Worth Loving

Chapter 8: Beginnings of a Discovery

Harry jumped from his bed, noticing his sweaty embrace and blankets. He cursed everything in sight, for the protagonist of his dreams, cause of the excess sweating, had been none other than Helen's older daughter, Hermione.

"This is absolutely ridiculous. There are a million women in Troy and I get this way over a Spartan? Completely out of the question." Harry got up and splashed his face with water, determined to get the beautiful princess away from his thoughts.

But his mind replayed the images of yesterday's afternoon when his hands had travelled to her waist, and the way her body fell against his, it was perfect...

"Knock it off!" He hit the wall. "Damn it!"

The sound of the hitting along with Harry's curse came in unison with a soft knock on the door, which only served to enrage Harry even more.

"Not now for crying out loud!" Harry hit the wall again, expecting that any second now the door would open revealing a giggling maid, his angry aunt, or an extremely happy Oliver.

However, the door did not open. Instead, he heard something being put on the floor and footsteps walking away.

"Oh hell." Harry put on his hunter green robe and proceeded to get the door.

There was no one there, but on the floor rested a tray of fruits and juice. He looked up to see a stray of wavy hair bouncing as the feet moved on a quickly pace.

"Hermione!" Her name escaped from his lips before he could stop it. What on earth was wrong with him?

The Spartan princess turned around, revealing a yellow gown and those chestnut eyes that never failed to draw his attention.

"I apologize Harry, did I wake you?" Her sweet voice just awakened his body.

Stop it!

"No! I mean, I was up. Did you want something?"

"Not really. It is just...you missed breakfast this morning and I thought you might be hungry." She pointed at the food tray upon his feet.

"Really? What time is it?" Harry passed his hand through his damp hair. He never overslept.

"It is past ten."

"Ugh, there goes my exercise routine."

"Something wrong? Are you ill?" Her voice shifted to a concerned tone.

"No, I am fine. Just...overslept I guess. You could have just let my servant bring it up." He could not believe she would do that for him. His aunt did not even bother to see him when he was sick.

"I apologize, but Oliver insisted that I bring it up because the servants often get a little carried away, whatever that means."

Harry shrugged at her words. It was true. If the maids found him sleeping, they would get bed with him.

"Um, thanks then." He ran his hands through his hair again, his defence mechanism when he found himself in an awkward position.

"You are welcome. Well...might as well eat, do not want the meal to spoil, right?"

"Right." Harry shifted his eyes away from her body, which he had been staring intently the past seconds.

Stop!

He took the tray and was going back inside his chamber when he noticed that Hermione's eyes were still upon his gaze.

"You uh, wanted something else princess?"

"Actually, I was wondering when exactly in the afternoon do you want me to meet you. I mean, I do not want to be a bother," Hermione replied.

"Oh. After lunch is fine. We can come directly to my room if you want," he suggested, but noticed that Hermione flinched uncomfortably.

" I know my way. I will just meet you."

"Fine."

"Well, see you in a while I suppose."

"Until then."

Harry's eyes trailed her slim figure until she was safely out of sight.

"What the hell..." Harry hit himself on the forehead with his hand. This behaviour over a Spartan was completely unacceptable.

Well, she is, after all, Helen's daughter, bound to be attractive... his mind tried to justify it, but he would not have it.

The attractiveness and beauty of Helen had precisely been the death warrant of his father, his uncle, and all the royal family and he was not going to allow himself to fall for the next in Helen's line. Troy was not going to be put on jeopardy once more on his own account. He did not even want to take the Trojan throne from fear of screwing things up again. His family seemed to be cursed somehow. Although his father would have made a good ruler, yes, he was bound for greatness. That was, however, before Paris got him killed. Stupid Paris. His father had died protecting him. For what? So he could not protect Troy afterwards from Paris's love ambitions.

"Bastard. Should have thrown you off the mountain when they had the chance," Harry cursed under his breath.

But his curses were in vane. After all, Hector was dead, his mother had died giving birth to him and all his parentage, except Alexandria, had been murdered and the queen was not a friendly and warm sight.

The prince sighed while taking the meal to his chamber. He still stood up to that thought that had occupied his mind the day Oliver arrived; no dame was worth his father's life, much less the ruination of a great empire.

****

"Good morning!" Fleur surprised Oliver from behind while he practised target with his bow.

As a result, he jumped and the arrow was thrown to the lake.

"Great hell." Oliver turned around, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he settled his eyes on Hermione's sister. Then he cursed once more. Wiping his sweat was not a great success, for more sweat drops were starting to form.

"I am sorry, did I frighten you?" Fleur asked seductively, playing with a strand of her perfectly combed straight hair.

"Just did not expect to see you here of all places." Oliver smiled shyly, before returning to his target practise.

But instead of allowing him to continue, Fleur put her hands around his waist, her face resting on his back as his muscles tensed.

"What can I say? Spontaneity got the better of me." Her hands travelled to his abs, then his chest.

Oliver sighed. No woman had ever touched him that way, mostly because he never allowed it. Then what the hell was he doing?

"Something I can do for you Fleur?" He pulled her hands away from his frame before turning around to face her.

"Oh. I want you to do a lot of things to me," she whispered, "But we will wait until dusk for that. Right now, I was hoping you could teach me how to...ride properly."

"Ride?"

"Horseback."

"Oh! Well, I suppose I do not mind that. We will meet at the stable after lunch and ride through the royal gardens. That should be enough to begin with. Is that all right with you?"

"As long as you are there." She resumed playing with her hair again.

"Of course. We would not want a nasty accident happening, would we?"

"Not precisely accidents..."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing. After lunch it is."

"All right. See you then."

"Count on it. May I?" Fleur took Oliver's bow from his hands and pointed at his target.

"Fleur, I do not think-

His mouth went dry as the arrow hit the target right in the middle.

"Wow, good shooting," Oliver remarked.

" Why thank you. You just have to have your eyes set exactly on what you want. That way, you can be securely sure that eventually, you will get it."

Lunch came, but by the time the meal was brought to the table, their occupants were hardly hungry.

No one really touched his or her plates, except the queen, who devoured her food with great pleasure.

Harry was stirring the wine in his goblet, shifting occasional looks at Hermione from across the table.

Hermione played with her fork as she caught Harry's gaze, who immediately looked down at his plate.

Oliver did not taste his food, for he was too busy sweating for the lack of distance between Fleur and himself and Fleur hardly ate on any day, so no surprise there.

When lunch finally came to an end Hermione was the first to stand up from the table as she retreated quietly, but fast to her room. Oliver roused second and Fleur took the liberty to take his arm as they made their way to the stable.

"Harry? Something bothering you dear?" Alexandria approached his seat, patting his shoulder as he jumped from a startle.

"Uh? What?" Harry looked at his aunt.

"You barely touched your food," the queen noticed.

"Ate late."

"You overslept."

"So I did."

"You never oversleep. Is there something on your mind?"

"You hated Paris. Why?" Harry suddenly asked, looking at his aunt as the queen shrugged, evidently in anger.

"I thought we agreed-"

"I am a grown boy aunt Alexandria and if you want me to take the throne-"

"You are taking the throne then?"

"You know I will not." Harry stood up. "But I think I have a right-"

"Your father would have wanted you to-"

"My father is dead! He does not have a say in this!"

"And it was Paris's fault! So why do you-?"

"He was still your brother. He made a mistake, that is true and it cost my father's life, but you hated him before that, you hated him since he was born, did you not?"

"My visions told me he would bring doom to Troy. He did."

"He loved."

"That was not love Harry. It was lust. He wanted the woman whose beauty was unmatched, despite the consequences, and Paris did cry when he did not get what he wanted. My parents gave him everything-"

"My father loved as well. Was that lust?"

"You do not understand."

"Then make me."

"Your father loved Troy. He married, so he could leave a legacy. Yes, your mother loved him, as no one else did, but he was prepared to do whatever he had to for the love of his country."

"Like Agamemnon, who sacrificed his daughter?"

"Agamemnon was an horrid man indeed, but he knew what he wanted. Your father had that state of mind, Paris could not make himself do it. You see Harry; when you rule a country, you must look after to it, protect it. It is not about your feelings, but about greatness. The love you have for the glory of your county surpasses all standards. Hector believed that. Do you?"

****

Harry sighed as he made his way to his room. He did not know what had prompted him to ask such questions to his aunt, since he had never approved of what Paris had done in the first place. However, her answers still had his mind working.

His father was great indeed. He loved Troy.It was true. His father would have wanted him to be king, but could he really measure up to him? His heart frozen, for Troy's glory. He knew he did not have the best temperament in the world, but he had taught himself to be that way, at the expense of getting hurt. He had been raised with that. Royalty is superficiality, never get attached to anything if you want a great empire. He was trained for that, do things without pause, nor reflection. His heart was raised to cool but...could one be so sure that this cold could not be melted away?

"Hi Harry."

Harry opened his chamber to find Hermione already seated on the floor, staring at his book collection. She had taken a few down to the floor with her. As she looked at him, her curls shadowed her face.

"I hope you do not mind...I will return them." Hermione stood up, but Harry stopped any further movement from her.

"Take any book you want, I have no use for them," he assured her. He did not like to read, after all. He sat down and motioned for her to take a chair across from him.

"I, uh, thanks." Hermione gave him a thin smile, tossing her wavy hair away from her face.

"So princess, you have me. Where do you want me to start?"

" I want to hear everything you know."

"Fair enough. First of all; do you know how your father came to marry your mother?"

****

"They flipped rings? They flipped rings for my mother!" Hermione's shouts filled the royal gardens of Troy.

After Harry had told her about the ring flip, she could not help but get out of the room. Out of frustration, she inquired about the issue to Oliver, who felt compelled to offer an explanation, although he knew that it would scarcely help matters.

"Hermione, calm down. Father said it was better-"Oliver tried to calm her as he got off his horse.

"Oh! It was Odysseus'idea? How grand then!"

"Hermione, he did what he could. Helen had disobeyed her father and that defiance had her brother killed. Her father would have disowned her if one of them did not marry her," Oliver explained.

"Them? Who exactly were them?"

"Agamemnon and the Spartan Bureaucracy. There was Menelaus and Achilles, among several others. Agamemnon and my father took care of the sorting as you call it, because they were already married at that time."

"And Menelaus was the lucky one?" Hermione's voice displayed a mixture of sarcasm and anger.

"It could have been worse. You could have wounded up being Achilles's daughter." Oliver shrugged.

Hermione raised her hand, sign that she wanted to hear no more from the subject of Achilles, so Oliver went on with Helen.

"The bargain was that the other men were to protect Sparta and support the king, along with his marriage to your mother. They were to stand together...upon the condition..."

"They actually did that? They kept the bargain?"

"Yes. Because your father kept his part," Oliver's voice had been reduced to a mere whisper, but Hermione heard perfectly.

"His part? What part?"

"The rest of them were to be content with admiring her from afar. Um..."

"Admire her? You mean see her naked in the throne room, do you not?"

"Well yeah, that did happen, and Paris was there-"

"My father actually allowed this? I always thought it was-"

"If he had not the men would have-"

"Screw it! My mother was not a prize!"

"Well, technically, she was, her beauty was unmatched-"

"She was a human being, not an object of desire!"

"Hermione, your father hardly handles anything himself, Agamemnon rules Sparta, not him. You think Menelaus would have put a stop to this? He did not have the nerves to do anything. He still does not. Everything was done for him. That event allowed him control over the bureaucracy. You think he was going to pass the opportunity up? He even told your mother about the ring flip for crying out loud!"

"He did?"

"Yes. Why do you think your father never talks of Helen? He feels embarrassed about the way he treated her. He never called her a whore, did not kill her, because Paris respected her and treated her like she deserved, or so father says."

"I see."

"Your father never laid a hand on Paris, he respected him, because Paris had won your mother's heart and made her happy."

"But he killed-"

"Menelaus did not kill Paris 'Mione, Agamemnon did. He died in your mother's arms."