Title: Enemy at the Gates – Part I 

 

Author: Trust No One 

Rating: PG-13 to NC17, this part PG-13 

Pairings: Achilles/Hector, Achilles/Patroklus (implied Hector/Andromache, Achilles/Briseis) 

Disclaimer: Homer’s and Warner Bros’. 

Summary: Briseis is taken captive by the Greeks. Achilles wants to negotiate with no one but Hector for her release.  

 

Beta by Montmorency  

 

 

Part I 

 

The gates slammed shut with a dull, ominous thud. Families waiting at the gates since the morning for news of their loved ones fell into shocked silence upon the realization that no one else followed behind the lone, dusty rider who was already disappearing in a mad gallop towards the palace. The rider had barely turned around the corner when the wailing of mourners already started. 

 

Once he reached the palace, Prince Hector of Troy dismounted with great haste and tossed the horse’s reins distractedly to a servant who had run outside at the sound of hooves in an inner courtyard where by right horses were never allowed. The man’s eyes grew large as saucers at the sight of the legendary tamer of horses all but abandoning his animal and rushing up the steps to the council hall.  

 

The council was in debate when Hector walked in.  

 

‘Father, the temple has been taken. The beach, too,’ he announced. His usually resonant voice was ragged and weary, yet woven with an unmistakable thread of anger. 

 

Priam studied his first-born son - the dusty armour, splattered with other people’s blood, the commanding yet exhausted stance - while Hector gave a full account of the events to the assembled generals and advisors. The old man’s heart twisted a little at the sight. The war was only hours old and already it was exacting a price that Priam did not care to think about. 

 

It was hours later, when Hector could finally get away long enough to clean himself up and greet his family, that the king of Troy managed to spend a few private moments with his son. 

 

‘Too many have died today. And the ones who have not been lucky enough to die will suffer a worse fate,’ Hector said forcefully. ‘Is this a price that Troy is willing to pay so that Paris can indulge his fancy?’ 

 

‘It is the will of the gods,’ Priam said slowly, his gaze sweeping the luxuriant palace gardens and the city below. Already pyres were being built for the ones lost that day and the business of death was becoming an almost familiar event. 

 

Hector bit hard on the words stinging his tongue and his lack of protest drew Priam’s gaze to him. 

 

‘What is it, son?’ 

 

‘Briseis was at the temple this morning, father,’ Hector said softly. He still looked tired but no longer bore the almost defeated look he had earlier. 

 

‘Are you sure?’ Priam said hoarsely. 

 

‘Yes. When I failed to recognize her amongst the slain priests, I hoped that she might have not gone to the temple today,’ Hector replied unambiguously. ‘But it was confirmed to me upon my return and there was no mistake. She was there when the Greeks attacked.’ 

 

‘Then she must be…’ Priam’s voice trailed off.  

 

‘Captive,’ Hector said, finishing his father’s thought quietly.  

 

The king remained silent for a long while and his eyes returned to the horizon, to the line on the beach that marked the Greek camp. 

 

‘Gods have mercy on her,’ he mouthed finally. 

 

‘I have ordered emissaries to go to the Greek camp. They are riding out as we speak,’ Hector said.

 

‘What makes you think Agamemnon will not send their heads back to us impaled on spears?’ 

 

‘Because I have not sent the emissaries to speak to Agamemnon.’ 

 

‘What are you saying?’  

 

‘The temple was pillaged and taken by Achilles and his band of Myrmidons,’ Hector explained. His eyes darkened at the memory. ‘I believe that Briseis was taken captive by one of them, and if my judgement is right, she would be given to Achilles as a spoil of war by now. It is my intention to deal with Achilles in this matter.’ 

 

‘But will he listen?’ The glint of hope in Priam’s eyes made him look almost like a fragile old man. 

 

‘He did not seem interested in fighting me when he had the chance, even after I challenged him. Achilles and his men had me surrounded at the temple. That was his perfect occasion to kill me and yet he did not. I suspect that this man is given to grand gestures and likes his audience and if I play this right, Briseis could be returned to us unharmed.’ 

 

‘You are playing a dangerous game, son,’ Priam warned. ‘One can never fathom what is in the mind of the enemy.’ 

 

‘I know, father,’ Hector replied softly, ‘but what else would you have me do?’ 

 

~~ 

 

Achilles was drowsy. Killing always left him with a bitter, unfulfilled taste and a weariness that assaulted his senses in a way that he had never been able to explain. He had not even bothered to raise himself in a more decent position when the Trojan envoys had arrived. Instead, he lay half-sprawled on his bed, his nakedness barely covered, while the Trojans cast worried glances at each other and at Briseis, who sat huddled in a corner. 

 

‘… so if your lordship will agree to name a price, Prince Hector proposes a fair exchange for the Princess Briseis. Twenty of the most beautiful slaves, fine foods, wines and jewels will arrive tomorrow morning, in addition to what we have brought with us today.’ 

 

Achilles bit greedily into a piece of dried meat while pretending to consider the offer. 

 

‘So,’ he said lazily, ‘your prince believes that food, jewels and twenty virgins would be just about enough to pay for his valued cousin’s freedom?’ 

 

Unnerved, the envoys remained silent. 

 

‘Do you think it’s fair, Briseis? Or does this sound to you like bartering for cattle?’ Achilles asked, almost aggressively, casting his head back halfway towards her but not meeting the girl’s gaze. Fortunately for her, she managed to hold her tongue, but her eyes burned with accusation and hatred at her captor.  

 

A slow, almost roguish smile spread on Achilles face, going all the way up to his eyes. But when he spoke, the smile faded instantly and his eyes acquired a glint of ruthlessness. 

 

‘Go back to your city,’ he said in a low, almost growling tone, ‘Go back and tell your prince that I will not deal with anyone but himself. He is not to send any more emissaries to me. If he wishes to get Briseis back, he will have to come here himself. Then we might negotiate the terms of the princess’ release.’ 

 

With that, Achilles waved his hand in mock disgust, sending the Trojan party on their way. 

 

When his tent was empty once more, he turned to Briseis. He could not suppress a chuckle seeing just how enraged she was. 

 

‘You are setting a trap for my cousin,’ she spat at him. 

 

Achilles shook his head patronizingly. 

 

‘If you really must know, I could have killed your precious cousin today, and more than once. I chose to let him go. He lives to fight another day because I was merciful.’ 

 

‘Oh, but if he comes here you can kill him in full view of the whole Greek army,’ she retorted and Achilles felt the sting of her words, like a cold slap in the face. His face turned serious and inscrutable. 

 

‘I have other plans for Hector,’ he said. 

 

~~ 

 

Andromache paced the bedroom silently, like she often did when something unsettled her. To Hector, who watched her with a guilty look on his face, it seemed that she was intent on finding something she had dropped on the floor. Finally, he ruptured the silence. 

 

‘I’m sorry, my love, but there is no other way.’ 

 

Andromache stopped abruptly and stared, at her husband. ‘You always say that,’ she said.  

 

Hector sighed. Andromache was right: he had said those words far more times than she should have to hear them. 

 

‘I know. But if we are to have Briseis back…’ 

 

‘Hector, please,’ Andromache interjected, ‘do not misunderstand me. I want Briseis back just as much as you do. But not at your expense.’ 

 

‘This will not be an exchange of prisoners,’ Hector said convincingly, hoping that Andromache would not detect his scepticism, but knowing that years of marriage and of complete honesty to each other would render that nigh on impossible. ‘Achilles himself said that he wished to negotiate.’ 

 

‘Then he would have negotiated with the envoys,’ Andromache retorted. 

 

Hector shook his head. He rarely, if ever, won an argument against his wife. In their years of marriage, he had increasingly found himself entrusting to her information that would be no woman’s business. Andromache’s exceptionally accurate perception and insight were amongst the qualities he had been surprised to find in her, and to this day Hector never failed to thank the gods for blessing him with such a wife. She would make the finest queen Troy had ever had.  

 

‘My love,’ he said quietly, walking up to her and wrapping her in his protective embrace, ‘Briseis is all alone, surrounded by enemies. She is a spoil of war and you know very well what they do to women in her situation. She should not have to go through that. If it were you that was out there would you not want me to try to rescue you?’ 

 

‘Not if it meant that you had to take great risks,’ Andromache replied, yet in a more appeased tone, ‘And not if it meant that Troy could be rendered without its defender.’ 

 

That was the stroke of a master and Hector recognized it as such. Bringing the defence of the city into all this did strike a sensitive chord within him. Yet he countered, because it was most important for her to understand that he had not taken the decision rashly and he had thought long and hard about the risks involved. And in the end, Hector knew his wife was a sensible woman and that she would bow to reason. 

 

‘You are mistaken. I met Achilles this morning. This is a man who would do anything for glory, he admitted it himself. But even underneath the barbaric exterior, he is a soldier and an honourable one at that. He would not ensnare me into the midst of the Greek camp just so that he can fight and kill me there. It would be too easy and much as Agamemnon would love to cut this whole war short, I just don’t see it happening.’ 

 

‘But why you?’ Andromache said, knowing she was almost defeated. Her poise had evaporated at his touch, even after many years of marriage. ‘Why not deal with the envoys?’ 

 

‘Maybe because he wants to feel important, maybe he feels that none other than a member of the royal family is worthy to speak to him? Maybe because he wants to provoke me a step further than he did this morning? Who knows? His reasons are his own.’ 

 

‘That is what upsets me,’ Andromache said. 

 

‘You think too much,’ Hector said, almost playfully, weaving his fingers into her hair, plainly desiring to change the subject and convey to her that his mind was made up. 

 

‘And that bothers you?’ she said seriously. ‘Thinking is a man’s job, then?’  

 

‘Oh no, I never said that,’ Hector defended quickly, drawing her even closer, ‘I am very glad that you are not a man.’ 

 

Without wishing to give further justification, he leaned down and silenced her protest with a long kiss. 

 

~~ 

 

Achilles blinked sleep away. Two hours ago he had been drowsy but now his blood boiled every time Agamemnon’s smug _expression rose before his eyes like a spectre, as he laid claim to Briseis as his share of the spoils. Even now, Achilles wished he had smitten the abominable Mycenaean king once and for all. Instead, he had proffered empty threats and curses and had left the royal tent like a beaten dog. To add insult to injury, he had been shamed in front of royal advisors and common soldiers alike. Achilles never remembered feeling so humiliated in his entire life. 

 

The unquenched wrath left almost no room for the anticipation he had felt after dismissing the Trojan emissaries. But in the end, Achilles’ well-hidden common sense led him to the inevitable conclusion: Agamemnon would have to beg him to re-join the war, while he would bide his time thinking of the best way to mend the plan he had conceived earlier on. 

 

And, no less irate yet somewhat less inclined to heed his killing impulse, Achilles found his thoughts veering back to Hector. The situation was delicate at best. What would Achilles say to him if indeed the Trojan prince agreed to come out to the Greek camp? Briseis was no longer his to bargain with. How would then he obtain that which he had so avidly awaited? 

 

Achilles’ stomach roiled uncomfortably as he cast his thoughts back to the temple of Apollo earlier that morning, to the vibrant voice that had demanded ‘Fight me’ in the dark. He had thought about it, but he had not been able to come up with a logical explanation as to why Hector’s voice had caused that improbable reaction in him – for Achilles had known beyond a doubt that the fool seeking to challenge him was indeed the fabled prince of Troy. Yet instead of wishing to spill Hector’s blood, Achilles had found himself desiring above all else to get a better look at him. The battle lust forgotten, Achilles had followed Hector outside the temple. The words they exchanged had little meaning to the Greek, who forgot the voice in favour of studying the other man’s body with such rapt concentration that he was sure Hector had noticed. It had taken all that Achilles possessed to not reach out and remove the prince’s helmet, just so he could reveal his face. Achilles could see nothing but the prince’s smouldering, hateful eyes. He could have fought Hector there and then and Achilles suspected that the Trojan was a worthy opponent. But then, the aftermath of that fight would have probably meant death for Hector and the risk that Achilles would never see those eyes again. So he had decided to let Hector go unharmed. 

 

For the rest of the day, Achilles had toyed with the idea a thousand times. And more times than he cared to remember, he had pushed it aside. He wanted to see those dark pools again, glazed over not in death, but lust. He wanted Hector to writhe not in agony but ecstasy and to scream his name in passion, not rage. He wanted to possess and let himself be possessed by Hector in ways that he had not conceived until then. 

 

~~ 

 

Sleep eluded Hector for most of the night. He had been roused by strange dreams several times and, for fear of waking his wife and son, he had thrown on a robe and settled on the balcony, content to spend the remainder of the night outside in the stifling heat. The new day would see him planning his defence strategy and, in the evening, riding out to the Greek camp to meet with Achilles. 

 

In the beginning, Hector had tried to cast out the one thought that circled obstinately in his head. He had seen it in Achilles’ eyes, in the predatory manner in which the Greek had examined him. Not at all in the way one warrior might examine his opponent but rather with unconcealed interest and an open hunger. What that meant, Hector could only guess. But he was not a fool and several possibilities had crossed his mind. In fact, the more he dwelt on it, the more his stomach turned at the direction in which his thoughts ran riot. And slowly, a plan began to bud in his mind, a timid thread of logic that grew into a labyrinth of ways in which he could rig the situation to his advantage. Still, he could not be sure. And to be sure, he would need to see Achilles face to face again.