Anguish

Ara@kixxster.org

Rating:  R

Summary:  Paris grieves

Warnings:  Incest, suggested underage relations - non-explicit.  Character death—canon. 

Permission to archive:  Viggorously, CIB, Mirrormere, Aniron All others-please ask

 

Paris could no longer breathe.  It was as if the world stopped and was void of sound or movement, sucking him into a void of darkness.  His vision narrowed until he could see nothing but the still form of his brother, bleeding and broken, lying just outside the city walls.

Hector was hurt.

Achilles had called him forth and fought him with a ferociousness and single-mindedness never before seen by Paris’ eyes.  And now Hector lay silent and still in the dirt, waiting for Paris to come to him.

Paris knew he had to get to his brother no matter what the cost.

He gasped and stumbled from the dais, falling over his own feet and tripping on his indigo blue robe as he ran down the steps towards the front gate.  Hector is out there, waiting on me.  He’s hurt.  I have to get to him.  Pushing Trojan warriors away from him as he forced his way toward the entrance, he yelled and raved, paying no mind to the tears that ran down his face.  He refused to listen to the tiny voice of reason that told him his brother was dead as he rushed forward, intent on reaching his fallen hero.

“Prince Paris!” A multitude of voices called to him but he paid them no heed.  His brother was wounded and needed him.  That was all that mattered.

”Paris!”

Paris heard his father call to him, and for the first time in his life, paid him no heed.  Hector needs me, he thought.  Father must understand.

“Prince Paris,” A Trojan guard called, stopping him from reaching the gate, “You cannot go out there.  Prince Hector is dead.  I saw Achilles take him with my own eyes.  He lives no more.”

“He’s there!  He’s waiting for me to help him!  He’s out there!  Let me pass!!”  Paris screamed and flailed against his father’s guards.  Tears fell and still he fought to reach his brother.

“Paris,” Priam, Paris’ father and King of Troy called from the palace stairs. “Your brother was taken from us.  You cannot help him now.”  He moved down the final stairs and over to where his remaining son stood pleading with the city guards.

Paris turned to face his father.  “He’s there!  He waits for me!  Let me go to him, Father.  Please…” Paris begged with tears in his eyes.  “Please.”

“You can no longer help him, my son,” Priam said softly as he attempted to pull his youngest into a comforting embrace.

“NO!” Paris yelled and broke free from the people who surrounded him.  “Let me go to him… Please!”  He twisted away from his father and rushed again toward the city gate.  “Hector!  I’m coming!!”

Priam nodded his consent and the guards opened the gate far enough so that the one remaining Trojan prince could escape the walls of the city. He watched with tears in his eyes as his remaining son plunged through the barely open walls in the mistaken belief that his brother awaited him.  Closing his eyes to the pain, he allowed his head to fall to his chest, not acknowledging the comforting hand of Helen against his shoulder.

Paris tore through the gate, his eyes darting around him madly for his brother, skidding to a stop in the dirt as he realized his brother was gone.  His chest

heaved and his eyes filled with tears as he looked upon the evidence left in the dirt by the lifeless form of his brother’s body.  He then saw the trail where it was dragged maliciously behind Achilles chariot.  He sank to his knees and cried his loss to the gods above, handfuls of bloody sand sifting though his fingers to scatter on the wind.

“HECTOR!”

His arms flailed against his clothing, tears falling freely in his anguish as he pulled at the pain in his chest.  “Hector… My brother!  Noooo….”

Helen stood transfixed as she watched her lover pouring out his grief in the dirt.  She longed to go to him, but Priam held her back.  “Leave him be, Helen.”

“But he—“

“He and his brother were very close.  They loved each other very much.  Let him have his grief, as we shall have ours.  I need to go to Hector’s wife and son now.  Just leave him be.  He will return to us when he is ready.  That’s when he will need you most.”  He offered her a sad smile and straightened with a strength borne of loss and experience and moved back to where Hector’s grieving widow and babe waited for his counsel.

Helen nodded and turned again to watch Paris wailing his pain out to the gods.  “I’ll be here waiting,” she whispered sadly knowing no one would hear her.

~~~~~~

It was long past nightfall when Paris returned through the gates, his face streaked with dirt from the free flowing of his tears.  Helen gathered him against her and soothed the dark curls from his forehead.  “Paris?”

“I’m tired, Helen.  Please… just… I need to be alone.  I am sorry.”

“Just let me see to—“

“Alone means alone, Helen.  I… I am very sorry, I do not mean to be cross with you, but I need to be alone with my grief tonight.”  He turned to her then and tried to smile for her benefit.  “I will come to you when I am better company.  Just know this, it is not you.  It is nothing you have done.  This is about me. 

And… my brother.”

She nodded and offered him a sad smile.  “It hurts me to see you so.”  Paris could only nod as he pressed a tired kiss to her forehead and turned away, his shoulders slumping in misery and defeat.

Trudging tiredly across the city street, he felt the weight of more years that he had lived settle upon his shoulders.  Nothing was as it should have been. His brother should be walking beside him, smiling and teasing him as he’d often done.  They should have been taking joy in the presence of one another.

But that would happen no more.

Paris only wanted to escape.  Escape all of it--his cowardice, his conquest of Helen, his failure to his father and country, and mostly--his failure to his brother.  He wanted to escape his shame in bringing all of this upon them for the wont of a woman. 

When in truth, all he ever wanted was his brother.

Heading to the only place he knew true solitude, he moved into the palace and down the long shadowed corridor in the southern wing of the palace and directly into the room he and his brother had shared in their childhood and then again as adults seeking solace in each others arms.  So many things had been learned in this room—so many first steps.

Paris was told he’d taken his first steps to the urging of his older brother, his short chubby legs running headlong into his brother’s loving arms.  Of course that was before his first memory, but Hector had loved telling him the story as they lay sated in each other’s arms.

Hector had told him he’d lost his heart to him the first moment he’d laid eyes on him as his tiny body had been placed in his arms.  And Paris knew that his brother’s embrace was the one place where he truly had belonged.

Other firsts were learned in their room as well; how to read, how to write, how to deal with dignitaries and how to conduct himself according to his station.  But more importantly, it was where he first learned how to love.

Even though it was acceptable for older men to take younger ones to their beds and teach them of love, it was frowned upon if the two men were brothers, and so they’d had to hide what they were to one another from the prying eyes of others.

Paris hated hiding but Hector had always soothed his anger and tempered his emotional outbursts.  Even before they had become lovers, Paris had always acquiesced to Hector, knowing instinctively that everything his older brother did was borne of love.

Smiling sadly through his tears, Paris remembered the arguments they’d engaged in before his coming of age.  He’d wanted his brother as soon as he’d understood what it was to want, but Hector had remained adamant, refusing to bed him.  It had taken Paris many, many months to convince Hector he was old enough to understand what it meant to give himself over to his brother and that he was ready and more than willing.

“I’ll not take you like some pleasure slave, Paris,” Hector had grumbled, turning his back to his younger brother.

“But what if that is what I want, my brother,” Paris taunted, sliding closer and throwing his arms around his brother’s shoulders from behind.  “What if I wish for you to take me as one of your conquests?”

“You’re not a conquest,” Hector stormed, “you’re my brother.”

“Then do you not want me?” Paris asked, suddenly unsure.

“Oh, I want you,” Hector admitted tiredly, “and therein lies the problem.  Ours would be a forbidden love, my sweet brother.  And I’d not have that shame brought upon your beautiful head.”

“But our father is the king,” Paris reminded.  “Surely he’d not let us burn.”

“I do not think it would be his wish, but he *is* the king and has a duty to uphold the laws of our land.”

“But he loves us.  And I love you,” Paris spoke quietly.  “I cannot see how any love is wrong.  ‘Tis a gift from the Gods.  And you’ve told me that the day I was born that the Gods shined down upon you.  Can you not take what the gods have given to you for your pleasure?”

Hector’s nostrils flared and he moved swiftly to embrace his brother.  “If I should take it, then I should never let it go.”

“That’s all I’ve even wanted, my brother,” Paris admitted as he laid his head against his brother’s broad shoulder, “To be wanted… to be desired by you.”

Hector turned and faced him.  “And love?  What of love,” He whispered, his eyes closing in bliss as he tighten his hold, inhaling the fragrance of Paris’ curls.  “Do you wish my love as well?”

“I cannot wish for something I already have,” Paris murmured, his lips pressing against the strong chords of his brother’s neck.

“You truly are my precious gift, brother,” Hector sighed, sweeping his brother up and into his arms.  “Would the Gods give you to me to only snatch you away later?  Or will I pass before my time for the gift of loving you?  Whatever the price, I pay it gladly.  For I find I can no longer deny myself the pleasure of your love.  Nor deny you what you so fervently desire.”

They’d lain together that day for the first time--two years before he would be considered adult.  And until Hector had taken a wife to pass on the line, they’d lain together in each other’s arms every night, sharing their love.  And even after his brother’s marriage to Andromache, as many nights and stolen moments as they could find to be together.

Paris smiled as he remembered the feelings of safety and love he’d felt in those big strong arms.  He sank tiredly to the bed and covered his face with his hands as he wept.  “Oh Hector,” he whispered raggedly.  “I love you so.  I need you so.”

Ragged sobs tore from his lips as he curled up on the bed, clutching his brother’s pillow to his cheek.  It still smells of him, he thought tiredly as his sobs grew in their intensity.  He felt as if his heart were breaking once more. 

“I cannot face a world without you in it,” he cried.  “I need you so, my love.”  He longed for the arms he knew so well to gather him in a tight embrace and soothe away the hurt.  He hugged his arms tightly against his chest as some small measure of comfort.

He did not have the energy to move when he heard someone enter the room, his eyes nearly swollen shut from his tears.  “Go away.  Please.  Leave me to my sorrow.”

“Paris,” Priam soothed as he bent to gather his younger son in his arms.  “I know you miss him, as do I.”   Paris sobbed brokenly and pressed closer against his father as he did as a small child.  “Hush dear boy.  He would not want you to grieve for him so.”

“Father, I… we…”

“I know dear son,” Priam whispered, petting his son’s curls.  “I always knew what you were to one another.”

Paris stiffened in his father’s arms and tried to pull away.  He can’t know.  He can’t think badly of Hector.  He can’t… He gasped and felt his breath hitch with fear.

“I knew from the moment your loving began.  From the moment I placed you in his arms, I knew what you would become to one another.”  Priam sighed and did not allow his youngest to withdraw.  “I knew you wanted him in such a way and I knew he wanted you as well.  Probably before the either of you did,” he smiled tiredly.  “I heard the arguments he gave against it and I heard your pleas and reasoning.  I’m king after all and I know things,” he tried teasing.  “He loved you, Paris.  With everything he was and wanted to be, he loved you.”

Paris sobbed louder and clutched at his father’s robes.  “I loved him, Father.  I loved him with all that I am.”

“And what of Helen?”

Paris stiffened and drew back.  “I love her.  I do.  Like I’ve loved no other woman.  But Hector… my heart belongs…” his voice cracked, “belonged to him.”

Priam smiled sadly and pulled Paris close again, pressing his lips to the top of his son’s head.  “I loved him too, my son.  That is why we must find a way to bring him home.  Will you help me bring your brother home again?”

Nodding his agreement, Paris swiped at his red-rimmed eyes and spoke, “What would you have me do, Father?”

~~~~~~~~

Paris had accompanied his father to the tunnels, his bow and quiver at the ready.  They’d passed undetected beneath the palace and stole silently into the night, when Priam laid a hand against his son’s arm.

“Stay here,” he whispered.

“You cannot go there alone, father.  They will kill you,” Paris hissed.

“And I cannot risk losing my last surviving son,” He shook Paris’ arm forcing him to feel his resolve.  “I must do this alone.  Wait for me here.  I will return to you shortly and I’ll bring your brother back with me.  This I promise.”

“But father…  we’ve seen they have no morals, no decency,” Paris reminded.  “Troy cannot afford to lose its king.  Let me go in your stead.”

“No,” Priam told him.  “This is a task only I can undertake, my son.  I will appeal to Achilles humanity.  Mayhap he will know my pain and allow me this one small comfort.”  He leaned in close and pressed his lips to his son’s forehead.  “Should I not return, you will lead our people.  You will make a fine king, of this I have no doubt.”  He searched Paris’ eyes for understanding and added, “Do not doubt yourself, Paris.  We all learn from our mistakes.”

“But—“

“No more, son,” Priam straightened and pulled the hood up over his head to hide his true identity.  “I doubt not your abilities or the truths in your heart.  For that is what makes you who you are—a Prince of Troy and its future King.  But perhaps… not too soon,” Priam said with a wry smile.  “I do have plans to return to you.”

Paris nodded and squared his shoulders.  “I shall be waiting, Father.  For…” he hesitated, “for the both of you to return to me.”

Priam nodded and disappeared into the night as Paris melted back into the shadows.  “Soon you’ll be back with those who love you, brother.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It had been the hour just before dawn when Paris’ father had returned to him with Hector and Briseis.  His bow lowered and he gathered his cousin into his arms.  “We feared we had lost you, Bri.  I thought to never see you again.”

“Oh Paris…. I’m so sorry.  I begged Achilles not to fight him.  But he was as a man possessed.  I could show him no reason,” she rambled, clutching him as tightly as he was her.  “I cannot believe he is gone.”  She sobbed against his chest, her arms clinging tightly to his neck.

“At least you are back and safe with us.  Did they… did he hurt you?” Paris asked quietly, drawing back to peer into her eyes.

“I… no, cousin,” she told him.  “I… he did not hurt me.”

Paris nodded and drew away, the tugging at his heart urging him toward the cloth-covered body of his brother.  “Hector…” He whispered tightly.

“Let us leave this place,” Priam urged.  “We have tarried here long enough.”

It was a sad, silent group that made its way back into the palace as the first rays of sunlight crept over the distant horizon.

~~~~~~~~

Hector’s bruised and beaten body lay before him on the sacrificial stone, bowls of water and herbs at the ready for the rituals of death. Paris trembled.  He’d ordered everyone from the room, even asking his father for the right and privileged to wash his brother’s body and prepare him for his final journey.

Priam had relented finally, seeing the utter sadness in his son’s dark eyes.  “Are you sure, Paris?”

“I… I must do this for him.  Because of… for what we were to one another.”

Priam nodded and ordered the room sealed until the sunset the next day.  As he began to move away, he grasped his son’s shoulder and brought him close for reassurance.  “Courage, sweet Paris.  Remember how much he loved you.  Show him the respect he deserves as only you can.  I will see you at sunset on the morrow.”

Paris nodded and stepped away.  “I will see it done, Father.  For Hector is our greatest hero and was loved by all.  And…” his voice broke before he could continue, but he squared his shoulders and spoke again.  “And I loved him with all my heart and could do no less than the best for him.”

He watched as his father left the chamber, listening, as the guards were set outside the door.  Turning then, he walked to where his brother’s body lay wrapped in dark blue cloth.

Carefully peeling the corners away, Paris gasped when he laid eyes on his brother’s body for the first time.  “Oh love… what he did to you…” A lone tear escaped the corner of his eye and he wiped it away roughly. 

Wringing out a gauzy cloth, Paris began gently cleaning the dirt and blood from his bother’s face, feeling a sense of peace when he could once again recognize the beloved face.  From there, he washed Hector’s long curls and continued on from there, cleansing each precious inch of his brother’s body and anointing it with sacred burial herbs.

Time seemed to stop as he lovingly bathed and anointed his brother’s body, the hours passing in a single blur.  Nothing existed for Paris but this last task he performed for his brother—his love.

Bitter tears of loss fell unchecked down his cheeks and onto the beloved body before him.  Paris spoke again as he had been doing from the beginning.  “I love you, brother.  I miss you so and long to feel your arms about me one last time.  I don’t know how I shall survive without you, but I promise you, your death will not go unavenged.  I shall make you proud of me yet, brother.  I will stand strong for Troy.  I shall not run ever again.  I will be the man you wanted me to be.  I promise I will make you proud of me yet.”

“He was always proud of you, Paris,” Priam said as he walked into the room, his arms encircling his son’s shoulders.  “’Tis sunset,” He said quietly.  “Is the task complete?”

“Except for this,” Paris whispered before bending down to place a tender kiss against his lover’s lips.  “I shall always love you, my brother.  My prince.  My love.”

End