A/N: I just can't ignore that line from the movie, so here it is- Paris stealing Priam's horse, like an idiot. Responses are at the bottom. Also, if anyone was waiting for an update of 'Haunted By Bliss' I'm having trouble with the next chapter (having trouble even getting ideas for the next chapter) so I'm going to talk it over with my English teacher and then write it. Basically, it won't be up for awhile, and I'm sorry. But I'm not having problems with this fic so far, so I hope this is enough to tide everyone over!

Chapter Three: Paris' First Mistake

Our real problems started the day Paris turned ten years old. As with any normal brothers, we had already had many arguments from the time Paris learned to talk, but nothing had forced us apart yet. And while I watched, the chubby toddler I knew grew into a boy. Paris was lean, tall, and handsome. Even at ten he received appreciative stares from the maidservants of the palace, and these glances did not go by unnoticed by him.

I suppose I changed in those seven years as well. All I can think to say is that I grew taller and broader, and every day my hair seemed to grow more tangled, as if the constant wind of Troy had found a home in the mess on my head. By age fourteen I had become skilled in war, surpassing Aeneas slightly in my skill and even making Hyrtacus proud. I had been allowed to go on a few military expeditions at my father's side. By that age I had killed my first man, but that is not something I wish to think of. True to my word, I had attempted to teach Paris all he needed to know about warfare, though contrary to what he insisted on years ago, he wasn't interested. He complained endlessly during lessons and only put forth any effort when I threatened to let Hyrtacus train him in my stead.

On his tenth birthday, he held himself straighter than he normally would. Throughout the morning his eyes held a particular glint to them that only I recognized as dangerous.

"What are you planning, brother?" I asked him lightly when we were alone. He only haughtily raised himself to his full height (barely to my shoulder) and looked at me in what he probably thought was a dignified way.

"I'm not planning any mischief, if that is what you're suggesting," he informed me. "I am a man now- I'm above such things."

My response was probably the worst thing I could come up with. I exploded into laughter and made no attempt to control my mirth. I slapped at my thighs and had to wipe away tears of hilarity from my eyes. "No, you aren't," I told him. If he were a Gorgon, I would have already been turned to stone a thousand times. "You're nowhere close to manhood, Paris. You can't even fight like a man- in a war, you'd be the first to die."

"Shut your mouth, Hector. You're wrong as usual," he spat furiously. Balling his hands into tight fists, he turned on his heel and stomped off, leaving me still in peals of laughter. I wasn't worried. I thought he would come back and swing his fists at me, like he normally did. We'd have a casual brawl, and I would win, as was the usual ending to our arguments.

He did come back, a few hours later. He flung open the door to my chambers (to this day he hasn't seen the reason in knocking, and that has caused some problems with Andromache, I can tell you) and fell to his knees in front of me. There were tears streaking his face, and a bright pink bump on his head that was rapidly turning purple.

"What happened?" I asked, eyeing the bruise. Paris shook his head and began to speak quickly.

"I wanted to prove I was a man, so I wanted to show I could ride a horse like you do, and-"

"Paris. Slow down. What did you do?" I asked, putting both my hands on his shoulders, which were shaking with sobs.

"Um…I borrowed your sword and I took Misenus out of the stables, and I was going to try to fight bandits or something, but…um, " He scrubbed at his wet eyes furiously. "Misenus threw me into the bushes and your sword got broken and the horse ran away."

A pang of anxiety shot through me when he mentioned taking my sword, but I forced it down. "All right. So Father's favorite horse is wandering the hillsides?"

Paris nodded; the tears were coming down more freely now. "Father is going to have me killed," he said hysterically. In one fast move he was sitting on the bed beside me, clutching my shoulder with his small hands. "Hector! He'll kill me! Help me, brother!"

"He won't kill you," I assured him, though I was far from certain about that. If Father loved his horse half as much as I loved that sword, Paris was a dead boy.

"Don't tell him," Paris gasped out. "I'll run away-"

"No. Hush, Paris. Where did you take Misenus? Where did he get away?"

"The east hills," he said, then hiccupped.

"Listen to me. I'm going to go find him. If Father asks where I've gone, tell him I've gone hunting, or to the marketplace, or anywhere."

I stood up, but Paris remained hunched on the bed. "You'll get in trouble," he said miserably.

"Shut up and listen! Tell him I've gone somewhere, and don't tell him what you did. If I can't find Misenus, I'll tell Father I lost him, so you won't be in trouble." Paris let out a whimper and I felt compelled to explain. "I may not get in as much trouble as you would. You don't say a word." The sobs resumed. "Gods, Paris, you're the biggest idiot to ever walk this earth! I'm leaving now."

I strode to the stables, blocking the sound of my brother's sobs from my ears until I was too far away to hear them. I stole a bridle from one of the horses' stalls, and tucking it under my tunic, I made my way through the streets of Troy. I was already tired when I stormed through the gate. After a few more minutes of walking I took off at a sprint to the eastern hills.

I shouldn't have let my anger take control of me, but I had held it in while coaxing the story out of Paris, and now that I was alone, I could be as furious as I wanted. I shouted a few curses I had learned from Hyrtacus to the clouds and took pleasure in the sound of my raging footsteps as I ran. Because of this, I was exhausted when I found Misenus.

The huge chestnut stallion was eyeing me irritably when I first saw him. I slowed to a stop, wondering what I was doing. Misenus hated to be approached by anyone but my father; it was a miracle Paris had gotten this far before being thrown. My uneasy mind called up the image of the bruise he had given Paris. Those powerful hooves would be much more eager to strike now that the beast was annoyed.

He continued staring at me with contempt, his head held high, his entire body tensed. I swallowed heavily and took a step toward him.

"Hello, boy. Looks like you had a fun morning," I said calmly, in a voice as smooth as oil. I was relieved when Misenus relaxed slightly. I took another step. "I don't blame you for throwing Paris. He's a fool," I assured the horse, taking small pauses between steps. "Let's go home, boy. I'll get you some oats, I promise."

He was only an arm's length away. I closed the distance between us in one quiet motion, running both hands over his neck and back. He nudged my shoulder curiously, giving me the opportunity I need to slip the metal bit into his mouth and ease the reins over his neck. Sensing another obstacle, I led him over to a small boulder, keeping up a steady stream of chatter as I did. I continued talking as I jumped up on his curved back, using the boulder for added height.

"Let's go home, boy," I said to him, and he obediently turned toward the city. He made no attempt at throwing me off during the entire ride back to the stables, and luckily there was no one there when we arrived. When Misenus was safely back in his stall and the bridle was returned, I took a deep breath and headed back to my chambers, talking myself out of being angry just as I had talked Misenus out of it.

But when I got there, my efforts turned out to be in vain. Paris was still there, as I had known he would be, and he was holding up my mangled sword.

Every muscle in my face went slack when I saw it. Nearly a quarter of the blade and broken off, leaving it with a new, jagged end. It was bent near the middle. As if to mock the disarray of the rest of the sword, the handle had broken cleanly in two pieces.

"Here's your sword," Paris said. His eyes were still swollen with tears and his nose was a shade of bright red. "I'm sorry, Hector…"

"Uh," I croaked out. I jerkily reached out and took the broken hilt weakly in my grasp. "My sword," I said dumbly. What I felt like screaming was, My prized possession! My medallion of all that training, and look at it now! "I found Misenus," I continued, unable to look away from my blade.

"And Father didn't ask about you," Paris said with a sad smile. "Thank you, brother."

We felt safe. No matter what I had lost, I had saved Paris from punishment and salvaged what little honor he had. And best of all, Father didn't know.

A few weeks later, Father presented me with a much grander sword and a horse of my own. He never gave any particular reason, just smiled in his all-knowing was and said that real men needed real swords.

A bit longer. Hope you enjoyed!