Author's Note: Thank you so so much to all who reviewed, it makes me so happy to know that my writings and ideas are appreciated! I'm sorry that it took a while but I am in the middle of mid-year exams and I am in my final year at school so they are very important, as you can imagine.
Thanks also to my Beta-Reader Gaslight who helped with suggestions and improvements to make my story Beta! Your time and help has been extremely valuable!
Much Hector/Odysseus love
Balrog Pimp xox
Chapter Three:
Odysseus groaned in bliss as he sunk chin deep into the hot tub of water, made soft with the many perfumed oils added. Yes, times like this was what being a king was all about. Apart from the occasional bother of having to lead armies into war on behalf of another, life as a king was pretty good. Leaning back, he rested his head against the outside rim of the circular wooden barrel and slid his eyes shut in blessed relief.
"Where is Paris? I need to talk to him." Hector said abruptly to the first guard that he saw upon re-entering Troy.
"My Prince, I believe he was attending a meeting with your father and the councillors in the throne room," the guard answered hastily so as to not anger the impatient Hector.
Hector cursed under his breath and walked away at a pace without further word. He knew he should not have been so curt with the man, but he believed it obvious that something troubled him. Every Trojan knew that Hector would not offend anyone gladly, even down to the lowliest servant.
'How could he forget?' Hector fumed silently. Of course there was a council tonight, and as heir to the throne of Troy, he should be there. He couldn't believe how many things were slipping his mind of late... the only thing he could not forget was Odysseus and his whispered, 'maybe you could care for me better'. How could he let himself be so distracted when there were more important things at hand, like finding Paris so that he could talk to him about Odysseus! 'Curse you, Hector,' he berated himself, 'there are more important things to discuss, such as killing the Greeks and defeating them soundly. All of them.' But now that he thought of it, he didn't want to do that anymore. This was all so confusing.
Looking up, he realised he had reached the large golden door to the throne room. He straightened his shoulders and marched in. If he was late, that was his own fault and he no one would reprimand him for it. Royalty had no one to answer to but the gods. Nonetheless, he knew his brother Paris at least would ask him what had delayed him. The varied talk of the council was suspended as Hector entered and, as one, all but King and Prince rose and bowed. Hector signalled for them to sit with a motion of his hand and advancing to his father, he took his place at the right-hand side of Priam. As he sat, Paris smiled at him and muttered cheekily:
"Nice of you to join us."
Hector cast him a withering look, as a big brother would.
The council continued:
"There are too many of them," cried one old man. "Even if we keep defeating them every day in battle, we will not win the war. By their sheer numbers alone, they will kill off every man in this city until there are none left to protect it, whereupon they will begin a siege of Troy!"
Hector heard a cough and he looked behind his father's throne. Paris, who sat on Priam's left, had leaned backwards and was mouthing at him, 'Where have you been?'
Hector mouthed back, 'Talk to you later,' and waved his hand dismissively. Suddenly one council member's voice rose up and drew Hector's attention:
"Perhaps Prince Hector should launch a sneak attack on the Greek ships and set them alight. That will destroy their rations and rob them of protection. Even if we just destroy only a few under the cover of night, we may win back the advantage over the Greeks. If we strike the tents we know house their leaders, we can destroy the Greek morale by killing their Kings- -"
"NO!" Hector suddenly yelled, standing up.
Silence fell heavily over every man in the room.
Hector shook as he tried to check his emotional outburst. He couldn't stand the idea of one of his men, sneaking into Odysseus' tent as he lay asleep and killing him... especially not on his orders. Clearing his throat, he decided that explaining himself would be the wisest thing to do; though specific mention of Odysseus was out of the question. As he pondered how to begin, he could feel his father's eyes burning into his back in a mixture of surprise and consternation. He knew Paris's jaw was all but hanging open. All the while he felt such pressure from behind, before him the council sat immoveable in a stunned silence.
"No," he began more quietly again. "I do not think we should take them by surprise. I see no honour or courage in such a tactic, and I would not condone it. If Troy is to win the war with Greece, we must attack bravely and honourably in the daylight, not as murderers in the shadows. I will not have Troy win on the basis of a sneak attack!"
"My Prince," one startled councillor began, having recovered his wits, "it may be the only way to save our nation." His boldness was short-lived, for he cowered under the burning gaze Hector unleashed on him.
"I am a Prince of Troy. I lead the armies of this nation. Nothing goes ahead without my command. I would sit down, Illius, if I were you." As though on command, he doused the fire from his eyes and said firmly, "There must be some other way." He was imploring the councillors to devise another strategy, but would not betray any desperation.
"And if there is no other way?" came his father's voice from behind him. "Son, you speak with valour and nobility, things I have instilled in you since you were but a boy. But what I did not teach you is rashness and arrogant pride at the risk of your whole country."
Hector felt hurt. He had always been his father's pride and joy and could do no wrong in his eyes. He never thought he would find himself getting a lecture from his father in front of the council. These times of war certainly were different.
"Forgive me father, I spoke out of hand." Hector bowed in apology and slowly returned to his seat, his mind whirling at what had just happened.
"So, what are we to do?" Illius spoke again.
"Hector will lead his men out to sabotage the Greek ships two nights from now." Priam announced, then looked sideways at his son. "He may just have to swallow his pride." Priam said to the council, looking side ways at Hector.
Hector bit back a refusal. He couldn't betray his country and his family. They were relying on him as Prince of Troy to save them. But he couldn't help but feel guilty as he thought of this betrayal of Odysseus' trust. What was he to do? He nodded to his father and gave him a look of acceptance. Priam smiled, then the old King stood.
"You are all dismissed!" he cried. "And may Apollo grant us victory."
As the councillors departed from the hall, Hector did not remain behind. He strode past them, intent on reaching his own private chambers. Paris would follow; he knew that his brother's curiosity had only increased during the council and demanded to be satisfied.
The briefest of glances over his shoulder told him that he was correct. Paris was indeed tightly behind him, nearly tripping over his heels in uncontrollable excitement. The questions tumbled forth. "Hector, what troubles you tonight? Why did you refuse Illius' plan? You know he is the wisest of the councillors. He knows what he is doing." Even as Hector's stride became more swift, Paris's trot matched it.
They had entered the corridor that led towards Hector's chambers and the elder prince deemed it safe to speak; though his impatience threatened to consume him. "I don't know what came over me, but I still feel it wrong to attack these Greeks so underhandedly. It is not right."
"There is no right and wrong in war!" Paris countered.
Hector rounded on his brother. "And what do you know of that?" he yelled, his control slipping its bonds. Several servants, heretofore invisible as good servants are wont to be, stopped in their tracks to stare in surprise at their usually docile Prince. Hector saw them and reddened. He grabbed Paris roughly by the shoulder and steered him further down the hall. "Come on," he growled.
Once they had arrived in Hector's private chambers, Paris sat down on his brother's bed uncertainly. He felt nervous even breathing too loudly around him with his brother's current mood. Hector, meanwhile, walked over to a bronze basin and splashed his face and neck, hoping to find some calm in the cool water. Taking up a large linen, he wiped himself dry.
"I'm sorry for my words, brother," Paris said softly, breaking the uneasy silence. "I have spoken perhaps too much, and there was something you wished to tell me?"
"I must beg forgiveness as well, Paris," Hector began. "It's just...I...everything has been so wrong today." He sat down on the bed beside Paris and folded his arms across his chest. He wished to say this mood that gripped him would not remain long; it never had before when he found himself so distressed. If anything, Paris was more prone to such tempers, and it was Hector who usually had to listen and give comfort.
Paris remembered how his brother had consoled him when he was upset and he knew how to help him. He gently lay a hand on the large shoulder next to him; catching Hector's glance he smiled encouragingly at him. A twitch of Hector's lips showed him he was amused and was getting ready to open up. He took a deep breath and began:
"Paris if you... say... like someone, but you had a disagreement with them, and all your friends told you to hurt that person, but you didn't want to... what would you do?" Once again, Hector was all too aware that he had spoken swiftly. He felt a blush rise to his cheeks and saw that Paris was on the verge of laughter at how disarmed he must have looked for once. Determined that his brother would not turn this into a joke, he tightened his jaw and glowered at him.
"Well," Paris began hesitantly, conscious that Hector trusted him to be serious, "I would tell my friends to mind their own business and that the matter is just between me and that other person."
"It's not that simple," Hector stated. "Or maybe I'm just explaining it wrong. I... don't know what to say..." he finished weakly.
"This is not a disagreement between you and Andromache is it?" asked Paris quietly.
By the gods, he had forgotten about her! Andromache, the wife he had forgotten! He couldn't believe himself; it was disgraceful! All the morals he had held true his whole life were crumbling around him as his thoughts were tugged more and more towards Odysseus. His breath caught in his lungs as he gasped in his horror. He felt dizzy and sick, it wasn't natural at all.
"Hector?" Paris asked with concern. "Are you feeling well?"
"No. I'm not. I'm sorry I asked you such a stupid question, Paris." He ran his fingers through his hair and gripped it tightly, as if desperate to find an anchor. "I must be loosing my head. Everything is reeling..."
Paris stared in mute alarm as his brother fell forward off the bed.
He allowed his mind to wander as he breathed in the smell of olive and jasmine oil and felt the heat from the water burrow into his tired and weary muscles, comforting him to the very marrow of his bones, and causing his spirit to be released from the confines. He breathed deeply and smiled.
He thought of Hector. Almost unconsciously, as though it came from outside, the thought came to him of Hector, cramped up close in the tub next to him. His dark, curled hair, free of its ornamental braids hanging loosely around his shoulders; his skin was a shinning golden bronze like the Sun God's; his hands warm and slick with oil under the warm ripples of the water as he traced delicate circles on Odysseus' legs, heading towards his inner thigh. Leisurely, he parted his legs and sighed, in his mind's eyes, he watched the lazy grin of his lover.
"Come on," Odysseus muttered, "care for me better..."
With that final incentive, Hector touched Odysseus rigid manhood. Odysseus jerked slightly and bit his lip, stifling a pleasured gasp as thrilling bolts of pleasure shot up his spine, when Hector's large, callused hands closed around his member. He groaned quietly as he began to move his hands up and down smoothly under the water. Looking up, he saw Hector across from him; dark eyes hooded with passion as he looked back at him from across the sea of murky water.
"Hector..." he breathed.
Just then there was a knock on one of the wooden beams of Odysseus' tent.
Odysseus' eyes flew open as he registered the sound foreign to his fantasy and hastily sat up, removing his hand from his quickly softening manhood.
"Who's there? I'm having my bath," he called to the tent opening.
Achilles' head appeared in the entrance. "Good," he said.
"What do you want Achilles?" Odysseus asked, relieved he was not being summoned to a meeting, but still slightly irked he had been interrupted.
"Just to be with you," the younger, blond-haired man said. "Odysseus, you look simply delicious when you're bathing," he continued, cocking his head on one side as he stared hungrily at him in the tub.
"Thank you, I think..." Odysseus said. "Now if your done 'being with me' you can go now.' He sunk down lower into the water until he had fully submerged himself. When he resurfaced, to his surprise and irritation, Achilles was apparently not finished 'being with him' and had, in fact, invited himself right in and was standing behind him in closer quarters.
"Surely you did not expect me to go?" the golden warrior demanded. "Not with you looking like a wet and unruly lion in that tub." He crouched down behind Odysseus and put his hands on his shoulders in a knowing manner. "But I know that that's just a mask," he whispered. "I know deep-down inside you're really just a kitten, and I know just how to make you purr..."
"Achilles, I do not--" Odysseus was about to protest, when Achilles, who had briefly run his fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck, took his thumbs, pressed them into the grooves behind his ears, and rubbed gently. Odysseus melted completely.
Against his will he began to make a sound he did not know he could articulate, a deep rumbling from his chest.
"Just like a kitten..." Achilles gloated quietly.
Odysseus' eyes once again snapped open (he wasn't even aware of closing them), and he pulled away from the other man. As much as Achilles was a killer and could out do any man in battle, Odysseus was astonished at how quickly he had undone him with his gentleness.
"I think you've stayed here long enough Achilles," he said, turning around in the tub to move further away from him and watch him guardedly.
"I think you've stayed here long enough, too. You should be in my bed by now," replied Achilles, his eyes glinting with passion and lust.
"Not tonight, Achilles. If you want some company, why don't you ask that Priestess of yours."
"She's already waiting," he countered.
"Well, if she's not enough, you should ask Patroclus, he's sure to keep you occupied," Odysseus suggested cautiously, not really sure where this was going. He had smelt wine strongly on the young man's breath as he had touched him so enticingly. He knew Achilles didn't kindly accept refusal when he was sober, he wondered how he would take it drunk.
"He's keeping the girl warm till I get back," Achilles grinned wolfishly.
"What are you suggesting, Achilles?" Odysseus asked with slight apprehension.
"A foursome. If you're up for it?" Achilles stated devilishly.
"I'm sorry Achilles, but no. You are drunk; you don't know what you're saying. No thank you." Odysseus said firmly.
"That's a shame. I'd rather hoped for your company. Very well, I shall leave. But you may not find me so inclined to do you any favours after this." Achilles said, stepping back towards the tent opening.
Odysseus would not allow himself to be intimidated, least of all by one of his friends.
"I doubt it was easy for you to get here in your current condition Achilles. You won't remember this by tomorrow's dawn."
Achilles had made his way to the leather straps that was the door and stopped as he was about to depart. Turning, he smiled insolently. "Probably not." And he left.
Odysseus breathed a silent sigh of relief that Achilles had not pressed further in his perverse scheme, whatever it was. For a brief moment, he had feared Achilles might get enraged at Odysseus' stubbornness and take him against his will. There were many other pleasant ways to end an evening.
He stepped out of the tub and onto the woolly sheepskin rug on the floor. Grabbing a crudely woven linen, he dried himself vigorously until his skin tingled. Next he opened a small amphora of olive oil and rubbed the liquid over his body, before he went to bed. As he did so he caught himself remembering back to that fantasy about Hector he had before he was so rudely interrupted.
Now that he thought about it, it surprised him that he wasn't worried about the thoughts he had been having. A little confused maybe at the intensity of the fantasy, but other than that, it was quite... well, pleasurable to think of Hector in such a manner. 'And who wasn't guilty of a little sinful pleasure?' he thought with a smirk.
Odysseus's attention was returned to the small vase of oil and his mouth widened into a mischievous grin. Clambering into bed, he decided on continuing his fantasy uninterrupted...TBC