A/N: Another short chapter, but the next chapter is longer, I promise.

Chapter Two: My Best Friend

When I turned seven, my father saw it fit to begin my war training. Maybe he started my training too early. Most of the soldiers of Troy start to train when they are nine or ten summers old. However, he arranged for me to have a personally trainer when I was young. His name was Hyrtacus, and I was terrified of him. He was about as old as my father, with a permanent scowl on his face, and dozens of purplish scars all along every part of skin that was visible. I suspect that before he was a warrior, he was a sailor, because he was armed with quite an impressive array of vile curses. He was constantly swinging his right fist around and slamming it into his left palm when he meant no nonsense. I wouldn't have been able to make it through training unharmed if I had to train alone.

Luckily, my cousin Aeneas, who was my age, had to take lessons as well. I had met Aeneas a few times before, but there was never much time to get to know him at the family gatherings, since my family is huge. In my childhood all the adults would fawn over Paris and I, so we didn't spend time with the cousins our age. Our friendship only had the chance to begin during our first lesson with Hyrtacus.

"You'll be the best warriors in Troy," were the first words Hyrtacus ever snarled at us. He crossed his beefy arms over his broad chest and eyed us so we knew it wasn't a compliment. Aeneas and I met each other's eyes but quickly looked away for fear of the teacher's strong fist.

"We will start simply, in the beginning," he continued, his voice much softer than it had been a moment before. I looked to where his gaze was. Father had just entered the small training courtyard, with Paris and a nurse on his heels.

"Hecker!" Paris cried, waving his arms and taking a few running steps toward me. His nurse was much too fast for him, though, and he found himself staying reluctantly at her side.

"And you boys are lucky the king wants you to train so early," Hyrtacus continued with what I think was an attempt at a smile. It was repulsive. "Stand up straight," he growled I a low voice, and we did as we were commanded. Hyrtacus stole a glance to where Father had just been, and seeing only Paris and his nurse, a satisfied look danced across his face. He bent to pick up two small wooden swords, hurling them at Aeneas and I. As he bellowed out instructions, the two of us strove to please him, while Paris looked on silently with wide eyes.

Every lesson happened this way. Maybe it was because our fear of Hyrtacus brought us closer together, or maybe it was just that we were so close in age, but Aeneas and I quickly became close friends. As our skills in warfare improved, so did our friendship, and eventually Hyrtacus grew a bit fonder of us. And Paris hated the whole business.

A few months after training had begun, Aeneas and I were joking with one another at the end of a lesson. Then suddenly there was an insistent tugging on my hand, and I looked down into the face of Paris.

"Hecker," he said urgently. "Want fight, Hecker."

I lifted my head to look at Aeneas; he was smiling, clearly seeing the humor in Paris' statement. "No, Paris. Fighting is for big boys," I said, relishing my age for once. Paris stuck out his bottom lip in that famous pout.

"Want fight! Nee-us fight."

"Aeneas and I can fight because we're older," I explained again. Usually when Paris asked to do things, he would accept my reasoning against it. Countless times I had talked him out of activities that would be dangerous for a baby. But this time he wouldn't listen.

"No Nee-us," Paris said, his high voice quickly ascending into a shriek. "No!" He burst into tears, and I knelt down to his level.

"Paris, stop. Aeneas is your cousin too," I tried in vain to soothe him. "Brother, quit crying! I'll teach you to fight when you're older, I promise."

He continued to wail, but his tears had stopped, and he eyed me with interest.

"I'll teach you," I repeated. "Just you and me. You and Hector."

"Hecker," Paris repeated, wiping at his eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't called me one of the more embarrassing names in front of my new friend. Aeneas would never let me live down being called 'Heccy.'

"Right," I agreed. I held out my hand and he placed his clammy palm in mine. Aeneas, who had been watching the ordeal, shrugged and rolled his eyes.

"Get that boy out of here- I don't want no more boys!" Hyrtacus hollered from across the courtyard, where he was clutching a large goblet of wine in both hands. We scurried out of the courtyard, too scared to laugh at how drunk our trainer was.

Fortunately for me, it was impossible to heed my younger brother's wishes. I simply couldn't stop being friends with Aeneas. Training for battle took years, and during those long years Aeneas and I became the best of friends, and not even Paris could ruin our friendship. After a while, he stopped trying and accepted that I was close with other people, but to this day, there is little love between he and Aeneas.

But that was only the first of many things to come between us. Some things, like Deiphobus, were trivial enough to be pushed aside. But others were more important, and it was all we could do to remain close.

The next chapter is longer, and it'll be up soon. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!