“It’s a relief to see you alive, Queen Briseis.”
The journey to Troy after rescuing Briseis had been swift, thanks to Drakkias. Riding a dragon’s back ensured speed, but caution dictated our approach. I asked Drakkias to land a safe distance from the city, preferring not to reveal his existence to the Trojans just yet. Involving him in their war was not a risk I was willing to take.
From there, we completed the remainder of the journey on foot. Though slower than flying, it was still a far quicker arrival than most could expect. As soon as we reached the gates and I revealed my identity, the Trojan guards wasted no time opening the gates. My name carried weight, and Briseis, as a high-ranking noble and Queen of Lyrnessus, commanded immediate respect. Without delay, I requested an audience with King Priam. Briseis’ presence before the Trojan court was vital, as she remained a symbol of strength and resilience for her people.
Now, we stood in the grand hall of Troy, faced with the royal family. King Priam, Queen Hecuba, and their court regarded us with expressions of relief and subdued joy. Briseis’ survival was a miracle in itself, given the horrors she had endured. They had feared a far worse fate for her, especially given Agamemnon’s reputation.
“It’s a relief to see you alive, Queen Briseis,” Priam said, his voice warm but tempered with sadness.
Briseis knelt respectfully before him. “Thank you, my king,” she replied softly. Despite her grace, her pallor betrayed her. The past weeks had taken a visible toll—days under Khillea’s protection followed by the torment of being in Agamemnon’s possession. The ordeal weighed heavily on her, yet she managed to hold herself with dignity. Priam, Hecuba, and the court, fully aware of the unspeakable experiences she had likely endured, tactfully avoided addressing them.
“I am deeply sorry for Mynes,” Priam said after a pause, his tone heavy with regret. “He was a good man, one I have known since his boyhood.”
Briseis’ expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of sadness crossing her features. “I knew him only briefly, but he was indeed a noble man who sacrificed his life for his people,” she said, her voice steady despite the sorrow it carried.
Priam nodded solemnly, then turned his attention to me. His expression shifted to a mix of gratitude and exasperation. “I suppose we have to thank you once again, Heiron,” he said, sighing with a wry smile.
The sentiment wasn’t lost on me. I had done much for the Trojans, yet rarely asked for anything in return. “Not truly, Your Majesty,” I replied, keeping my tone humble. “I was merely seeking information about our enemies when I came across the Queen. Rescuing her was a fortunate result of that pursuit.”
It wasn’t the whole truth. My journey had initially been for entirely different reasons, a personal matter involving Aisha. What followed—a tangled encounter with Khillea that I had sex with then meeting Thetis, and then finally the unexpected rescue of Briseis—which had been far from planned.
Queen Hecuba sighed, her tone laced with exasperation at my humility.
“You are being far too modest again, Heiron. You’ve done so much for us already, far more than we could ever have expected—even though we hired others to fight in our name.”
“I agree,” Hector added with a grin. “He might as well be as Trojan as any of us.”
“Trojan? Him? Don’t exaggerate, brother,” Paris interjected, his mocking tone cutting through the atmosphere like a blade. His voice carried an unmistakable bitterness, as if the very thought of my being praised in his presence was an affront.
The mood in the room shifted immediately. The tension was palpable, thick as smoke in the air.
I, however, felt no need to dignify Paris’ remark with a response. His hostility toward me was nothing new. Over the past months, he had made his disdain known on multiple occasions—childish outbursts born, I suspected, of jealousy. Perhaps my contributions to Troy’s defense highlighted his inadequacies. Whatever the reason, I found his petty barbs more amusing than troubling.
But the others did not share my indifference.
“I disagree,” Helen said suddenly, her voice calm yet firm as she stepped into the fray. “He has done enough to be considered a Trojan.”
Her defense caught me off guard, though I appreciated her words. Paris, on the other hand, looked utterly stunned. He turned to Helen, his face a mask of betrayal, as if silently asking her, Why him? Why are you defending this mercenary instead of me, your husband?
The rest of the court exchanged glances, clearly surprised by Helen’s intervention.
“It seems Helen has embraced Trojan values far more than my dear brother,” Hector quipped, his words dripping with mockery as he cast a sharp look at Paris.
“Indeed,” Andromache chimed in, her expression calm but her words pointed. She had never hidden her dislike of Paris, and her disapproval now was evident. Perhaps it stemmed from the chaos Paris had brought to their lives—dragging Troy into conflict while contributing little to its salvation, a stark contrast to Hector’s steadfast efforts.
Paris’ face darkened, his glare shifting to Hector before flicking toward their parents. He clearly expected Priam or Hecuba to defend him, to validate his outrage. Yet neither spoke. Their silence, paired with their stern gazes, was an answer in itself.
It was clear they would not side with a son who had insulted the man who had just returned Briseis to them.
That silence was too much for Paris. His composure cracked, and he exploded.
“Why the hell are you all defending this lowlife mercenary instead of me?!” he snapped, his voice rising with every word. “I am the Prince of Troy, and yet you shower him with praise while ignoring me?!”
“Brother, calm down…” Princess Polyxena spoke gently, her voice like a soothing breeze, but Paris showed no signs of heeding her plea.
“He just did his job, that’s all!” Paris yelled, his voice echoing through the grand hall. “You gave him money, and he fought. He’s no different than a stray dog trailing after you because you tossed him a scrap of meat!”
The venom in his words made the room fall eerily silent.
I couldn’t help but think how fortunate it was that Charybdis wasn’t present—she would have torn him apart for such an insult. Medea and Scylla, had they been here, would likely have ended his life before anyone could intervene.
“Paris!” Queen Hecuba stood abruptly, her voice trembling with anger.
The gathered nobles and soldiers, many of whom I had fought alongside, glared at Paris with open disdain. Aeneas and Atalanta stood stiffly, their displeasure evident, while Castor and Pollux exchanged amused glances, seemingly entertained by the chaos.
“Do you hear yourself?” Helen’s voice cut through the tension, laced with disgust as she stepped forward, her eyes locked on Paris.
“What?” Paris turned on her, his face contorted in outrage. “Are you going to defend him again, Helen, instead of me? What did he do to you? Did you sleep with him?!”
Helen’s expression hardened. “I’ve heard enough,” she said curtly, turning on her heel and striding out of the hall.
“Helen, wait!” Paris called after her, his voice desperate, but before he could follow, Hector grabbed his arm.
“Paris,” Hector called.
“What?!” Paris snapped, glaring at his elder brother.
“Apologize to Heiron,” Hector commanded, his tone brooking no argument.
“Why should I?!” Paris shouted, his voice growing shrill. “He should be the one apologizing to me!”
It was becoming clear that Paris was unraveling. The myths had painted him as foolish, but the reality before me was even more pathetic.
“You’re going too far, brother…” Kassandra, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady.
Paris whirled to face her, his eyes burning with contempt. “Ha! My dear cursed sister! How will you doom Troy this time with your lies? You brought this war to our gates with your prophecies, and now you dare speak against me?!”
Kassandra froze, his words hitting her like a physical blow. She clutched her hands to her chest, her face pale.
“You!” Hector’s voice roared through the hall as he raised his fist, his anger finally boiling over.
“Enough.” Priam’s voice was calm but commanding as he stood, silencing the room.
Paris turned to his father, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Are you going to defend him too, Father?!”
“I will, yes,” Priam replied without hesitation.
“Why not me?!” Paris shouted, his voice breaking. “Why defend him over your own son?!”
Priam’s gaze was cold, his voice quiet but cutting. “Because you have not accomplished even a fraction of what he has done for Troy.” He gestured toward me. “He has brought more good to this city than you, the Prince of it.”
Paris staggered back as if struck, his face pale with shock. For a moment, he stood frozen, his clenched fists trembling at his sides. Without another word, he turned and stormed out of the hall, the sound of his footsteps echoing long after he had gone.
The silence that followed was heavy, the air thick with unspoken judgment. Priam sighed deeply and sat back down, his shoulders slumping slightly.
“I apologize on behalf of my son, Heiron,” Priam said, addressing me directly. His tone was solemn, his expression weighted with regret. “His actions do not reflect the gratitude we feel for all that you’ve done.”
I inclined my head slightly, remaining silent. Words were unnecessary—Paris’ outburst had spoken volumes about his character, and Priam’s apology more than compensated for it.
“Heiron,” Priam continued, his voice softening as a small smile spread across his face, “we are deeply grateful for your efforts in weakening the Greeks. Perhaps your motivations are personal, but either way, we don’t want you to endanger yourself too much. Understood?”
His words caught me off guard. The smile he offered was warm, genuine—a stark contrast to anything I had ever received from my own father. For a moment, I was at a loss for how to respond.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I managed after a pause. “But don’t worry—this was the last time.”
Priam nodded, his smile widening in relief. “Good, then. Tell me, how are the Greeks faring after your latest exploits?”
At this, the gathered nobles and warriors leaned forward slightly, their curiosity evident.
“They are still holding together,” I began, my voice steady. “But after I managed to steal Briseis from Agamemnon and burn a significant number of their ships, I’d wager they’re quite furious.”
Priam burst into hearty laughter, his mirth filling the room. “As expected of Heiron!” he exclaimed, his eyes glinting with approval.
Hector chuckled as well, clapping me on the shoulder. “You’ve done more than most could even dream of accomplishing.”
The tension from earlier seemed to dissolve, replaced by an air of camaraderie and respect. After a few more exchanges of words, I excused myself. The weariness of the day was beginning to weigh on me, and I was eager to rest.