No One But You

Chapter Three : The Pain I Feel Inside

I try not to think about that pain I feel inside,

Did you know you used to be my hero?'

Simple Plan, 'Perfect'

Paris stood over his brother's body, now cleaned and princely once more. And yet it was not grief he felt for Hector, instead, rage coursed through his veins. Rage for Hector's killer, but also rage for the whole of Greece. Greece had taken his brother from him, had made his cousin a broken woman, had killed so many of his kinsmen. And, Paris swore, by the Gods he would make Greece pay, if it cost him everything he held dear.

He heard a soft step behind him, but did not move, and moments later two slender while arms snaked around his waist, and a golden head rested on his shoulder.

"He knew the risks he was taking," Helen said softly to her lover, her voice full of pain for Paris' grief.

Paris said nothing, but his hands moved up to cover hers, and she knew her pathetic attempt at comfort had been appreciated. They stood there, silent and unmoving, for some time, both with their own thoughts, and yet seeking reassurance in the warmth of the other's body. Finally, Helen spoke once more. "King Priam wishes to see you," she told him.

Paris showed no signs of having heard for a minute, but then Helen felt, rather than heard, him sigh, and his shoulders straightened as he turned to face her. He kissed her briefly on the forehead, and closed his eyes. It was moments like these, he thought, that he knew no matter how the war went, he would do it all a thousand times over for her.

"I'll see you back in my chambers," he told her, pulling away.

Helen nodded, her eyes, full of concern, searching his face for some clue as to what was going through his mind. But Paris, usually so extravagant in his emotions, had learnt to hide them in the last few days. He was Troy's Prince now, and it would not do for the Trojans to see weakness in the eyes of their Prince.

"You called for me father?" Paris asked, standing in the doorway to the great hall. Priam was in front of the huge statue of the God, but he was not praying, instead, he was just looking at it, a sad expression on his face.

"Yes," he answered when he heard Paris' voice, turning around. "I wanted to talk to you about Briseis."

Paris blinked, slightly surprised. He had not expected his uncle to ask him for counsel in such matters, but, then again, he had taken Hector's place, and he knew that the old King relied on Hector heavily for any advice.

"What about her?" he asked, moving further into the room.

"She refuses to return to the temple," Priam told his son.

"You would allow her to?" Paris asked, shocked that his father would bend the rules, and let a woman no longer a virgin serve as a priestess.

"She...she has suffered greatly. I thought it would make it easier for her to go back to serving the Gods, that they could give her the comfort that I fear I cannot."

"You cannot make her," Paris reasoned.

"I know," Priam said, and in that moment he looked very old. "I do not know what she was forced to endure in the Greek camp, but...Paris I must tell you, I found her in Achilles' tent."

Paris' reaction was immediate. A hissed curse escaped his lips, and his hands clenched so tightly by his sides that his knuckles went white.

"I wanted to make sure that you make him pay for what he has done, both for Hector's sake and Briseis'. I am an old man, or else I would challenge him myself. Avenge the death of Hector and the rape of Briseis, my son."