Hector had come to both love and loath the little cabin that he'd been assigned to aboard the Ithacan ship on the voyage from Troy. It had been a sanctuary of sorts; a place for him to retreat to when his fears and concerns about telling Paris that he was his father threatened to overwhelm him – almost every moment, really – and he didn't want to break down in front of the men. Of course, without that human contact, the cabin had also become a place of total isolation, where the past and possible future could torment him ceaselessly until he was almost driven mad. Being in it now, on the return trip to whatever awaited him in his homeland, he knew that the demons were gone and it would become one of the locations that he'd remember most fondly for the rest of his days.
The reason for that shift in emotions was currently stuffing the few possessions that he had with him under the other cot in the corner of the cabin. "I'm glad that this bed is in here and not in another part of the ship," Paris chattered away conversationally to disguise the sudden nervousness he felt about spending so much time alone with Hector. It was silly, he knew, but he almost felt like he didn't know how to act around him now that he knew that the man was really his father. That combined with the fact that they'd never spent more than a few hours alone together before made the boy feel a little self-conscious.
What would they have to say to each other now that the confessions and acceptances were through? Hector was a seasoned warrior who'd traveled all over the Aegean and seen many great things while Paris' knowledge of the world was limited to Troy and Pthia, Achilles' homeland and the only notable thing that had ever happened to him was his romance with the Myrmidon warrior. Somehow Paris doubted that his newfound father would want to hear him drone on and on about their relationship. The silence, however, was just as noticeable and so, at a loss as to what else he could do, he continued to babble on about nothing.
"I don't really like being alone but I'd probably feel uncomfortable around the men, seeing how little I know them, so this is a nice place to sleep," Paris said, feeling his face turn red. Apollo, he sounded so stupid! He desperately wished to change the subject but found that he didn't know how without making the situation even more awkward. "It was nice of the men to set this up for me."
"They didn't," replied Hector, feeling just as uncomfortable as his son did at the moment. What had he been thinking? He'd focused for so long on just getting the truth out that he'd never giving much thought to what would happen after the initial reaction, barring a few highly unrealistic fantasies about living the perfect family life with Paris, Andromache, and Astyanax. Funny; in those fantasies he could clearly see himself talking to Paris, the two of them smiling, laughing, and totally at ease, but he could never really hear the most important part of all – what they were saying. "I prepared that cot on the night that we set out from Troy. Not that I was planning on you leaving with me or anything, but…it was, well, it was my symbol of hope that you wouldn't hate me forever once you learned the truth."
He ended with a nervous chuckle that made Paris study his face more closely. He was stunned to see that Hector feeling as insecure as he was. He'd always imagined the elder prince as someone who was always at ease with himself, a foundation for the others in his life who wavered so easily; it actually made the boy feel better to know that his father didn't know quite what to say either. "That – that wouldn't have happened," he stammered, trying to be comforting. "You – I – you are the one person who loved me all my life, no matter what role you were playing in it, and I was hurt and angry, but I could never hate you, Hec-Father."
"You can call me whatever you want," Hector reminded him lamely, torn between not wanting to make Paris feel forced into their new relationship and the almost debilitating happiness he felt at hearing the word Father come from the boy's mouth while he was addressing him.
"I know that; it might take a while for me not to slip," replied Paris as he clasped his hands together and looked down at them, "but I do want to call you 'Father'. You were always the only parental figure in my life, even when you were supposed to be my brother."
His head snapped up. "You were the most important person in my life and I didn't want to leave Troy without saying good-bye," he blurted out. Maybe if he explained all of this to him Hector wouldn't feel so ill at ease. "I wanted to wait until you got back so I could tell you about Priam, Lord Isidore, and about how much Achilles and I love each other so that you would understand. Then those guards got into my bedchamber when Achilles was there and he killed them…and I was just so scared that someone else would get in there while I was alone…"
Hector ran a hand over one side of Paris head, cupping the boy's face. "I know that you told Achilles that you didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to me," he said soothingly. "Julian told me."
"I still can't believe that he witnessed all of that," commented Paris, guild evident in his voice. "Poor thing – he shouldn't have had to. He must be so traumatized."
"He wasn't in the best of states when I left," admitted Hector reluctantly. He didn't want to tax his son's already frazzled emotions even more by adding to his worries about his ten-year-old servant, but it was better to prepare him for what he might be faced with when they returned rather than lying to him that all was well. "But I think that he was more confused and scared for you than irrevocably traumatized. After all, all that he knew about Achilles and the Myrmidons were rumors and exaggerations about his viciousness; seeing you alive and unharmed will do much for his recovery."
"I'll have a talk with him the first chance I get," vowed Paris mostly to himself. He glanced around him for a moment before frowning and sticking his hand under the cot again. "It may not be entirely proper for a prince feel this way, but I've grown quite fond of Julian in the two years that he's been attending me. I hate to think that I did something that hurt him so much." His eyes brightened as his fingers found what he'd been searching for. "Here it is."
Paris pulled his hand out and revealed a wadded-up garment held tightly in his fist. "I see that you found something of great value," Hector attempted to joke.
"It is, considering our current circumstances," retorted Paris, his tone consciously light.
"Remind me to show you how to take better care of your treasure then," said Hector with almost sickly smile as he tried to sound teasing without being insulting. "It only takes a few more minutes to fold your clothing and it will look all the more better for the effort. I could help you sort out those big piles of wadded garments right now if you'd like."
The last thing Paris wanted was for Hector to accidentally find what else was in those piles besides clothing. "It doesn't need to look nice," he replied hastily. "It's only my sleeping tunic. I thought I'd remembered to set it aside but it was mixed in with everything else I'd packed and I wasn't able to sift it out at first."
"Was your travel bag that unorganized?" Hector frowned. "You didn't need to pack so quickly, Paris; we had plenty of time before we set sail."
"It's nothing like that; I just didn't recognize it so readily because I never wear it." Paris froze as soon as those words left his mouth. Fantastic – why didn't he just tell Hector that he was always too exhausted after a night of sex with Achilles to dress again and it was just as well anyway, considering what they did first thing in the morning? What a suitable topic for a father-son discussion!
"It's very hot in Pthia," he babbled, hoping to explain it away and really just digging himself into a deeper hole. "Hotter than Troy, I think – though you might not have noticed because it takes a few days to feel it – and the hut doesn't have nearly as many windows as the palace does. It makes sleeping very uncomfortable at times; I always get so sticky in bed." He winced visibly. "I mean sweaty – from the heat, not from, um, well –"
"It's all right, Paris; I understand," broke in Hector, desperate for both their sakes for the boy to stop before he unintentionally revealed too much more. It was bad enough to have had to listen to Julian's innocent testimony about his son's encounter with Achilles! He could accept that Paris had an intimate relationship with the Myrmidon – because he had to – but preferred to think of it more in abstract terms than physical reality.
'New subject, new subject, new subject;' his mind chanted the suggestion until he regained the words needed to heed it. "That's an unusual garment," he stated, gesturing awkwardly at the sleeping tunic. "Well, not unusual I guess, but rather it's simpler than what you usually wear. It's in the fashions of the Myrmidons, is it not? Just like…." He eyed what Paris was wearing and suddenly recalled what he'd worn the previous day when Hector and Achilles arrived. All of those garments appeared to be similar to what Paris had just stowed away under his cot. "It's all Myrmidon clothing; everything you have."
Playing with the hem of his waistcloth, Paris was silent at first. "Not all of it," he answered at last. "I have the garments that I was wearing when I left Troy under there too, but that's all I have with me that's Trojan. I didn't have the opportunity to pack anything before it became vital for us to leave at once."
"It must have been difficult to leave behind all of the things that you hold dear."
Paris looked him in the eye. "It wasn't my possessions that I had a hard time leaving," he said emotionally and Hector understood what he meant. "All of those garments – they were fine and beautiful but they made me feel cheap, like they were F-Priam's way of trying to make people desire me even more. I feel – good in this clothing." He smiled and blinked away the tears. "Anyway, thank Apollo for Patroclus – Achilles' cousin. He let me borrow some of his clothing until I had the chance to get some of my own. He's only a few years older than I am and just a little bit taller, although I'm afraid that it's quite plain to see that he has a much broader build than I do."
"That was kind of him indeed," commented Hector, remembering the brash young man who'd asserted his unofficial authority to allow Odysseus to talk to Achilles. It appeared that he'd be even more indebted to the young Myrmidon now that he knew that Patroclus had taken care of Paris' needs like that.
"He's a good friend," nodded Paris in agreement. "I never had one of those before I met him."
Myrmidon clothing, a Myrmidon friend, a Myrmidon lover, and a new Myrmidon home: it felt to Hector that his son was slipping away just when he'd finally gotten him back. "I brought along a few of your things as well," he said, pulling up a small bag from beside his bed and patting it almost defensively. "Just a few items – I wasn't sure what you had and what you would need. Nothing, apparently…"
Paris hated hearing the despondency buried in Hector's tone. "Father –"
"I also made you something," interrupted Hector, not wanting to burden Paris with his own selfish desires about what would never be. He reached under his pillow where the toy animal that he'd carved during those final nerve-wracking days of the previous journey laid undisturbed and handed it to Paris, who accepted it with a good deal of curiosity. "It's a horse," the elder prince explained unnecessarily.
"Yes it is."
"A Trojan horse."
"A Trojan horse," repeated Paris thoughtfully, examining it carefully. "That's good; I am a Trojan. No matter how many ties with the Myrmidons I forge I will always remember where I came from and who my people are. Nothing that happened there will change that fact."
The boy's voice sounded a little too melancholy for Hector's peace of mind. "It wasn't a very happy place for you to come from, was it?" he lamented. "I'm so sorry, my son. You deserved to have the happiest childhood imaginable and I ended up doing everything to make that not happen. You should have had miles of shelves so covered with all types of toys that you could never see the top of the wood instead of one little horse when you've grown too old to play with it."
"It's true that I would have liked to have received this when I was young enough to properly enjoy it," conceded Paris. He ran his fingertips over the smooth wood and recalled the dream he'd had that turned out to be strangely similar to this moment. It had evoked some confusing emotions and he was grateful for that because now he understood them enough to detangle them. He was poignantly sad, for he knew that his lonely childhood could never be undone no matter how many happy memories he and Hector created from now on; yet filled with joy at the same time to finally receive that token of a father's love that he'd wanted for so long, knowing that it was a symbol that they could now make those aforementioned memories. "But I'd much rather get this a little later than I should have than not at all. Thank you, Father."
Tears pricked Hector's eyes. "You're welcome," he whispered shakily, embracing Paris tightly. "I'm so glad that you agreed to sail with me on this voyage. It was very – lonely – here all by myself."
"Now will probably be the only chance we have to spend time together without other people around who really need your attention too," said Paris. "Who knows what things will be like it Troy, but those refugees will need you to lead them no matter what. Your men here, though, seem to have fallen into a predictable routine with the Ithacans; and yours and Odysseus' seconds-in-commands come across as more-than-adequate leaders. Besides, I have many years of being with Achilles ahead of me – it won't kill us to spend a few weeks apart, despite what he might have you believe."
"He wasn't very happy about this, was he?" stated Hector with a touch of dryness. Achilles hadn't been at all silent about his displeasure in traveling without his lover at his side. 'Hector could always come aboard the Myrmidon ship and travel with us,' had been his argument and he felt that it was a good one. Paris, however, had resisted that, knowing that his changed relationship with Hector was a little too fragile to exist side-by-side with the sometimes overwhelming presence that was Achilles; it needed nurturing to grow and strengthen. Achilles didn't seem willing to just accept that without a fight; his voice had grown louder and louder, making the Trojans especially tense at the sight of their youngest prince standing against the fierce warrior. Odysseus, disappointed that he'd overlooked that point of contention, had intervened once it had become clear that the couple wouldn't reach a resolution on their own. In the end Achilles had reluctantly given in and Odysseus had decided to travel with him to make sure that everything was truly as 'all right' as he grumped about, leaving most of his Ithacans on the other ship under the charge of his second-in-command.
It was an unusual situation to say the least, but the men seemed willing to endure it and Hector was more than happy to live with it as long as they were – especially considering the alternatives of traveling without Paris or traveling with Achilles.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"By Athena, why am I being plagued with unpleasant travel companions as of late?" mused Odysseus in exasperation as he leaned against the rail of the deck on the Myrmidon ship. "First I had to travel a great distance with a Trojan who acted like a ghost and now it looks like I'll have to spend just as long with a Myrmidon who's currently doing an uncanny impression of my toddler."
"I'm not about to feel sorry for you," Achilles, who was standing right next to him, groused. "Because I'm stuck with an Ithacan who thinks that his little comments are clever and won't get him run through with my sword."
"Is that any way to speak to the friend that you abandoned to face the consequences of your breaking of Trojan law?"
"Let it go, Odysseus; I've already done all that you've asked of me and you don't make a good martyr anyway," advised Achilles as he strained his eyes to peer at the other ship. "This is a cruel punishment for something that never actually led you or your men to any harm. You're a poor substitute for Paris."
"Please; I didn't come up with this plan to make you unhappy – that was just a lucky bonus." Odysseus gave Achilles a toothy grin that didn't recede under the warrior's glower. "And don't think that we're even because we aren't; not by a long shot. You owe me big, and not by fighting for one of my causes or anything else you might even remotely enjoy. I mean in a drop-everything-so-that-you-can-mind-Astyanax-while-he's-vomiting-having-diarrehia-and-wants-to-cuddle-while-Penelope-and-I-have-a-romantic-vacation kind of big."
Achilles goggled at him for a moment before swallowing resolutely. "I suppose I could handle that," he boasted boldly. "Just as long as Paris can come –"
"Hold!" cried the king, failing in his attempts not to laugh. "You won't be doing that. I'd never actually leave Astyanax in your care for that long – Athena only knows what warrior child we'd return to. I was just using it was a way to illustrate what level of restitution I must ask of you. It was a lousy thing to do to a friend, Achilles."
"I'm not going to apologize," replied Achilles. "I know that you'd find a way out of whatever Priam had in mind. Paris didn't have that same capability. Why were you so stubborn about placing all of your hopes in a prince that you'd only heard about instead of my plan? You could've left with us if only you'd shown an interest in cooperating."
"I was right to trust in Hector!" Odysseus debated smoothly. "He was the key to me and my men escaping Priam – and to breaking that man's final ties to Paris. Your lover doesn't have to wonder why his father doesn't love him because now he has a father who does." Odysseus paused for a moment as a gleefully satisfied grim spread over his face. "You should have seen the scene that Hector made when he found out about what his father was planning for Paris, and in front of the nobles, soldiers, and many guards too! I think that you would have been most impressed."
"I would've liked to have seen the look on that bastard's face when Hector exposed him," agreed Achilles. His jaw clenched and unclenched, followed by a reluctant sigh. "It might be possible that I do owe you one."
It didn't sound like much, but it was more than any man had ever gotten from the Myrmidon warrior and Odysseus knew it. "I'll keep that in mind."
The boat shifted suddenly, testing the balance of everyone on board. Achilles glared fiercely in the direction that the person who was currently in charge of keeping things running smoothly was standing in. "Eudores," he muttered in annoyance. Could he not rely on his second-in-command to carry out even the most basic tasks? It wouldn't do to have him in charge if he couldn't keep his mind on his duty! Something was distracting him and the young man who was probably behind it was just passing by Achilles and Odysseus now.
"Patroclus!" barked Achilles. Patroclus stopped the furious charging that had been his walking for more than a day and went over to his cousin. "What in the name of the gods is going on in Eudores' mind? It's not commanding, that's for certain."
"It's sex."
"Pardon?"
"It's sex," Patroclus repeated with a sharp bite in his tone. "Eudores wants to have a lot of sex. He seeks out people who he thinks will use sex to sway his decision on certain matters so that he'll have an endless supply of it. Don't worry, cousin – I can assure you that not all of his decisions can be changed in such a manner; he does have his standards, even when the whore who's doing the asking doesn't."
"I see," said Achilles darkly. "And is he getting any of this sex?"
"Not from this whore." Patroclus whipped around and stomped off.
Both of the leaders stood in shocked stillness, watching him go. "That was interesting," said Odysseus.
Achilles tightened his hands into fists as all the blood rushed to his face. "Eudores!" he shouted, livid.
Eudores hurried over, knowing by his lord's tone that it wouldn't be wise to make him wait. "Yes, Achilles?"
"What did you do to Patroclus and why are you letting it affect your ability to command?" demanded Achilles, getting right in his face. "I recall warning you on both points, so why is the boat being steered in such an unstable way while Patroclus is marching around, under what had better be the mistaken impression that you think he's a whore?"
Eudores' face turned red and his entire body went rigid. "I don't – I told him – this is all his fault!" he exploded. "First he was just a little smart-mouthed obnoxious brat and I could handle that. Then he had the audacity to grow up into a handsome young man and still retain all the traits that made him a smart-mouthed obnoxious brat, but I was still fine. Then I discovered that he was a handsome young man who I have great sex with; he was still a smart-mouthed obnoxious brat, but that was all right because he could act that way and I could imagine what we'd be doing later when he wasn't talking so much. But now – now he'd gotten into my head and into my heart and it's all complicated and he's still a smart-mouthed obnoxious brat!"
His tirade broke off and he sucked in long-deep breaths as Achilles stared at him. "Get back to your post, Eudores," the lord dismissed with no sympathy in his voice. "And see to it that your mind stays off of my cousin and on the duty at hand."
Odysseus chuckled as he watched Eudores stumble off, rubbing his temples with both hands. "And the saga continues," he commented, his voice full of humor. "Eudores has almost come to terms with the painfully obvious fact that he loves the smart-mouthed obnoxious Patroclus, who hasn't acknowledged his own feelings and is furious with him for an unintentional insult. What will happen next?"
He shifted his jovial gaze to Achilles. "I'm glad that we've found a way to remain friends," he chirped. "What would I do without all of this drama? My life might actually become peaceful and normal."
To be continued…
