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Duty of Lions and Men
By : BlueBastard
Category: S through Z > Troy
Views: 7428 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or make any money off of it
Chapter List
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Head butting a Greek soldier in the face, Hector heard the satisfying crunch of crushed bone and cartilage before he rammed another off his feet with his shoulder. He followed the move through with a swift kick downwards, ensuring the man could no longer fight with his sword arm after a snap and cry of pain later.

Hector turned, only to get staggered as a blow landed across his face. In a daze, he blinked away the spots in time to duck under an onrushing brutal punch. Using the man's momentum against him, Hector bodily heaved the man over his shoulder, the soldier landing in a heap behind him. And from the crack and pained groan, he seemed to have landed wrong.

Unbeknownst to Hector, a small crowd was forming around them. Both armies had been fighting for many seasons now, injuring and being injured. The more unlucky ending up in pyres by the end of the day. It was a constant cycle of sleep, death, and starvation, their supplies only replenished every few months by their ships. Unless they had successful raids on small villages nearby.

Whatever entertainment they had was taken up eagerly. Though none moved to take up arms in the Warlord Midas's cause. He was not... well liked. Not many were, that knowingly fluffed up and preened for King Agamemnon's approval.

And besides that, they were in between Odysseus's and Ajax's camps. Neither too well known for blindly following King Agamemnon's lead. Ajax himself shoved through the crowd like a baker through dough, his hulking build easily towering over the spectators. The monstrous warrior made his way over to Odysseus. He didn't much like the man and his tricks, preferring a good clean sword fight or drunken brawl any night. But he tolerated him more than any other king or warlord in this entire army, second to only Achilles himself.

"He is a good fighter." Ajax grunted with approval.

Surprised to see the larger warlord, Odysseus quickly recovered and shot a sidelong glare at Midas, "Yes, despite his current disadvantages."

Midas merely snorted, "I say, why not let the men have their sport?"

"He is a Prince of Troy!" Odysseus raged.

"We are all just flesh and bones underneath... King." Midas drew close to whisper mockingly.

"Is that a threat?" Odysseus demanded with hardened eyes.

"Of course not, King Odysseus. Merely... a statement of fact." The Warlord grinned from ear to ear, his eyes dripping with a blackness that made Ithaca's ruler shudder.

Hector started to take notice of surrounding cheers as he singlehandedly took down half of the regiment Midas had sent to retrieve him. The surviving men were made to look as fools, being beaten by a tied captive. And as fools often do, they turned towards a vengeful wraith to sooth their wounded egos.

Hector was tackled from three sides, forced to the dirt. He was dragged up, a little more bruised than before, and held tightly from both sides by his arms. The third man came at him from the front, fist wound back to deliver a face-crushing blow. But Hector used the hold on his arms, tightening his abdominal muscles as he curled up and kicked the man square in the chest. The attacker flew bodily back, hitting a boulder with a sick crack. Another took his place, temporarily disabling the Prince with a blow to the gut.

The nameless Greek soldier yanked Hector's head up by his sweat-drenched hair, sneering down at him.

Face a little bloodied, Hector forced his brown gaze to focus on Midas's man. Defiantly, he spit on the soldier, grinning when the glob landed on his eye.

Swiping the pink spittle from his face in disgust, the Greek backhanded Hector. Pain shot down Hector's bruised body, but for some reason, he started laughing. Years of fighting, of dedicating himself to Troy and his people, all of it for what? To be killed in such a lowly manner with Greeks devoid of honor?

Insulted by the Prince's lack of fear, the soldier brandished a small dagger from his belt, looking towards Midas for approval. The red head nodded, "Make him pretty, but don't kill him. We still need to present him to King Agamemnon."

Hector grimaced. He would have preferred death. He held his head high as the knife-wielding lackey approached, Hector's eyes promising much pain should the man cut him. Alone, the man would have been cowed. But he had the support of the remaining handful of men, and his Lord.

He raised the dagger, the blade gleaming almost gleefully in the rising sun.

Hector steeled himself.

A roar of fury sounded, and suddenly everything changed.

The man with the knife stood confused, hand empty. That is, until he noticed the missing handle sticking out of his shoulder. He kept screaming even as a muscled arm ripped it back out to slash at the man's throat. Gurgling, eyes wide with shock, the man put a hand over the blood spouting out his neck. Bonelessly, he slid to the ground.

Having already discarded the knife after the fatal swipe, Achilles turned from the dying man before the Greek even knew what hit him. He disposed of the two holding Hector before the Prince could blink.

How had he-?

Then Hector was falling, unable to support himself on such short notice. That and his legs didn't seem to be responding to his mental commands.

Only he never made it back down on the ground. Finding himself pressed against the leather-clad side of the warrior, Hector breathed in deeply. The man smelled of steel and sea. The Trojan didn't know what was more surprising, that the man saved him from further beating and mutilation, or that he actually didn't smell half bad.

Hector frowned. Had he just... inhaled the man's scent? Oh gods. Hopefully the man didn't notice.

But the slight upward tilt to Achilles' mouth said otherwise.

Hector's frown deepened and he attempted to shove the man off him. Unfortunately, the attempt was rather pathetic and ineffective with the way his wrists were bound and with Achilles' iron clad hold. Not to mention the fact that the Myrmidon was the only reason he was even upright for the moment.

"Not the wisest choice, Prince. Unless you fancy the taste of dirt and sand." Achilles murmured, eyes focused on the Greeks around them, watching for the slight hint of a threat.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I would prefer it over you and your stench, Myrmidon." Hector growled half-heartedly, fighting the damnable urge to breathe in while he was this close, lest he accidentally smell him again.

Achilles spared an amused glance at the Prince held captive, pinned to the Myrmidon's side by his arm. Blue eyes asked 'Oh, really?' even as his lips spoke with mirth, "You're welcome. Though I would have to say, you didn't seem so opposed to my smell the other night in the forest a month or so ago."

Hector was blushing a furious shade of pink as he fought to keep certain parts of his body under control even as he attempted to rid the memories from his mind. His thighs clenched around Myrmidon armor. The accidental positioning on Hector's part. The not-so-accidental grinding and strokes on Achilles' end. How Hector had to rid all the extra sexual tension by pounding his wife down into their bed later that night. And the many nights following...

"I-" Hector paused to clear his suddenly dry throat, "I have no idea what night you are referring to."

A blonde brow arched deliciously as the owner grinned, "Really...? Shall I remind you?"

Hector looked at the warrior, eyes widening a fraction that only Achilles could notice.

In front of all the men!?

A sense of decency and self-preservation narrowed the Trojan's eyes. He would be damned before he'd allow the Greek warlord the satisfaction of-

"Achilles!!" Midas roared, surging forth past the bodies of his wounded and dying men, "Unhand the Prince! He is MY prisoner."

Something dangerous flashed in those blue eyes and Achilles' grip subconsciously tightened around the Trojan at his side.

The pure possessiveness of the action sent a sharp shiver through Hector's body. His mind was warning him, but part of his traitorous body heated at the thought. Particularly everywhere the Greek was making physical contact with him rose in temperature. His whole side, the parts of his back and hip that Achilles' arm was curled around, they were all burning. Even underneath the layer of clothing. He shifted, growing more uncomfortable by the moment. But this only made the man hold him even tighter.

"This man is no prisoner of yours. He is a guest. MY guest." Achilles declared brazenly, his stance fearless and his tone filled with conviction.

No one would dare stand up to him. Much less this spineless coward. But, alas, try he did.

"Why must you constantly stick your nose in my business?" Midas demanded, "It was my men who captured him. He is my prisoner by right!"

"So then... it was you who discovered where to find our young prince?" Achilles questioned, eyes flickering over to Odysseus's knowing gaze. He may not know all the facts, but the Myrmidon knew the workings of enemies and allies alike. And from the way the pale skinned man was squirming, Achilles was right on target. He continued, "No?"

The blonde warrior caught sight of Patroclus emerging breathless in the throngs of the crowd.

Smirking, Achilles asked, "So then it must have been you who made contact with the prince. To set off the whole capture? Am I right? No again? Hmm, I must be getting rusty. Wrong twice in a row, well..."

The Myrmidon shrugged, turning to leave with the prince in tow.

"You-you can't do this!" Midas fumed, stepping forward.

Achilles paused, not even bothering to turn to look the man in the eyes as his voice said coldly, "There's a pile of dead bodies that says otherwise. And correct me if I'm wrong, but this isn't your camp, is it?"

That said, the golden-haired Greek walked off, the prince too stunned to put up much resistance.

Midas turned to look around him, noticing for the first time how much nearer Ajax was with that hammer of his. And just how closely Odysseus's men were watching him. Turning without another word, it took all of Midas's control not to sprint out of there.

-o-o-o-

Hector's heart hammered wildly in his chest the closer they drew to Achilles' tent. His pride was the only thing keeping him from struggling in the Warlord's grasp. For it would have been futile. Achilles was stronger and smarter than all of Midas's men put together. None of the maneuvers Hector had pulled back there would work. All the other man had to do was swoop in for a second and Hector was rendered immobile in moments.

Admirable yet frustrating in one fell swoop.

Hector was surprised as the Greek lion released him a few paces from the tent, walking ahead as though he expected the Trojan to just follow.

Waiting sentry at the entrance were two Myrmidon's as still as stone. Though they took a moment each to blink owlishly at the Prince. Achilles was never one for visitors. Besides other Myrmidons, Odysseus, Patroclus and Ajax, the only other people Achilles brought were those he wished to bed. Hector could read it in their faces and shivered before they turned to stone once more. Eyes narrowing, the Prince began sizing them up. The stockier one on the left might give him some trouble, so if he took that one out first and then the taller one he should be-

"Don't even think about it." Achilles stated, pausing as he lifted the flap halfway, the muscles on his back tense, "When you manage to finish with these two you'll have almost fifty other loyal Myrmidon's to fight through."

Hector frowned. He could do-

Then Achilles turned enough that Hector could see half his face, the single blue orb burning as it slowly met his under a lowered brow, "And that's considering you even make it past me..."

With that, the golden-haired warrior strode into the tent, the flap swooshing ominously behind him.

Hector grimaced. He didn't really have much of a choice.

Shoving whatever fear and uncertainty to the bottom and locking it, Hector strode forward to his possible doom.
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Duty of Lions and Men	By : BlueBastard Category: S through Z > Troy Views: 7428 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or make any money off of it

Duty of Lions and Men