Paris and Achilles didn't know that Lord Isidore had overheard them; even if they did, they probably wouldn't have counted themselves as lucky as they actually were. Luck and the gods, however, were on their side that day because he hadn't heard their entire conversation. The only thing that saved Paris from the lord's violent lust at the moment was the old man's ignorance and presumptions. If he'd have thought for a second that the boy was no longer untouched there would be no stopping him from ignoring the king's current restraints on the matter and simply taking Paris right there in the corridor.

Isidore had no way of knowing that the two had already made love nor would he have believed it unless he saw it with his own eyes. He'd spent over four years making sure that Paris would shy away from any touch and the stolen kisses he'd witnessed in the moonlight weren't enough to rob him of that belief. Besides, he assumed that Achilles would be incapable of any type of gentle display if he ever wormed his way into the prince's bed. Lord Isidore, having seen many a young man's walking hindered by the pain that only a vicious joining could inflict, sustained that he would know if the boy had relinquished his prize to Achilles.

No, the lord's thoughts at the moment were on the intolerable situation that he'd found himself in. Lord Isidore could put up with no more of this! First he had to stand idly by as that Greek brute bullied and threatened Priam into letting him spend time alone with Paris. If he could only go back and convince the king to execute Achilles then and there for such a bold demand! Then he had to endure their sickening display of affection in the garden. By Apollo, he'd even held his tongue when his brilliant plan to eliminate the bane of his existence was foiled, tolerated both the prince's smug behavior and the humiliation of losing his seat of honor at the banquets to an uncouth savage. The encounter in the hallway – and what would come after it – was going too far. Isidore simply could not let Paris give up his virginity to Achilles; not after he'd spent so many years craving it!

He needed a new plan and he needed to be sure that it would work. This time he would not rely on worthless pawns and the people of Troy figuring out what he wanted them to figure out. Isidore smirked in spite of his dark mood. He hadn't heard most of the hushed conversation but Paris had said enough to sow the seeds of a foolproof plan. Achilles was actually going to sneak into the boy's bedchamber that night. They obviously held some hope for him getting past the guard that was always posted outside the room at night. Once he made it past, the Greek certainly intended on deflowering the youngest prince of Troy…in his father's house…against his father's wishes…against all the sacred rules and etiquette of being a proper guest.

It was plain to see what had to happen in order to ensure that Paris remained untouched until Isidore had the chance to do so: Achilles needed to be caught entering the chambers. It would have to be by a guard of some sort or else the circumstances might be too suspicious and accusations may be made of a set-up. Well, the guard usually posted was pretty much worthless as far as the lord was concerned. In fact, he was convinced that the pathetic fool had been letting Hector slip in for years (though he could never see the visits as so much of a threat that he cared to put forth the effort to stop them). No, it had to be someone completely trustworthy…

Of course! He almost laughed out loud as the answer came to him. His own personal guards, Titus and Philo, would be perfect for the task. They were loyal to him first and foremost and had been in his confidence for many years. They would be the only ones who could fully appreciate the situation, as he had made sure that they were well aquatinted with the knowledge of what Paris was born to be. Yes, he knew that he could trust them – especially when he provided them with an appropriate award for their services.

Thankfully they weren't very hard to find. Lord Isidore had to chuckle when he spotted them bidding farewell to a limping prostitute. How could he not appreciate the fact that he'd surrounded himself with men who had the same preferences for inflicting pain and suffering? They heard him and ceased their ogling and taunting chants to attend to their duties. "How may we serve you, my lord?" asked Philo.

"Come with me and I will tell you." Isidore gestured for them to follow him down the corridor and into a small, empty room. Closing the door behind them, he continued, "I am being insulted and dishonored at this very moment."

"What's happening?" demanded Titus, his eyes wide with outrage and fury while his comrade unconsciously gripped the hilt of his sword.

"A Greek is planning on robbing from me what I have long considered mine."

"Not surprising, considering what king of people that lot are," sneered Philo as the guards exchanged a knowing, disgusted look. "Still, it's a tremendous act of stupidity even for one of them. Who would dare do such a thing?"

"Achilles, of course," replied Isidore pompously. "And he seeks out even now the most glorious prize of all, one that is promised to me: Prince Paris' virginity."

Philo did a double take at the news. "That's bold, even for someone with his reputation," he marveled. "Will he be trying to take it by force or is the prince eager to start pleasuring every man in sight?"

"It does not matter how he plans on doing this," Isidore told him sharply. "All that is important now is that he thinks he has found a way to slip past the guard unnoticed. What I need for you two to do is to be there when he tries. Shout loud enough for people to hear that Achilles is trying to assault the prince in the royal chamber and then kill him. After that even the Greeks will have to admit that you had no choice in the matter if his body is plain to see on the prince's doorstep."

"Why are we waiting?" wondered Titus. "We could just kill him now, dump the corpse outside the prince bedchamber, and then do all the shouting that you're talking about."

Isidore glowered at them, reminding himself that he was trusting them with this task because of their loyalty, not their intelligence. "Because now it is almost certain that he's surrounded by his men and other, more reliable witnesses while tonight he'll be alone," he explained through gritted teeth. "And it will be all the more damning if Paris is actually in his chambers – in bed – when the row takes place and the body is found. Besides all that, how do you expect to move him from one end of the palace to the other without anyone seeing you?"

At least they had the decency to look chagrined. "Do this correctly and your reward will be something you'd never hope to receive otherwise," he continued.

"I like the sound of that," Philo stated with a lecherous grin.

"As you should very well know, Paris is meant to service men of importance – Trojan nobles, foreign dignitaries, and the like," said Isidore, getting excited just thinking about it. "However, if you kill Achilles tonight before he has the chance to join with the prince, I'll make sure that you two have your fun with him as well. If you manage to do so without arousing any suspicion, you'll be next in line after me and before everyone else. You two have the opportunity to be the only guards to experience all the pleasure you can get from a royal (weak though his bloodlines actually are) body."

His expression suddenly turned sinister and the guards cringed. "I must warn you, though, against trying to move ahead of me in that line. Should you even try to deflower the prince after killing Achilles, I will exact a revenge so terrible that you two will beg for the release of Tartarus by the end."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Achilles stopped in his tracks at the sight before him in the corridor: one of his Myrmidons was conversing with a palace prostitute, his body turned to that the other person was practically forced up against the wall. Normally he was inclined to let his men enjoy whatever willing company was available to them, but now he looked at that green-eyed young man and thought of Paris. His beloved didn't want anything to do with this life and would have been forced into it anyway – did that prostitute have any more choice in the matter? He watched him wince as his hind end came into contact with the hard surface of the wall and knew that he couldn't stomach this any longer.

"Jason," Achilles called, a bit more sharply than he intended. "What do you think you're doing?"

"My lord?" asked Jason hesitantly. Achilles was known for his dramatic mood swings and judging by his tone any wrong response would trigger a very bad one. "I was just seeking some company. We have no duties to attend to today –"

"Do you really think so?" interrupted Achilles snottily. "I can see, then, that you haven't checked in with the men since your evening of doing the-gods-know-what with some poor creature. I left Patroclus with some rather pressing orders for everyone and I suggest you find him right now."

"Yes sir," answered Jason promptly for before taking off.

Achilles took a deep breath and turned slowly to the green-eyed prostitute, who hadn't moved from him somewhat painful position. The boy's frightened but resolute gaze was on him. "Is there anything you wish for me to do for you, my Lord Achilles?" he asked, his voice for the most part concealing his emotions.

"No; you may leave now."

The prostitute nodded and took two steps. On the third his legs finally gave out and he crumpled awkwardly to the ground, giving Achilles a sickening view of the blood stand that soiled the fabric covering his backside. "By the gods!" gasped the Greek, notfully comprehending how badly he was hurt until then. He immediately knelt down beside him, allowing the young man to grip his arms in order to keep from applying any more weight to his injury. "Who did this to you?"

"A lot of people do this to me and my friends all the time," he answered, frustrated that his body couldn't have waited until he got back to the prostitutes' quarters before collapsing. "I apologize for my lack of decorum. Please do not concern yourself with it any longer."

"Now you listen to me – " Achilles paused, realizing that he didn't know what to call him. "What's your name, boy?"

"They call me Green because of, well, you can see why."

"But what's your given name?"

Green let out a mirthless laugh at the ridiculous nature of the whole situation. What did this intimidating Greek warrior want with him? "That's ceased to be important, my lord."

That answer chilled Achilles to his bones. What if Clytemnestra had waited another five years to kill Agamemnon? He shuddered to think that he might have been having this conversation with Paris under those circumstances. "That's not true," he told both Green and that disturbing phantom of what his lover could have been. "No one has the right to strip you of your name or abuse you in such a manner!"

"Green!" Achilles looked up to see another prostitute hurrying over to practically throw himself between him and the young man. The Greek couldn't help but admire his courage. "My lord, I apologize if he's dissatisfied you in any way. I will be happy to render any services on his behalf to remedy the situation."

"I was with Lord Isidore last night," Green blurted out against his own common sense. "He did this to me, my lord; I had to go with him last night."

The newcomer spun around, horrified. "Green, don't say another word!" he ordered desperately.

"No, it's all right," Achilles told him, feeling himself becoming a little more frantic every second that this information – information that may be vital to Paris' safety – was blocked. He knew he couldn't let it show, though, if he wanted to get some answers quickly from these closed-off young men. "What is your name?"

"Hook," the newcomer responded, self-consciously touching the tip of his hooked nose.

"Well, Hook, I asked him to tell me who did this for him," he explained. "I need to know what happened. Please, why did he hurt you, Green?"

"No reason," replied Green wearily. "He just likes doing it. It's very – difficult – to be on the receiving end of his lust."

"Isidore lusts after Paris," Achilles murmured to himself.

"Prince Paris?" asked Hook incredulously. "Why do you speak of him in such a familiar manner? And why do you care what the lord feels about him?"

Achilles was startled by the question, not realizing that he'd spoken aloud until then. Oh, well; it didn't matter since he had no intention of answering it. There was no time! "So I'm not wrong in my assessment of Isidore's desires?" he shot back.

Hook's face turned ashen as he remembered what happened a few days ago. Lord Isidore had decided that he needed a refresher course in the arts of pleasure – meaning, of course, that he was in the mood to be especially rough while intimidating the other prostitutes at the same time. He'd just been leading him to the bedchamber reserved for such a lesson when Prince Paris had run past them, crying. King Priam had followed a few seconds later and spoke with the lord. Even with his knowledge of the true nature of a fair portion of Troy's nobility, Hook had still been shocked to hear the king give Lord Isidore permission to rape his son.

That had excited the lecherous old man so much that the ensuing "lesson" had been the most painful joining he'd ever experienced. Afterwards, though, Hook found that felt moresorry for the prince than for himself. Prince Paris wasn't a prostitute like he was; he wasn't used to the abuse that a malicious man like Lord Isidore enjoyed inflicting. In fact, Hook knew that he hadn't been with any of the prostitutes and seriously doubted if he'd ever had sex with anyone else. He remembered his own first painful lesson and was certain that whatever was in store for Prince Paris would be even worse. "You're not wrong," he confirmed to Achilles. "The poor prince."

"So you've been on the receiving end of his lust as well," demanded Achilles.

The prostitutes exchanged a glance that spoke volumes about their suffering. "We all have," Green told him. "Lord Isidore is always the first to have sex with a new prostitute. He says it's his duty to train us."

Hook observed the look that spread across the Greek's face and suddenly understood. Oh, he didn't quite know everything, but he could see that Achilles wanted to protect Troy's youngest prince. This was an unheard of opportunity; one that would allow him to repay this lord who spoke to him and his friend like they were people with feelings, to help the prince who'd never harmed them in any way, and to exact a punishment on the old man that haunted his nightmares. He couldn't stop Lord Isidore from hurting the prostitutes, but he could certainly deny him of this one thing he so clearly craved.

"I can't explain it here," Hook said in a low voice, leaning over so that only Achilles could hear him, "but Lord Isidore is a major threat to the prince. The only way Prince Paris will be safe is if he gets as far away as he can from the city."

To be continued…

A/N: Happy holiday season to everyone!