Fic: Achilles' Last Stand Ch.3 (2/3) Edited Version
Title: Achilles’ Last Stand (Ch. 3 (2/3)) betaed version
Author: Mereneith
E-mail: Mereneith@yahoo.com
Pairing: Achilles/Paris
Warnings: bondage, slavery, male-male sex, violence, language. It will loosely follow the movie, but will be AU.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Achilles seeks out the reason for going to war, Paris.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don’t own Achilles, Paris or anyone else from Iliad/Troy verse. Homer, Wolfgang Petersen, and the guys that made Troy do.
Archive: No where, yet. But if you want to archive it, I’d be honored. Just let me know where its going.
Thanks: Thanks to Kris for betaing this for me. You did a wonderful job!
Author’s Notes: Title is a song by Led Zeppelin. Great song. If you haven’t heard it, go listen to it.
***
“Prince Hector, you must talk with your brother. I am imploring you. He is not well. Last night, my beloved was very agitated and then this morning he moved me from his bed to the guest chambers.” Helen had accosted Hector in his rooms and was harping him to convince his younger brother to take her back into his bed.
The crown prince of Troy suppressed the urge to strangle the harpy right where she stood. He had never liked Helen. She would seduce any type of creature just to get her way. Hector was glad that his baby brother was finally seeing reason. “Helen, if that is Paris’ wish then you must respect it and leave him be. Now, I have many important matters to attend to concerning your war.”
Turning to the guards at his door, Hector waved the guard over. “Please escort, Helen to the guest chambers and make sure that all of her needs are seen to.” The guards bowed to their Prince and motioned for the ex-Spartan Queen to come with them. They knew that Hector had also meant for them to make sure that the young woman stayed in her rooms and out of his and Paris’ way.
As soon as Helen and the guards were gone, Hector made his way straight to his little brother’s chambers. He found Paris lounging on a settee, hands crossed on his naked chest, just staring at the ceiling. He appeared deep in thought and did not seem to hear the Crown Prince enter the room.
Hector quickly crossed his brother’s bedchamber and squatted down next to his stretched out form. Placing a hand gently on Paris’ shoulder, he gave him a little shake.
“Paris.” Hector said softly, trying to get his younger brother’s attention.
Paris turned his head to look at Hector. “Hhhmmm.”
“What happened with Helen? She came to me sobbing that you have kick her out of your bed.” Hector asked, concerned.
Sitting up, Paris swung his legs over the edge of the couch. He placed his hands in his lap, careful the entire time to ensure that his robe covered his injured wrists. Hector rose and sat down next to the young man. He patiently waited for his brother to speak.
Paris took a deep breath, before trying to explain to his older brother why he had removed Helen from his rooms. “I just needed some space, Hector. My heart is heavy from the war and I felt smothered by all of Helen’s attention.”
Hector patted his younger brother’s leg in understanding. “Do not trouble yourself too much, baby brother. It is true that your actions started this mess, but eventually Agamemnon would have come anyway. Men still would have died and blood still would have been spilt on Trojan soil. It was but a matter of time.”
The Crown Prince could still see that his brother was not consoled. Picking up Paris’ slender hand, he gave it a squeeze. The movement of the young Prince’s hand upward caused his sleeve to slide down his arm, revealing a raw and bruised wrist. Hector’s expression darkened and his eyes flashed in anger at the evidence of someone harming his little brother. He had seen those kind of marks before on captives who had been bound tightly with ropes.
“What is this? Who committed such a crime?!” Hector growled, his voice laced with rage.
Paris tried to pull his dainty wrist from his brother’s strong grasp, but Hector’s grip was like iron. Before the younger man could hide his other hand, it too was captured by the warrior.
Hector gingerly ran his thumbs other the abrasions and hissed in anger. “Paris, tell me who did this.” He ordered.
The young Prince could not meet his brother’s steely gaze, so instead he kept his eyes fixed on the floor between his feet. He knew Hector needed some kind of answer, but everything he thought of sounded like a blatant lie. Finally, he mumbled, “‘Tis nothing Hector. I was foolish and wore my bracelets to bed.” Paris knew it sounded weak, but it was the only answer his frantic mind could come up with.
Hector took a deep breath and pushed down the urge to shake his brother until his teeth rattled in his head. He could feel Paris trembling in his grasp and knew he needed to be gentle with the boy. Releasing the injured wrists, Hector gently took Paris’ chin between his thumb and forefinger and raised his head. Eyes wide with fear and shimmering with tears stared at him.
“Paris, whoever has done this to you must be punished. It is an affront to both our father’s house and the Trojan empire. You are this nation’s Prince, and as such, harming you is a declaration of war. I will protect you and your honor, but you must tell who did this.” Hector spoke softly, as though speaking to a terrified child.
Paris opened his mouth to answer, but the words died before he could utter them. How could he tell brave, strong Hector that he had lain with Troy’s greatest enemy. Paris closed his eyes and dropped his head, the shame burning on his cheeks.
Hector was growing more and more angry by his younger brother’s reluctance to talk. Grabbing Paris’ left wrist he hauled him to his feet and dragged him out of his chambers and down the hall toward the Conference Room. Their father was currently in a meeting with his advisors, a meeting at which he was not supposed to be disturbed unless the walls of Troy themselves were burning to the ground. Hector consider this even more urgent.
The guards standing at attention in front of the large doors, opened them upon seeing their Crown Prince heading their way, with a grim, determined look on his face. The entire time the larger man dragged him along, Paris was futilely trying to dislodge his hand from Hector’s grasp. He knew that if his father found out, not even the gods could save him from the old king’s wrath.
All too quickly, they were in their father’s elegant Conference Room and heading straight for King’s Priam’s throne. Paris was manhandled by his older brother down the aisle that was flanked on either side by seated advisors and up to the dais where their father’s throne sat. A crimson tinge spread across his cheeks as he thought about his father’s entire council learning of his shame.
Hector stopped in front of their Sire, still holding Paris’ wrist tightly so the boy couldn’t flee. “Father, I need to speak with you, alone.” He announced with an air of authority that came with being the Crown Prince.
Taking in the grave expression on his eldest son’s face and the way his youngest looked ready to melt into the floor with discomfort, Priam knew that something was terribly wrong. “Very well, Hector.”
Turning to his council, he addressed the room. “We will resume this meeting later.”
After all the advisors had exited the room. Priam led his sons into his own private office. He ordered the guard to admit no one and that he was not to be disturbed. Once they were alone, the old King turned to his boys. He noted that Hector looked ready to explode with fury while Paris stood behind him trembling and trying not to look at anyone. “What do you wish to speak to me about that is so urgent?”
“Father, someone has done something to Paris.” Grabbing his younger brother’s other hand, the Trojan warrior held up both injured wrists.
Priam gasped in shocked and then stepped forward, taking Paris’ smaller hands in his own. Gently and lovingly and he ran his fingers over his son’s wounds. “Who did this, my dearest child?” Priam whispered.
There was a long silence as Priam waited for his answer, but none came. The King turned to look at his eldest with a questioning look on his face, but Hector just shook his head.
“He wouldn’t tell me either,” he answered disapprovingly.
“Paris,” the Trojan King said sharply. “Tell me who did this! Or so help me, boy, I will get it out of you one way or another.”
Priam’s anger was rising quickly at the thought of someone, especially a Trojan, abusing his beloved son. He knew the boy was beyond beautiful. He was blessed by Aphrodite and had a charm and grace that made him irresistible. If Paris had been born an uncivilized Greek he would have had both men and women chasing after him, for he had a slender frame and a delicate masculinity that made him the ideal lover for any male. Priam knew that his youngest was a prize well worth sacking an entire nation to acquire.
The Trojan King could not fathom why Paris was refusing to answer their questions. The boy just hung his head and starred at the ground refusing to meet his father or brother’s gaze.
Paris desperately wanted his father to hold him and tell him everything would be alright. He wanted to weep away his pain in his father’s embrace. He wanted to tell his father and brother everything and let them keep him safe. But, he was a Prince of Troy and Princes did not do these things. They were strong and brave and did not debase themselves to barbarian warlords.
The great shame he felt kept him from speaking the truth. Instead, he stuck with the lie he had told Hector. “It was nothing, father. I was foolish and slept with my bracelets on.” He mumbled, knowing that his father would not believe him.
Priam released Paris’ hands and nodded his head. “Very well, Paris. If that is how you want it, then you leave me no choice. I don’t want to do this, my child, but I must protect you from whoever has committed this crime and from yourself.”
Turning to Hector, the old King addressed his eldest. “Hector, place Prince Paris under house arrest until he is ready to truthfully explain his wrists and tell me who did it. He is not to leave his bedchamber and no one save the most trusted of my royal bodyguards are to enter. Also, have him examined by the royal physician. I want the results as soon as the healer is finished.”
“Yes, father.” Hector answered. He saw the pain and hurt in Paris’ eyes, but he agreed with their Sire’s decision. This was for Paris’ own good and he would do whatever it took to keep his little brother safe.
“Guards!” As two royal guards came in, Hector motioned them over. “Restrain Prince Paris.”
The guards stood on either side of the young man, and each wrapped a strong hand around one of his biceps. However, Paris paid them no attention. He just stood, staring at his father, with unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. “Father, please. Don’t do this.” He sobbed.
Priam walked up and took his son’s face in his large hands. He placed a gentle kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Paris, what I am doing, I do out of love. I do not like to see you distress so, but I must find out who has been harming you. As soon as you tell me everything, I will release you.”
Paris just looked at his father, trembling in fear and shame. Priam took a step back from his young son and motioned for the guards to take the prisoner away. Paris was propelled along, following close behind Hector. Each guard had one hand wrapped around his bicep and the other on his shoulder. The Trojan Prince did not bother to resist; meekly allowing the guards to march him along after his brothers’ imposing form.
Hector led them to Paris’ bedchamber. Opening the finely crafted doors, he entered the room with the guards and Paris following close behind. Once inside, the guards released Troy’s youngest prince and stepped back.
“Paris, sit down on the bed.” Hector ordered as he walked the guards to the door and out of Paris’ hearing.
Hector knew exactly which royal bodyguards he wanted inside the room guarding Paris and which ones he wanted outside the door. His father had a contingent of royal bodyguards, whose function was to guard the royal family. They were the most elite and trustworthy soldiers Troy hade to offer. Hector had decided to use the best of them along with his most trustworthy soldiers to guard his little brother.
“Theleus, fetch Captain Damian, Abantes, Leonidas, Kritias, Sinon, and Aktor of the royal guard and send them to Prince Paris’ chambers immediately. Tell them it is of the utmost importance. Then run and find Officers Belos, Pantites, Lycaretos, Meidias, Telemachus, and Damiskos. Belos, Lycaretos, and Meidias should all be down in the war room aiding the commanders. Pantites and Telemachus are out checking the troops and the defenses. I do not know where Damiskos is, but Lycaretos may know. Send them up as quickly as possible.” Theleus nodded and saluted than ran off to do as his High Commander bid.
Hector then turned to the other guard. “Coeranus, find two royal guard and post them in front of this door. Then fetch Areisius, the royal physician.” Coeranus saluted the Crown Prince and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.
Preparations underway for Paris’ imprisonment, Hector went back to the younger man, who sat slumped on the end of his bed. Sitting down next to the young Prince, he ran his hand soothingly in small circles on the boy’s lower back.
“Paris, father just wants what is best for you. He wants to keep you safe.” Paris just nodded mutely at Hector’s words.
Getting very little response from the younger Prince, Hector rose and squatted down in front of the seated boy. Hector took Paris’ hand in his own. “Paris, listen to me carefully. Do not push father. He is a King and a father. His King side wants to keep his Prince safe and punish those who harmed him, and his father side wants to protect his son and destroy those that would hurt his child. He sees what they did to you as a direct declaration of war on the Kingdom of Troy. Paris if you try to run away, escape, or continue refusing to tell us who did this to you and what they did, father will order you to be placed in shackles and he may even throw you in the dungeon if you become particularly unruly.” Hearing that he would be placed in manacles like some common criminal, Paris’ head shot up.
“He can’t do that. I have not done anything! It’s not right.” Paris shouted indignantly. He would not be paraded around in chains; he was a Prince of Troy after all.
“Paris, he is the King and your father. If that is what he must do to protect you and get the answers he needs from you, then he must do it. He has the right. And I will be right there beside him, ready to snap on the chains and haul you down to the dungeon myself. Paris, why can you not trust us? Who has you so scared that you cannot trust me? I have always defended you, protected you and dissuaded father’s anger when you have done something particularly foolish. What makes you think I won’t do it this time?” Hector voice betrayed the hurt he felt that Paris would not confide in him and trust him.
Paris hung his head as the tears streamed from his eyes. “You’ll be ashamed of me.” He sobbed.
Standing up, Hector sat back down next to his brother and wrapped his arms around the younger man. He kissed Paris’ curly brown hair. “Sssh, little brother. I will never be ashamed of you.”
Anything else he would have said was interrupted by the arrival of the soldiers and guards he had called for. Hector, rose, leaving Paris to compose himself, and walked over to the men to give them their instructions.
The men stood at attention waiting for their High Commander and Crown Prince to give them their orders. “Captain Damian, Abantes, Leonidas and Kritas you will be stationed in here. Leonidas - guard the inside of the door, Kritas - take the balcony, and Abantes - the far side of the room. Captian Damian, I want you to guard Prince Paris’ person. I am putting you incharge of the bodyguards in this room and the soldiers outside. You have the authority to do what you need to maintain his safety. Sinon, Aktor, Belos, Pantites, Lycaretos, Meidias, Telemachus, and Damiskos you will guard the outside of the door to the Prince’s bedchamber and the hallway leading to it. Admit no one unless the King or I give permission. That is all, to your posts.” They nodded in understanding, saluted their High Commander and took up their designated positions.
Captain Damian held back as the other men went to their posts. He was the Captain of the Royal Bodyguard and had been a member of the King’s private guard as long as Hector had been alive. The Prince of Troy had many fond childhood memories of Damian. He had always looked after the boys and been kind to them, especially when their father was busy with kingly affairs.
The head guard spoke in a hushed voice to the Prince. “My Prince, is there anything I should know to aid me in protecting the young Prince.”
Hector hid a smile. This man knew his job well and he would protect Paris almost as well as Hector himself. “Trust no one, Captain Damian. Paris was attacked inside the palace and he is still in grave danger from an unknown threat.”
Damian nodded and walked over to stand by the younger Prince, hand on his sword hilt. Hector thought it best not to inform any of the guards, yet, about Paris being under house arrest. Paris’ pride looked crushed as it was without adding the humiliation of his own father having him arrested.
Suddenly, there was a commotion at the door and one of the royal guards that had been outside hurried in and saluted Hector. “Your Highness, the royal healer is here. He said he was called to Prince Paris’ room and he is demanding entrance.”
“Let him enter.” Hector replied and the guard hurried back to the door. Areisius, the royal physician, was emitted to the room looking a bit upset that he had been denied admittance. In his hand he carried a satchel containing his medicinal instruments and potions. The Crown Prince led him over to the bed where Paris still sat. He had gotten his emotions under control and dried his eyes with an edge of bed linen.
Hector looked at Damian and the Captain of the Royal Guard nodded in a silent assent of understanding. He motioned the guards in the room toward the door and instructed them to wait outside. Then he locked the door, drew his sword, holding it diagonally across his body, and turned to face the interior of the room.
The elder son of Priam moved closer to the doctor and spoke to him softly. “The King wants a full examination of Prince Paris and then he wants to be immediately informed of the results.”
Areisius did not have to ask any questions, he knew what “full” examination meant. He looked kindly at Paris and spoke in a gentle voice. He could tell that the boy was scared from the way he shook like a leaf and was darting his eyes around the room. “Prince Paris, please remove you skirt and lie down on the bed, I am just going to give you a physical examination.”
Paris looked at the healer in shock. He had not expected that he would be required to be naked for the examination. He knew that meant he was to be examined in his currently untouched hole that Achilles lusted after. Paris saw that the physician was patiently waiting, so he rose and untied his wrap and lay the cloth in a nearby chair. He then stretched out in the middle of his bed on his back.
Areisius carefully ran his hands over Paris’ skin. He inspected the young man’s face, including his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth; and traveled down his neck to his chest. He continued moving his hands over the boy’s body checking bones, tendons and anything else he thought should be inspected.
At Paris’ wrist, he took extra care inspecting them. The young Prince was not sure what for, but he knew from the look on Areisius’ face that he knew the abrasions were caused by straining against ropes binding his wrists. The royal physician made no comment. He simply reached in his bag and retrieved some ointment and a role of cloth. He lathered the boy’s wrists with the cream and wrapped each wrist with a strip of cloth.
Once the Prince’s wrists were finished, the physician went back to examining the rest of Paris’ body. When he reached Paris’ cock it was all the Prince could do to remain still. The last person that had touched the sensitive organ was Achilles, and Paris did not want to dredge up that memory.
The healer was very gentle and professional with Paris’ penis and testicles. He pealed the foreskin back to check the head, ran his hands over the shaft and cupped Paris’ balls in one hand to carefully examine them. He then moved on to the rest of the Trojan Prince’s lower half.
Once Paris’ front had been thoroughly examined, he was ordered to roll onto his stomach, exposing his back for inspection. The physician examined his back and spine and then Paris felt a slicked digit enter him. It was firm, but stopped midway through its intrusion to wait for him to adjust. Through the whole embarrassing procedure he buried his face in a pillow and tried to imagine himself anywhere, but in his current humiliating position.
The finger continued to prod and poke around his nether region, as though looking for something. Paris was about to ask that the uncomfortable object penetrating him be removed, when he felt the finger pull out of him. He breathed a sigh of relief and did not pay much attention as Areisius finished examining the rest of his body.
Satisfied that he had thoroughly examined the young Prince to the best of his abilities, he collected his bag. “I am ready to see the King now.” He informed the hovering Hector.
Through the entire examination, Captain Damian had remained in front of the door with his sword drawn and Hector had persisted to hover next to Areisius. A number of times the healer had been a breath away from ordering the overprotective brother out of the room, but from the worried and angry look on the Crown Prince’s face he knew it would have not been received well.
As soon as the healer was finished, Paris retrieved his skirt and wrapped it about his slim waist. He noticed Hector nod to the man guarding his bedroom door, a silent command that the guards outside could be let back in the chamber. Then his brother turned to him.
“Paris, today has been a trying day for you. You must be exhausted, why don’t you rest for a while. If you have trouble sleeping ask one of the guards to fetch Areisius and he will give you a sleeping potion. I will bring you some food later this evening.” Hector informed his brother.
Paris knew that Hector’s ‘request’ was really an order. He was to sleep or rest in bed, if he did not Hector and the physician would return and drug him, whether he submitted or fought them. Paris nodded mutely and climbed into bed. With all the guards around, he had decided it would be best not to remove his clothes.
As soon as all the guards were back in place, Captain Damian came back to Paris’ bedside. He stood next to the large ebony bed, his sword had been re-sheathed, but his hand still rested on his sword hilt and his eyes were alert for signs of trouble.
Hector was pleased to see that Paris was finally being docile and cooperative. Silently indicating that Areisius was to follow him, the Crown Prince left Paris’ bedchambers and headed toward his father’s apartments. When they arrived in the Trojan King’s study, Priam was pacing back and forth with a look of both rage and great worry marring his features.
Noticing the arrival of his eldest son and the royal physican, Priam ceased pacing and sat behind his large desk. “Areisius, what were the results of your examination on Paris?”
The healer stepped forward and gave a slight bow to the King. “Your Majesty, after a thorough examination of the young Prince, I can conclude that his only injuries were his abraded wrists. They are the kinds of wounds found on someone who has been bound with rope and struggled against their bounds. The wounds are superficial and should heal very quickly. As requested, I also examined Prince’s Paris’ penis and anus. Neither showed signs of abuse and he does not appear to have been penetrated. The muscle is still as tight as one would expect to find in a virgin. There was no evidence of semen and he did not seem to feel any discomfort throughout my examination. Thus, I believe that he was not raped and still remains sexually untouched were male love is concerned.”
The King of Troy nodded in understanding, but his eyes held a far off look, indicating that he was deep in thought. He waved his hand dismissively, informing Areisius that his presence was no longer required. The man bowed and turned to leave, but he was halted by the King’s voice.
“Oh, and Areisius. You will speak of this to no one. And I mean no one.” Priam’s voice was hard and unforgiving. He was determined to keep this strictly a family matter.
“Yes, your Majesty.” He answered. The physician knew that his life would be forfeit if the King even suspected that he had informed anyone of what he had seen on the young Prince. Bowing again to his King, Areisius excused himself and exited the King’s chambers.
As soon as the door closed behind the healer, Hector could not hold his tongue any longer. “Father, what would you have me do?”
Priam looked up at his eldest. Hector’s eyes shone brightly with anger and determination. The King of Troy knew that his son was seething with anger at those who had hurt his little brother and the fact that he was not able to protect Paris. Hector’s body language spoke the harsh words that he had refrained from speaking. ‘Let me hunt down those who have committed this crime and make them suffer a slow, agonizing death.’ His body screamed to all that looked upon him, but his words remained respectful and calm.
Rising, King Priam walked over to his successor and eldest son and placed both hands on his shoulders. “Find those responsible for harming Paris and imprison the fiends in the dungeon. Haul them in alive, but regain some of our family’s honor before you throw them in the dungeon. I trust your capable hands, Hector, to see this done appropriately and that our family’s dignity is preserved. But Hector, I want them alive enough so that they may stand trial before me. They have committed treason against Troy and against our family. I intend to answer their challenge with all of my power as ruler of this great kingdom.”
Hector stepped back and bowed to his Sire. “Yes, father. It will be done.”
***
TBC