'll be sure to add that 'at the moment.'"
He started to walk out the door but Achilles' call stopped him. "Patroclus? There is one think I would ask of you."
"Yes?"
"Get the Myrmidons ready to leave tonight," Achilles ordered, squaring his jaw. "Do it quickly and quietly, and carry this out unless you hear otherwise from me and me alone. Most importantly, make sure that neither Odysseus or his men suspect anything."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOThe world looked different to Paris that morning as he walked through the corridors of the palace. The sun had never shone brighter, nor the air smelled so sweet. Most of all, he felt happy. Achilles made him feel beautiful and desirable in a way that didn't make him feel dirty. Now he even had a future he could look forward to.
His mood changed in an instant when someone grabbed him from behind, clamping a hand over his mouth that muffled his cries. Paris struggled against the hold as his assailant lifted his feet off of the ground and carried him to a secluded corner of the corridor. "Shh," hissed a voice in his ear as the arms loosened just enough to allow movement.
"Achilles?" gasped Paris, spinning around to face his lover.
"Are you all right, my love?" asked Achilles, his face etched with concern.
All right? Was he joking? "You scared me to death!"
"I am sorry for that," replied Achilles. "But I have to speak with you and it can't wait."
Paris stared incredulously at him. "What has gotten into you?"
Achilles thought about which way he should phrase his pressing question. Should he be gentle, tactful, sneaky, or just plain direct? Oh well; in such times a person needed to rely on what was tried and true. "What didn't you tell me that your father is planning on whoring you?" he demanded bluntly.
"What?" Paris asked faintly as all the color drained from his face.
"You heard me, Paris," Achilles told him, forcing his voice to be as gentle as possible so as not to frighten him. "Don't ask me to repeat it. I can't bear to say it again."
"How did you find out?" questioned the prince, his voice quivering with emotion.
"I had to hear about it from Odysseus. Priam told him last night after we left the banquet."
Paris bowed his head so that Achilles wouldn't be able to see his tears. "Is he trying to lend out my body already?" he wondered bitterly.
"They were just talking," said Achilles. "No offers were made on either side, and that's not the point anyway."
"Exactly!" cried Paris desperately. Why did this have to come up? Every time he felt a little bit of joy, his father's plans always made themselves known and dashed it. "It doesn't matter anymore. We're going to leave here and I won't have to do – that. There's no point in discussing it now."
"Don't twist my words," Achilles told him darkly. "I just had to find out about all of this from Odysseus. It should have come from you; why didn't you tell me?"
"Why do you think?" Paris exploded as his body was racked with sobs. "My own father brings up whoring me in his casual conversations! I know what everyone thinks about me: that I have nothing to contribute to the world except a pretty face and whatever else they can get out of my body. But you, Achilles; you always looked at me like you're trying to see what's going on inside. You may be the only person to think that there even is something inside of me. I didn't want to give you a reason to stop doing that."
Achilles was stricken by this confession. Did Paris really think that little of him to believe that he'd be capable of doing something so cold? "Paris –"
"I didn't want you to find out that I'm really nothing," Paris concluded in self-disgust.
So it wasn't that Paris thought so little of him; it was that he felt that way about himself. "Look at me, my love," Achilles urged, carefully forcing the boy's head up. His heart constricted at the expression on his face. "You are most definitely not nothing. You are beautiful and kind, brave, desirable, and so full of love. By the gods, I'll kill your father for making you feel any other way."
"No!" begged Paris in alarm. "Please, Achilles, don't."
"He deserves nothing less," said Achilles fiercely as he took in the prince's tear-stained face further.
"If you do, you'll never make it out of Troy alive," insisted Paris fearfully. "Please, my love; I can't lose you…"
Achilles felt himself beginning to relent as he gathered him in his arms. "I won't, but only for your sake," he vowed reluctantly. "But you can't stay here any longer. Tell me you'll leave with me tonight."
Paris was torn. He didn't want to leave without seeing Hector – after being the only source of love in his life for so long, he at least owed his brother an explanation. However, he could feel the tension in Achilles' muscles and knew that it might be too much to ask him to control his temper around Priam until Hector returned. "I'll think about it," he finally stammered, hoping to delay the final decision as long as possible. "But right now, I really need to go. It's not safe for us to be talking like this."
"Wait." Achilles followed him out of the shadowy corner. "Can I come to you tonight after the banquet?"
That was one request Paris was happy to consent to. "I'd like that," he managed a little smile. He planted a chaste kiss on Achilles' mouth. "I must leave now; until tonight, my love."
With one last long glance, the prince walked away. Achilles watched until he was out of sight before turning in the opposite direction and marching off with a determined look on his face.
The only one who remained in the corridor was the figure hidden behind a statue. "Until tonight?" mused Lord Isidore. "How brazen of you, Paris."
To be continued…
A/N: I just wanted to send a thank-you to everyone who's reading this story, especially to those of you who reviewed.