After Troy
Chapter 5 – For Briseis
Before Paris knew it he had an arrow cocked and aimed directly at Achilles. "Don't move." He told Achilles. 'How is this possible?' he thought to himself. 'This is ridiculous.' He had seen the man drop to the ground, three arrows in his chest.
"That will only work once, boy. I have no fear of that. And none of you should fear me, either, for that matter." He stopped and looked, now, directly at Briseis. A smile spread across his face and he stepped towards her.
"Stop!" Paris yelled, halting Achilles in his tracks. "Briseis, are you certain it is him?" He asked her in an undertone. "Because I swear I killed him."
"You did." Briseis said, in utter disbelief. "But like I said, he's not really of this world." She ran towards her lover and embraced him dearly. Paris lowered his bow and turned to explain the goings-on to the rest of the party.
Andromache stood, child in arms, staring at her husbands killer, stunned and close to tears. She breathed deeply and turned from Achilles to her brother in law. Paris saw her eyes pleading for an explanation for this apparition, but he now realised that he could provide none.
"Paris," Achilles now addressed him personally as he approached. He came close and Paris' had hovered threateningly over his bowstring. Achilles spoke more quietly now, so only Paris heard. "Did Hectors wife make it out?"
A strange question to be sure. Paris, still stunned by the appearance of this dead man, nodded and indicated to where Andromache stood. "With their child." He said bitterly. He watched in disbelief as Achilles approached the woman and her baby.
'This is not real.' Paris thought to himself. 'This is ridiculous, I'm still dreaming.' He shook his head, wanting desperately to wake-up, this was altogether unnerving.
Achilles felt the painful strike of guilt as he viewed the child in the woman's arms. He had heard of Hector, even spoken to him at a celebratory function or some such, of his wife in days of peace. And he had heard, since being in Troy, that they had a child.
"Andromache," Achilles spoke, glad to have recalled her name. He knelt before the woman. "Nothing I can say or do will repay the loss I have caused you, but since the death of your husband I have been enlightened to a great many things." Andromache's eyes released silent tears as she watched the warrior, still averting his eyes, kneel before her and speak of her husband. Achilles continued, "I offer you my sincerest apologies and condolences, and my services as a guard, if you are willing to accept." He was not, however, being entirely truthful.
Achilles did desire, greatly, to apologise for the death of Hector, the Trojan hero, and this woman's husband. But he felt no remorse for killing him. Achilles had been brought up in a fighting world, full of war, where untimely death deserves revenge. In his mind he had every right to kill Hector. Hector had killed Patroclus. Achilles could not let go of the memory of his foster-brother turned lover, whom many perceived to be a cousin.
It had been a fair match between Achilles and Hector, after all. The only man who had made him see that perhaps Hector's death was not right was Priam. If given a chance he would now gladly have switched places with Hector. Not Hector Andromache's husband, nor Hector Paris' brother, nor indeed Hector the father, but he would have traded places with Hector Priam's son. The old King of Troy had enlightened him to a great many things about honour and respect that night. A night he would never forget.
"Your apologies and condolences I accept." Andromache broke Achilles train of thought. "But your service I deny. If you explain to us what brings you here I may deem you worthy to travel with us. But I would not have you in my service, that is a path I cannot walk."
Achilles bowed his head, already in debt to this woman. "Thank you." He said. He began, then, to tell most of his tale. He told briefly of his involvement in the war, and in the final siege. He spoke of his desire to rescue Briseis being the reason he returned in the horse. He omitted his immortality; still being uncertain as to what should and should not be told, instead telling them that, for some reason or another, he had been chosen to remain on this earth a little longer.
Paris watched, mesmerized by the tale. He did not trust the man but he, like many in their group, accepted that Achilles would travel with them. Andromache had given her word and that was all they needed, after having come so far with her.
"At least until the first town." Andromache decreed, "There we will all be rethinking our paths. For the moment you are welcome in our party."
That night, still bitter about Achilles' joining their party, Paris decided to cool himself off with a walk. The evening was clear, the moon a mere crescent in the sky. He strolled about 200 metres from the camp before he noticed someone following him.
'Damn' he thought to himself, 'Fool, Paris. Out here, unarmed, that man traveling with us. Fool.' He continued to stroll, listening carefully. A fair distance, now, from the camp, he stopped and swung around.
"Achilles," he said angrily, for he knew it was him. "Why are you following me?" The warrior came closer, and Paris could just make out his face in the moon-light.
"Because you didn't let me get close enough to talk to you today." Achilles said. He raised his hands, palms facing Paris, "Unarmed, don't worry."
"Why did you want to talk to me today?" Paris asked, accusingly. He still had no desire to trust the man, even if Andromache did. Though Achilles mood seemed much happier than it had earlier. Lighter, more playful. Paris just hoped that didn't change.
"Because I want peace. I want a truce." Achilles didn't suggest friendship at this stage, neither of them wanted that yet. Nor were they ready for it.
Achilles could almost have laughed as he observed this boy in front of him. And to think, he challenged Menelaus! Achilles was surprised he could even lift a sword.
"A truce!" Paris mocked a laugh. "A truce! You killed my brother, and you want a truce!" He was furious. This was not the response Achilles had hoped for, but he responded likewise.
"You killed me! Is that not enough revenge?" Achilles raised his eyebrows. "Your brother killed my Patroclus, I killed your brother, you killed me. By all rights, boy, if we continue down this path, I should now kill you!"
Paris opened his mouth, but he could think of no argument to return. It was true, really, but that didn't justify anything. Or did it? He wasn't sure. It dawned on him, now, how vulnerable he was. Nevertheless he stepped challengingly towards Achilles.
"Hector thought it was you that he killed. He told me so. Yet you killed him out of cold blood. You're nothing but a petty murderer." He spat.
"A murderer!" Achilles, too, stepped forward. "It was a fair fight. Your brother accepted the challenge."
"A challenge? That's all it is to you!" Paris was furious. "Killing men is just a sport for you. You disgust me!"
"You wouldn't know what its like to kill a man." Achilles mocked the inexperienced boy. But he felt remorse, suddenly realising the way he was viewed by others.
"I killed you." Paris retaliated, a proud smile crossed his face.
"You've never killed a man in battle, where it counts. In fact," Achilles spoke as his realization occurred, the same cocky attitude occupying his demeanor, "you're pathetic. You stand so high because you are a prince. You have nothing else to stand by. You deserve none of the renown you receive, you're pathetic, and you're weak." That one, apparently, hit the spot.
Paris lashed out and struck Achilles in the jaw. Before he knew it he had landed on the ground, pinned with Achilles weight, hands suspended above his head, face gripped with Achilles' spare hand.
"Don't you insult me with your ignorance and weakness, boy." Achilles lowered his face level with Paris', the close proximity scaring the young prince out of his wits.
"Get off me." Paris struggled, but to no avail.
"Not until you understand." Achilles repositioned himself, one knee pressing down the prince's torso to hold him in place. "Not until you understand what it is really like to kill a man."
Paris' eyes were wide with fear. Fear that he was about to learn his very last lesson.
A/N: Again, a response to my lovely readers. Kendra3, Yana5, and x- shadowcat, I am very sorry about the cliffhangers, but they must continue, it motivates me to write. So you'll probably hate the end of this chapter. Hehehehe! And to all you lovely little fic critters out there, I may not be able to write much next week (its Friday for me, in lovely rainy ol' melbourne) because I have exams mon-wed. But after that we're in the clear. Then I have holidays!!!! So much updating going on then! Also, yeh, Patroclus and Achilles, hehehehe, I worked that in, did you notice? And to Two and Fury, thank you soooooo much! I actually read about Aeneas being the one to lead the survivors and found Rome, and my kids were going to catch up with him later, but I guess I'll change that now... hmm, ponders to self. But it was the other way around for me, I thought I'd get attacked by history buffs if I did put that in! hmmm.... Changes must occur. Any suggestions? Bah, all this work! Damned history buffs, they scare the hell out of me! Haha, two days till I buy the Iliad and then no more bastardly history buffs. Anyhoo, toodles kids! Keep a 'readin. And I've written chapter 6 so I'll type and post that in about... 20 hours. See ya chickadees! Oh, and hello to Lucy's friends again, I here you were reading my fic in English the other day! Should be working, guys! : )
Aha! Struck with an idea just before I updated! What would you say to Aeneas escaping via his own route, and them all catching up and the sword and leadership being passed to him then? It's not really a spoiler, but could it work? When they reach the town? Tell me soon what you think!
Before Paris knew it he had an arrow cocked and aimed directly at Achilles. "Don't move." He told Achilles. 'How is this possible?' he thought to himself. 'This is ridiculous.' He had seen the man drop to the ground, three arrows in his chest.
"That will only work once, boy. I have no fear of that. And none of you should fear me, either, for that matter." He stopped and looked, now, directly at Briseis. A smile spread across his face and he stepped towards her.
"Stop!" Paris yelled, halting Achilles in his tracks. "Briseis, are you certain it is him?" He asked her in an undertone. "Because I swear I killed him."
"You did." Briseis said, in utter disbelief. "But like I said, he's not really of this world." She ran towards her lover and embraced him dearly. Paris lowered his bow and turned to explain the goings-on to the rest of the party.
Andromache stood, child in arms, staring at her husbands killer, stunned and close to tears. She breathed deeply and turned from Achilles to her brother in law. Paris saw her eyes pleading for an explanation for this apparition, but he now realised that he could provide none.
"Paris," Achilles now addressed him personally as he approached. He came close and Paris' had hovered threateningly over his bowstring. Achilles spoke more quietly now, so only Paris heard. "Did Hectors wife make it out?"
A strange question to be sure. Paris, still stunned by the appearance of this dead man, nodded and indicated to where Andromache stood. "With their child." He said bitterly. He watched in disbelief as Achilles approached the woman and her baby.
'This is not real.' Paris thought to himself. 'This is ridiculous, I'm still dreaming.' He shook his head, wanting desperately to wake-up, this was altogether unnerving.
Achilles felt the painful strike of guilt as he viewed the child in the woman's arms. He had heard of Hector, even spoken to him at a celebratory function or some such, of his wife in days of peace. And he had heard, since being in Troy, that they had a child.
"Andromache," Achilles spoke, glad to have recalled her name. He knelt before the woman. "Nothing I can say or do will repay the loss I have caused you, but since the death of your husband I have been enlightened to a great many things." Andromache's eyes released silent tears as she watched the warrior, still averting his eyes, kneel before her and speak of her husband. Achilles continued, "I offer you my sincerest apologies and condolences, and my services as a guard, if you are willing to accept." He was not, however, being entirely truthful.
Achilles did desire, greatly, to apologise for the death of Hector, the Trojan hero, and this woman's husband. But he felt no remorse for killing him. Achilles had been brought up in a fighting world, full of war, where untimely death deserves revenge. In his mind he had every right to kill Hector. Hector had killed Patroclus. Achilles could not let go of the memory of his foster-brother turned lover, whom many perceived to be a cousin.
It had been a fair match between Achilles and Hector, after all. The only man who had made him see that perhaps Hector's death was not right was Priam. If given a chance he would now gladly have switched places with Hector. Not Hector Andromache's husband, nor Hector Paris' brother, nor indeed Hector the father, but he would have traded places with Hector Priam's son. The old King of Troy had enlightened him to a great many things about honour and respect that night. A night he would never forget.
"Your apologies and condolences I accept." Andromache broke Achilles train of thought. "But your service I deny. If you explain to us what brings you here I may deem you worthy to travel with us. But I would not have you in my service, that is a path I cannot walk."
Achilles bowed his head, already in debt to this woman. "Thank you." He said. He began, then, to tell most of his tale. He told briefly of his involvement in the war, and in the final siege. He spoke of his desire to rescue Briseis being the reason he returned in the horse. He omitted his immortality; still being uncertain as to what should and should not be told, instead telling them that, for some reason or another, he had been chosen to remain on this earth a little longer.
Paris watched, mesmerized by the tale. He did not trust the man but he, like many in their group, accepted that Achilles would travel with them. Andromache had given her word and that was all they needed, after having come so far with her.
"At least until the first town." Andromache decreed, "There we will all be rethinking our paths. For the moment you are welcome in our party."
That night, still bitter about Achilles' joining their party, Paris decided to cool himself off with a walk. The evening was clear, the moon a mere crescent in the sky. He strolled about 200 metres from the camp before he noticed someone following him.
'Damn' he thought to himself, 'Fool, Paris. Out here, unarmed, that man traveling with us. Fool.' He continued to stroll, listening carefully. A fair distance, now, from the camp, he stopped and swung around.
"Achilles," he said angrily, for he knew it was him. "Why are you following me?" The warrior came closer, and Paris could just make out his face in the moon-light.
"Because you didn't let me get close enough to talk to you today." Achilles said. He raised his hands, palms facing Paris, "Unarmed, don't worry."
"Why did you want to talk to me today?" Paris asked, accusingly. He still had no desire to trust the man, even if Andromache did. Though Achilles mood seemed much happier than it had earlier. Lighter, more playful. Paris just hoped that didn't change.
"Because I want peace. I want a truce." Achilles didn't suggest friendship at this stage, neither of them wanted that yet. Nor were they ready for it.
Achilles could almost have laughed as he observed this boy in front of him. And to think, he challenged Menelaus! Achilles was surprised he could even lift a sword.
"A truce!" Paris mocked a laugh. "A truce! You killed my brother, and you want a truce!" He was furious. This was not the response Achilles had hoped for, but he responded likewise.
"You killed me! Is that not enough revenge?" Achilles raised his eyebrows. "Your brother killed my Patroclus, I killed your brother, you killed me. By all rights, boy, if we continue down this path, I should now kill you!"
Paris opened his mouth, but he could think of no argument to return. It was true, really, but that didn't justify anything. Or did it? He wasn't sure. It dawned on him, now, how vulnerable he was. Nevertheless he stepped challengingly towards Achilles.
"Hector thought it was you that he killed. He told me so. Yet you killed him out of cold blood. You're nothing but a petty murderer." He spat.
"A murderer!" Achilles, too, stepped forward. "It was a fair fight. Your brother accepted the challenge."
"A challenge? That's all it is to you!" Paris was furious. "Killing men is just a sport for you. You disgust me!"
"You wouldn't know what its like to kill a man." Achilles mocked the inexperienced boy. But he felt remorse, suddenly realising the way he was viewed by others.
"I killed you." Paris retaliated, a proud smile crossed his face.
"You've never killed a man in battle, where it counts. In fact," Achilles spoke as his realization occurred, the same cocky attitude occupying his demeanor, "you're pathetic. You stand so high because you are a prince. You have nothing else to stand by. You deserve none of the renown you receive, you're pathetic, and you're weak." That one, apparently, hit the spot.
Paris lashed out and struck Achilles in the jaw. Before he knew it he had landed on the ground, pinned with Achilles weight, hands suspended above his head, face gripped with Achilles' spare hand.
"Don't you insult me with your ignorance and weakness, boy." Achilles lowered his face level with Paris', the close proximity scaring the young prince out of his wits.
"Get off me." Paris struggled, but to no avail.
"Not until you understand." Achilles repositioned himself, one knee pressing down the prince's torso to hold him in place. "Not until you understand what it is really like to kill a man."
Paris' eyes were wide with fear. Fear that he was about to learn his very last lesson.
A/N: Again, a response to my lovely readers. Kendra3, Yana5, and x- shadowcat, I am very sorry about the cliffhangers, but they must continue, it motivates me to write. So you'll probably hate the end of this chapter. Hehehehe! And to all you lovely little fic critters out there, I may not be able to write much next week (its Friday for me, in lovely rainy ol' melbourne) because I have exams mon-wed. But after that we're in the clear. Then I have holidays!!!! So much updating going on then! Also, yeh, Patroclus and Achilles, hehehehe, I worked that in, did you notice? And to Two and Fury, thank you soooooo much! I actually read about Aeneas being the one to lead the survivors and found Rome, and my kids were going to catch up with him later, but I guess I'll change that now... hmm, ponders to self. But it was the other way around for me, I thought I'd get attacked by history buffs if I did put that in! hmmm.... Changes must occur. Any suggestions? Bah, all this work! Damned history buffs, they scare the hell out of me! Haha, two days till I buy the Iliad and then no more bastardly history buffs. Anyhoo, toodles kids! Keep a 'readin. And I've written chapter 6 so I'll type and post that in about... 20 hours. See ya chickadees! Oh, and hello to Lucy's friends again, I here you were reading my fic in English the other day! Should be working, guys! : )
Aha! Struck with an idea just before I updated! What would you say to Aeneas escaping via his own route, and them all catching up and the sword and leadership being passed to him then? It's not really a spoiler, but could it work? When they reach the town? Tell me soon what you think!