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Rage Regret & Redemption	By : Liliana Category: S through Z > Troy Views: 10162 -:- 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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Please note that the disclaimer, pairing and warnings for this story are given at the begining of the first chapter.
CHAPTER FIVE:
The sky had just began to change from star-studded darkness to azure as Apollo, God of the Sun, prepared to ride over the horizon.
Outside of a yurt, set at the far end of the Greek war camp, two figures finished strapping an indigo-shrouded form upon a waiting chariot. When they were done, the taller one spoke.
" The proper funerary rites take twelve days to complete in Greece." Achilles said
" It is the same for us." Replied Paris.
" Then tell your father that no Greek will attack the walls of Troy for twelve days. He has my word on it."
Silence fell, as sky-blue eyes and brown, locked. Yet in their gaze, all that their lips dared not say, was told.
At last, Paris turned and climbed onto the chariot. With a snap of the reins, the horses began to move away from the encampment and towards a grieving King, who still thought the body of his eldest son to be beyond his loving reach. And none he left behind saw the tears that coursed down Paris' face, for the youngest prince of Troy did not look back...

~~~~~~~~~~
Achilles was drunk.
Drunk in a way that would have long-felled any other mortal, though still not nearly drunk enough. Bronze skin lay teasingly before him, liquid brown eyes haunted his own and a sweet, slightly spicy taste linguered on his tongue. A taste that was nothing like the one of the wine he was consuming...
Paris had gone only a few hours earlier and already, the ache inside him was more than he could bear.
Was this, then, Apollo's punishment for his defilement of the Trojan's Sun-Temple?. That he, Achilles, the greatest warrior the world had ever known, would now be laid low by an impossible love for a young prince that all in the Greek army labeled as coward?. A bitter bark of a laugh tore from his throat and once more, he raised the jug of wine to his lips, taking a deep drought of the potent liquid. It was at this point that the leather straps over the yurt's entrance fluttered open, as his second-in-command came inside.
" My Lord. King Odysseus wishes to speak with you."
Achilles looked up with blurred eyes and his hand made an extravagant gesture that seemed both, a dismissal and an invitation. His brow furrowed, as if his mind was also caught in momentary indecision, then he let out a weary sigh.
" Tell him to enter."
With a bow and a last worried glance, the Mermidon backed out of the yurt to do his Lord's bidding. Moments later, the distinctive sound of the leather straps was heard again, as a tall figure ducked through the doorway.
Odysseus, King of Ithaca, gazed down upon the legendary warrior and his stern eyes softened, as he beheld the state the other was in. Like many in the encampment, he had heard the echoes of passion being carried from Achilles' yurt by the sea-breeze that had gently buffeted the beach on the previous eve. His eyebrow had cocked up in amusement when, come morning, he had learned the identity of his old friend's paramour and like everyone else, he had assumed the mighty Greek had been enjoying his captured prize as a claimed spoil of war.
But then he had been summoned to the ostentatiously tented quarters that Agamemnon had set up aboard his flagship and there, he had been greeted by the sight of the self-styled High King of Greece, furiously pacing about while raving like a lunatic about ' accursed heroes and mangy Trojan whelps'. It was then that Odysseus had learned of the promise made by Achilles to the young prince he had chosen to release. A promise that all in the Greek army would honor for Achilles was, indeed, their hero.
And so, Odysseus had come to his friend's yurt, to ask of him the reason for making such an oath. But the question turned out to be uneeded, for the red-rimmed eyes gave him full answer.
" This is not the way I thought that love would at last find you, my old friend." His tone was kind, as he sat down beside the other.
Achilles said nothing, just passed the jug of wine over to the only man in all of Greece he thought of as friend. Odysseus took one deep drink, then settled in to wait. It did not take long.
" Take a good look, King of Ithaca." The words managed to come out only slightly slurred. " Thus do the Gods punish my arrogance and skill. They have sent unto me one who has done what no other could in the field of battle. For he has delivered to my heart, a mortal blow."
Achilles finished his words with another bitter laugh, then extended his hand out for the jug from which he was trying, in vain, to dull his sorrow. Odysseus returned it, along with a question.
" Why then, did you let him go?."
That was the very question that had been tormenting Achilles since he had watched the chariot disappear over the dunes. He had wanted to give chase, to forget his promises and reclaim the prince as captive. But he had remained rooted to his spot, his face a lying mask of indifference, because he knew... He knew that...
" His heart is already taken. Or have you forgotten the reason Minalaus called for this accursed war in the first place?." Achilles spat the words.
And that brought the second reason for Odysseus' visit to the fore. The King of Ithaca looked over at his long-time friend and a stark chill of premonition gripped him, as he began to explain the plan he had earlier deviced to bring about their victory...

~~~~~~~~~~
Evening darkened the sky, as Paris stood on the balcony of his royal chambers, eyes turned towards the distant shore. He could hear the wails of grief from Hector's wife, echoing through the walls and yet, he found himself bereft of tears. He knew that Helen was with his marriage-sister, offering a manner of comfort that only females were able to truly give and his heart did then, what his eyes could not. It wept. Wept from overwhelming sorrow at the realization that it could never again belong truly to her. For another had now laid claim to a large part of it.
Achilles...
The very thought of his name conjured up a myriad of images. Hooded sky-blue eyes looking down at him. A muscular chest poised above him. Strong arms brazed on both sides of him. A hard cock piercing him. Pleasure, all-consuming pleasure, engulfing him. And then, laying within a loving embrace. Feeling sated, feeling...safe.
Paris suddently felt an overwhelming need to make his way down the palace halls to the secret tunnel that led out of the city. To leave behind his home, his father, Helen, and just run, run to his enemy, run to his love.
But the first night of their reprieve had fallen and in eleven more days, the Greek army would once again surge against the walls of Troy. Liquid brown eyes hardened with resolve. No time to waste now on what could never be. His bronzed hands, hands that had yet to bring death to another, retrieved the bow and quiver from their stand.
Then Paris, prince of Troy, left his chambers and headed towards the archery range...
TBC...
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- 6
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Rage Regret & Redemption