SERIES: "Paris' Confinement"
FIC: (Part Four) "The Taming of Odysseus"
AUTHOR: Mistress Marilyn camelotslash-2 at qwest.net
DATE: December 8, 2004
FANDOM: "Troy" (Warner Bros. 2004)
PAIRING: Paris / ?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em. They belong to Homer, to Warner Brothers, to the respective actors of the movie "Troy" -- and to the ages! This is the work of a fan, done for no remuneration save the satisfaction of the work itself.
WARNINGS: Slash, mpreg
SUMMARY: The King of Ithaca visits Troy.
BETA: Thank you, Charlie!
DEDICATION: To Eamon, who would love to have the attentions of a man like Odysseus.
AUTHOR NOTES: This fic was written to be posted at the Troy MPreg group I moderate, Troy-MPregs-FemPregs

-The Taming of Odysseus-

Odysseus, King of Ithaca, stood rubbing his beard, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye at the seated figure of Paris. He seemed to be gathering his thoughts carefully before he spoke. Paris squirmed in his seat in the Great Hall watching him, sure he had seen this man standing close behind Menelaus on the day of their combat.

Priam nodded down at the man from his throne. "Speak freely, King Odysseus," he said. "We are guided by your counsel."

"Excuse me, King Priam. But are you certain this . . . this miracle . . . is the doing of Achilles?"

Paris sprang to his feet, indignant. "Do you dare suggest not? Why would I brag of such an ignominious honor as this, to be impregnated by a vile Greek?" He could feel his cheeks burning.

Odysseus gave Paris a long look, staring first at the prince's face, then at his burgeoning midsection. His eyes widened with some emotion Paris could not identify. Then he suddenly bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I meant no offense, Prince Paris. It seemed a natural question, but I can see how it might have insulted you."

Breathing in, Paris felt his face slowly cooling. He nodded back at Odysseus. "I accept your apology, King Odysseus." He sat slowly down, smoothing his robe.

"My friend Achilles will be surprised by this . . . good news," Odysseus said, continuing to watch Paris. "I'm not sure exactly what his reaction will be."

Priam stood and addressed Odysseus. From his seat at Priam's right, Hector caught Paris' eye. Paris wondered what his brother must feel, revealing what he considered to be disgraceful news to this foreign king. For a moment Paris felt a pang of sympathy for what Hector had suffered because of his many transgressions.

"King Odysseus, I wish you to carry a message to Lord Achilles. Please tell him the King of Troy wishes to know what his intentions are in the matter of his seed being carried by our prince. Does he plan on having his own son raised as a Trojan, or does he intend to bring us a plea for the child? Tell him King Priam awaits word from him and expects some tribute in exchange for my son's inconvenience."

Odysseus seemed to tear his eyes from Paris. He glanced up at the king. "I will bear him your message, Highness," he said. "Is there anything you wish me to tell Agamemnon?"

Priam shook his head. "If the Great King of the Greeks plans to continue to attack this city, knowing the child of Achilles is growing inside my son, let his actions speak for themselves."

Odysseus gave a small smile. "I see."

Aware of possessing a growing power over the stalwart King of Ithaca, Paris stood, stepped forward and reached out his hand, letting his natural charm work its magic. "Thank you for your service to me and my child," he said, staring into the Greek's greenish eyes. "I am in your debt."

Odysseus took Paris' proffered hand and squeezed it. "I am in yours, Prince, for being allowed to offer this small service and for being witness to this miraculous event. My friend could not have chosen better, nor could the gods."

"You flatter me," Paris said, lowering his lashes.

"Never, Prince."

Priam cleared his throat and invited Odysseus to enjoy a cup of Troy's best wine. Hector approached Paris as Odysseus followed Priam out of the Great Hall; he glanced at him sideways and growled, "Are you planning on having his son next?"

Hector's words cut, and Paris felt his eyes well with tears. "Your acrimony is truly hurtful, Brother. How can I stop being such an offense in your eyes?"

"What does that matter?" Hector said with bitterness. "Soon it will be the destroyer of our temple we welcome to our table! Perhaps we will next invite Achilles to lead our army against Agamemnon."

"What distresses you most?" Paris asked. "That I am with child, or that the child is that of Achilles?"

Without answering, Hector walked away. Paris stood cradling his belly, watching his brother's retreating figure, ignoring the stares of the priests and captains in attendance. Squaring his shoulders and holding his head high, he turned to follow his father and the Greek king. Helen joined him, taking his arm.

"You did well, my love," she said. "You impressed Odysseus."

"Yes," Paris agreed. "You were right to suggest my father send for him. I believe he will carry our message to Achilles."

She smiled. "I know Odysseus. He was a suitor of mine before I married Menelaus. He was taken with you."

Paris looked into Helen's eyes. "It's a gift of the goddess, Helen. I cannot help my effect on people."

"Can you not, my love?"

Paris was not oblivious to the irony in Helen's fair eyes. "Let us go and drink with the two kings. Troy's fortunes may be changing for the better," he said.

Later that night, Paris lay alone in bed reading when a servant entered and announced the king of Ithaca desired a private audience. Dressed in only a sheer, loose tunic, Paris got up and reached for a blue robe to cover himself. He glanced at his reflection briefly before nodding at the servant to allow Odysseus to enter.

The Greek king had removed his armor and was now clad in a dark gold tunic and sandals, minus his greaves. His burnished hair and beard had been combed and oiled. Nonetheless, he clearly felt out of place in the lavish citadel. He stood awkwardly at the entrance to Paris' bedchamber.

"King Odysseus, come in. What is it you wish to speak about?" Paris motioned for the man to enter and take a seat. "May I offer you wine?"

"Please."

Paris poured two goblets of wine, then set one on a small table beside the cushioned bench. Odysseus didn't move, waiting on Paris.

"Be at ease," Paris said, lowering himself carefully to one side of the bench, then taking a small sip of wine. Finally the Greek king took a seat next to him, holding his back stiff and upright.

"I find it more difficult to be comfortable these days," Paris said, sighing. "My back feels the strain."

"I cannot help but be curious," Odysseus said. "This is something I've never encountered, nor have I heard of it. What is it like?"

Paris shrugged. "I have nothing to compare it to, except the normal life of a man. Everything seems a little more difficult to do, from fastening my sandals to making water."

Odysseus shifted, reaching for the goblet. He took a long drink before speaking. "I have to be honest. The Greeks do not hold you in esteem."

Paris laughed. "Do you expect that to surprise me? I stole the wife of the King of Sparta. Then I ran away from him on the battlefield and groveled at my brother's feet, forcing him to save me by betraying his own honor! I know well my transgressions, King Odysseus, and I make no excuses for them. What your people are saying is true. I don't deserve admiration."

"And yet," Odysseus began, haltingly. "And yet, I cannot help but admire you now. Despite all you say, you hold yourself with dignity in a situation where a lesser man would hide his face behind a veil and never admit his condition."

Paris studied the Greek beside him, finding his face somewhat comely and his voice rhythmic and pleasant. He was surprised at his own reaction, as he usually believed most Greeks to be uncouth and barbaric.

"I cannot deny what happened to me, nor can I deny my strange condition. My father says it is a gift of the gods, so how can I closet myself in shame? Everything I've done up 'til now has led me to this moment, and I must believe there is some reason for all of it . . . I have to trust in my father and my brother and the gods."

"The gods have strange ways of making known their will, and they enjoy playing tricks on us, Prince. I believe one has been played on me today by the goddess who favors you." Odysseus set down the goblet and rubbed his beard, smiling ruefully.

"Tell me how, King of Ithaca."

"I'm an old man compared to you, Prince Paris. I have fought in many wars and run many races. At home I have a wife and son waiting, and here I am in a foreign land seeking fortune and glory."

Odysseus paused and turned toward Paris. "And yet I have found something else today, I think . . . I have found love."

Immediately discerning the King's meaning, Paris looked down, studying the patterns of tile on the floor around his feet. He chose his words carefully. "King Odysseus, I am honored by your words, believe me. But I am unworthy of your love, I'm afraid."

Odysseus sighed and reached for Paris' hand. He took it in his own and squeezed it tightly. "What makes one worthy of love, beautiful Paris? Is Achilles worthy of your love because he forced a babe on you?"

Paris tried not to pull away, feeling a flush rising from his neck. "Who said I loved Achilles? I do not love him. I despise him!"

Odysseus raised Paris' hand to his mouth and kissed it gently. "If that is so, could I dare hope you might love me instead?"

Feeling the grip on his hand relaxing, Paris extricated himself from Odysseus' hold and got up off the bench. "I cannot love anyone but my child, King Odysseus. I must think only of him in the weeks to come."

Taking a deep breath, Odysseus stood and faced Paris, who tried unsuccessfully to avoid the man's intense gaze.

"They call your brother Hector the 'tamer of horses.' But you, beautiful Paris, are the tamer of lovers. First you stole the heart of the Queen of Sparta, and now you have done the same with the King of Ithaca! I fear now that my love will be rewarded with nothing but madness."

Paris tried to smile. "I hope not, Odysseus, for your sake and the sake of your country and your family. I will pray to the goddess to release you from this love."

"And I will pray to find myself in your bed, held tight between your fine legs!"

Paris stood up straighter. "I think I should ask you to go."

Odysseus started to leave, then turned back, his hands balled into fists on either side of his tense body. "I swear to you, boy, I will bring down the walls of this city if I have to in order to have you!"

"Get out, King Odysseus!" Paris said with as much dignity as he could command. "You forget yourself. You are not addressing a camp follower!"

"I promise you, I'll be back."

Paris sank down on the bench, his legs shaking. The coarseness of the Greeks amazed him, again and again! One Greek had surely raped him, pressing his fine face into the weeds. And now another insulted him in his own room!

By the gods, what made them think their attentions so desirable that they could tempt him, a Prince of Troy?

The End, Part Four