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Twist of the Fates	By : Sagittarius Category: S through Z > Troy Views: 32712 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Twist of the Fates

Author: Sagittarius325

Email: Sagittarius325@hotmail.com

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Achilles/Paris, Achilles/Patroclus implied

Warnings: This fic depicts graphic m/m interaction, consensual and non-consensual activities of varying and sordid kinds. If any of these subjects offend you, if you are underage or the laws of your country prohibit you from reading such material, then look away.

Summary: When Achilles and his Myrmidons win the Trojan beach, what if it had been Paris, not Briseis, captured in the temple that day.

Disclaimer: No infringement is intended, no money is to be made.

Author�s Notes: This is more movie verse than Homer�s epic. Any historical inaccuracies are mine, though I�m taking a page from Wolfgang Peterson and saying this little fic of mine is merely �inspired� by movie and tale.
*****
"You are very young my love."
Her gently spoken rebuke still stung, though they had spent the final hours of darkness wrapped within each others� arms, their love making tender and somewhat wistful as their doom flew ever closer. Paris had been earnest in his promise to flee, to abandon home and kin, status and wealth, all for the love of her. He had even offered his life for his love, yet Helen had once again displayed her aged wisdom, startling and sorrowful in one so young.
Only once had she forsaken her own counsel and allowed headstrong Paris to determine their path. Only once had love compelled her to abandon husband and home and now a thousand Greek ships sailed for the coast of Troy, on course for a devastating war in which thousands would be condemned to die under the merciless sun.
Which was why Paris was to be found at the break of day within earshot of the waves, standing before the temple of Apollo, his beloved Helen still drowsing within their apartments as she had been when he left her in the final hour of night.
Leaving the rooms set aside for himself and his princess, he had gone in search of his brother Hector and his counsel, but the youngest prince of Troy had instead come across his cousin Briseis, the latest and mayhap last bloom of their family if war was truly to come. Ever had it been silently accepted that Paris was to wed his beautiful cousin, their joining politically perfect and undoubtedly blessed by the gods themselves. But as the two came of age, Paris� decadent love of women and Briseis� own fierce will to become a priestess of Apollo soon became apparent and dispelled any notion of a harmonious union between the two.
"Briseis," Paris had greeted her warmly, for she was as dear to him as a sister.
Wearing the pale and simple robes of one dedicated to the worship of the god of the sun, Briseis indeed appeared every inch the virginal bride, chaste and demur for her new immortal husband. But the spark of her strong will remained within her great brown eyes and for that Paris was glad.
"I am to bear fruit to the temple," she replied, lightly, gesturing to the basket she had set aside upon their meeting.
The sight of the offering to Apollo darkened Paris� heart once more as he thought upon his words with Helen the night before.
"The priests waste little time," he muttered. "So sure are they of this coming war."
"Paris, you must not," Briseis chided. "Apollo punishes those who speak so thoughtlessly ill of his servants."
"Then I must make amends," he returned, sour humour suppressed for her sake. With a grin dancing about his mouth he bowed low and sought her hand. "And claim fair Briseis the most beauteous of all our sun god�s maidens."
Briseis remained unmoved by his extravagant and courtly gesture, she had never been one to fall for his grace and charm, yet an echoing smile tugged the corners of her mouth. She abruptly reached for the basket and lugged it into Paris� surprised arms.
"Since you are so eager to make reparations to Apollo and appease his fiery temper, you may take these to his temple in recompense."
Thoughts of a leisurely morning spent making love with his fair Helen instantly crowded Paris� mind, and he opened his mouth to protest, but then saw and recognised the stubborn set to Briseis� face.
"As you wish, dear cousin," he murmured courteously.
And, less selfishly, perhaps it would ease his beloved father�s heart to see his youngest son making an effort towards piety. Like his brother Hector, Paris did not believe in the gods, a fanciful notion to his mind. Yet their father and King was a devout worshipper of the god who it was said founded their kingdom of Troy and any gesture to appease lordly Apollo by a wilful son would not go unheeded.
As he nodded to a near smirking Briseis and headed out of the citadel and towards the gates that would lead down to the beach, Paris thought once again upon the torment and worry he had brought to his family with his claiming of Helen.
Priam had fought long and hard for peace with the Spartan King Menelaus, as had his son Hector. Paris, smitten by the beautiful and tragic queen, had ended their hopes in one fell swoop by usurping her husband�s place in her bed, then stealing her away in the midst of the night like a common thief rather than stay and win his prize honourably.
During his time at the Spartan court, the romance of their encounter had seemed so exciting to Paris, so fated to be, their lovemaking passionate, the thrill of their illicit affair heightening the pleasure. To see cold Queen Helen come undone by his caresses had made Paris want her all the more. It was only near their inevitable parting that the doubt, perhaps even the love, had crept in.
How could he leave such a beautiful creature to waste and wane, untouched, unloved as a marble statue. Like a ghost, she had said and he had seen it in her eyes, for already she was fading from him. And just as his lust had risen upon first sight of her, at last his heart had followed and he had dared to lay a claim upon that which was not his.
Perhaps Paris had even pitied her, though his mind shied away from such. Perhaps he had been jealous of Hector�s famed prowess, his brother�s heroic courage and for once wished to be a hero, her hero. A man unafraid and willing to die for love, for what greater purpose in death could there be? But those thoughts too he refused to examine more closely, ashamed for coveting his brother�s rightly won status.
Though light from the sun god�s chariot had yet to touch the outer walls of the Trojan city, the day was already marked for fair weather and Paris was taken by thoughts of escorting Troy�s latest princess through the family�s gardens as he trudged up the steps to the temple. On his way he passed the golden statue of Apollo himself, knelt in glorious splendour with bow and arrow at the ready, the great immortal defender of their mighty city.
The priests gaped to see Priam�s youngest and allegedly disreputable son outside their holy temple, but they quickly ushered him inside, treating him with the courtesy demanded of his royal status. Setting aside his burden, Paris wrinkled his nose at the stench of incense and burned flesh, then smoothed his expression to blandness when the head priest invited him to listen to their paeans to their god before he departed.
He was prepared to decline, but then thought once more on his father and the ships that sailed ever closed to their lands and finally assented. Adjusting his blueblue robes, he took a seat on the cold stone and looked upon the altar and the rites being performed with little interest.
So it was that a little time later, entombed in the stone temple of the sun god and listening to the droning, drowning hymns of the priests, Paris failed to hear the sound of the warning bell being struck inside the city.
Or the shouts of the soldiers as the Greek fleet finally sailed into view of Troy.
END OF CHAPTER ONE
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Twist of the Fates