"Sweet Surrender"
by Beryll
"Go back to your city, prince. Go back, drink wine, make love to your wife."
Despite the words softly whispered into Hector's ear, the sword-point pressed to his throat was not withdrawn and neither did the hard, sweaty body move that had him pinned against the temple wall.
The urge to try to fight was strong but the harsh breathing of the warrior who had surprised him effortlessly in the murky dark of the temple warned him that this man's nerves were on edge, that he was in battle frenzy and would likely kill him before he would be able to think better of it.
He tried to relax in the other man's grasp.
"Who are you?" he hissed back.
A breathless laugh answered him. "I am Achilles." His question was answered. "I am the man who will kill you."
Shivers ran up and down Hector's spine. So, it was true. Mighty Achilles had come to Troy.
"Fight me." Hector said, his warrior's heart beating hard in his chest. "You are a killer of helpless priests. Fight me!"
"No." A soft purr. "Why should I kill you where nobody can see it?"
The body pressed yet closer and the stench of sweat and blood was overwhelming and intoxicating at once.
Against his better judgment, Hector tried to squirm away.
Achilles laughed again, leaning forward till their noses were nearly touching and Hector could dimly make out burning eyes, a face streaked with blood and dirt, the mask of a killer.
"It is still too early in the day to fight princes, mighty Hector." Achilles growled. "But the time seems just right for robbing them."
Then he leaned in the last inch, pressing hard lips to Hector's, who had nowhere to retreat as his head was already pressed against the cool wall.
With the sharp point of the sword still against his throat, Hector endured the humiliation, seething inside.
"I will find you.," he hissed when Achilles withdrew.
Achilles ignored the Trojan prince's suppressed rage. He stepped back. "Let him go!" he commanded his men, who where just entering the inner sanctum of the temple.
"But..." Eodorus started to object.
Achilles waved him silent.
"Go, prince." he repeated.
Hector stalked out of the temple stiffly without sparing the Greeks another glance.
---
Achilles twisted uneasily on his pallet. In the midst of war, he had found a woman to please him. And as he still refused to fight, he had quite a lot of spare time to be pleased.
The stalemate between Troy and the Greeks was still as unshakable as it had been a year ago. And the year before that. And the year before that. It was quite boring actually and Achilles was seriously starting to consider going home.
The likelihood that Agamemnon would come begging him to fight was slim at best.
And he was probably missing more interesting wars elsewhere.
But that was not the real reason for his lack of calm. Desire lurked on the edge of his conscious mind and no matter how hard he fought to ban it, it kept returning each time he watched the Trojans and the Greek fight.
Picking up a goblet still half filled with wine, he took a sip, and then ducked outside to fill his lungs with the clean air and see how the morning's fighting was going.
He was more than a little surprised when he noticed his Myrmidons slinking back from the battlefield towards his hut. His orders had been quite clear. Just as himself, they were not to fight. And they had obeyed during the long years they were already here. Never had they even complained.
Now they were returning bloodied and dirtied, their heads hung low, dragging weapons behind them as if they had received a thorough beating.
Achilles brows drew together in a fierce scowl as he walked down the slight rise on which his hut was built, seeking out Eodorus.
"You have ignored my orders," he stated calmly but with seething anger underlying his voice.
Eodorus fell to his knees in front of his commander. "No, master."
"You were not to fight, Eodorus. None of you." Achilles hissed.
"It was not I who led them into battle, master." Eodorus answered, staring at the ground.
"Who then led you?" Achilles asked, slightly puzzled now.
Eodorus raised his head, meeting Achilles hard gaze. "We thought it was you."
Realization dawned on Achilles and a swift glance over his Myrmidons showed him what he had feared.
"Patroclus?" he asked. "Where is Patroclus?"
"He was wearing your armor, your helmet, he had your sword, and he even moved like you... we thought he was you..." Eodorus was trying to explain.
Achilles only noticed the first few words as his blood ran hot and his heart started to pound hard in his chest. NO! He screamed in his head. NOT PATROCLOS!
His hand shot out as he grabbed Eodorus by the throat, lifting him from his kneeling position.
"Where is he?! Where is Patroclus?!" he shouted.
"He fought Prince Hector." Eodrus choked out.
Achilles felt drowned in a black wave of despair. His dear Patroclus dead by the hands of the Trojan prince? The icy thorn of vengeance pierced his heart. He flung Eodorus aside, intent on finding any weapon, any armor to slay the killer of his cousin.
But somehow, Eodorus words managed to break through his gloom, stopping him dead in his tracks.
"The prince knew it wasn't you. How he knew I cannot say. But he disarmed Patroclus and took him prisoner. They have taken him back to Troy."
---
"...therefore my master suggests an exchange of prisoners. He will return your cousin Briseis to you and in return asks that you let his cousin Patroclus go." The messenger concluded his offer.
"Briseis lives?" King Priam rose from his throne, hope shining in his aged eyes.
The messenger nodded. "Yes, she has been under Achilles protection ever since this was started."
"We accept - " King Priam started but was suddenly interrupted by another voice.
"No."
All eyes shifted to Prince Hector standing next to his father, tall, dark and with a scowl in his handsome face.
"Tell mighty Achilles his offer is rejected." Hector enforced his response.
His father turned to him, angry and surprised at once. "Hector, what is this? Do you not wish to see Briseis returned to us? How can you speak so carelessly?"
Hector turned his gaze to his father. "I speak with greatest care, father. Patroclus is my prisoner therefore, it is my right to set the price for his return. As much as it pains me to say so: Briseis is of no consequence for the survival of this city."
He then turned back to the messenger. "Tell your master this: there is only one price that will buy him his cousin's freedom. Mighty Achilles must lay down his weapons and surrender himself to me."
---
Odysseus listened with growing despair as Achilles gave some last commands to his second-in-command Eodorus.
"As soon as Patroclus is with you, you will pack him onto the ship and leave for Larissa. I want none of you to stay and fight in this war one minute longer. No matter what Patroclus will say and I expect he will say a lot. If need be, bind him. I want you gone from this shore by midday."
Eodorus looked just as unhappy as Odysseus felt. "But what about you, master?" he asked meekly.
Achilles faced away from him, gazing over at the walls of Troy, his face unreadable. "I have a debt to pay.," he said flatly.
Odysseus used the quiet moment to step up to his friend. "You don't seriously consider surrendering to them, do you?" he asked worriedly. "Please tell me that this is just some clever conception to get inside their walls."
Achilles turned to face him, his face still impassive, his eyes expressionless. "Honor binds me.," he stated.
"What honor is there in asking a warrior to surrender in exchange for the freedom of a boy?" Odysseus asked angrily.
"Prince Hector spared Patroclus’ life although he had no reason to. That buys him my gratitude instead of my wrath."
Something strange glittered in Achilles’ eyes and Odysseus thought with puzzlement that it looked almost like curiosity.
"You know that the cause of this war means nothing to me." Achilles continued. "I came to make a name for myself."
"And how will you make a name for yourself when you lay down your weapons and kneel at a Trojan's feet like a dog?" Odysseus tried to shake him out of his unusual calm.
Achilles just smiled thoughtfully. "Plans change."
---
The early-morning sun shone bright enough to reflect off the great walls of Troy, blinding the many onlookers. It was not warm enough to chase away the chill Hector felt creep into his bones as he watched from one of the towers overlooking the main gate.
Considering the early morning and the fact that the man now reigning in his horses in front of the gate had come unannounced, there was a large crowd indeed. Hector would much have preferred to do this in a more quiet setting and that his nemesis had picked this hour of the day clearly indicated that he would have preferred likewise. As it was, this would turn into a show for all of Troy. It could not be helped.
A collective murmur ran through the spectators on the wall as they realized what Hector had noticed the moment the chariot had crested the dunes far off. Achilles had not come alone. Briseis was with him and Hector stared down at his enemy with distrust, not at all sure what Achilles was planing.
He watched with all the others as Achilles stepped up to the chariot, and then helped Briseis down with a gentleness and care that at the same time reassured and galled Hector. How dare he touch a priestess of Apollo so intimately?
She has been with him ever since the beginning of the war, his reason admonished, of course, they will be familiar. He had to keep his calm or this game would be lost before it had even begun.
He gripped his sword hilt hard, waiting for Achilles' next move.
Achilles scanned the walls above him slowly, as if searching for a certain face. Hector knew that he was hidden behind the high battlements and he made no move to step out.
Hector slowly breathed out, his iron grip relaxing, as Achilles first took the shield off his back, putting it on the chariot, then laid his sword next to it and at last removed his armor. Standing before his enemies' gates only wearing a simple tunic he again looked up at the wall.
"Hector!" he called out. "I have come to accept your offer. I lay down my weapons and surrender myself to you in exchange for the freedom of Patroclus."
A self-confident smirk accompanied the next words: "And I have brought a present as well. As a gesture of good will, I return Briseis to her people."
Hector closed his eyes, fighting a relief so strong it left him dizzy. It had pained him deeply to leave Briseis in the hands of the Greek.
"Get the boy.," he told one of the soldiers waiting close by.
---
As soon as the heavy wooden door closed behind him, Achilles flexed his muscles to test the strength of the chains binding him. He found what he had expected. No weak chains for mighty Achilles. They had picked his bonds well and bound him expertly, his arms chained behind his back, his ankles joined by a short chain that made proper walking nearly impossible and prevented any kind of combat moves completely.
He truly was at the mercy of the Trojan prince now and somehow that rankled much more than he had expected. Somehow, he had been sure he would still keep the upper hand in this game but now he was beginning to doubt it.
The unease stirring in his heart was not fear of course, just the unfamiliar feeling of losing control.
Maybe it was the march through the city that was to fault. Another thing he had not anticipated. That he would be led through the city, chained, unarmed, helpless for all Trojans to see. He thought he could still hear their cheers from outside the thick palace walls. Or maybe that was just the echo of his memories.
He had kept his head raised high, ignoring the Trojan citizens just as he had ignored the Trojan prince riding ahead of him.
With a soft sigh, he sat down on the simple cot that was one of the few furnishings in this windowless room.
He was all alone in here. No reason to lie to himself. He had not ignored the Trojan prince at all. His eyes had been drawn to the tall, dark-haired warrior just like they had been every single time Achilles had seen him fight on the battlefield. That was why he was here after all. In the vague hope that the desire haunting him ever since that first morning in the temple was mirrored in the Trojan. That this was the reason why the Trojan had demanded his surrender. Not just military tactics.
Maybe he had been wrong.
Because he was all alone now. No Trojan prince to taunt him. No Trojan prince to steal back the kiss Achilles had wrestled from him. No Trojan prince to claim victory and his prisoner.
Achilles closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall.
It's because of Briseis, he thought. Saying hello to the long-missed cousin. He would take care of Patroclus first, too. He just had to wait and Hector would come to him.
Hopefully.
---
The noon sun was high in the sky by the time Hector finally walked down the corridor leading to the room where his men had locked up Achilles.
He walked briskly and his face betrayed no emotion, but in his chest, his heart beat as fast as it did in battle and his hand longed to again grip the hilt of sword seeking comfort in the familiar well-worn leather.
He was not feeling confident at all.
In fact, he had spent a lot of time doubting if it had really been such a good idea to demand the Greek's surrender.
All of Troy of course, neither knew of his doubts nor would have agreed with them, had they known. They were celebrating as if they had won the war, not just removed one fighter from the field.
The fact that Briseis was returned to them was just additional reason to believe that the Gods had chosen a victor in this war and that it was to be Troy.
Even Hector couldn't deny that seeing Briseis unharmed had greatly lifted his spirits. She had seemed happy enough when embraced by King Priam and the rest of the family. But Hector had kept an eye on her and when she had thought herself unobserved there had been a quiet sadness in her eyes that worried him deeply.
She had withdrawn to her rooms, claiming exhaustion and a dire need for a bath.
Hector knew in his heart that he should find out what was wrong. That it should be her he was seeking out, not the Greek, but he had not been able to face her during the hours that had passed since. After all, he had refused to exchange her for Patroclus and she would likely not be happy about that.
And he had not been able to bring himself to face Achilles either, for wholly different reasons. He had told himself over and over that he was not expected to see him anyway. That there was no reason to, now that the threat to his home presented by the mighty Greek was removed.
Just as he had expected, the Greeks had not attacked this day. Their camp lay quiet and shocked at the news that their greatest fighter was lost to them. Maybe they wouldn't recover from this shock. Maybe it would be enough to make them withdraw from Troy's shore though Hector doubted that they would be so lucky.
Drawing a deep breath, he stopped in front of the heavy wooden door that was guarded by two soldiers who Hector had picked himself. No chances with this prisoner. Even bound and unarmed Achilles still was a force to be reckoned with.
Again, Hector's hand tried to creep towards the hilt of his sword so he clasped both hands on his back and nodded to the guards who unlocked the door.
He was not sure what he had expected to find but certainly not the view that greeted him. Achilles lounging on the simple cot inside, looking graceful and at ease even though his arms were still bound tightly behind his back. And a lazy smile forming on his lips as he noticed who is visitor was.
"Prince Hector," he was greeted, that low, rolling voice sending a shiver up his spine. He had not forgotten that voice since he had first heard it, even though it was nearly three years ago.
I have defeated him, Hector told himself, after all the time he evaded me on the field of battle I have defeated him without striking a single blow.
He did not believe a single word of it.
Achilles looked anything but defeated.
The battle was just about to begin.
He stepped into the room, gesturing to the guards to relock the door behind him.
"Achilles," he greeted the other man, surprised at the calm in his own voice and feeling his heart make a tiny leap of satisfaction as the confident smile on Achilles' face wavered just a fraction.
For a long moment, they just looked at each other silently, not unlike two opponents in a duel, trying to gauge the other's strengths and weaknesses. Only Hector quickly realized that he was not at all skilled at this game of wits and wills.
And the longer his gaze rested on Achilles the more the lazy grin cracked till the Greek warrior actually started fidgeting on the cot.
In the end, it was Hector who looked away, strangely embarrassed that he had come so close to staring the bound man down.
This was not at all what he had envisioned their meeting would be like. Had he ever really thought about how it would be to face Achilles again at all? With a little dread, he realized that he hadn't actually planned on this, had evaded thinking about it studiously.
When the opportunity had presented itself to capture the dangerous enemy of his home he had reacted on instinct, trusting that it was the good common sense of a skilled commander that had made this decision.
Not some half realized wish to repay a taunt spoken carelessly three years ago. Not the stupid wish to retake what had been stolen that morning in the temple of Apollo.
The mere thought was enough to make him shudder. The more he denied, the stronger his body reacted to the vicinity of his nemesis. His bound and helpless nemesis.
"Why did you agree to surrender?" he asked without looking at Achilles.
"Why did you ask for my surrender?" his question was answered with another question.
But now Achilles voice was not the arrogant snarl Hector remembered. There was a note of insecurity in it that made his heart jump painfully.
For the first time, he actually asked himself why Achilles had done something as uncharacteristic as giving in without a fight.
To save his cousin. That was the obvious answer. But it rang false in Hector's ears somehow.
He looked at Achilles again and found the other man's eyes on himself, found his face searched for any hint betraying his emotions almost desperately.
With sudden clarity, Hector realized that Achilles had surrendered for one reason alone. He wants me, Hector thought, suppressing the panic threatening to overwhelm him.
He did not answer Achilles question. Only looked at him silently, trying to come to terms with what suddenly wasn't a vague possibility anymore but a thing within his grasp.
His thoughts were interrupted by Achilles next question. "How did you know it wasn't me?"
A slow smile spread on Hector's face as he remembered that morning on the battlefield. How his heart had rejoiced at finally seeing Achilles charge into the fight. How he had savored the ringing of blade on blade when they had met. How excitement had rushed through his body when they crashed into each other.
An excitement that had nothing to do with a killing rage, he realized now.
He took a step towards the cot, understanding now what it was that he wanted. What they obviously both wanted.
"He did not smell like you." Hector said, his voice a soft growl.
A visible shiver ran through Achilles body, his head sinking back slightly, his eyelids drifting down. An invitation.
Hector closed the distance, leaning down over Achilles, one strong hand twisting in the lion's mane, drawing the other warrior's face towards his own till they were again nose to nose.
"He smelled of fear.," he whispered before he reclaimed what was his.
---
The sweet light of the moon tinted all of Troy in milky white. The city was silent and peaceful in slumber after a day without fighting. A day spent celebrating the capture of Achilles.
The two men leaning against the railing of a high balcony of the palace were just as quiet. They had spent the afternoon and a good part of the night celebrating that capture in their very own way.
Still sleep eluded them even though their bodies were exhausted with the day’s exertions.
Both seemed lost in thought but they kept a casual closeness to each other that would have betrayed the fact that they were more than friends to an onlooker.
"So what happens now?" one of them finally said, his words grave with the many possibilities he had been contemplating.
Achilles turned his head to look at the Trojan prince who had changed from prey to predator and then to something else entirely that he could not - would not - yet name.
"Tomorrow they will attack again. And you will go out and fight. Just like you do every day.," he answered, his voice betraying none of the conflicting emotions this simple fact stirred in his heart.
Hector looked at him, a hint of anger in his eyes. "You know that is not what I was talking about." he said.
"Oh, but it is, my Trojan prince." Achilles smiled at Hector, his golden might muted in the white light of the moon, his fierceness gentled by the sated happiness weighing him down. "You still need to defend your home, no matter what is between us. And I am still the dreaded enemy of all you hold dear."
Hector closed his eyes, clearly pained. "Not all that I hold dear." he said.
Achilles felt his pain as if it was his own. Made it his own. Again, he turned his gaze to the white city below. Realizing that Hector truly had defeated him. Should they face each other on the field he would not be able to fight him now.
"Fight by my side." Hector said.
Achilles drew breath to tell Hector what the Trojan prince had to know himself. To tell him that he could not turn against his kinsmen. That to be a prisoner was as far as his surrender could go.
But Hector continued before he could say it, already knowing what Achilles was thinking.
"Fight by my side and your kinsmen will leave this shore alone. Your mere presence will strike fear into their hearts."
Possible.
And the fact remained that Achilles fought for nobody. That mighty Achilles knew no allegiance with any king. Or prince.
He looked back at Hector when he felt the callused hand of the other man settle on his shoulder.
"And why would I fight for you when I have not fought for Agamemnon?" Achilles asked, hoping that Hector would somehow come up with a reason he had overlooked.
"Maybe because I will do the one thing that Agamemnon never did? Because I beg you to."
It wasn't enough. No reason would ever be enough to turn against his own people, to bow to a prince, no matter how noble. Even defeated, proud Achilles would never fully surrender to anybody.
These thoughts raced through his mind as Achilles looked at Hector who watched him quietly, hope and fear warring in his eyes.
And then his own words came back to him, spoken lightly to Odysseus not even a whole day ago.
Plans change.
Maybe it was time to not only change plans.
Maybe proud Achilles would have to shed his pride before it destroyed what was so generously offered by the Gods.
A smile spread on Achilles lips that was slowly mirrored on Hector's as hope won out.
"Ah, Hector," Achilles purred, putting one arm around the other man's shoulders, drawing him close, "your offers are impossible to resist."
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