Title: Soldiers Obey
Fandom: Troy, Movieverse
Disclaimer: The characters used are not owned by me. They are owned by whoever owns it, I'm not going to bother to look who it is, but it’s not me!
Characters: Achilles, Patroclus, Odysseus, Briseis, Hector, Eudorus, Paris
Warnings: They're just the happiest of ...please! What should have happened in the movie and in the mythology and everywhere!
Summary: Achilles has got impeccable timing.
Notes: So, I like to fix things in my stories, as you may all know with my various AUs :). And now I am fixing Troy, the movie. I know, Patroclus was older than Achilles and they were probably lovers. Who cares. In the Movie he's seventeen and they're cousins, so I'm sticking with that. They say that Achilles is caring for Patroclus, so I'm thinking it’s been for a few years and I'm going to say about eight because he's got quite a bit of training in him. So, he's been with Achilles since he was 10 and Achilles is 13 years older than him (he's 30 to Patroclus' 17 in the movie) so he would be 23 at the time. And I'm thinking he would still have been a hell of a fighter even then, because back then things happened faster and legends don't arise in a day or a decade. Not that any of that really matters. Because DAMN I love Garrett Hedlund. Enjoy!
Achilles: I told you how to fight but I never told you why to fight.
Patroclus: I fight for you.
Achilles: Yes, but who will you fight for when I'm gone? Soldiers fight for kings they've never even met. They fight when they're told to fight, they die when they're told to die.
Patroclus: Soldiers obey.
Achilles was peacefully sleeping in his tent. For a moment, he could believe that he was going home. Everything around him was calm and silent. He sighs deeply, opening his eyes and looking towards the flap of the tent. He frowns.
He had left word for his men to pick up camp and start packing the boats. They were heading out, leaving the stupidity of the war behind. Forget the other men, fighting for a loss cause and men who had little value and no honor. Achilles hated fighting for kings.
But, he could not hear the men. It did not sound like they were out there, picking up their things and heading for the boats. If they were to leave at noon, which it felt like it would soon arrive, then there should certainly have been some kind of noise going on.
Achilles stands, starts heading for the outside, the blanket on him sliding from his body. Rising, he looks every bit like the Greek god they claim him to be.
He walks over to the flap, and opens it. He leans out, but what he is seeing is pretty obvious. His men are gone. They have disobeyed him.
Angered now, Achilles moves back into his tent, grabbing his tunic and slipping it on. He moves briskly now, his anger evident in every move. In the bed, the Trojan girl, Briseis, awakens. She turns to watch him, but she keeps quit, watching him for a moment.
'What is it?'
'Silence,' he answers briskly, moving further into his tent to where his armor is.
Behind him, Briseis frowns. Achilles sounds so harsh now, nothing like the man she felt she was falling in love with.
'Where the hell is it!' Achilles yells, coming back into sight.
'Where is what?'
'My armor! Where is it! It's gone!'
She frowns, and begins to rise, holding the blanket around her.
'How can it be gone? Who would take it with your men out there?'
'My men are gone! Worthless degenerates, I ordered them to pack and they have disobeyed!'
'They're gone?' she asks, glancing back to the tent flap.
'Yes woman! Gone! Every last man. I can't hear one out there!'
'Might they not be on the ships? They would never just leave like that!'
'But they have.' His voice is hard and he is clearly madder now, talking this over with her.
Achilles turns towards the flap and starts to head out.
'Where are you going?' she asks, worry in her voice.
'Stay if you wish. I'm finding my men.'
He leaves then, weapon and armor less but nonetheless moving towards the battle grounds. He expects his men will be surprised to see him there, and he will see to whomever it was that dared lead them in his place, but for now, he just wants them back.
The fact that Patroclus is gone as well doesn't escape his attention.
~*~*~*~*~
Hector is fighting strong and fast. Achilles is swift, moving gracefully and every bit as daring as he had heard the Greek was. But he is stifling slightly. It is quite the battle, but not nearly as hard as he figured it would be. For all he had heard, Achilles would have rather just ended his opponent, hating much of the showmanship of battle. But perhaps the Greek had wanted to spread the moment, maybe test him longer. Whatever the case, it was not as if Hector wished to die, or even to kill this man. The whole of the war, he felt, was ridiculous.
He moves quickly, sidestepping the Greeks sword and moving instead to knock the weapon from his hand. It falls to the ground, clanking as it hits the ground. Around them, the soldiers gasp, both sides sensing the unlikely defeat of the earthbound God.
'Achilles!' Hector hears the Greeks shouting. The man is in denial, Hector thinks. But then a few more surprised shouts of 'Achilles!' follow, and somehow he does not think that they are addressing the character that is now in front of the Trojan prince and on his knees. Of course, Achilles would never fall so gracelessly. He should be coming at Hector, the prince thinks, fighting him with his bare hands for he fears no man or weapon.
'Achilles! Achilles!'
'Move!' Hector hears a voice coming from the Greeks, and it sounds like the one he had encountered nights before as the ships landed on the Trojan shore.
He looks down instead to the Greek before him. The fighter that is in front of him is no longer looking at him, but instead back at the men. What kind of seasoned fighter would turn his back, expose his vulnerable neck, to his enemy.
It is then that Prince Hector of Troy knows for certain that this is not the Great Achilles of Greece.
Hector reaches forward with his hand, the surprised shouts of 'Achilles' are growing closer. The impostor in front of him turns back to face him just as Hector had clasped his hands on the helmet. His eyes are startled and he flinches backwards, but Hector is still able to get the armor off of the Greek's head, revealing a young blond in Achilles' stead. A boy much too young to be fighting a Prince.
Just then, the true Achilles steps through the crowd of men. They have parted ways for him, sensing most likely that he is angered. Hector can certainly sense it.
The boy's eyes are wide with fright. He looks back again, a foolish move in a fight, but the fight is over. Hector would not continue on with the battle, it would be pointless. He would never condemn a child to this life, and he certainly is not going to take one so young's life. He takes a few steps back, hoping to show to all that he is not some heartless degenerate who would kill a child.
'Patroclus!' Achilles shouts.
Hector looks up at the Greek now. He's staring at the boy, moving towards him with determination in his steps. Finally, once he is within touching distance to the lad, this Patroclus, he looks up at Hector.
'Fighting a child?' the Greek spits.
Hector tosses the helmet onto the ground, it lands close to the boy's legs and it makes the lad flinch.
'Your armor! Who sends a child to a man's fight? Or does this boy wish to die!' Hector yells back. He is not likely to cower in front of the Greeks, especially not because of this man, this Achilles that they worship behind. He may not be the kind of man who kills a child, but no one could hold that against him. Children so young are not meant for pointless battles of land and love.
Achilles, however, says nothing. Instead, he reaches for the boy's right arm. His hand wraps easily around the youth's arm and it is now that Hector is noticing such differences. Though the boy wears the armor, he does not fill it as one of Achilles built and strength should. He moves quickly, his training noticeable, but still not with the mind of a warrior. No, it should have been far more obvious that this was a child.
Luckily, for him and the boy, they all noticed in time.
'No one sent him,' Achilles said. Hector could tell from the tone and the rather demonstrative motions that this boy meant something to the Greek. The child looked fearful, but not as frightened as he had when he was on the ground facing Hector's sword. 'This is not his battle. And you, Hector of Troy-
Hector sensed the threat that was coming. He knew that the Greek would fulfill whatever he would be stating, but now was not the time. He felt sick at himself. He had almost killed this child. Wars were pointless and endless and mostly useless. They were no reason for someone so young to lose his life over, even if in just a few years time he would no doubt be joining the army regardless.
'This has been a misunderstanding,' Hector interrupts. Achilles doesn't look like he liked being interrupted, but the alternative is much worse. Hector does not feel like talking of futures and deaths at the moment. He wants to return to his wife and his son. He wants the stupidity of the war over, and he certainly doesn't want an enemy of the great Achilles of Greece.
'You don't say, Prince," Achilles says sarcastically.
The boy eyes them both. His arm is held in tight captive in Achilles' hand and his eyes are watering from the pain it is producing him. But he is alive nonetheless, and he was moments from not being such.
'We end here today. Enough for one day.'
Odysseus looks at the exchange. He's surprised to see Patroclus there. He had been fooled. They all had.
'Arms down! Arms down! Back to the beach!' Odysseus calls, watching the trio in the middle of the scene.
Achilles seems to flinch at the Greek Kings words, but he does not oppose them.
'Arms down!' Hector calls out. 'Back to the city!'
Both armies are shaken, but they obey. Slowly, the armies begin to disperse. Hector watches the boy and Achilles for a moment, wondering if the Greek warrior is going to make a move at him, but it appears that the boy is his greater concern at the moment. He can understand that, he is fighting a war for his brother after all.
Hector moves back, grateful that Achilles' weapon is still several feet from them, on the ground. He moves to his horse, mounts it and rides away with his army. He glances back just once, enough to see Achilles leading the boy away with Odysseus besides them.
~*~*~*~*~
Achilles was going to kill his cousin. He could feel the anger so much stronger inside him now. It was not just that the boy had stolen his armor and had impostered as him, it was that he had been so foolish as to go head to head with Prince Hector in battle! Patroclus had heard the same tales that he had! He knew of Hector's strength and record! What made the foolish boy think that a few years training with him was going to be enough to be up against the training of a Prince!
'Cousin?'
'Silence,' Achilles growls, tightening his fingers around his cousin's arm. A strong arm, he had told him often, but not that strong. Not battle ready, and certainly not ready to kill. Or to be killed.
'Achilles!' Eudorus calls out to him.
'Not now!'
'My lord!'
Achilles stopped. He turned abruptly to where his second in command was hiding his helmet and sword.
'We shall speak later, Eudorus.'
Eudorus nods. He holds onto the armor and continues onto the camp, walking slowly and coming behind them.
Once Achilles reaches his tent, he pulls on Patroclus' arm harder and shoves him towards the flap. Patroclus stumbles slightly, but he recovers fast. He glances back at Achilles and rubs at his arm.
'Inside!'
Achilles notices his cousin's flinch, but he doesn't care. The boy was moments away from dying and that is not something that he is willing to take lightly.
Patroclus heads into the tent. Briseis is still there, and he is startled by her presence. Earlier, he had slipped by the two of them, gathered up the armor so that he could put it on and led the army. He had told his cousin that he could not abandon his countrymen and he hoped that Achilles would understand. But someone, he doubted that Achilles would see it as such. He never had before.
Achilles entered the tent behind him. He glances at Briseis and he's surprised to still see her there. He had figured that she would have left by then. There was no one else on the camp. He had practically told her she was free to go. He was glad that she had stayed, but not the moment, he didn't want her there. Not when he had his cousin to deal with.
'Strip,' he growls at the boy.
Patroclus seems a bit fazed. He glances at Briseis and then back to Achilles. He's not used to being naked by women, and certainly not one his cousin had claimed.
'Patroclus!'
He jumps slightly. Then, Patroclus starts to move to where the armor was, moving to strip off the armor as he went. Achilles stands behind him, glaring at his every move.
'What happened?'
'Step outside. Find Eudorus. Tell him I will speak with him in a moment.'
'Achilles?'
'Outside,' he repeats, looking at her. He's trying to be more gently with her. She's strong, but she doesn't deserve him being a complete bastard to her. No, she deserves more. She deserves the Gods.
Spotting his attempt, Briseis nods and then stands from the bed to move beside him and through the flap. She as dressed and will be waiting for him when he is ready.
'What in Hades name where you thinking!?'
Patroclus looks up from where he is unstrapping the breastplate. He looks awfully pitiful and any other time, Achilles would be feeling bad about himself. He had often times before been unnecessarily rough with the boy, but it had all had its purpose, as it would now. There was no easy way to look about what his cousin had done. And in all the years that he had been caring for him and had been training him, Achilles had never thought that the boy would ever pull such a foolish move.
He looks back down again, moving slowly to pull off the breastplate and place it amongst the other armor.
Achilles watches him, and he's not happy. Patroclus moves to get his leg armor off. He can feel his cousin's gaze on him and he knows that Achilles is not happy.
Moving to the bed, Achilles makes his steps harder than necessary. Patroclus is breathing deeply, clearly not looking forward to the next few moments. Finally, as all the armor is back in its place, Patroclus turns to spot his cousin sitting seemingly peaceful on the bed.
'Come here.'
'I can explain.'
Achilles gives his cousin a hard look. He does not seem to want any kind of explanation. And in truth, Patroclus can't explain himself. He wanted to help his countrymen, that's all there is to it. But, Achilles doesn't feel the same way and it is quite obvious of that.
'Come here, cousin.'
Patroclus looks over at the tent flap. They are but feet away from the entrance, and it is not as if the tent was made to keep such sounds, any sounds really, inside. He knows the look that Achilles is giving him. It's not that hard to decipher what is about to happen. Doesn't mean he wants it to happen.
'Cousin.' Achilles sounds calm, but Patroclus knows better. Nevertheless, he moves forwards. Away from the armor that would do no good in protecting him now regardless.
Achilles is patience. He watches Patroclus' mindful debates and knows that it is hard for the young one to brave himself forward. Which is ironic, and moronic, considering the circumstances that he had just found his cousin in. In all the years he had known the youth, he had never thought him to be downright suicidal. But the past was the past and they were not in subject of questioning the paths that had already been laid out. He did, however, believe in being able to manipulate the future if you willed it, and he was going to will Patroclus future away from such foolish acts.
Finally, Patroclus came to stand in front of him. He was fidgeting, his hands twisting at the hem of his tunic. He looked every bit the small boy that he had been when he had come to Achilles care, and not much like the man he was trying so hard to be. A boy in a man's world.
'You disobeyed me, cousin.' Achilles says, calmly, looking up to the boy in front of him. 'You heard me say that we were leaving today, and you led my men to war. Why?'
'They, they need you, cousin.' Patroclus says, looking up slightly before looking away again.
'The men know how to fight. They do not need me, or my men, and they certainly don't need you!'
Patroclus looks up then. He seems shattered by what Achilles has said, but he says nothing in return. Achilles has said time and time before that he is a worthy warrior, good at his training. But clearly, he wants to get a rouse out of him now. And if Achilles has taught him anything, it is not to give into what others expect of you.
'You stole from me, Patroclus. What have you to say about that?'
'No! I wasn't. I was going to bring it back!' Patroclus stammers out, looking hesitantly but straight at Achilles eyes. Surely, Achilles knew that the boy hadn't meant to steal from him, never from him, but the fact was that the more he packed on to this lesson, the more likely the boy was to remember it.
'Bring it back?' Achilles asks, mockingly. 'You planned on fighting, Hector no less, and thought you would just bring back my sword and armor? Just like that?'
'I'm sorry cousin! I -
'Didn't think!' Achilles finishes for him. 'Of course not! You just acted foolishly, got yourself headfirst into a war and tried to beat one of the greatest fighters in the land. But at least you planned on returning the armor!' Achilles leapt up to his feet, yelling. Patroclus steps back, not really cowering but not really standing up for himself. And how could he, when Achilles was right? He was always right.
'You're not supposed to think! That's what I'm here for! That's why there are leaders, least every man out there wants to start thinking that they can win a war on their own, where would we all be then, huh? Dead! And that's where you're heading, Patroclus. Straight to hands of Hades!' Achilles walked towards his cousin with every other words. Towards the end of his lecture, he was directly on him and Patroclus had nowhere else to go.
Achilles gripped his arm again and turned, pulling Patroclus back to the bed. Patroclus went willingly, but he was making little noises in his throat that sounded an awful lot like whimpering. Achilles ignored it, because a little noise now was nothing compared to the lot of noise he expected the boy would be making soon enough.
He sat down, quickly turning the boy and tugging him across his lap. Patroclus braced himself, gripping onto the bed and closing his eyes. He was hoping to keep in silence, accept his punishment as it was. Patroclus had known, going into the tent those hours before, that he would be angering his cousin. It never rose well when Achilles was mad at him, but he had never seriously considered his dying as Achilles had been pointing out. And he certainly didn't want to be in his cousin's bad graces.
So now, all the men would be privy to hear his being beaten.
'Achilles, please.'
'Please what cousin?' Achilles asks, and Patroclus had to look back to see if his cousin was as calm as he sounded. Because for being so calm, he shouldn't be needing to do - this.
'The men, they're right outside!'
'I know that already. What about it?'
'They'll hear!' His voice cracks a little as he speaks, and he hates that he's already about to fall to pieces. He can't handle this. And what will they think of him once they hear his cousin punishing him like a child? He's in war! He's not a child!
'I imagine that they will, cousin. And as well they should. Would you rather they think that for you being my blood you can get away with such disobedience? Or would you rather just suffer a moment's humiliation but life to tell the tale? Because, cousin, I fear that such retaliation is usually met with death. Would you rather I did that then?'
Patroclus could feel the tears coming down his face. He shakes his head no and turns back to look forward, facing away from the flap opening and instead having to see the armor that had led him to all this trouble.
Achilles raised his hand and brought it down, hard. He was clearly not using all his strength, for he knew that he wouldn't need it for this. Patroclus never took long to break, but this was going to be much worse than the times he had had to do the same punishment over the years over his lessons and his conduct towards others at times.
The tunic, which was not meant for such purposes, was providing little comfort to the youth. In fact, he was thinking that there was no resistance from the material at all. And that was just from one of his cousin's hits. He was thinking that he was not going to be lasting all that long.
That one hit was quickly followed by another and then another. The sounds cracking against the otherwise silent tent. Outside, there were brisk movements from the comings and goings of the men in the camp, but there was no leaving what was happening in the tent.
Again, Achilles struck out. His hits landing squarely on mark. It was unfair, he was so strong and there was no chance for Patroclus to defend himself.
Achilles didn't speak, there wasn't much that he wanted to say. All that he wanted was to impress upon his cousin the severity of his actions, and of course the consequences of crossing with him.
Patroclus' eyes clench tighter together. He's trying to will his tears not to fall. He's going to be seen as such a child after such treatment, he doesn't need to add to it by demonstrating his lack of emotional control as well. He needed to be stronger. He needed to be smarter than this. He shouldn't need to be back over Achilles' knees to learn his lesson.
Achilles was very thorough in his punishing Patroclus. Which just so figured, since he was pretty thorough in all things that he did. Usually, Patroclus wouldn't complain, but this was once instant that he was wishing that his cousin was more lenient in things. Especially in matters pertaining to him.
The tenth smack resounds in the tent and Patroclus can't hold it together anymore.
'Cousin! Please!' he yelps out, starting to kick slightly from the next impact.
Achilles says nothing. He just lands another smack, right where his last one landed. He's starting back up again, from the back of Patroclus' thighs, hitting places that already hurt like mad.
'Cousin!'
'Lie still Patroclus,' Achilles says. He sounds so calm. Patroclus, face now with streaming tears, looks over his shoulder, shaking his head some as another smack lands to get his long blond hair off of his face. Spotting Achilles, he notes that his cousin is not the least bit in a mood at all. He seems calm, but determined. Patroclus isn't comforted from this.
'But- Cou-sin! Achilles, please!'
'Your talking isn't going to help you any, cousin. And neither are your movements. Lie still.' Achilles states, landing another smack, followed faster this time by another smack, overlapping the last.
Patroclus cries out. He was doing so well at keeping it mostly to just them. Sure, the smacks were loud in his ears and they must be easily heard in the camp outside, but he had tried to keep his own voice quiet. Now, he was easily crying out, because there is no way that he can hold out against the pain when his cousin is as strong as he is.
He lost count of how many times Achilles brought his hand down. There was no telling how long they had been there for either. He felt like it had been hours. All he could hear were the continued smacks and his own loud response to them and all he could see was his cousins armor and Achilles' leg supporting his chest if he happened to look down to the ground. But when he did look down to the ground, his tears would fall and they were making a slightly puddle there. He didn't want to see that, so he would close his eyes and then look up slightly, and of course resume his squirming once Achilles landed yet another hit.
'Tell me, cousin,' Achilles says, stopping now for a moment. And they both know it will only be for a moment. 'Have you seen your wrongs in this day?'
Patroclus is quick to nod. He knew as he was getting everything together, he knew as he was just thinking the thoughts that led to his gathering everything of Achilles, that he shouldn't be doing it. But he really did want to fight, and he really did feel like Achilles was needed in this war. Not many men out there could measure up to his skills and strength. And far less would be willing to lead with it.
'Tell me, cousin,' Achilles repeats, his hand dropping hard again against the very center of Patroclus' inflamed backside.
'Ah! I have, Achilles!'
Achilles nods, but Patroclus can't see him. He raises his hand again, dropping it with a resounding smack.
'Ah! Pl-ease Cou-sin! PL-ease!' He's crying now, his body betraying his wishes to remain still and his mouth of setting his desired silence. Not much difference than when he was a mere ten years old and had tried to walk back home in hopes of maybe finding his parents, since he had convinced himself that he had misplaced them. But the Myrmidons had not taken long to see that he was missing and much sooner than Patroclus would have liked, he was returned to the palace.
'Almost, Patroclus,' the Greek says.
Patroclus knows that those words are to do him no comfort. Almost is not an ending. Almost isn't close to an ending.
He is even further certain of this when the hem of his tunic, the very same that provided no protection to him moments earlier, is moved aside and raised to his back. He closes his eyes, ignoring that now he is far more barren than he's comfortable with. Not that he's not comfortable nude, for that would be strange, but he would much rather be clothed at a moment like this than to not have the slight comfort of the tunic on his backside.
Achilles, nonetheless, perhaps even oblivious to his young cousins’ anguish, raises his hand just like he has previously done, and brings it back down. It's slightly more force than he was using before, but he doesn't allow himself a moment to think on this or for his cousin to notice as he again raises his hand and drops it in quick succession followed by a few more movements in similar patterns. In total, when he decides to stop, he has given his cousin an additional dozen than the numerous he had already applied. And from what he is seeing, the feeling and sight of it will last the young Greek a long time.
Patroclus weeps now. He's done yelling and he's no longer pleading. He feels Achilles move him, and soon he is standing again. His tunic falls back into place, and now Patroclus wishes that it weren't where it was since where it is is causing him discomfort. But he's not going to say that, least his cousin takes him seriously and makes him loose the tunic and then he would have nothing to barrier the men from his crimson butt cheeks.
Achilles tries to make his cousin look at him, but Patroclus is only looking to the ground. He sighs.
'Patroclus. Look at me, cousin.'
Patroclus glances up. His eyes are glistening with tears and his face mares of the pain he was put through. He doesn't want to look at his cousin now.
'You acted brashly, and that is all. I cannot have you out and fighting without a care, cousin. It's not meant to be that way.'
'Yes cousin,' Patroclus answers, blinking his tears out of his eyes some. He doesn't sound that convinced.
'Patroclus,' Achilles sighs, and you can't blame it. It's just now noon and it's been a particularly hard day.
'Achilles, I am sorry. Please, forgive me cousin. It wasn't my place to that your armor, and it wasn't my battle to fight.'
'No, it wasn't,' Achilles agrees. He stands now, wishing that he had not gotten up earlier. But, he does realize that his presence in the last battle was more valued then in all his previous battles. Because for his to lose his cousin, his only family left really, was just an unthinkable disaster.
Achilles pulls the young Greek towards him. He embraces Patroclus, taking great measures to not think about how close it had all been. This war was costing him much more than he had cared to bargain for. His mother had warned him of his own demise in this war, but she had nothing of Patroclus' when he had mentioned his cousin to her. What in all that meant, Achilles did not know, but he certainly felt like he had saved himself a much longer displeasure and remorse and anguish than what a war would usually or ever lead him to.
Patroclus responds quickly enough to the embrace. Achilles is a hard man, a fierce leader and thorough warrior, but he is still his cousin. They are blood and apart from not being real brothers, he has always felt that Achilles would do him no harm. He may be one of the few people in all of the world to say that in deed.
'Such foolish choices, cousin. Can't imagine wherever you came up with such an idea. But, stray that path the next time,' Achilles says sternly. He pulls back slightly and glances hard at his cousin. 'Thank the Gods that I arrived in time, Patroclus, for it did not seem to me like your chosen path was leading you to much glory.'
Patroclus nods. He had been foolish, he knew this now. He had known this before.
Achilles smiles then. Many believe that the Greek was conning and sinister, but Patroclus knew better. Certainly his cousin could play all those roles, but he was still essentially the same person that had taken him in at just a mere 10 years of age, and he had no real reason to do such a thing. Patroclus was going to be sent to work with the priests, an honorable enough position and not one that his own mother would have disliked. But Achilles had chosen to take him in instead.
'Alright then cousin,' Achilles says, pulling the seventeen year old to him again. He holds him tightly for a moment, Patroclus again returning the measure, and then releases him altogether. 'You have been punished and that is that. Now, I need to speak with Eudorus. You can rest now.'
'Yes cousin,' Patroclus says. Resting sounds like a very good idea now, especially after the feat that is battling a Trojan like Hector. He turns then, looking at the bed. Sleep sounds like a good enough measure, and he is not willing to leave the tent just yet, perhaps waiting for the better privacy of the night for when he does brave such a move, so he's just going to be taking Achilles' bed for today. Of course, he's certain that Achilles won't allow him to stay hidden for long, but until then he would try to recover for his punishment in peace.
Achilles watches Patroclus, a smile still on his face. He's been rather harsh to the youth, but it matters not. In the grand scheme of things, he might not have done such a big thing, but he felt justified at his actions and was not going to apologize ever for them. He did, however, have to deal with his men, and see what in all was it that happened and maybe strategize on what would be to happen.
He moved to his armor now, getting it back onto his person. It feels slightly strange for a moment. To know that it had been in a battle that Achilles himself had not been privy to. It was a strange sensation that did not last very long.
Patroclus was starting to settle into the bed by the time that Achilles had all the armor on. He was blinking back his sleep, but he was going to wait until Achilles left to allow himself that comfort. Not that he was fearful of his cousin, it was just that, considering the previous situation, he wanted to cover all bases for the time being.
'Are you asleep yet?' Achilles asks, grabbing his sword and getting it into its sheath. Not he felt whole again, and not naked and vulnerable like he had the last time he had left his tent.
'No,' Patroclus replies with a yawn.
Achilles walks over to the edge of the bed and squats down to get in Patroclus' line of sight. He reaches his hand over to touch at the blond hair and rests his hand at the back of his cousin's neck.
'Get some rest. And no more battles for you.' Patroclus nods, blinking slowly at him. Achilles leans forward, kissing at Patroclus' forehead and getting to his feet. 'Rest now cousin,' he repeats, placing his hand on top the young boy's head.
~*~*~*~*~
Briseis walks slowly through the dark night. She can't believe what she is doing, but it really seems like the best way to end the war. Once and for all. Not everyone would be coming out of it victorious, but she realized that much would be happening, and soon.
She glances back, looking at the Greek camp sites that have lined the beaches. They are a distance from her, but she can still clearly recall which one was his. Briseis had never felt such a - a passion as she had with that man, but that was not to be. She had had her moment of love, but she was not for him.
Briseis turns back to the path, her guide is much swifter that her, and it takes her a moment before she spots the lad. He's not much older than Achilles' cousin, but still young for a war. She has to continue on, for him and for the others that need not have to fight.
Besides, she's going home now. What else is she supposed to want?
~*~*~*~*~
Hector is startled. Perhaps that is an understatement.
He had thought his cousin, Briseis to be dead. She had been in the temple that first day that they Greeks had touched Troy and they had not heard or seen of her since.
Seeing her again, seeing her whole and well again, did him well.
Her proposal however, seemed far too fictitious for his liking.
'Are you certain of this, little swan?' he asks her, looking at the proposal in his hands.
'I was there,' she insists. 'When they were writing it up, and when they were discussing it, I was there.'
'I don't understand, cousin. Why would they want this? Why would they release you? And for this?'
'Are you not happy to see me?' she teases. She's smiling softly at him, but it’s no longer an innocent smile or look that she gives him. He can't blame her, for he knows not what they have done.
'Of course I am! Don't be foolish!'
'Well, what I am telling you is what I was told.'
'They want to end the war?' Hector asks, still not believing it. Could it be that simple, just as they said?
'Everyone loses and no one really wins, Hector. But that is the case of all wars, is it not?'
He looks over at her. He knew what he was reading, but it was coming from her. The most innocent and sweetest of his family. Even more so than his foolish little brother, who clearly knew nothing about the real world or much else around him.
'Yes, there is no real winner in a war.'
'Fewer men will die out of this plan than any we or they can devise. Cousin, I can't return over there with your reply. By noon tomorrow, if it is to be done, then it must be done. If it hasn't been done, then they will assume that you have declined and carry on with the war. And for what? For what Hector?'
He sighs, looking down again at the note in his hand. She sounds so determined, Briseis. So unlike the girl that they had come back to.
'It's a good plan. One I would not have thought of, that's for certain.'
'And it will end the war.'
'Yes, it will. But, I can't say that everyone will see to such benefits.'
Talk with Uncle Priam. Make this happen, cousin. I beg you.'
Hector smiled at her. He stood from his chair and approached her. She stood too, moving towards him and hugging him tightly.
'Don't beg me, cousin. But I will do what I can. Do you believe me?'
'Why should I not?'
He smiled again, so grateful to have her home.
'For Scamandrius cousin. For your son and all the sons of Troy.'
'Yes, for the sons of Troy, and Greece. Good night cousin, I have work to do.'
~*~*~*~*~
Noon the next morning, King Agamemnon was found dead in his tent. A short list of his men too were dead, having tired to defend their king until the end.
The war for Troy was over.
Hours later, as the great Sun began to lower into slumber for the day, Helen of Troy was no more. King Menelaus stood happily, claiming to all that his beautiful Queen Helen of Sparta knew of no greater being then he. All knew that he was full of it, but things were what they were.
And the war for the Prince of Troy was over.
Hector held his baby son in his arms as he heard report of the last of the Greek ships leaving the Trojan shores. Scamandrius bounced happily in his father's lap, oblivious to the turmoil that his home had just undergone.
Prince Hector sat recluse in his room. He was alive, his brother was alive, and Troy remained in their fair and rightful hands. There was nothing else he could do. Hector had come up with a great plan, though he knew not of how. He had at first insisted that the council, that his father, reconsider. But, in the end, it was for the greatest good.
Enough men had died in battle. And not even Paris, Prince of Hearts, could deny his countrymen the gift of life. Certainly not for such a misconception that is love.
THE END.