"Owning Odysseus"
Part 3
by Beryll
Two weeks later Hector stood on the great walls of Troy, watching the setting of the sun. The sea was tinted golden red where the orb of the sun touched it, looking like it was melting into the water.
The rebuilding of the walls was progressing well. All around Hector, work was coming to an end for the day, craftsmen heading homeward, guards gathering slaves to lock them up for the night. Quite a few of the slaves now hauling blocks of stone had been Greek soldiers mere weeks ago. It struck Hector as a kind of justice that they now helped repair the damage they had wrought on Troy.
With a soft sigh, he leaned his elbows on the wall, cupping his chin in his hands.
His thoughts inevitably went back to the conversation he had had with Andromache only a few minutes ago. They had taken a stroll on the walls together to enjoy the peace and the view.
Hector hadn't even noticed that he had been quiet. That he had paid more attention to the work on the walls then to the sunset, or more precisely to the workers. Watching the Greek slaves had made him think of his own slave.
And his growing interest. To have Odysseus right in front of his nose day in day out did not exactly help to cool the desire that had stirred in him that first day. He did not want to give in to it as some part of him maintained that it would be dishonorable to treat another warrior like a common whore.
That his friends seemed to expect he was doing exactly that didn't help either. He had stared at his friends in open-mouthed consternation when Lysander asked him if Odysseus truly was as skilled with his tongue as it was said. They had all laughed at that and been thoroughly surprised when they realized Hector had not 'tried the Greek', as they put it.
He had informed them politely that he was quite happy without a bed slave.
He had even managed not to hit any of them when they innocently inquired if they could then borrow the former king for some fun.
He should have known that even if nobody else would notice, there was one person who would pick up on his tension.
'Did you really think you could watch him day after day with your beautiful eyes full of sad longing, without me noticing', Andromache had asked only a few minutes ago, 'I know that look, love, it's the same look you had for me when you were too shy to woe me.'
Then she had looked at him sternly. 'Do something about it.' she had ordered him. 'I will not have you moping any longer. Either bed him or sell him. That's the options I will allow you.'
So now, he would have to do something about this situation before Andromache took it upon herself to act. Just like she had done when they had first met and it had in the end been Andromache who dragged proud, courageous - and terribly shy -Hector to a quiet corner to kiss him senseless.
With a sigh, Hector turned away from the spectacle of the setting sun to make his way back to his quarters and to the problem waiting there.
-
Just as he had expected, Andromache had not come back yet. She was making sure Hector would have the time to sort matters out with Odysseus.
Hector found the Greek sitting on the balcony overlooking the lush gardens of the palace, carving spoons from pieces of wood. His hands moved quickly and surely with an efficiency that clearly showed that he had done so countless times before.
Just like they did with most simply household chores. Andromache had commented more than once how skilled and useful their slave was when it came to craftsmanship.
Thankful for any sort of opening to a conversation, Hector leaned against the railing of the balcony, watching Odysseus’ hands move.
"For a king and warrior you are really good at this." he commented.
The Greek looked up at him with a smile. "A reluctant warrior and king of shepherds, prince." he replied, brushing wooden chips from his knees. "Whoever can love politics or war when he could instead spend his time building a home and tending his flock? The ambitions of kings are what have brought me here, I bear no love for kings or power." The last words were delivered with quiet loathing.
Hector nodded. He had ever been a warrior and he would one day be king of Troy. That was his life. But a quiet evening with Andromache and his son were the points making that life worthwhile.
With a feeling of relief he realized that a good part of what drew him to Odysseus were their like views on life, not just a vague sense of lust. Maybe that knowledge would help him stop feeling like he would be using the other man for his pleasure. Now he just had to somehow get that across to the Greek, along with the fact that he was interested at all.
"There is something I want to talk to you about." he said, noting with slight disgust how much of the insecurity he felt showed through in his voice.
Odysseus quirked an eyebrow curiously but didn't say anything. Only his green eyes showed some anxiety at this announcement.
It took all Hector's courage to keep facing the Greek when he continued.
"I...," Gods... how to phrase this, "was wondering... if you would share my bed." There, now he had said it. Put it as bluntly as he had feared he would but he had never been one for pretty words.
Odysseus blinked at him in open surprise. Whatever he had expected, this had not been it.
In one way, Hector was pleased that he had managed to hide his desire so well. On the other hand, the fact that the thought obviously never had crossed Odysseus’ mind rankled.
He watched as the Greek quickly brought his features back under control till only a neutral mask remained and then lowered his gaze the way he always did when he was trying hard to behave like a slave should.
"It is your right as my master to demand this, prince." Odysseus said, his voice carefully void of any expression.
Hector shook his head. This was exactly what he did not want. He had meant what he said when he told his friends he didn't need a bed slave. He was not entirely sure what he wanted but ordering a man whom he held in high respect to his bed was not included.
"But I do not command you." Hector answered. "I am offering."
He was immensely relieved when Odysseus looked up again with a slight smile. Obviously, he had gotten the important distinction between the two options. The Greek cocked his head, carefully studying Hector in a way the Trojan Prince was sure he not been looked at in a long time.
He wondered what Odysseus saw in him but he managed to keep his mouth shut, not asking that question. He wasn't even sure if he really wanted to know. Should the Greek come to a favorable decision he might ask at some point, but certainly not now.
"I have to admit I had not considered this before." Odysseus finally said.
A hint of mirth was sparkling in his eyes and Hector wasn't at all sure if it was directed at him or at the Greek himself.
"Will you grant me time to think on your... offer?"
Hector thought back to what his wife had said earlier. Either bed him or sell him. But ever reasonable Andromache would probably be quite satisfied that her shy husband had at least tried.
Although he was wondering if she would really demand he sell the Greek should he refuse. He hoped not. Even just as a competent slave, Hector did not wish to lose Odysseus over something as foolish as his desire.
And once this matter had been resolved one way or another he could stop 'making eyes' at the Greek, as Andromache had called it.
Hector answered Odysseus question with a nod. "Of course."
A strange feeling of calm settled over him now that he had finally managed to get over his nerves. He turned and looked out over the gardens, watching as small oil lamps were lit here and there, as people strolled down the paths to enjoy the cooling evening air and the end of the day.
It was a peaceful sight. No traces remained of the fear and tension that had held the whole city in a viselike grip only a month before. How quickly people forgot about pain and death. But he was no different from them.
Before Andromache had cornered him about Odysseus they had talked about having a second child, how they both wished for a daughter, what they might call her. Life had returned to Troy and he could not help but feel happy.
And all because he had defeated the mightiest of the Greeks. Apollo himself had guided his hands that morning. When he had kissed Andromache goodbye, when he had stepped outside the city walls to face the raging Greek he had been resigned to die.
He knew the extent of his skills, had tested them in more battles then he was comfortable with. And he had seen Achilles fight. By all rights he should be walking the ashen paths of Hades now.
With a slight shudder, he recalled the Greek's words. To desecrate his body after victory, to send him to Hades blind and honorless. He had been afraid then.
Still he had fought as hard as he could, not willing to give up life before he absolutely must. And then the bright morning sun had reflected of his shield in just the right way, blinding Achilles for one crucial moment. The one moment Hector had needed to ram his sword home and pierce the Greek's heart.
The look on Achilles face had been strangely calm and slightly surprised, when he had sunk to his knees, his lips forming words Hector had not understood.
And then mighty Achilles had died.
Hector had stood there in the dust, staring down at the body in disbelief. He would probably still be standing there, if not a cheer to shake the city had rose from the walls of Troy. That had wakened him and he had silently given praise to Apollo, thanking the patron god of Troy for his intervention and for this chance at life.
Then he had carefully picked up the dead hero and carried him inside.
The burial rites had lasted three days and every honor due a man like Achilles had been observed.
"I think, I would."
The sudden words from behind him reminded him of the present and of the fact that he was not alone.
He turned around to again face Odysseus, who looked back at him calmly, his carving knife now resting. There was again that sparkle of dry amusement in his green eyes and once more Hector wondered what exactly the Greek was thinking when he looked like that.
"You would what?" he asked back.
A low chuckle answered his question and he knew the answer the same moment he asked and just had the time to feel foolish when Odysseus spoke.
"Share your bed." Odysseus answered. "Though I wonder if that is the best of places. What will your wife say?"
That brought a smile Hector's face. "Be assured, she doesn't mind. As long as she doesn't need it herself."
"An understanding wife you have, prince." Odysseus commented, getting to his feet and joining him at the railing of the balcony.
Hector's smile grew into a grin as the Greek then quite deliberately closed the distance between the two of them, putting one hand onto the railing on each side of Hector, trapping him. He felt deep relief at Odysseus' reaction. This was what he had wanted, he realized. A meeting on equal terms and obviously Odysseus had no problem putting their master/slave relationship out of his mind for a while.
"You came to a decision quickly, Greek." he said, grinning down at the other man, acutely aware of his greater height and enjoying it.
"I have been told I am a faster thinker." Odysseus replied, his grin matching Hector's.
"So I have heard." Hector's grin changed to a smirk as he used the same words Lysander had used only a few days before. "Let's see if your tongue is as quick as they say as well."
Wasting no more time with words he leaned down to get a first taste, keeping their kiss slow then deepening it. The Greek responded with the same careful increase in pressure, both testing the other like they were circling on the battlefield.
When they separated, it was with a small gasp from both of them. Fire had ignited in the Greek's eyes and Hector felt his own body tingle with delicious tension.
Earlier doubts forgotten he did not hesitate to follow when Odysseus turned and headed inside.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
go to PART 4