Time seemed to stop after Odysseus finally named Priam as the perceived threat to Paris' well being, the reason why Achilles had felt the need to flee with him and damn the consequences. Andromache, dumbstruck momentarily from shock, stared from her husband to Ithaca's king and back again as she inwardly agonized about the revelation. She'd never outright suspected that Priam was doing anything that was so blatantly destructive and heartless to the young man but now that she knew she didn't doubt for a minute. The king was nothing if not cruel, spending years (lifetimes, really) inflicting wounds on his sons in places where no one could see them – their minds and emotions. Paris' method of escape was fairly thoughtless and his choice of Achilles as a lover – his first – was questionable and still felt dangerous, but it was difficult to fault him for it in light of this new information. If Achilles truly loved him as he apparently believed he did she would try to brush aside any preconceived notions she had and welcome him as best she could – if she ever saw either one of them again.

Meanwhile Odysseus watched Hector's reaction nervously, keenly aware that the safety of himself and his men most likely depended on the prince accepting the truth and taking action with Priam to counter it. If he didn't believe him – or worse, if he already knew and agreed with his father that Paris should be one of the palace prostitutes – the gates of Troy might as well be their tombs. Judging by the look in his eyes, though, Odysseus didn't believe that the latter was true; Hector truly looked horrified. King Priam had obviously kept his deceits carefully hidden.

'How could one family get so twisted up in secrets and lies?' the Greek wondered, for he suddenly feared for his own family. No; he wouldn't let such a thing happen to them, not if he had any say in the matter. The love and trust between him, Penelope, and Telemachus was strong and he was willing to work as hard as he possibly could to maintain it. There could be no secrets worth keeping if the downward spiral currently being experienced by the Trojan royal family would be the inevitable result. Odysseus made a vow then and there to encourage honesty and understanding in all dealings with his wife and son.

Hector, unfortunately, had no such promise made to him and was left struggling with the aftermath. He opened his mouth a few times, trying to force words to come out. "My father? My father was hurting Paris in some way?" he managed to ask in a quavering voice. The turmoil in his eyes gave way to a sudden furious blaze. "That's not right. You don't understand why that can't be right."

"I know that this is difficult to hear and more so to believe," said Odysseus hastily, unable to know that Hector's mood and denials had little to do with him. "I do not relish in telling it to you either; I didn't want to believe it myself. Achilles stubbornly insisted that King Priam had terrible intentions when it came to Prince Paris but I'm a father and the idea that any father could do something like that – could want it in the first place…" He looked down at Andromache and the baby, gathering his resolve before meeting Hector's stare straight on. "If I would have been honest with myself I would've admitted that there was always something about the king's relationship with your brother that made me feel uncomfortable."

"Dare I ask," said Hector in an overly civil tone that made Odysseus want to shudder, "what particular aspect of their relationship did you find so distasteful?"

"I'm not saying all of this to be cruel or condescending," Odysseus replied in what he prayed was a calming manner. "You were the one who wanted to me tell you the truth as I know it. All I'm telling you are what Achilles said and my own observations."

Hector felt ill. Truly nauseous. He wondered fleetingly if the Grecian king had ever had Trojan vomit on his sandals. When he spoke again his voice was tight and small: "And what would those observations be?"

"That King Priam seemed to view Prince Paris more as a possession than as a son," answered Odysseus. Hector flinched. 'Honest. Truthful. Steady now,' Odysseus encouraged himself silently as the prince's hard stare began to way heavily on him. "I am sorry if this sounds harsh, but that's certainly how he treated him. He loved to show him off – at one banquet he even ordered the prince to smile and then announced to everyone in the room to look at how beautiful the boy was, ignoring the whole time how humiliated it made him feel. Prince Paris was constantly on display but he was never allowed to mingle with us or anyone else when the king could stop it. It was plain to see that he was telling everyone to admire him but not get too close, as if he were just another gorgeous decoration for the magnificent palace. There wasn't one part of Prince Paris' life that the king didn't want to be in control of."

"He doesn't even allow Hector and Paris to have any sort of relationship," interjected Andromache almost to herself but loud enough so that both men could hear her. Odysseus was immensely grateful for her affirmation. "He's done everything he could to keep them separated since before I became a member of this family."

"As I said," continued Odysseus with a nod and small smile in her direction, "I didn't want to believe what now seems so obvious. By Athena, I even defended King Priam whenever my discussions with Achilles turned to this topic. Neither of us had any more to go on except for observation and speculation; Prince Paris apparently never confided in him about all of this before three nights ago although I have no doubt that Achilles confronted him about it afterwards."

His whole being was going to fall apart – Hector knew it. His mind was in pain, his insides were vibrating, and feelings that he'd managed to control for years were clawing their way to the surface, destroying everything in their path. "Stop dancing around it," he ordered, his voice strained to the point of breaking. "I can't stand this anymore. Something happened three nights ago that totally altered your outlook on my father, something that convinced Achilles that leaving Troy with Paris like that was totally appropriate. You're going to tell me what that was right now."

"I will," agreed Odysseus grimly as he prepared to recall the conversation that still violently turned his stomach. "It was right after the evening's banquet…."

Odysseus' first person p.o.v.

"Everyone had long vacated the table and was enjoying the evening's festivities except for me. Of course, they didn't have the knowledge of what was happening between Achilles and Prince Paris strangling their senses like I did. The prince had excused himself before the last course was served, feigning a queasy stomach – how utterly fitting. Achilles managed to wait until it was over before offering his own excuse and bolting. I guessed that he was heading to Prince Paris' bedchamber and pursued him into the corridor. I begged him not to do it, not to jeopardize the peace negotiations; I even threatened to tell the king. He knew I wouldn't do such a thing unless there was absolutely no other option, including silence, and he refused to be dissuaded.

After he marched off to basically destroy everything I came here to do I stumbled back into the banquet hall and sat down at the table. While going over all of it again and again in my mind my gaze fell on Prince Paris' chair – his empty chair. I was so caught up in wondering what horrors would be in store for all of the Greeks should King Priam discover just why his son's chair was vacant that I didn't hear him come over and sit down next to me.

'Good evening King Odysseus,' he said. 'Are you not enjoying yourself? I have always heard that you Greeks get much pleasure out of this sort of celebration and entertainment. Do you find the music and prostitutes of my palace unworthy in some fashion?'

'It's not that,' I responded. 'I was just letting my thoughts run out of my control.'

He followed my stare and his jaw tightened. 'Thoughts about my Paris?' he demanded, sounding quite affronted. He didn't even want someone thinking about your brother without his permission. 'How presumptuous and bold of you.'

There was no use in denying that Prince Paris occupied my mind but I believed it would be prudent to dispel his obvious belief that I was thinking anything inappropriate. The truth, then, was not an option so I chose to lie. 'He is sixteen, is he not?' I asked and he nodded. 'I was just wondering why a boy of his age and high station was not training to take his place among the great leaders and soldiers of the Trojan army. Your eldest son has the respect and fear of all of the people of the Aegean and I just thought that Prince Paris would be eager to follow in Hector's footsteps. Is he still considered to be too young?'

'Paris is not going to follow in Hector's footsteps,' King Priam replied through gritted teeth. 'There is absolutely no reason why something like that should occur.'

'I apologize if my assumptions offended you in any manner,' I said quickly, not expecting that kind of response. 'I only meant that Prince Paris would make a fine warrior.'

'That only shows how little you know about Trojan life,' retorted the king firmly as if my notion was entirely absurd. 'Paris is not going to be a warrior. I have watched him for many years and it has become unmistakably clear that he is destined to fulfill a different role in Trojan society.'

What other occupation besides being a member of the army would be suitable for a king's son? 'Do you think that he should become a priest of Apollo?' I guessed, though I cringed at the possibility of him saying yes. If Prince Paris were a priest he would not be afforded the freedom needed for him to continue his relationship with Achilles and I knew that Achilles wouldn't hesitate to defile the temple of any god or goddess if it was the only way he could get to him.

King Priam gave a quiet snort at that. 'No,' he scoffed. 'I have the utmost reverence for the god Apollo and would never presume to sully his temple and priest robes like that. Paris simply does not possess the purity of body and mind that being a priest would require.'

Panic flooded my mind for a moment before self-preservation took over. After all, I had done everything I could to stop Achilles. I wasn't about to let him drag down the Ithacans with him after he was caught. 'Oh,' I said, trying my best to sound surprised but also nonchalant. 'I was not aware that he was involved with anyone. Is he to enter into a politically advantageous marriage then?'

'He's not,' answered the king.

I was relieved to hear that, both for the implication that the affair was still a secret and because of the fact that Achilles wouldn't yet be able to cause an even more catastrophic political incident by interfering with any marriage treaties that King Priam had planned. I was about to ask him why he was questioning Prince Paris' purity when I noticed that his attention was no longer on me and our conversation. He was starting over at the door with a slight frown on his face. I turned and saw Lord Isidore standing over there with a green-eyed prostitute. The boy was shaking slightly and that seemed to displease the lord. He shook him a little and the boy bowed his head and nodded, giving no resistance as Lord Isidore dragged him away.

Beside me, the king stopped frowning and gave a curt nod of approval. 'For a moment I thought that prostitute had forgotten his place,' he commented. 'I do hope that my Paris will not be such a problem when the time comes.'

I started to agree when his words sunk in and I realized what he'd just said. 'Boys that age can be a little stubborn and willful,' I tried to laugh; it sounded more like I was being strangled. I begged every god and goddess there is that I was just misinterpreting what h was saying. 'I'm sure that Prince Paris will be an apt learner and quickly excel in whatever occupation you've selected for him.'

'You Greeks are just a lot of simple beings, aren't you?' the king smirked. 'Must I clarify? I meant that I hope that Paris doesn't try to resist Isidore when he orders him into bed – my friend does not like it when his orders are not obeyed, although it might be a valuable lesson for Paris to learn. Do not look so taken aback, King Odysseus; you should know that being a blood relation to the most powerful king in the Aegean does not exempt one from his destiny. He cannot fight what he was born to be. Have you not seen that beautiful face, slender body, and those perfect long legs? Lords and kings would surrender much of their wealth, areas of land, and the bulk of their power if they could have one night with those legs wrapped around their bodies in exchange.'

He turned to me again and I could see no turmoil or insanity in his face; we might as well been discussing the weather as far as he was concerned. 'Some people were meant to be warriors,' he stated matter-of-factly. 'Some were meant to be priests; others scholars. My beautiful Paris is meant to serve Troy as a whore. I've guessed as much from the moment he was born and became certain of it when his loveliness began enticing men and inspiring their lusts. His training in the arts of pleasure will begin in about two years.'"

Normal p.o.v.

Andromache clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle the cry of shock. To hear just how cold-blooded her father-in-law truly was revolted her.

"I was horrified to hear a father speak about his own child in such a cavalier and sick way," Odysseus concluded. "Looking back now I realize that perhaps it wasn't the best decision to tell Achilles about this exchange but I was so aghast that I wasn't thinking clearly. You must understand, Prince Hector; that night was the first time that he and Prince Paris had ever made love to each other. He hated leaving your brother after that as it was, and hearing someone call the person he loved a whore drove him into a rage. I considered myself fortunate that he didn't storm out then and there to kill King Priam and pressed my luck by begging him not to do anything rash. I thought that I'd managed to convince him, but apparently all of my pleas and advice was of no consequence when he was so focused on protected Prince Paris."

Hector had remained silent throughout Odysseus' recollection; digging his fingernails into his palms instead and drawing blood. "That's not how it's supposed to be," he whispered tightly.

Andromache gasped at the sight of his bloodied hands. "Hector!"

"That's not how it's supposed to be!" Hector repeated, his volume rising as his body shook with rage. "My father said that he was protecting Paris from me!"

"What?" Achilles' suspicions that Hector was somehow involved with Priam's plans for Paris tormented Odysseus as he tried to make sense of what the prince was saying.

Words tumbled out of Hector's mouth in an uncontrolled rant. "Because of what I did – I trusted – a whore? – Ianthe – Paris – Alexandros – and now he thinks – my shame – supposed to protect – tainted with my sin!"

Hector whipped around and charged blindly out of the garden. Odysseus and Andromache, bewildered and spooked by his behavior, followed, struggling to keep up with his relentless pace. As they progressed through the palace halls the two realized where he was leading them.

"My husband!" cried Andromache when they arrived at the door that opened to their final destination. No good could come from this with him in the state that he was in!

"Prince Hector!" protested Odysseus at the same time. This wasn't what he'd been trying to provoke when he told the prince the whole sorted tale.

Hector paid no attention to either one of them. Without hesitating for even a second he threw the doors open and stormed into his father's court, where the nobles and high-ranking soldiers were gathered to discuss Paris' so-called abduction. Most of them, including Lucius, had expected him to attend anyway and started to smile in greeting; those smiles froze at the enraged expression on the prince's face.

"What is the meaning of this incredible breech of decorum?" demanded Priam.

Hector's face grew even redder at the sound of his father's scolding, arrogant tone. "I trusted you," he spat out. "You told me that you were going to protect him."

Why was Hector bringing this obviously private family grievance into the court, making it sound as if he had the authority to demand such a promise from the king? Priam narrowed his eyes. "We have already discussed Paris' –"

"His training in the arts of pleasure begins in about two years, Father?" hissed Hector. Priam's jaw audibly snapped shut and he glared accusingly at Odysseus. The Ithacan king's stomach twisted and he knew that all hopes of forging an alliance with the king of Troy were gone. "Paris will be eighteen then, the age that boys are when they are selected to join the palace harem. Since when has being a prostitute been a proper function for a prince to fill?"

Many of the nobles looked shock; small wonder, since Priam's' plans for Paris weren't public knowledge even in the court. This wasn't the way that he would have chosen for them to find out either. "Hector!" scolded Priam, frantically trying to silence him.

"You took him from me!" Hector carried on. "You've been taking him from me for over sixteen years now. Why, Father? Why did you take him when you all you wanted for him was to be the object of lust and twisted entertainment for the nobles and foreign leaders? Why do you want to make a whore out of my son?"

To be continued…