FIC: "The Vessel" (5/WIP)
AUTHOR: Mistress Marilyn camelotslash-2 at qwest.net
DATE: Sept. 9, 2006
FANDOM: "Troy" (Warner Bros. 2004)
PAIRING: Hector / Achilles (As portrayed by Eric Bana and Brad Pitt)
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: Hector sends for the father of his child.
DEDICATION: To Taelin, one of my dearest fellow mpreg fans.
AUTHOR NOTES: Ain't AU fanfic grand?!

Part Five

"I thought you might not. In time you might have to step down as the commander of the Trojan Army." Her voice was now a near-whisper.

"Why would you think such a thing?" he asked.

The Amazon Queen leaned toward Hector, her tail of red hair falling forward and brushing her bare breast. "Because of the child," she said. "The child you carry."

Hector stood up and addressed the room, his resonant voice carrying. "Leave us," he ordered. "Penthesilea and I will speak alone."

Reluctantly the Amazons and Hector's most trusted military leaders did as he had asked. Watching them slowly stand and shuffle out of the antechamber, Hector tried to gather his thoughts and steel his reserve. How had the Warrior Queen recognized his condition, even before he was sure of it himself?

When he turned to face her, Hector hoped his eyes were as reserved as those of his unexpected guest. He wanted to give away nothing he was feeling, jealous of his private thoughts and plans the way any reigning prince would be. But most of all, he needed to know how in Hades this woman could have guessed that he, Hector of Troy, could possibly be carrying a child. There was only one way she could have found out.

How had Achilles sent word so quickly? And why?

"You're wondering how I know," she said, relaxing her stiff posture a bit and reaching for her goblet of wine. She tasted it and made a sound of approval. "Perhaps you didn't know yourself?"

Hector resisted the urge to grab the woman's arm and squeeze it roughly. "He told you!" he accused.

Cocking her eyebrow, the Amazon looked at Hector with some surprise. "Who? Who would tell me? I have no communication with any Trojan."

"Achilles!"

"Achilles?" She spoke the word as though it were a curse. "Achilles is an enemy to the Amazons! He once attacked the island of Aretias and tried to take slaves of the women there!"

Realizing she referred to the legendary sacred island of the Amazons, Hector wasn't surprised to learn that Achilles' ambition had at one time led him there. No wonder even as far away as Themiskyra they had heard of Achilles and hated him. "Then tell me how you know," he said, determined to change the subject from Achilles back to the child.

"I can see it," she said, "in your eyes."

"My eyes? What are you talking about?"

"There's a tiny ring of gold around the center of your eye," she said. "On some men -- depending on the color of his eyes -- the ring is more silver or white, but on you with your dark eyes, it is gold."

"I want to see," he said. "I need a mirror."

Without waiting, Hector led Penthesilea to his private rooms, ignoring the surprised looks of his guard and servants as the two passed. They were well matched, nearly the same height, both strong and well made. On their own they were accustomed to eliciting stares of admiration and respect based both on their titles and on their physicality. The two together were bound to attract attention, even if they hadn't been headed directly to the prince's bedchamber.

"You should find this difficult to explain to your wife," she commented dryly, finally showing Hector the first sign of a smile.

"My wife will never even ask," Hector said as they entered his bedroom, rushing forward and pressing his face close to the one polished copper mirror in the room. There was still enough left of the late afternoon sun to see his reflection clearly.

"Do you see it? Around the inside part of the eye."

Hector stared into the mirror, noticing for the first time the golden ring around his dark pupil. How strange! His eyes had the look of a hunting hawk. "And this ring in my eyes is proof that I carry a child?"

She nodded. "It is the first outward sign of it," she said. "The goddess we serve, Artemis, is your god's twin sister. She is not only the mistress of the hunt, she is the goddess of fertility and childbirth. Long ago she gifted us with the ability to have our mates carry our children so that the women could bear arms. Although it's far from common, it's not unheard of among our people."

Hector stared at her. "Your men carry children?"

She nodded. "Yes. For obvious reasons it's kept secret from the rest of the world. But it's natural for us. Our men do the cooking and sewing and farming. And they raise the children, which they sometimes also bear."

Uncharacteristically animated, Hector forgot at first that he hadn't truly known until now that he was, indeed, carrying Achilles' child. "You must tell me everything," he said. "How it all works. How the men accomplish it. Even though this was the doing of Aphrodite, not Artemis, it seems the method is the same."

"Of course, Prince. I'll tell you whatever I can. But you must understand that this thing is different with different men. It can take months or simply weeks. Or if the goddess wills it, it can happen instantly."

Hector touched his chest. "There's no change in me -- in my form. I don't feel any swelling at all."

"Are you saying you can't tell for yourself?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Until this moment, I didn't know for certain."

The tall woman paced around the large room, stopping at either side of the corner terrace to look both north and west. The sun was getting low on the horizon, and the room was filling with a deep, golden light. "Why would the goddess give you a child instead of your brother, the one more likely to serve such a purpose? You're a great warrior, and your people need your leadership! You could be forced to take to your rooms or even to your bed! What will happen to this city if you become indisposed?"

Hector felt he needed to explain, but was somewhat reluctant remembering her strong reaction to the name Achilles. Still, she had trusted him with her information, and he needed to show her the same courtesy. The Amazons had little enough reason to believe the word of men, and he was determined not to give them further justification for their attitude.

"Please, Queen Penthesilea, sit down. I'll tell you how I came to be 'blessed' in this way by the goddess." He stressed the word 'blessed' with an ironic tone. "Just yesterday morning I killed a young warrior, a young man that turned out to be both the cousin and the lover of Achilles. I was told that in return for Achilles' refusal to fight beside Agamemnon, the goddess Aphrodite had offered to make this youth, Patroclus, the vessel for Achilles' seed."

The green eyes of the Amazon queen didn't waver as she sat watching Hector, listening carefully to his words.

"I offered my brother to take Patroclus' place, but Achilles refused him. He said there was only one Trojan vessel acceptable to carry his son." He paused before stating the obvious.

"I."

Penthesilea took a deep breath. "Perhaps this was actually a trick to keep you from being able to defend your city."

"Why would Aphrodite participate in such a plan?"

The woman stood up and started pacing again. "Who knows why the gods play the games they do with us! Wasn't Athena once your patroness? Isn't the most sacred object in your city a statue of Athena? Now it's said she takes the side of the Greeks."

Hector nodded without answering, thinking of the object to which the woman referred, the Palladium, the sacred wooden statue that was said to have fallen from the sky and was kept in the Temple of Athena and guarded by the goddess' high priestess, Cassandra. Cassandra was Hector's cousin, a prophetess who had fallen out of favor with Priam for constantly making pronouncements of doom about the future of Troy, and for focusing many of her verbal attacks on Paris. It occurred to Hector now that some of what Cassandra had foreseen had already come to pass; he, too, found her troublesome, although hardly more troublesome than the priests of Apollo who held his father in thrall with their equally ridiculous divinations.

"I try not to attempt to understand or to explain the gods. I leave that to my father and his priests--" Hector cut himself off quickly when he realized his words were bordering on criticism of Troy's king in front of this woman who was little more than a stranger.

"It surprises me that a man like Achilles would make such a bargain with your goddess, knowing that warfare is what he lives for. Why give that up in exchange for something he could have gotten on a camp follower if he so chose?"

Hector thought the question over before responding. "It's one thing to father a son. It's another to share that son with someone you love." He was referring, of course, to Patroclus. But Penthesilea's eyes now held a question as she turned them on Troy's royal heir.

"There was passion between us," Hector admitted. "But I doubt it could be called much more than that. I suppose Achilles chose me because I was the one to take Patroclus' life."

"Perhaps."

Battling back the memories of his coupling with Achilles that camped impatiently on the border of his mind, anxious to invade his consciousness yet again and distract him from his duty, Hector squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. It was probably only normal to be fixated on the father of his child at this crucial time. If there were no baby involved, would he think so often of the hour or so he had spent locked in passionate lovemaking with the Greek warrior?

Probably not. Despite Achilles' sculpted form and comely face, there was little about him to care for. He was an arrogant man swelled up with hubris, and he was a fearsome killer who succumbed to his own bloodlust, caring little for anything but his own glory. He had cut off the head of the statue of Apollo with little thought for the audacity of the act. And he had participated in the slaughter of helpless priests who served the god as a sign to the people of Troy of how merciless he would be if the protective walls Apollo helped build were finally breached by the mighty Greek army.

Achilles was a barbarian.

He was not the distraught lover who had retired to the dark recesses of his tent to weep brokenly over the body of his beloved. That man was not the real Achilles. It couldn't be.

"Prince Hector?"

"Yes?"

"Don't love him. He'll destroy you," said the Amazon queen.

Both Hector and Penthesilea looked up as Paris entered the room without announcement, carrying a beautiful amphora. The neck of the thing was ornately decorated with brede and the body painted with a design of elegant war-horses, and Paris held it carefully cradled in his arms. When he noticed the tall woman standing by the balcony, he nearly dropped it. Hector stood up and took the vase, imagining how shocked his brother must be by the Amazon with her short leather skirt, golden girdle and bare breast.

"This is our guest and new ally," Hector said, studying the Grecian-style urn as he spoke. "Queen Penthesilea of Themiskyra."

Paris nodded at the warrior queen, remembering himself instantly, his face reflecting his usual charm as he broke into a smile. "It's a great honor, Queen Penthesilea," he said, pronouncing the name just as Hector had.

"This is my brother, Paris," Hector said in the woman's direction.

"Prince," she responded, betraying no emotion.

"Do you like the urn?" Paris asked, turning to Hector.

Hector nodded, pleased with both the weight and size of the perfect amphora. "Yes. Very much," he said.

"How will you send it?" Paris asked, his eyes darting toward the Amazon.

"We can speak in front of Penthesilea," Hector assured him, handing the amphora back. "She knows our secret, which I'll explain to you later."

Paris cradled the urn in his arms, waiting for his brother's instructions.

"Tell Lysander to use the same path to the camp and to deliver the urn to Achilles himself. Tell him what I said before, that this is a gift to hold the ashes of Patroclus. And tell him something else."

"What?" asked Paris.

"Tell him to come to Troy. I am carrying his son."

The End, Part Five