In a strangely surreal way the procession through the streets of Troy was very similar to those that Hector had to endure during his days as the city's prince. At the end of every successful campaign or political visit his father made sure to get the word out that he was coming home so that throngs of people would flock to the streets to greet him with shouts and cheers when all he wanted was peace and quiet. None of those people, he'd felt, understood what being away from the city cost him emotionally; and the seemingly empty pomp and circumstance that ended with a showy but fake loving reunion with the man that had done everything in his power to make Hector's life miserable had often proved to be more draining than what he'd just come back from.
It had been horrible to him that seeing practically everyone else in the city was deemed more important than reuniting with the people he'd missed the most. The parades through the city were always endless; the tedium only somewhat alleviated when he thought to wave or when someone gave him flowers or trinkets. Then after awkwardly embracing his father so that all could see, he would be forced to recount everything he'd just went through to the court before enduring perfectly horrible celebrations where it was inappropriate for the only three people that he wanted to see – Andromache, Astyanax, and Paris – to attend. It would be late in the evening when he could finally spend time with the first two and possibly days before he could see Paris again. Hector had known that he would miss some parts of his life when he forsook his princely title, but this whole experience was definitely not one of them. It was strange then that there he was again, marching down the streets and listening to people's cheers, this time as Troy's king.
What also made the situation so strange was that Hector found that he was actually enjoying it for probably the first time in his life. Before he'd been certain that the people had gathered purely because of Priam's self-serving manipulations; now he could believe that they actually cared about seeing him alive and well again. That was something that Hector still had a hard time accepting – that people might love him – for Priam's lessons were thorough and taught well but he would learn because in the end the people of Troy had chosen their love for him over their loyalty to his father. It was nice not to feel so alone in that crowd. Of course, this time he truly wasn't alone in the procession – he was flanked on one side by his new and loyal friend Odysseus and on the other by his beloved son Paris.
Ah; there was something else different about this procession and it was being fueled by the younger Trojan, or more accurately by the Myrmidon who walked by his side with a possessive arm around his shoulders. No one in Troy ever expected to see Achilles again unless it was in battle or else his corpse being dragged back to the city to hang from its gates. Having the man whom they'd believed, with only a few rumors to the contrary, had kidnapped the prince stride back into the city with a place of honor in the king's procession was mind-boggling. That he was allowed to touch Paris in such a familiar way was deliciously scandalous and causing more than a few whispers. To their credit though, the people seemed to be willing to accept this odd pairing just as long as their new king did and from what Hector could tell no one seemed to be expressing any disapproval toward Paris.
Having Lucius present, walking just a few feet behind the four, probably helped the people accept the validity of a relationship between Achilles and Paris even more. Hector smiled to himself as he glanced over his shoulder at the trustworthy soldier – Lucius, the gods bless him, even tolerating the warrior touching the boy after he'd proven that he'd fight anyone who might mistreat him set an admirable example for the others to follow. That fact combined with all of the loyalty that he'd demonstrated in his absence proved to Hector that he'd done the right thing in trusting him.
"Lucius," Hector called to him. "Come and walk beside us. You have more than earned that place of honor."
"I thank you for that, sire," replied Lucius in his typically solemn way, "but I'm afraid that I must decline your gracious invitation. It is an honor to serve my king, an honor that many soldiers received today. I do not wish for any special privileges when I did nothing more than my duty."
"Nothing more?" Hector cocked an eyebrow at him and Lucius feared for a moment that his king had acquired that oddly breezy manner of speaking that Odysseus had so aptly demonstrated earlier. The soldier of Troy was not a man who dealt with changes easily, not even when they were changes for the better, and he didn't know just how much more he would be able to handle without going mad.
Thankfully for him Hector would have to be exposed to the Greeks for far longer for his personality to change that much. "When I returned to this land I expected to be greeted with hostility and be ruled by my fear and survival instincts," the king went on. "Yet thanks to you I have a home again. I would say that rallying the troops that went into exile and driving the former king from the city in my name is going well beyond what simple duty requires of you."
"But none of that was my doing," protested Lucius. Hector opened his mouth to respond and he rushed on to elaborate: "I did lead the troops, of course, but I was acting under someone else's direction."
That was news not only to Hector but to Paris, Odysseus, and Achilles as well. "Interesting," commented Achilles. Now that he thought about it, it was rather difficult to imagine that uptight Trojan soldier thinking up anything as bold as a coup in the name of someone who might not have lived to return. Finding out that another person was guiding him the whole way down the path of rebellion wasn't entirely shocking. "And just who might this have been? I haven't met many Trojans that would fit in with the Myrmidons but this sounds like a man that I could get along with easily."
"I would most certainly not agree," Lucius told him stiffly. "For it was the Queen Andromache and not a man at all. I do not believe that you two would have anything in common and it would be most inappropriate for her to mingle so carelessly with your men anyway."
"Wait one moment," interjected Hector before Achilles could respond. "Andromache was responsible for raising the troops and the invasion of the city? My wife Andromache?"
"I don't believe that there is another Andromache, your majesty," was Lucius' prompt reply. "Her knowledge of the palace interior was most valuable when it came time to flush Priam's supporters out of hiding once and for all."
"But there are many hidden rooms and tunnels that are only known to the royal family – you couldn't have memorized all of them in the time you had before the attack," reasoned Hector. His eyes grew wide when a thought came to him. "She didn't accompany you on this campaign, did she?"
"Not into battle, my king," assured Lucius quickly. "She was well protected once the fighting began, but we needed the information that she had and she was not willing to risk it being forgotten or compromised."
Achilles laughed when Hector's mouth dropped open. "I was wrong," he told Paris, sounding amazed. Paris was amazed himself at the ease in which his lover made that admission. "There's a first time for everything, I suppose. I thought you took after your father there, but apparently you got a lot of your stepmother in you too."
"The baby," blurted out Hector, paying no mind to the Myrmidon. "Where was Astyanax during all of this? Surely he didn't come too."
"He remained on Mount Ida with the rest of the refugees," Lucius assured him calmly. "Prince Astyanax was under the care of an extremely competent nurse while the queen was away. It broke her heart to leave him behind even temporarily, but Queen Andromache understood that it would be more beneficial to him for her to go away for a little while and secure his future than to stay. She is a most hearty and determined woman, if you don't mind me making the observation, who does not quake at facing a challenge."
"So – she's here?" asked Hector, picking out one of the numerous questions drifting around in his mind. He'd been assuming that he wouldn't be able to reunite with the family that he'd left behind for at least two more days; now it appeared that the joyous event would be taking place sooner than he'd ever dared to hope.
"Yes," responded Lucius, who understood why that particular inquiry meant so much to Hector. "She and Prince Astyanax both; she sent for him and the other refugees as soon as the city was secured."
"Wow," said Achilles and he really meant it. "I'm actually impressed. That doesn't happen very often."
Paris shook his head and blinked as if trying to make sense of all that he'd just heard. "That's quite remarkable," he said to Lucius. "Andromache's been in the palace for several years and yet I never knew that she was capable of doing such brave tasks."
"Fools, the both of you," Odysseus playfully scolded them. He chuckled with understanding and let out a wistful sigh. "Although I suppose I can't fault either of you for it this time. It's not your faults that neither of you have had the experience that Hector and I have with formidable wives. Now that is the kind of woman who can endure almost any hardships in order to preserve everything that she loves."
"Feeling a little homesick?" wondered Hector with a smile.
"Yes," confessed Odysseus longingly, his eyes on something before them in the distance rather than on the person he was speaking to. "I miss Penelope both more and less when I'm in the presence of your wife. I do hope that they get the chance to meet sometime; there's no doubt in my mind that they'd become great friends. But first things first…"
Hector followed his friend's eye and his heart leapt when he saw that the stairs to the palace were looming; not so much at the sight of that familiar marble but because of the figure standing at the top of them. Yes, these processions were easier to enjoy when the people waiting for you at the end of them were the ones you loved the most. "Come with me, Paris," he urged his son giddily, taking him by the hand. Andromache smiled down at them while she cradled Astyanax in her arms. "She's going to be so pleased to see us both."
But Paris hesitated, suddenly nervous at the prospect of speaking to her again. "You – you should go without me," he stuttered in reply. "You three need your time together and all…"
"Paris," frowned Hector, "what's wrong?"
"She – might not be happy to see me," explained Paris awkwardly. His father looked startled. "Not that I would blame her for it; the three of you are family and I'm not, not really. I mean, I'm your family, but she doesn't have a reason to want to welcome me."
"Nonsense," Hector told him warmly. "We're going to go up there and she's going to be overjoyed because the two people that she's been worrying about the most have finally come home. There are no barriers to whom a person can love as long as that person is willing to do so. Odysseus, Achilles," he added, nodding at his other companions, "would you wait for a few minutes before you follow? This day belongs to all of us, but I think that the four" – he looked meaningfully at Paris –" of us will need some time."
With each step upward Paris' apprehension grew and it became harder for him to keep moving. What was he supposed to say to Andromache? She'd never really been a part of his life before – Priam had successfully isolated Paris from all things having to do with Hector, be it his duty as a soldier or the other members of his family. In their few chance encounters she'd been nice to him; but that was before, when he'd been her husband's brother. How would she feel around him now that she knew that he was in fact her husband's son?
That was what was making him so nervous, even more so than he'd been when he was waiting for Achilles to arrive the first night that they'd made love or at the beginning of the voyage back to Troy when he hadn't known what to say to Hector. At least in those instances the other person had made it abundantly clear that they'd wanted Paris to be around. There was no reason for Andromache to feel that way; he was Hector's child with another woman, for Apollo's sake! He was the living, breathing proof that she hadn't been the one to give birth to her husband's firstborn son – she had more cause to see him as an interloper, a threat to her family rather than a member of it.
Hector finished his ascent a few steps before his son did. While Paris stepped off to the side to put a respectable distance between himself and the greeters, he rushed to time and had his arms around her almost instantly. "My dear, sweet, beloved wife," he breathed, kissing her soundly. "There are no words to describe how much I love you. How I've missed you – both of you," he added, taking Astyanax from her and pressing a kiss into the baby's cheek.
"Greetings my son," he cooed when the child looked at him quizzically. "I'm your father, though I don't blame you for not recognizing me. But I won't have to go away again anytime soon."
"I'm so glad that the gods guided you home safely," said Andromache. Her eyes shone with tears as she watched her husband and son interact. "And that you did not make that journey alone! Welcome back to Troy, Paris Alexandros."
Paris bowed his head uncertainly in response to her warm smile. "I thank you, Queen Andromache," he said formally. "Your graciousness and hospitality –"
His voice cut off suddenly in shock when she shook her head exasperatedly, walked forward, grasped either side of his still-inclined head, and kissed his brow. "Now what's all this?" she asked.
"I apologize if I've offended you," said Paris quickly. "I just didn't want to seem too forward."
"You worry about being too forward around political dignitaries and the families of the people you are to marry – we're family," she stressed. "Is that so hard to accept?"
"I – I – I – don't know how to act around you," he confessed in an ashamed tone. He should have known that he was going to mess something like this up!
Andromache did her best to hide her sadness. She knew that it would take time to repair all of the damage that Priam inflicted on both Hector and Paris. Still, there was no time like the present to start. "I know that you had a mother who loved you," she told him, "and I would not presume to try to take her place. Yet you are my husband's son and I would be very happy if you considered me to be your mother too. That's how I'd like you to act around me." Her eyes sparkled a little when he looked up to meet her gaze. "Unless you think that's too forward of me."
"No," answered Paris truthfully as his voice shook. His bit his lips and closed his eyes but could not disguise the loud sniffle he let loose. "It's just the right amount of forward."
She laughed and pulled him into a maternal embrace, feeling her heart warm when he returned it. "You've been spending too much time around Greeks," she observed. "I'm glad you came back."
"I'll have you know that all of you are causing quite a stir," announced Odysseus with an exaggerated scold as he and Achilles joined them on the landing. "Apparently they didn't know that the royal family was capable of showing genuine affection for each other in public. I'm not as surprised at this as I am that they assumed that you showed such affection in private – I'd seen wooden animals show more emotion than this family used to."
"You really didn't come home alone, did you?" Andromache asked her husband.
"Greetings, most gracious Queen Andromache," said Odysseus, bowing. "I hope that you don't find the company that your husband brings displeasing."
"I greet you, King Odysseus, and am indeed delighted to welcome you back to Troy," she answered him before turning to Achilles. "As for you…"
The warrior cocked an eyebrow at her. "Yes?" he pressed. Paris knew that tone: she was lucky that Achilles admired her for her role in expelling Priam from the city because usually he didn't tolerate anyone talking to him in such a harsh tone. The prince moved into his lover's arms to soothe him and was relieved when he felt the Myrmidon relax a little.
"I'm not happy about the way you left Troy before," she admonished. "It was rather presumptuous of you to assume that you were the only one who cares about Paris at all."
"Feelings are just feelings unless you act on them," replied Achilles, "and you can't argue that I wasn't the only one who actually did anything to prove that I cared about him."
"Achilles," hissed Paris when he saw her eyes narrow a bit.
There was no need to worry, however; her face softened. "Well, you seem to make Paris happy," Andromache conceded. "I can forgive you as long as you do that. Just don't make him unhappy."
"Protective, I can see. I respect that."
Odysseus shook his head at their exchange. "I like understanding and communication as much as the next put-upon ruler," he stated, looking to Hector for confirmation that he did indeed like those things too. "However heartwarming this may be, though, it doesn't do much to help the people down there. There are a lot of Trojans waiting for their king to address them."
"Then I'd best see to them," sighed Hector. "But don't rush off once this is over with. I would like to speak with you and Achilles about the possibility of Troy making alliances with Ithaca and Pthia."
Odysseus wrinkled his brow as if in deep deliberations with himself. "You know, I might want one of those…"
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Eudores spent a good amount of time that he would never be able to measure drifting between varying levels of darkness. At some of the more conscious points he could feel a terrible pain in his side and he would drive himself down deeper to rid himself of it; at other times he felt himself slipping too much away from all feeling and he would force himself to go back. The pain was one thing – one temporarily thing, he hoped – but those other feelings felt deeper and more permanent. At times there would be an occasional word spoken in a familiar voice, a sob – did that voice even know how to cry? – or a touch; sometimes it was just a presence, but all of those never failed to grab hold of Eudores' heart and refuse to let go. Those moments of lucidness were only seconds long at first, but gradually they got longer and longer still.
When his awareness of a hand holding his didn't end Eudores knew that his time of hiding in the darkness was over with. The pain was still there but he could also feel that touch, that presence, and he knew that he could put up with a little pain if it meant being with this person again. "Patroclus?" he murmured hoarsely.
Patroclus started at the sound of his lover's voice. "Eudores?" he cried softly. "Eudores, open your eyes. Please open them for me."
Eudores was finding that there was very little that he wouldn't do for him. He complied, forcing his lids open and blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light again. As they recovered Patroclus' face came into focus. He'd never seen the younger man in such a state before: Patroclus' eyes were bloodshot with dark bags beneath then; his cheeks were blotchy and streaked where tears had fallen; and a general exhaustion was weighing down his normally confident demeanor.
"Are – are you all right?" asked Eudores. It frightened him to see Patroclus in such a muddled state – maybe he'd failed and something had happened to him after all…
"I'm fine," Patroclus assured him with a nod.
The older man was still fighting his way through the haze that was clouding his mind. "That Trojan didn't hurt you?"
"No, Eudores, he didn't; you killed him before he could do anything but talk." Patroclus' other hand stroked his lover's hair. "You wanted to protect me and you succeeded."
"Then why haven't you been sleeping?" questioned Eudores. His concern only grew when a few tears actually slipped out of the younger man's eyes. He reached up, wiping them away and was disquieted when he felt Patroclus actually trembling. "And why do you cry?"
"Because I'm a stupid idiot, that's why," said Patroclus, his voice cracking under the strain of it all. By the gods, he truly was a cold asshole if Eudores didn't understand why. "I know you didn't mean anything cruel that day on the beach when the Ithacan ship came – I knew it back then too. Still, I've been acting like an obnoxious brat, telling myself that you saw me as nothing but a whore."
Eudores struggled to sit up at hearing this. "I didn't mean –"
"I know you didn't," interrupted Patroclus. "But I wanted to believe that you did because if that was truly the case then I wouldn't have to confront what had really been troubling me about our relationship. Not only am I a stupid idiot but I'm a coward as well. Here you are, brave enough to fight for my virtue when many would attest that I don't have any left to defend and telling me how you feel when I didn't have the courage to deal with the fact that I feel the same way about you. I love you, Eudores; though I don't deserve to."
"Don't say that," said Eudores in a surprisingly strong tone, having been properly roused. "I love you and I won't just lie here and tolerate hearing you call yourself a stupid idiot or saying that you don't deserve to love me, or impugning your own virtue. Those who say that you don't have any left to defend are hypocrites of the worst kind; they were the one's who slept with you and they have no right to judge you for it."
"I didn't mean anything by it," Patroclus told him, worried that he'd gotten Eudores worked up too much at a time when he needed to rest. "I'm sorry for babbling on like that; I'm just over-tired. Even Jason –"
"Is that who's been saying those things about you?" Eudores' ire was raised even more. "He never deserved to even look at you, much less touch you and now he's making comments about your virtue? I'll kill him! Where's my sword?"
"Calm down!" Patroclus grabbed his shoulders and pushed him gently back down on his back. "The healers will try to keep me out if you get too upset."
He wasn't at all ready to just lie back and put up with this! "I won't!" he vowed fiercely. "I won't let them treat you so badly. I love you!"
"I love you too," returned Patroclus quickly, lying down carefully on Eudores to restrain him. He kissed himtenderly on the lips. "I love you too."
It was the kiss that broke through Eudores' furious resolve – Patroclus had never kissed him or anyone else like that as far as he could tell. "You really mean that?" he asked. "You really do love me?"
"Yes." Patroclus smiled down at him and paused. "Now what?"
The older man grinned at him. "Well, normally I'd take this moment to seize you in my arms, roll over so that you'd be beneath me, and make love to you until both of our souls were laid bare for the other to see," he declared. Patroclus sucked in some air and let out a shuddering gasp. "But until I regain some of my strength I'm afraid that we'll have to settle on kissing – if you feel like giving me one."
No one he'd been involved with before had ever bothered to ask him for a kiss when they were alone like that. "I can do that," Patroclus told him, leaning down and giving Eudores a kiss that was more intense and intimate than anything he'd ever done in bed with anyone. "I can do that."
To be concluded…
