Hey all, thanks so much for your reviews.
Alyx Bradford- Thanks for your review. It really helped me. I merely meant the first slash on fanfiction.net for Troy. God knows that Troy slash has been done. I have trouble with dialogue. It's not a strong point. I read it out loud, and cringed. But I wanted everyone to know that I knew I didn't start Troy slash; I just started the first on ff.net. (I think)
So anyway, bear with me for this story. Characters are probably OOC. I know that Patroclus was probably not Achilles' first cousin, actually I'm not sure of their true relation.....oh well bear with me.
Paris sleepily opened his eyes to Achilles whispering. The blonde man was kneeling next to him. "Wake up, Paris. I need to tell you what is going to happen today." He spoke in that same calm voice.
Paris nodded, and stretched a little. He then gracefully folded his lonng legs under himself and gazed at Achilles expectedly. Achilles was watching, amused.
"You move like a cat. Not even the most nimble of warriors have that talent!" Achilles chuckled, a rather pleasant sound in Paris' opinion.
"Thank you, my lord." Paris wasn't sure what to call Achilles, but 'my lord' seemed acceptable to him.
The warrior looked uncomfortable. "Paris, while we are in the presence of other men, please address me as my lord, but when we are along please call me by my name."
The former Trojan prince nodded again.
Achilles stood up and walked toward a tray of fruits and cheese. "Here, eat, Paris. We have much to discuss."
Paris walked toward the tray and gingerly picked up a slice of cheese. He nibbled on it, as he wasn't that hungry. He just wanted to hear what was in store for him.
Achilles sat cross-legged on a pillow and began to speak. "I realize that it was your intention to be my slave, but slavery is wrong to me. Now, there is going to be a battle today. I must leave you, and you cannot leave this tent. I'm sorry for having to do this, but if you leave, the men will find you and-" he paused, "-they will not be gentle. Many people in the camp are cruel, and you, Paris, are desirable to them." Achilles did not falter at the small noise from Paris.
"Odysseus, my best companion, was injured a few days ago when-when Patroclus was killed." Now Achilles did stutter and bowed his head.
Paris felt sadness for this great warrior. He knew that his older bother had killed the young man thinking it was Achilles himself. Patroclus had been Achilles' cousin and best friend.
Paris, though it was bold, laid a gentle hand on Achilles' shoulder. "I am sorry for his death."
Achilles felt numb, but jerked his shoulder away and said a little too coldly, "I am sorry that your brother succeeded." Pain was still almost unbearably strong about his cousin, and when he had learnt of Patroclus' death he had nearly killed himself. The inner hatred of himself was strong, and the emotional effect that came from his best friend's death had almost undone his will to stay alive.
Paris didn't meet Achilles' blue eyes. Hurt blossomed in his heart but he didn't let it show.
After a few moments the silence was broken. "Forgive me." Achilles whispered. Paris spoke softly. "I do not blame you."
Achilles nodded.
"Well, anyway, Odysseus was injured, and he may stop by the tent later to talk. He cannot fight, much to his disappointment, but he is good natured and carries good conversation. He won't harm you."
"Very well."
Achilles looked at Paris for a bit, brown eyes meeting blue, and then broke that contact. He got up and began to put on his armor.
Paris kept his eyes on the ground. Achilles' was kind, much kinder than he had imagined. It looked like he would not be sexually used, at least not for a while.
Achilles bid him farewell, and as he walked out, Paris timidly said, "I---I hope that you return safely, Achilles."
The blonde warrior stopped and turned, studying Paris with his aqua eyes. Surprise and a bit of happiness shone from them. "I thank you, Paris."
And he left.
Shockingly enough, Paris did not feel the terrible feeling of fear and regret that he had expected to engulf him. Instead, he felt optimistic enough, and was wondering if Odysseus would indeed visit.
Paris decided to look around in the large tent. He found a few books, a couple of robes, some food and water, but not much else.
Feeling tired for some reason, Paris just laid down to rest. He constantly sat up to watch the door, as the Greeks intimidated him.
Hours later, of just thinking about his new life and Achilles, a deep yet musical voice sounded. "Young Paris? May I come in?"
Paris sat up quickly and answered cautiously, "Is it Odysseus?"
"Yes, it is. I hope you are decent, for I am coming in." And with that a tall man came through the strips of leather that covered the opening to the tent.
He had sandy blonde hair that was cut short and stubble. Odysseus seemed like a pleasant man just from his appearance, which exuded peace and laughter.
Paris stood and bowed slightly. "My lord Odysseus. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Odysseus smiled, a rather boyish smile. "Just call me Odysseus, Paris. Though Achilles told me of your assumed position, I know he won't use it."
Paris instantly liked Odysseus and grinned. "Very well, Odysseus."
The conversation that followed was easy and lazy. Odysseus was very desirable company if you wanted to talk and Paris found himself laughing more than he had in days.
"Achilles is a fair man, Paris. If no one else treats you with respect, he at least will." Odysseus paused. "And me, of course." he added as an afterthought.
Paris smiled his gentle smile. "I thank you for that. Achilles always struck me as a savage killer, and his personality surprised me."
"You don't know him that well yet." Odysseus warned. "He can be unpredictable at times."
"I thought that he would be like that." Paris said thoughtfully. He then frowned a little. "He seems like a troubled man."
Odysseus frowned as well. "He has a lot of self loathing for himself. Though killing is his gift, he hates himself for it. He sees it as wild and savage. Achilles may seem like just a murderer, but he is more. Much more."
The two men sat in silence. "Thank you," Paris began, "thank you for treating me as an equal, and not a slave. I hope that our friendship will develop."
The tall man grinned again in the carefree way. "I do too."
Paris had been combing his silky brown curls with his slender fingers
when Achilles'
entered the tent. The warrior walked with a slight limp, and Paris
saw that he was wounded.
Achilles turned around slowly and Paris gasped softly. A slash was across his chest and shoulder. It was just above his heart and blood dripped from it freely.
Paris could see that Achilles was trying to hide his pain, but the blue eyes gave it away.
"Achilles. Let me help you." Paris whispered, and walked toward the warrior. Achilles didn't walk away, and instead spoke. His voice was tight. "I'm fine, Paris. Do not trouble yourself."
This made the former prince angry. Why couldn't he just accept help? But, Hector had been the same way.
"Please, Achilles. That is a nasty cut, let me help you. You might injure yourself more if you try to tend to it yourself."
Achilles gazed at Paris. None of his men had ever questioned him. But, he liked this fiery spirit.
He nodded slowly and lay down on his bed. Paris took the hint and filled a small bowl with water from the water skin. He went outside for a few moment to let it heat on the small fire he had built a respectable distance away from the camp. After the water was near boiling, Paris picked it up with his hands wrapped in rags so he wouldn't get burnt.
Paris entered the tent and his heart ached with sympathy for Achilles. The warrior lay almost vulnerably on the layered blankets.
Paris went over to him and sat down, laying the water down. He took a rag and soaked it in water, before rinsing it out, and carefully began cleaning Achilles' cut. The man hissed with pain, and Paris began to sing in his soft voice.
"Remember..... I will still be here. As long as you hold me in your memory......
Remember...... When your dreams have ended, Time can be transcended Just remember me.
I am the one star that keeps burning so brightly It is the last night to fade into the rising sun...."
He kept singing a beautiful melody, while tenderly bathing and treating Achilles' injuries. Achilles nearly fell asleep from listening to the heavenly voice. He felt his pain lessen just from hearing the song and he felt completely relaxed.
When Paris stopped singing, he lowered his eyes and began to stitch the slash up.
Achilles, even though he was not one to praise such things, spoke. "You have a beautiful voice, Paris. You could charm even the most cold hearted of souls."
Paris blushed faintly. Singing was one of the few things he enjoyed. "Thank you."
They didn't speak for awhile. Paris finished bandaging Achilles' chest and then waiting for him to say something. He felt awkward for some reason.
"It is my turn to thank you, Paris. You saved me a lot of pain by doing that for me." He spoke softly, and almost shyly.
Achilles was beginning to like Paris more than he expected, even though they barely knew eachother. He was young and passionate, even though he was clearly intimidated by him and the Greeks. Maybe this could be helped in time. Maybe they could be more than just companions. Maybe they could become more than friends......maybe lovers......
Achilles bit his lip. He was a fool! Paris did love Helen, this he knew. How could he even be thinking about this young man as a sexual partner?
But he gave himself to Achilles, right? Maybe he could use him for pleasure......wait, what was he thinking? Sexual slavery was wrong! How could he be contradicting one of his strongest beliefs?
Paris was beautiful. He could quite possibly be one of the most beautiful males he had seen. Achilles knew the ways of men loving another, it wasn't a new thing. But finding pleasure in ones' body was just wrong. If there wasn't love behind it, it was little more than rape.
Achilles fell asleep while he tried to figure it out. He would just wait to see what happened. He could do little else.
Please review! Don't own song, that's all James Horner! This story is really taking over my mind.....
Alyx Bradford- Thanks for your review. It really helped me. I merely meant the first slash on fanfiction.net for Troy. God knows that Troy slash has been done. I have trouble with dialogue. It's not a strong point. I read it out loud, and cringed. But I wanted everyone to know that I knew I didn't start Troy slash; I just started the first on ff.net. (I think)
So anyway, bear with me for this story. Characters are probably OOC. I know that Patroclus was probably not Achilles' first cousin, actually I'm not sure of their true relation.....oh well bear with me.
Paris sleepily opened his eyes to Achilles whispering. The blonde man was kneeling next to him. "Wake up, Paris. I need to tell you what is going to happen today." He spoke in that same calm voice.
Paris nodded, and stretched a little. He then gracefully folded his lonng legs under himself and gazed at Achilles expectedly. Achilles was watching, amused.
"You move like a cat. Not even the most nimble of warriors have that talent!" Achilles chuckled, a rather pleasant sound in Paris' opinion.
"Thank you, my lord." Paris wasn't sure what to call Achilles, but 'my lord' seemed acceptable to him.
The warrior looked uncomfortable. "Paris, while we are in the presence of other men, please address me as my lord, but when we are along please call me by my name."
The former Trojan prince nodded again.
Achilles stood up and walked toward a tray of fruits and cheese. "Here, eat, Paris. We have much to discuss."
Paris walked toward the tray and gingerly picked up a slice of cheese. He nibbled on it, as he wasn't that hungry. He just wanted to hear what was in store for him.
Achilles sat cross-legged on a pillow and began to speak. "I realize that it was your intention to be my slave, but slavery is wrong to me. Now, there is going to be a battle today. I must leave you, and you cannot leave this tent. I'm sorry for having to do this, but if you leave, the men will find you and-" he paused, "-they will not be gentle. Many people in the camp are cruel, and you, Paris, are desirable to them." Achilles did not falter at the small noise from Paris.
"Odysseus, my best companion, was injured a few days ago when-when Patroclus was killed." Now Achilles did stutter and bowed his head.
Paris felt sadness for this great warrior. He knew that his older bother had killed the young man thinking it was Achilles himself. Patroclus had been Achilles' cousin and best friend.
Paris, though it was bold, laid a gentle hand on Achilles' shoulder. "I am sorry for his death."
Achilles felt numb, but jerked his shoulder away and said a little too coldly, "I am sorry that your brother succeeded." Pain was still almost unbearably strong about his cousin, and when he had learnt of Patroclus' death he had nearly killed himself. The inner hatred of himself was strong, and the emotional effect that came from his best friend's death had almost undone his will to stay alive.
Paris didn't meet Achilles' blue eyes. Hurt blossomed in his heart but he didn't let it show.
After a few moments the silence was broken. "Forgive me." Achilles whispered. Paris spoke softly. "I do not blame you."
Achilles nodded.
"Well, anyway, Odysseus was injured, and he may stop by the tent later to talk. He cannot fight, much to his disappointment, but he is good natured and carries good conversation. He won't harm you."
"Very well."
Achilles looked at Paris for a bit, brown eyes meeting blue, and then broke that contact. He got up and began to put on his armor.
Paris kept his eyes on the ground. Achilles' was kind, much kinder than he had imagined. It looked like he would not be sexually used, at least not for a while.
Achilles bid him farewell, and as he walked out, Paris timidly said, "I---I hope that you return safely, Achilles."
The blonde warrior stopped and turned, studying Paris with his aqua eyes. Surprise and a bit of happiness shone from them. "I thank you, Paris."
And he left.
Shockingly enough, Paris did not feel the terrible feeling of fear and regret that he had expected to engulf him. Instead, he felt optimistic enough, and was wondering if Odysseus would indeed visit.
Paris decided to look around in the large tent. He found a few books, a couple of robes, some food and water, but not much else.
Feeling tired for some reason, Paris just laid down to rest. He constantly sat up to watch the door, as the Greeks intimidated him.
Hours later, of just thinking about his new life and Achilles, a deep yet musical voice sounded. "Young Paris? May I come in?"
Paris sat up quickly and answered cautiously, "Is it Odysseus?"
"Yes, it is. I hope you are decent, for I am coming in." And with that a tall man came through the strips of leather that covered the opening to the tent.
He had sandy blonde hair that was cut short and stubble. Odysseus seemed like a pleasant man just from his appearance, which exuded peace and laughter.
Paris stood and bowed slightly. "My lord Odysseus. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Odysseus smiled, a rather boyish smile. "Just call me Odysseus, Paris. Though Achilles told me of your assumed position, I know he won't use it."
Paris instantly liked Odysseus and grinned. "Very well, Odysseus."
The conversation that followed was easy and lazy. Odysseus was very desirable company if you wanted to talk and Paris found himself laughing more than he had in days.
"Achilles is a fair man, Paris. If no one else treats you with respect, he at least will." Odysseus paused. "And me, of course." he added as an afterthought.
Paris smiled his gentle smile. "I thank you for that. Achilles always struck me as a savage killer, and his personality surprised me."
"You don't know him that well yet." Odysseus warned. "He can be unpredictable at times."
"I thought that he would be like that." Paris said thoughtfully. He then frowned a little. "He seems like a troubled man."
Odysseus frowned as well. "He has a lot of self loathing for himself. Though killing is his gift, he hates himself for it. He sees it as wild and savage. Achilles may seem like just a murderer, but he is more. Much more."
The two men sat in silence. "Thank you," Paris began, "thank you for treating me as an equal, and not a slave. I hope that our friendship will develop."
The tall man grinned again in the carefree way. "I do too."
Paris had been combing his silky brown curls with his slender fingers
when Achilles'
entered the tent. The warrior walked with a slight limp, and Paris
saw that he was wounded.
Achilles turned around slowly and Paris gasped softly. A slash was across his chest and shoulder. It was just above his heart and blood dripped from it freely.
Paris could see that Achilles was trying to hide his pain, but the blue eyes gave it away.
"Achilles. Let me help you." Paris whispered, and walked toward the warrior. Achilles didn't walk away, and instead spoke. His voice was tight. "I'm fine, Paris. Do not trouble yourself."
This made the former prince angry. Why couldn't he just accept help? But, Hector had been the same way.
"Please, Achilles. That is a nasty cut, let me help you. You might injure yourself more if you try to tend to it yourself."
Achilles gazed at Paris. None of his men had ever questioned him. But, he liked this fiery spirit.
He nodded slowly and lay down on his bed. Paris took the hint and filled a small bowl with water from the water skin. He went outside for a few moment to let it heat on the small fire he had built a respectable distance away from the camp. After the water was near boiling, Paris picked it up with his hands wrapped in rags so he wouldn't get burnt.
Paris entered the tent and his heart ached with sympathy for Achilles. The warrior lay almost vulnerably on the layered blankets.
Paris went over to him and sat down, laying the water down. He took a rag and soaked it in water, before rinsing it out, and carefully began cleaning Achilles' cut. The man hissed with pain, and Paris began to sing in his soft voice.
"Remember..... I will still be here. As long as you hold me in your memory......
Remember...... When your dreams have ended, Time can be transcended Just remember me.
I am the one star that keeps burning so brightly It is the last night to fade into the rising sun...."
He kept singing a beautiful melody, while tenderly bathing and treating Achilles' injuries. Achilles nearly fell asleep from listening to the heavenly voice. He felt his pain lessen just from hearing the song and he felt completely relaxed.
When Paris stopped singing, he lowered his eyes and began to stitch the slash up.
Achilles, even though he was not one to praise such things, spoke. "You have a beautiful voice, Paris. You could charm even the most cold hearted of souls."
Paris blushed faintly. Singing was one of the few things he enjoyed. "Thank you."
They didn't speak for awhile. Paris finished bandaging Achilles' chest and then waiting for him to say something. He felt awkward for some reason.
"It is my turn to thank you, Paris. You saved me a lot of pain by doing that for me." He spoke softly, and almost shyly.
Achilles was beginning to like Paris more than he expected, even though they barely knew eachother. He was young and passionate, even though he was clearly intimidated by him and the Greeks. Maybe this could be helped in time. Maybe they could be more than just companions. Maybe they could become more than friends......maybe lovers......
Achilles bit his lip. He was a fool! Paris did love Helen, this he knew. How could he even be thinking about this young man as a sexual partner?
But he gave himself to Achilles, right? Maybe he could use him for pleasure......wait, what was he thinking? Sexual slavery was wrong! How could he be contradicting one of his strongest beliefs?
Paris was beautiful. He could quite possibly be one of the most beautiful males he had seen. Achilles knew the ways of men loving another, it wasn't a new thing. But finding pleasure in ones' body was just wrong. If there wasn't love behind it, it was little more than rape.
Achilles fell asleep while he tried to figure it out. He would just wait to see what happened. He could do little else.
Please review! Don't own song, that's all James Horner! This story is really taking over my mind.....