Time seemed to stop for Hector as he stared wide-eyed at Paris, searching with quiet desperation for a sign indicating the boy's reaction to his news. It was strange: in a way he'd lived the last sixteen years in anticipation of this very moment, encouraged by dreams of instant acceptance as well as plagued by nightmares of utter and final rejection. Now it was finally here and he almost wished that he could take it back – almost. That frightened part of him that he allowed to control his relationship with his oldest child had been subdued and he knew that he had to be strong enough to answer for his actions.

Paris didn't say anything at first; nor did he so much as twitch a muscle except to blind once as he looked blankly at Hector. There was no hint as to how he was feeling – or maybe he just wasn't feeling anything at all. The elder prince recalled the horrible nightmare he'd had while aboard the Ithacan ship. 'The gods wouldn't turn Paris to sand!' he told himself, but the irrational fear was still there. After all, he wasn't worthy to be his son's father, but all he could do now was fervently hope that they would take it out on him and leave Paris to live in love and peace.

Finally, finally an expression came upon Paris' face: one of exasperation. Paris, if Hector was reading him correctly, was annoyed by his heart wrenching admission. "Stop trying to be funny, Hector," Paris all but snapped, "or whatever it is that you're trying to do. I know that you think that this will make me feel better but let me assure you that I'm not a child anymore. I'll take the truth, no matter how difficult it is to hear, over your pleasant lies if you don't mind. Stop sidestepping my question."

He didn't believe him. 'Did you really expect him to?' Hector scolded himself. 'What proof does he have that I'm telling the truth? I haven't offered him any.' He was at a loss for words; he'd been so consumed in preparing for what he would do if Paris was angry or felt betrayed that he'd never taken the time to consider what he should do if Paris didn't think that he was being serious. Now he had to find a way to think on his feet about one of the most important matters in his life and figure out the best way to convince him of the truth.

"Paris," he said aloud, stammering a little as he fumbled for the correct words, "I know that this is no laughing matter – believe me. I'm not trying to avoid your question by weaving what I think to be a more pleasant fiction; I have seen all too clearly what those kinds of lies lead to. This is the truth, Paris: I truly am your father."

"I can't believe you're doing this!" cried Paris with much irritation. "You sailed all the way from Troy and braved facing the Myrmidons in battle and now you insist on playing some sort of child's game with me! Well, let me inform you that your efforts are wasted and that I don't appreciated being treated like this. That man who you passed by on your way in here was Achilles is my lover. He doesn't treat me like a child and I've come to rather enjoy that. So if you've said all that you came here to say you can just get back on your ship and leave right now." Shaking his head disapprovingly and disappointedly he added, "I thought that you were better than this."

It was obvious to Hector that he needed to take another approach to convince his son – anything to not have to bear that look in his eyes one moment longer! "I was fourteen," he persisted firmly, his gaze unflinchingly focused on Paris. Apollo, he hoped that he had enough strength to get through this without breaking down. "It was over sixteen years ago but I can still describe everything that happened the night that you were born, down to the most insignificant detail. Not most men see their child's birth but I was there holding your mother's hand and trying to witness the exact moment that you came into the world. It seemed so – unreal, so impossible and yet when it was all over with, there you were. You were covered with some blood and odd gooey substance and crying so loud; I'd never seen anything so perfect before."

The earnestness with which Hector spoke made it difficult to deny what he was saying was true, and yet Paris fought to continue to not believe him. If what he was saying…if Priam wasn't…if Hector was…then everyone who claimed to or pretended to love him until he met Achilles had done nothing but lie to him for all of his life. Apollo, it made his life one gigantic lie, for all that he was had been based on being the youngest son of King Priam of Troy. The only true thing about him, if that wasn't true, was his love for the Myrmidon warrior and even that would have its basis in falsehoods. How could Hector – 'my brother,' he asserted silently, afraid to face the possibility of him being anything else – do this to him?

"Stop it, Hector," he said warningly, his voice shaking a little.

But Hector couldn't undo what he'd told him nor, he determined, would he choose to if he could. "You've had those dark curls covering your head since you were born," he continued, taking a small step forward and lightly touching Paris' hair with the utmost tips of his fingers. The boy shrank away a little but he didn't move out of reach. "They took you away right after, but I was able to track you down and I got to see you all cleaned up that night. It was, however, another twenty-nine hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-four seconds before I could hold you."

Hector was momentarily overwhelmed by the memory of that night; it was then that he had realized that he could never be satisfied with simply catching a glimpse of Paris as chance allowed, when he made the decision to defy his father in order to see him again. "You were so good when I finally took you in my arms," he recalled tearfully. "So sweet and quiet, like you'd been waiting for me and were happy that I'd finally arrived. Like" – his voice cracked –"like you knew that I was your father."

Paris sucked in a deep breath. And then another, and another. 'He's starting to hyperventilate,' Hector realized. Letting his paternal instincts take control he lunged forward, grabbing one of Paris' arms in order to provide some support and rubbing gentle circles into his back with the other hand. "Relax," he instructed soothingly. "If you don't relax and concentrate on breathing normally you'll pass out."

Receiving the comforting, fatherly touch, the one that he'd been deprived of for all of his life only to receive now after he'd made the decision to reject his false father Priam by running away, was too much for his already-taxed emotions to handle. "Get away from me!" Paris screamed, violently shoving Hector away.

He pushed with so much force that Hector went sprawling to the floor, landing painfully on his back while Paris himself stumbled down onto his hands and knees. Hector propped himself up and saw his son on all fours, his body visibly shaking. "You liar!" the boy shouted furiously at him before dropping his head and letting out a broken cry. "You liar…"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Odysseus watched Achilles with an almost passive look on his face as the warrior glared at the closed door, as if he thought that if he stared long and hard enough that he could actually see through it. "I don't believe I've ever seen this side of you before," he commented in a blasé tone. "Well, maybe with Patroclus but never to this degree. It's downright…paternal of you, Achilles."

"I'm no more paternal toward Paris than you are toward Penelope," Achilles replied gruffly, not taking his eyes off the door. "You wouldn't want to leave her alone with someone who was going to hurt her, would you?"

"He's all right," promised Odysseus. "Hector would take on Atlas' duty of holding the world on his shoulders if he thought it was the best thing for Paris."

Achilles didn't look at all placated. "Why did I agree to this?" he groaned regretfully. "I could have had the entire Myrmidon army out here with me, ready and waiting for my command in case something terrible happens. Why didn't I at least stay inside to keep an eye on things?"

"Because you knew that your Paris needs to deal with whatever Hector has to tell him alone," responded Odysseus wisely. "Let him confront his emotions before having to share them with you."

"Hector's going to trying something."

"He's not –"

"Get away from me! You liar!"

The sound of Paris' anguished scream froze Achilles' blood for a split second before it started to boil. He'd been kind enough to let that worthless Trojan onto his land, into his home, and alone in the presence of the person that Achilles was in love with and this is how he repaid the courtesy? By attacking his lover, trying to do the gods-know-what to him in the very place where Paris was supposed to be safe? Even Priam's crimes against the boy paled in comparison to this treachery, for Paris had loved and trusted Hector to the point where he'd wanted to remain in Troy until the older prince returned. Achilles was going to tear Hector's limbs off and then beat him with them for betraying him!

"Achilles!" Odysseus sprang forward as the warrior drew his sword and charged ahead, but was unable to restrain him. After a seconds-long struggle – that Odysseus would remember with a thanks to every god and goddess on Olympus and beyond that Achilles was too focused on getting inside to bother with putting forth the effort to harm him for many years to come – the front door gave way with a crash. The Myrmidon raced inside with Odysseus still trying vainly to restrain him; but the sword stilled in his hand at the scene that met him: both of the Trojan princes were a few feet away from each other, on the floor and crying.

"I'm sorry," Hector was sobbing. Paris remained in his spot, only moving to turn his head totally away from his newfound father. For Hector that gesture was as much as a sign of rejection as spitting on him and it broke his heart. "I never wanted to hurt you – I love you! I love you so much that sometimes I'm surprised that there's room inside of me for anything else. You were – you are – my baby and I loved you from the moment that I found you were coming. I wanted you to have everything that you could ever possibly need and want, and I made a horrible mistake in trying to make sure that happened. He told me that I'd hurt you and that he'd protect you from pain, from me, and I believed him. There's no excuse for what I did! Oh Apollo, I let him take my Alexandros to turn into his Paris!"

Achilles' mouth fell open in shock when he realized what the implications of Hector's words were. Was Hector really Paris' father? It seemed unlikely that anyone as visible as a king or a prince would be able to pull of such a deception without everyone knowing, let alone keep it secret for so long. He would have just dismissed it as a trick of the older prince's to gain Paris' trust, and yet…. As he considered the possibility all of the puzzle pieces that had been befuddling him – Priam's utter coldness toward the one person outside of family that was able to inspire Achilles' warm side; Hector's unconventional but persistent presence and influence in Paris' life; Odysseus' willingness to risk so much in order to assist the prince – began to fall into place. Now that he looked at the two of them he could see the strong resemblance that so clearly marked them as father and son. Perhaps the question wasn't if Hector was Paris' father, but why hadn't anyone noticed before.

"You abandoned me," Paris choked out, still refusing to face Hector, fiercely determined not to let him see the hurt in his expression or the tears streaming down his cheeks. "And not just the once when you cast me aside into your father's so-called care; but every single moment after that when you could have chosen to tell me the truth and didn't. Was I really that much of an unpleasant memory to you? A reminder of past mistakes, one that had no place in your new life. You – you were so busy in starting over again that you only bothered to see me – the shameful secret of your past – whenever I happened to pop into your mind. Why did you even bother with that, Hector; was the guilt too much for you?"

"No," Hector protested, shaking his head vehemently. "Father forbade me to have anything to do with you and if I tried to see you in a too obvious way he would have made it even more difficult. He always said that it wouldn't be good for either of us to get attached to each other because I would be too weak to continue on with the lies and end up hurting you. For years I believed him; I thought that I was weak and selfish because I couldn't stand not seeing you."

Ever so slowly Paris looked over at him. "Ever since the moment that I let Father claim you I've been thinking up different ways that would allow me to spend even a second longer in your presence," Hector went on, inching closer to his son's bent body. Paris saw this but didn't make a move. "I've snuck into your chambers – most of the time when you were awake, but sometimes, when it was really late, just to watch you sleep – bribed guards, and done other things that I'm not very proud of; but I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it was a choice between that and not seeing you at all. I didn't cut myself off from you because I didn't want to. Don't you see, Paris? I've been dying a little bit every day since the moment he took you but I thought that you'd be better off. I couldn't abandon you, though, or lose you wholly without cutting out my own heart in the process. Even if it was just as your brother I needed to be with you. I love you more than I can say."

Tentatively he moved his hand to touch Paris' shoulder; his son remained still. Realizing that he wouldn't be recoiled, Hector engulfed him in his arms, pulling him into a fierce embrace. Paris stiffened at first but then relaxed against him. 'He knows that I'm his father,' the elder prince thought in awe, 'and he's still letting me hold him. For the first time in over sixteen years he knows who I really am and is letting me hold him.' He let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding and nuzzled his cheek into Paris' curly hair.

"Achilles," Odysseus whispered discreetly to his friend so as not to disturb them, "they need to be alone right now." No arguments against this assessment came and he led the mesmerized warrior outside again.

Paris sniffled loudly before looking up at Hector. "I have so many questions," he said tearfully.

"I'll answer whatever questions you ask me, no matter what," Hector vowed to him. "No more lies."

"Where is my mother?" asked Paris, going back in his mind once again to that night where his inquires about her made Hector cried. Now learning that he'd actually held her hand while he was being born; if he'd only known…. "It's obvious that Father – Grandfather – Priam – what do I call him now? Or you?"

"Whatever you feel most comfortable with," responded Hector, burying his burning desire to hear Paris call him 'Father.' He had no right to force that now. "I can still be 'Hector' and you can still call him "Fa' – 'Father' if that's what you want."

"He was never my father," said Paris darkly. "Not ever. But I don't want to talk about that or him right now. This is about how he didn't think that you were capable of raising me, not even with the help of a governess. It's plain to see that he doesn't care about me, except as a negotiation tool, so why did I end up with him and not living in anonymity with my mother? Is she Andromache?"

Hector shook his head. "No," he answered. "I didn't meet Andromache until years after all of this. Your mother was a servant – my only friend, in those days – named Ianthe and you're not with her because she – died." Hector then told him everything that he told the nobles on the day that they truth came to light; about Ianthe, their relationship, her death, and how Priam manipulated all of that to claim him as his own son.

Paris was shaking by the time Hector had concluded his tale. "This is so much," he moaned, covering his eyes with one hand. "Why? Why did he take me? Wouldn't it have been more convenient just to kill me?"

"It was never about convenience; Father's decision was about the way that he loves us," said Hector. Paris gave him a hard disbelieving look and he knew that he needed to amend his statement. "He does love us, but not in a way that's nurturing and good. It's the same way that he loved my mother: as possessions firmly under his control. He wanted to imbed as much of himself that he could in my mind, soul – well, every part of me – so that he can still control the monarchy after he descended to the Underworld. My relationship with Ianthe was the first time that I did something that he would have disapproved of and it threatened all that he'd been trying to do with me. Taking you was his way to regain control of the situation. Later on, when everyone else realized just how beautiful you are, he came to view you as another treasure of Troy, a point of pride. So long as people were whispering rumors about how gorgeous you are he could add possessing one of the most beautiful people in the world on top of having a mighty army and enormous wealth."

"But he treated both his army and his wealth with more care than he ever treated me," pointed out Paris, still incredulous. "I was lower in his eyes than most of the servants, and you know how much contempt he shows for them."

"Everything he felt toward you was so twisted," Hector gently agreed. "I'm certain that it at least in part was because of your mother. He sees as much of her as he does of me every time he looks at you. He despised her, called her a…"

"A whore?" Paris supplied. Hector nodded silently. "When Achilles first started trying to spend time with me, Priam was furious. He pulled me into an empty room with so much force that I thought he'd pull my arm out and hit me. After threatening to toss me to the Greeks for them to sate their lusts, he told me that Lord Isidore would 'initiate' me into the palace prostitutes and that he'd be there when it happened to make sure that he hurt me sufficiently and that I learned to enjoy the pain. He was just going to stand there and watch that monster rape me."

"Oh Apollo," Hector gasped in horror. The coldness was terrible enough, and his plans for Paris to become one of those prostitutes even worse, but he hadn't realized how insane and sickening Priam's feelings toward Paris had become. It made him want to wretch.

"You didn't know, did you?" Paris pulled away a little to look him in the eye. "Not just about what I've told you, but about anything that they were planning to do to me."

"Of course not," declared Hector ardently. "The reason that the truth came out was because I discovered that Father was going to force you to become a prostitute. If I'd have known how twisted all of this truly was I would have destroyed them both."

Paris believed him – he could tell by the look in his eye and the sincerity of his tone. The boy scooted forward and nestled into Hector's arms again. They sat like that quietly for a long time before Paris spoke again. "You truly are my father." There was still a bit of a question in his statement.

"I am," affirmed Hector, almost overwhelmed by the absolute delight he took in finally being able to say that aloud. "I am, I am, I am. I am fortunate enough to be your father. I am the proud father of Paris Alexandros of Troy."

He could hear the smile in Paris' voice as he replied: "I think I'm glad about that, Father."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Odysseus and Achilles weren't there when Hector and Paris emerged from the hut a while later. "Maybe they're down at the beach," he suggested, a little surprised that the Myrmidon wasn't hovering outside the door. "I did tell my men that they weren't to do anything without Achilles' command; Odysseus could have asked him to attend to them."

And that's where they found them, along side of a couple of other surprises. Firstly, the Trojans and Ithacans that had been ordered to stay on the ship were now standing among the Myrmidons on the beach. Odysseus' men mingled well enough with those of Achilles' and even though the Trojans were still eying them warily they were still being welcomed with the chance to stand on solid land and eat fresh food. The second surprise floated next to the Ithacan ship that had brought Odysseus, Hector, and their men: another, Myrmidon, ship that was being readied for sailing. The two Grecian leaders themselves stood somewhat apart from all the activities, waiting for father and son to arrive.

"Paris!" called Achilles when he spotted them, jogging over immediately. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fantastic," Paris assured him. "What's going on here?"

Achilles smiled brightly at him. "We've saved everyone some time," he replied.

Paris raised an eyebrow, silently requesting for him to elaborate. "You two were going to have a fight," Odysseus jumped in to explain, "because you need to go back to Troy. Not forever – just to attend to some of the messes that were left behind by all of us – but he doesn't want you to leave at all. You two would have gotten wrapped up in a rather heated discussion, during which Achilles would have ranted and raved while you tried to be patient at first and then lost your temper. Then it would have been a full-blown argument until I – the sly fox that I am – broke it up, forced him to listen to reason, and suggested a compromise. Time is of the essence now, however, and I went through all of this in my mind so that we could skip ahead to the compromise: you're going to Troy like you need to and Achilles – along with his men – are coming with you."

"What?" asked Hector, astonished.

The warrior looked at him full-on. "I'm not some raping, pillaging brute, no matter what the fireside stories say," Achilles told him. "I did what I had to do because I couldn't leave someone that I'm in love with at the mercy of that cold bastard of a father. I can, however, offer my allegiance to a father who loves him dearly – just as long as that father doesn't try to do anything that I would interpret as standing in the way of our relationship."

"I wouldn't do that," promised Hector with a smile. For the first time he felt like he could actually end up liking his son's lover. "I admire and respect your fealty to Paris. No matter what happens you have my blessing to be with my son."

"I don't need it," replied Achilles blithely, "but it's nice to have."

To be continued…