Hector stared out over dry land in front of the Scaean Gates and then further out to the rippling blue-green Aegean and the opening of the Hellespont. Despite the darkness that tomorrow held, it was a bright and sunny day, with a gentle sea breeze gracing the air. He wore robes of red, a messenger of Ares, Hades, and Discord. He leaned on his spear, staring out at the horizon thinking of the days to come possibly years.
Paris stood behind him silently, having left Helen to go to the council, something that Paris did not often do. He wore a white robe, a wreath of laurel branches atop his head. Hector sighed when he heard his younger brother kick a stone impatiently. " Paris, would you have left that damned woman back in Sparta had you known the trouble that would have followed you across the sea like a blasted hunting dog?" Hector asked turning to look into his brother's eyes.
There was a careless gleam in his brown eyes. "Never. The gods gave Helen to me, not Menelaus. I love her-" Hector stopped the words with a glare that could have cut the wall of Troy in half.
"And I love my wife! I love our father and our mother! I love this city! You bring Ares himself to our gates by bringing that woman here!" Hector shouted at his brother grabbing the front of his robe and lifting him off the ground. Paris struggled for a moment before relaxing and figuring that he better just wait to be put down.
"Our gates have never been breached before, Hector. We have faced many powerful enemy's before. Do you not think that we can do it again?" Paris asked.
"This is no joke, Paris. When kings sacrifice their own daughters in hopes of a goddess's favor and a good wind you know the enemy will do all they can to destroy us. Walls and gates are just walls and gates. Men are just men, whether they be demigod or mortal. Neither can stop an enemy alone." Hector growled. Paris nodded silently.
"What would you have me do?" Paris asked in a whisper.
"Defend this city as the other men will. It is all any of us can do." Hector said in a sad whisper as he gently sat Paris back down on his feet, releasing the front of his shirt. Paris's eyes took on a nightmarish look as he thought about fighting a battle. The battlefield was no place for Paris, but Hector could think of no better punishment. He turned and walked down the stairs quietly, leaving Paris to stand and look out over the sandy ground that would soon be covered in the blood of men and gods alike.