#half-crown hektor

[theriverpointace]

assigning hamilton songs to the half-crown royals characters

(half-crown royals being a title i have deemed suitable for my steampunk paris of troy story. i have not listened to hamilton in years.)

hektor: "dear theodosia." bro got parentified BAD just saying ...

alexandros: "my shot." upbeat and about doing whatever it takes to get what he wants. alexandros is all about that baby!!

deiphobos: "ten duel commandments." he is alexander in this song i think.

helenos: "who lives, who dies, who tells your story." did you know he outlives troy?

kassandra: "history has its eyes on you." iirc anyways.

iliona: "stay alive (reprise)"

laodice: "we know"

hellen: "say no to this" but she's not maria!

priam: "meet me inside"

aphrodite: "helpless"

apollo: "alexander hamilton" bc man thinks he's the main character

[littlesparklight]

Troy Dies

(What about the other ways this could've gone?) *

With three goddesses in front of Prince Paris of Troy, asking him to choose who is to be given the apple, in a moment of folding to expectations he knows everyone has, knowing he cannot fulfil them, he stretches his hand out, clutching the fruit, and offers it to Athena.

He is only human, and for twenty years he's been told he's lacking - and Athena, by the very gift she's offered if she's declared the fairest, promises acceptance and welcome.

His father, his memories of his warrior past not so very deeply buried, gets ambitions. They turn east and south, first, and Paris gets a chance to prove himself. Dozens die at his spear and sword in just the first battle, easy as breathing. He feels hollow. War is still dirty, unpleasant and cruel, but there is always one more within his reach, and that pitches him forward, a furious wind tearing across the battlefield. Hektor and Antiphos congratulate him, stunned not just at what he's accomplished, with the weapons he did, but that he had been among the first to lead his men into the fray. The success tastes of iron in the back of his mouth, stale and cold, but he can't distract himself by his usual methods.

The lyre feels foreign in his hands, and he seems quite unable to stay focused on what he's supposed to be doing in bed, plans and strategies for the next battle intruding, and Paris, after he's sent the girl away, stares at his hands.

He doesn't know who he is anymore, but his father and Hektor are happy, and Paris clings to that instead. That was what he wanted.

Suggests - he doesn't know why, expect that it's quite natural, isn't it? - that they should turn east, to the islands nearest to their coast. Islands turn into the Achaian mainland beyond, and by now Paris is trusted with a large enough force he can take his ships south-west as Hektor goes east, and Sparta, glorious, warlike Sparta, falls at his hands. He almost gets a vase to the head while searching through the royal bedchamber, the king dead in the throne room and maybe he was still hit on the head because she's---

Beautiful.

Paris takes the former Queen of Sparta for himself, even if he still isn't focused enough on anything but the next battle, one more glowing word of praise from Hektor or his father, and while he still wears gold and jewels, they're mostly on his armour now. He doesn't know what he's doing, can't remember songs he used to know like breathing, and he doesn't know what Athena has done to him but if he thinks too long on it, unable to sleep while Helen is asleep next to him, stiff yet curled close, he feels as if he might throw up. He doesn't recognize himself, and no one has said anything about it other than effusive praise for how he crowns the battlefield, and that's fine. Really, it is; isn't this what everyone wanted him to be? Isn't this what he is supposed to be?

He hasn't touched Helen since he brought her with him.

The Achaeans rally - Hektor didn't get deep enough to claim Mycenae, and King Agamemnon is the brother of the late king of Sparta, and apparently furiously grieving for his brother's loss. There's also apparently some sort of oath when it comes to Helen, even though she's not married anymore, and half of Achaea turns up on their doorstep.

Nine years of chasing the Achaeans from cities and islands belonging to Troy, until the Achaeans make another attempt at Troy itself. Paris kills Patroklos and dies to Achilles, his own sword wetted with the man's blood but he hadn't gotten a killing blow, and Achilles, so furious, still freezes in confusion when Paris with his dying breath thanks him.

Troy dies.

(Left is Aeneas escaping the razed city, hunted by a still-angry Hera but with his pleased mother's protection.)

*

With three goddesses in front of Prince Paris of Troy, asking him to choose who is to be given the apple, in a moment of ambition - perhaps this will get his family off his back - he extends his hand and offers the apple to Queen Hera.

They're visited by a herald of the king of Hattusa a couple days later, the king casting wide for support against the Assyrians on the eastern borders of the empire, and Paris has some time alone with the man. He makes an impression. A month later there's a marriage proposal for one of the king's daughters, and there's hardly any reason to refuse. Paris goes.

Getting a feel for the court at Hattusa is as easy as breathing despite that the politics and the geography are so much further beyond what Paris has ever known. Somehow, he helps stabilise things against the Assyrians and the threatening invaders pressing in from the north, not with Hattusa's swaying military might, but diplomacy. The king turns towards re-establishing power over vassal states, and it's not until months later that Paris finds out that includes vassal states long left mostly alone, such as Troy. It doesn't occur to him to change that; all he does his argue for good terms for his family.

With the center stable, the king stretches outwards, towards the ever-threatening Achaeans, since they have always been a thorn in Hattusa's side. The Achaeans are mightily displeased.

Three years into the brewing conflict and a plague sweeps through Hattusa. Paris and his wife are left on the throne, and for all that he can still keep relations both east and north - and Egypt as well - stable, the Achaeans are unbending, and Paris isn't going to withdraw what troops are massed around Troy, of course.

After nine years, Troy dies.

After another ten, Paris dies in bed, stabbed by his own wife for the love of another man who she wishes on the throne instead.

(Left is Aphrodite leaving Hattusa, left is Aeneas landing in Italy.)

[foxys-fantasy-tales]

Excuse me I'm just tearing up at some RP characters nothing to see here.

(I know there are a ton of ellipses. These two dorks, especially Rilea, constantly full pause in speech. It's a quirk she has and he picked up somewhat.) He blushed again and ducked his head now as the spell was whispered away. "Romance...has long been lost to me. I don't know...where to begin." "Lost?" She scoffed and shook her head. "You're more romantic than Ambrose half the time! You seem to have had your confidence washed away at some point. It was you who made this." She opened her palms face up as the image of their intertwined morning glory and aster flowers appeared. "The fireworks setup... singing for me at the bar... reading to me...helping me design my room... You're always sweet to me." Then, a purple rose grew around his wrist. "Always have been." Much as she hated roses, this one would always make her smile. "You gave me everything I needed. Even then." His smile was as small and delicate as a new star. He materialized a crown of asters and morning glories above her and did the same for himself. A drawing of it manifested over their hearts like tattoos and he took her hand in his. "I only get this way for you. You have a way of drawing this out of me...I...I am..." Fuck. He couldn't cry now. He was trying to be sexy! "Oh, no you do not. You wooed the artist! What about all the previous women and men you've slept with? Hektor even seems willing to give you another shot. You have a veritable harem yet talk about me building one with only two loves." "All of it was tainted by my curse...in some way...all of it was driven by carnal pleasure and need." Then, he sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "I...I apologize. A new body must mean new emotions." She nodded and let the flowers fade from her hands, though the rose stayed coiled around his hand and thornless. He cleared his throat, raised his body up, and shimmied closer to her again. He waved his hand and cherry blossoms began to rain down around them. "My darling angel...I...I don't..." The words were lodging in his throat and trying to break around the lump in it. They were trying to beat themselves out with the thrum of his heart. He decided to stop talking. He minor illusioned some fireflies around them. "I thought often of you while I saw these bugs." "Bugs? There have been more romantic sayings." She smiled anyway and kissed his cheek to spur him on as the petals caught in her hair. Angel? She smiled a little wider and her eyes flashed before two great wings fading from white to black in contrast to her hair wrapped around her. His jaw dropped with his breath being stolen by the display. "Wha-! When did this happen?? Oh, you truly are an angel now...no!" He laughed. "Surely I am asleep still. Weaver is playing tricks on me." "No, I can assure you that you are truly in the presence of divinity now~" She grinned at his laugh and spread her wings wide. He apparently had more breath to lose as he felt himself grow lightheaded at the display. The pink flowers melded with the black and white mix. This was his fiancée now? "I...I am...unworthy," he finally stammered. She blinked. That sounded a bit too serious for her liking. The wings curled in around him and trapped him there with her as her luminous purple eyes stared at him. "You were the only one worthy... that was why I chose you."

[battlinghurricanes]

What You Did

Read here or on Ao3!

Summary: Words come easier and kinder in the peace of night, beyond the heat of battle, safe in the heat of a humid summer breeze. Hektor offers some. Paris listens. (for the last time.)

[ The Iliad, Hektor & Paris ]

[ Rated G, 1147 words, Drabble, Missing scene, Mentions of canon character death ]

-

Paris nearly fumbles the wax for his bowstring when he notices Hektor has managed to steal up behind him from out of the dark. He sets the jar aside for the moment, temporarily abandoning the maintenance of his bow when his brother stops beside him with intention.

“Paris,” Hektor begins from under his curious gaze before he can inquire after the reason for his visit. “I heard what you did.”

Paris jolts, then smiles immediately, better to disarm what might come next. He’s done a lot of things. He’s not sure what this one is. Very carefully and deliberately mild, he risks no more than a simple “Oh?” in reply.

“That you shot Diomedes,” Hektor continues. “That you drove him from the battlefield.”

A loud, crass sound escapes Paris’s chest, half aggravated, half relieved. “By the gods-! Hektor!” he wails dramatically, earning a startled recoil and a concerned stare. “You can not start with ‘Paris, I heard what you did’- I was ready to cry! You menace! You ass!”

Corners of his eyes crinkled, Hektor laughs with a roll of his head, hearty and unburdened and infectious and Paris is beaming in return before he even knows it. Paris’s heart flutters right up to weightlessness in the swell of his laughter, such a precious sound he'd been denied so long. Tiny glints of torch light reflect off the edges of Hektor’s teeth; the leftmost incisor is a little crooked. He’d forgotten. It’s been so long that he’d forgotten that.

It fades with a gentle chuckle and Paris’s smile does not wane. "Yeah, I suppose that put you on your toes, didn't it? Sorry. Force of habit?” Hektor offers with a sideways glance and grin, a little sheepishness within the humor there.

Paris opens his mouth, then sets aside an instinctual response that would land heavier than he wants. The night is nice, if balmy. Let it remain such.

“Then cut it out,” Paris retorts blithely instead. “What if next time I have a heart attack?” His brother just blows out a breath in response.

“But truly,” Hektor redirects, seriousness returning to his voice, “A few of the men told me that you shot him through foot. And I heard Diomedes made quite the scene and quite the speech, but then turned around with his tail between his legs the next moment anyways.”

Paris sweeps his tongue over the grin he can’t fully suppress, but when Hektor sees and catches his eye, there’s an indulgent quirk to his own lips. Paris has to look away, hot and flush with unfamiliar pride, drunk on the sudden rush of Hektor’s recognition.

He feels he can allow himself, “Well, no boast in the world can make it any easier to fight with a hole through your foot, though Diomedes seemed convinced he’d find one if he yapped long enough.” Hektor snorts softly.

Shit- that really did happen today, didn’t it? Just this morning. He can scarcely wrap his mind around it; it feels like a lifetime passed between then and now. Gods, Paris hates fighting.

Hektor wears a thoughtful expression when Paris musters the courage to look back at him again. “He’s been a plague on our forces as of late. I was worried. It’s crucial that you were able to drive him back. I hope it lasts a while yet.”

Paris doesn’t know what to say, but Hektor doesn’t seem finished regardless, even though he pauses. He deliberates. Paris tries to squash a rueful flare of feeling at the thought that this will be the proof that he cannot shrink from the fight, that he should be out here every day, doing more, being more.

But when Hektor’s voice rises in the night air again, slow and deliberate, it says, “And I appreciate that you stepped in when he forced me to retreat.” Paris’s heart had stopped when he saw the spear go glancing off Hektor’s gleaming helmet, driving home a fearsome dent. “It’s good to protect your own. I’m grateful.”

Although he knows Hektor is thinking of the soldiers he was forced to abandon, Paris had just been thinking of Hektor, of biting back in his defence. He cares not for the discrepancy. Paris will look after Hektor where Hektor doesn’t.

“See if he takes aim at you again,” is all Paris can think to say, a little breathy, even though he knows the battle hungry Achaean wouldn’t hesitate if given another chance.

“Even it out and shoot the other foot next time,” Hektor quips. Paris huffs a laugh.

Wetting his lips and shifting from foot to foot, he searches for what to say now. Without thought, out spilling from his lips comes, “So, on to burn the Argive ships tomorrow, then?” and an underlying sliver of intensity he can’t place belies his casual words.

Hektor’s brow twitches faintly and he takes in and releases a breath. “Gods allowing,” is all he says.

A shiver of anticipation runs through Paris, awaiting the battles yet to come. He hardly knows what to do with the feeling, unsettling to him given that he never looks forward to fights. But something thrills him now nonetheless. It sits strange in his chest, but maybe it’s because Hektor had a point, they’d gotten closer to driving out the Achaeans today than they ever have...

“Rest, Paris. It won’t be an easy day,” Hektor instructs him. And you earned it,” he adds simply and Paris has to resist a wobbly smile at the notion.

Hektor casts a glance to the distant lights of Troy, his mind seeming elsewhere now, but before departing he steps in suddenly and shoves his broad hand down on the crown of his head and ruins his hair.

Paris yowls like a cat rubbed backwards and tries to dance away, smacking at Hektor’s scarred arm sharply. “Menace! Arhh!” Retreating only once the damage has been done, Hektor grins at him, a rare indulgence of mischief within the curl of his lips.

Paris sticks up his nose with a huff as he quickly rearranges his victimized curls and refuses to let his brother see anything but his offence. He’s not sure it works. He knows he’s pouting.

Hektor’s eyes linger on him a moment longer, made more gentle in the ease of night, then he turns and walks away. Paris turns back to where he set his bow and supplies and tosses a “Goodnight,” back over his shoulder.

He thinks it goes unheard for a moment, until Hektor’s “‘Night,” reaches his ears.

Paris finishes tending to his bow before returning to the comfort of his tent, though it pales in comparison to his lavish room in Troy. Still, it suits for the night and Paris settles on his cot to sleep.

It is the last time he claims more than a fitful doze until Hektor’s body returns to Troy, thirteen days later.

[durindanna]

⇷

send ⇷ for a memory from Hektor’s life // acceptingTroy, capitol city. Wall’s edge. Age 10.

Hektor stands before the Trojan wall, hands on his hips and a thoughtful pout that really doesn’t fit the face of someone who hasn’t hit puberty yet. The sort of expression that looks like he’s trying too hard to imitate things he’s seen his elders do. Eventually, he announces his verdict to his brother at his side. “Y’know, it’s a lot smoother on the outside than on this side. I bet I could climb it.”

Deiphobus shakes his head with certainty. “Nuh-uh. You’d fall right back down before you got anywhere. Splat.”

“Shaddup, Deiphobus. I bet you I can, too.”

One of their sisters who accompanied them on this expedition, because she was older and unfortunately assigned the task of prince-sitting, sighs in exasperation. “Hektor, don’t–” But unfortunately, she’s cut off by Deiphobus, who has completely ignored her and turned to face Hektor with his arms crossed and a challenging grin.

“Whatcha bet?”

Hektor takes a few seconds to think, frowning musingly before he supplies an answer. “The kitchen got some fruit today, saw it myself. Bet ya my serving at dinner.”

Deiphobus grins widely and sticks out his hand, which Hektor claps immediately. “Deal. No takebacks.”

Arisbe huffs. “You’re gonna fall, and I’m not taking the blame if you bust your head open.” But she knows that talking him down is pointless, and instead takes a few steps back before plonking herself on the ground to watch the proceedings. She’ll just tell Priam that she tried to stop them if anything happens.

Hektor skips backwards as well, squints appraisingly at the giant wall stretching up before him, then sprints full-speed at it. He manages something, a half-scramble to find any sort of handhold that’ll last him more than a second. It doesn’t work great, but it works sort of. He manages to hoist himself up about two meters before he stops and turns his head over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at Deiphobus.

“That’s not the top, you don’t win till you get to the top,” is all he gets called back at him.

Hektor makes a thppppbbbth noise in return. Eloquent.

When he tries to move from there, though, the rock he’s hopped to grab crumbles under his grip and scrabbling for a replacement isn’t enough, Hektor tumbles back down to the ground, landing heavily on his side and letting out a loud shout of a phrase that Hecuba would absolutely scrub his mouth out for if she had heard. He tumbles before flopping to a stop in a dusty patch, wheezing a little.

Deiphobus and Arisbe both are already running over, there once he hits the ground to hover over him.

“Are you okay?” Arisbe asks nervously. She doesn’t see any blood, but she really is not prepared to be called on her bluff that she could talk her way out of trouble if the crown prince died on her watch.

“Hektor?” asks Deiphobus.

“I,” the response comes muffled from Hektor speaking directly into the ground, “am indestructible.”

He hoists himself up slowly, very much scuffed up and now covered in dirt, but in one piece and no more injured than a good many scrapes and a shoulder that’s going to be one big bruise in about an hour.

Deiphobus looks at him in silence for a few seconds. “Told you you couldn’t do it. Sucks to suck.”

Hektor spits dust at him.

[littlesparklight]

ok so I deleted the replies and will be putting them here because I'm wordy and it's ridiculous to be using the replies fffff

Epic cycle-wise, they all have the same gods and at least partially the same language (at least some of the Trojan allies are all speaking different languages)! Like, the myths and even later the Greek tragedians and such weren't much into considerations of different religion, everyone practices the same even when the Greeks undoubtedly knew other people had different gods and thus other ways to practice. (But, considering there is a lot of overlap/influence on and around Greece from the Near East, it might have felt like the differences were not very large and might have helped minimize the apparent gap?)

For me, I do have the Trojans be Luwian and thus having a different language, but that wouldn't stop at least the royal family from knowing several languages among them, or for there to be a, say, Greek-speaking minority in the city that can be used as interpreters! I also mostly use Greek gods, while sometimes making reference to purely Hittite/Luwian deities. (But for those Greek gods, giving them Hittite/Luwian trappings where potentially known, like using Apaliunas for Apollo since that was if not outright Apollo himself, then a potential precursor/source for the Apollo we currently have.)

Like, going strictly with what we have in-story, no, the Trojans, at least, don't (seemingly!) have a different language and don't have different gods, but if you want to play with what the actual cultures were in the Late Bronze Age to give flavour to your myth, then yes, they would have, to some degree!

As for the Astyanax thing - I think the point here is that he is Hektor's son.

He's the son of the crown prince of Troy, their strongest/greatest warrior, and if he survived he would have made a great symbol if he could be freed (or hadn't gone into slavery with his mother at all). You wouldn't need many survivors (of which there are some, after all), to see the potential in the "damage" an alive Astyanax could cause. So he "must" go.

Potential children of the Trojan women captives are... well, they're all slaves, anyway. They'd have to free themselves first of all to be able to take revenge and not immediately be killed after, say, killing their father/half-siblings as eventual revenge. But unless they're from the former princesses, do they have much "worth" as symbols, or ability to draw people to themselves for any proper revenge?

But, loyalty wouldn't be impossible. Teucer is, after all, the son of a Trojan princess who is most probably a slave concubine, since Hesione is by all accounts not Telamon's actual wife. Telamon values Ajax much greater than Teucer, and probably always has, but Teucer fights with the Achaeans, as an Achaean, so whatever his mother might or might not have told him, if she's had the chance to, certainly hasn't primed him to be Trojan-sympathetic. Even after the war, when his father treats him as badly as he does!

iliad fan friends around, may someone help me with some doubts? I'm confused because I always see different takes on these things:

Did Greeks and Trojans speak the same language?

Did Greek and Trojans have the same gods?

Some say that Astyanax had to be killed so he would not avenge his family when he grew up. That makes me wonder, what about the children of the Greeks with their Trojan slaves? Like, could it be that if a Trojan woman, later war prisoner and wife to a Greek soldier, had a son, wouldn't she raise that son to avenge her family? Or that would be unlikely because, even being slaves, sons were expected to be loyal to their biological father? So, the question is, why is Astyanax a threat, but the children of Greek men-Trojan women are "harmless"?

Aaand, if anyone is bored and wants to throw theories on the characters ages, be welcome.

[sturmvcgel]

The Age Of Gods And Men Is Over Now – Verse update. 

Scroll down for the tldr ;)

Parents: Althaia of Athens & Hades (first life) / Bram van Helder & Finya Naydennya (current life) Life Cycle: Fourth and Final Reincarnation Time Period: Modern

This is an AU verse that takes place after Deathwalker, Marian's first book. It was created for interactions with Tessa and Flora so part of the credit goes out to them ♥ It is free for interaction though, simply request a starter if you wish to meet this Marian ;)

On her quest to save her friend Marian met Udyati Rao, a girl that changed her life forever. The two became close friends, even if space and time often separated them. They always found a way back to each other, no matter how many doors were closed in their faces, how many strings needed to snap, and no matter the memories lost or the ghosts remembered. They both were heroes in their own rights with a lot of weight upon their shoulders, wishing to be nothing but normal girls. But whenever one of them called for help, the other abandoned her own quest and come to the rescue. Until one day Marian stopped calling. For her adventure had ended abruptly and terribly. Eloise was dead and the gates of hell opened wide for her. Instead of redemption she was more inclined to revenge and so Marian van Helder did what her father and his brothers did milennia ago: She threw her father from his throne and took it for herself. As soon as she lifted the bone crown and put it atop her head vines grew out of her own skull, thorns breaking through her skin – The seeds of spring broke free once her heart was split in two by the pain of losing Eloise and Gabriel – binding the crown to her head forever. For Hades needs a ruler and she was now unable to leave the kingdom of the dead. The black marble halls of the underworld were not a lonely though. Souls now haunted her every waking moment, Thanatos and his Keres claimed her nights and dreams. And Lucas Delos stood by her side, the statue of a hero. He, the reincarnated soul of Paris of Troy, and a descendant of both Hades and Apollo, had previously made a deal with the God of the Underworld, trading his soul for one he loved dearly and becoming Hand of Darkness, heir to the throne. With Marian in the picture it seems that he is now free of that fate, but only for a moment. The Moirai do not forget and so Lucas, too, is forced to stay in the Underworld, now right-hand to the Queen. They are an unlikely pair at first but they lean on each other out of simple necessity. Enemies surround them for others wish to claim the throne and the Keres have not forgotten what Marian has done. In an attempt to do something good with her newly claimed power Marian uses her Necromancer magic to help Lucas bring his long lost brother Hektor back from the dead. But eventhough she now rules over souls her magic continues to be a fickle thing and unbeknownst to the two of them something goes wrong with the spell. The Queen is slowly losing her sanity.

While Marian and Lucas scheme in the underworld to keep their positions – and even more importantly their lives – her cousin Noah van Helder plans a rescue mission. He himself has died before and as a Wiedergänger he cannot dare the descent into Hades. If Death catches him once more he will not be able to escape. But he knows someone who has battled gods and monsters in other worlds before, the druid Drystan. Drystan has lived almost four hundred years on Earth before he traveled to the Celtic Underworld, his magic is ancient and cursed. He has walked indeed with Gods before, but his paths have never brought him through the mists into the Grecian lands. He knows he will need help to survive the descent. A few years ago he met Udyati Rao and her magic, her doors, now become part of his plan to save the Queen from Hell from her own stupid mistakes. The fact that Udyati and Marian are best friends works in his way. But Udyati does not. She refuses to simply open the door and stay behind (because it is „too dangerous“) and instead jumps right through, followed by her friend Philip Durand. Philip „Pip“ Durand was born in France. And he died in France only twenty years later. His luck – or curse, depending on how you look at it and who you ask – was that his bloodline descended from Aeneas himself, that ancient figure of Myth. Deep down he is a son of Troy. And when Marian opened the gates of Hades and allowed Hektor's soul to escape Pip's heart stopped beating. For only a second. For only a whispering moment in time. With most of Hektor's memories lost in the river Lethe and only half of Pip's heart remaining in his body he is now a boy made out of a hundred pieces, carefully stitched together. It is a secret he keeps to himself, even from Udyati, just like he never talks about the fear he feels upon returning to the Underworld. What if the rivers now wash away the last bits of himself he has left? But his friend is off to rescue a friend and the soul inside him was once a hero so he cannot help but stay by her side, not realising that this quest will bring him face to face with his brother Lucas, a soul he does not even know exists.

Muses / Mun's mentioned: Udyati Rao by Tessa @nirgama​  Lucas Delos by Flora @fenixburned​ Drystan d'Girione @finsterhxgel​ Philip Durand @lvgvs​

tldr: Marian has dethroned Hades and is now Queen of the Underworld. Lucas stands at her side as Hand of Darkness. Drystan recrutes Udyati to open a gate to the Underworld so he can save Marian but Udyati goes on her own, accompanied by Pip who is struggling with his new fate as reincarnation of Lucas' brother Hektor.

[theriverpointace]

happy storyteller saturday! your characters end up at a fortune telling booth! what are they told? how much stock do they put in the predictions? how do they feel about fortune tellers and the whole process? :3

is it a real fortune-teller? or a hack? only helenos and kassandra would know the difference, though i think deiphobos would be suspiscious either way.

okay i've been thinking about the half-crown royal siblings non-stop this week so i'm just gonna go down the list here. let's assume this person is real for the sake of argument lol

Hektor: probably told something vague like "keep your loved ones close," but he already does that. He probably rolls his eyes a bit, but it sets him on edge that there's something Vaguely Bad coming and he's not sure how to plan for it or if he'll be able to protect his family. (Spoiler: he'll try. He'll fail.)

Alexandros: definitely told something all doom and gloom. I don't think it's as explicit as "you will start a civil war, your family will all die painfully, and you don't even get to keep the girl" but whatever he's told has something to do with the coming fight and how it's his fault. On the surface, he just laughs it off, but deep down where he won't admit it, it hurts to have everybody constantly blaming him for things going wrong.

Deiphobos: probably the most vague and indistinct fortune, to the point where he can't even tell if it's positive or negative. He scoffs, rolls his eyes, says he doesn't put any stock by it anyways.

Kassandra: I think her future is impossible to read. There's something clouding it or blocking it. She might be able to see it herself but it's confusing and horrifying and more than anything else, aflame.

Helenos: I have the least on his character so bear with me. I think he would be the only one to get any sort of positive fortune. I'm not sure what it would be, though. He believes it, and he sits quietly smiling about it.

[theriverpointace]

realizing that priam having so many kids has given them attention issues. most, if not all of them, are motivated by some kind of need to be seen or heard.

alexandros - used to being an only kid, is spoiled with attention even after his joining the half-crowns due to being a novelty ... and he suffers for it! feels like he's always performing and/or that nobody gets him. super lonely, Just Wants A Friend.

deiphobos - used to being the overlooked kid. mama's boy all the way. also has daddy issues. wants to prove himself to priam, prove he's worthy of the respect hektor gets, or at least the special treatment/spoiling alexandros gets.

helenos - mostly happy to be left alone by his parents. eventually realizes he needs somebody to consider him outside of his duties as a prophet/strategist (idk yet) once in awhile, but he doesn't realize this consciously enough to actually ask for it. he goes into some kind of spiral that would be self-destructive if he were any braver. he defects to the achaians and cries himself to sleep.

kassandra - wishes people would just fucking listen to her, she's right, she's right, she's been proven right over and over, helenos'll tell you she's right but nobody sees him either so what even the fuck.

[theriverpointace]

quick personal tag guide for the half-crown royals:

whole project title: #the half-crown royals and #thcr

character tags: half-crown for the center five, thcr for other characters. for now.

#half-crown alexandros (the main character. probably)

#half-crown hektor

#half-crown deiphobos

#half-crown kassandra

#half-crown helenos

#thcr priam

#thcr hecuba

#thcr iliona

#thcr laodice

#thcr hellen

#thcr aphrodite

#thcr apollo

etc, etc

[littlesparklight]

(2) Talking is overrated (choking) / (4) Trust fall (taken hostage)

"You two know each other?" Scraggly-Beard - apparently having appointed himself, or been silently appointed by unanimous support - said, a sharp-toothed grin growing on his face.

Hector drew breath, and Paris hurried to speak before him - if he could keep control of the situation, it might still be salvageable, and he didn't want to give Hektor a hook. Didn't want to give him an opportunity. What sort of opportunity that would be, Paris was no longer sure, memories of his older brother's voice from the other day echoing sharply in his head.

"Never se---ehk." Choked off into a squeak and then just choking, a flush not from embarrassment or arousal rising to his head with the blood now trapped there by Scraggly-Beard's sooty, ragged-nailed and blood-spattered hand around his throat. Fighting against his heaving chest and getting nowhere, creeping, cold tension stiffening his lips and cheeks, Paris shoved himself backwards. Grunting as he smacked into Scraggly-Beard's chest since anywhere else would've taken him into the sword, Paris found nothing but vertigo for having moved and darkness teasing the edges of his vision; the hand around his throat hadn't eased up, only tightened. Hektor's face twisted up - Paris was honestly a little surprised to see it - and didn't heed his attempt at shaking his head.

"He's my brother," Hektor snapped, and Paris despaired. "Let him go."

His head was full of noise, only half of it actual sounds from outside; he could feel, hear, his blood banging through his body, stoppered up between torso and head like a child damming up a little stream with sticks and stoned, watching the thickening flow of water be unable to pass by. Breathing - attempting to - too deep hurt, still, and yet it didn't matter, but he couldn't stop.

"Seems to me we have no reason at all to do that, really," Scraggly-Beard said with a chuckle, easing up his grip by the faintest touch, allowing Paris to steal a couple sips of air before he tightened his grip, nails digging into the graceful throat. "And you look like you'd fight us, rather than be smart, so be smart and drop the sword and I'll ease up on your brother's pretty neck. No one need to get hurt, do they? We just want ransom, and with two of you, there would be more of it."

Hektor wasn't going to do that. Why would he, considering what he'd said, yesterday? Paris' chuckle fought against his diminishing lack of air, more a vibration than a full sound, and Scraggly-Beard shook him by the grip he had on him. Paris wheezed, vision briefly going black on a strange little side-eye from Hektor. He tried to smile, just because that was what it felt like he should do, but his lips were cold, and didn't really want to obey him.

"--ather would give you ransom enough, but I have men nearby," Hektor said with a growl, and Paris wondered why he was dragging this out. Aside from how it might just kill him in the most terrifying and kindest fashion possible, maybe, by dragging this out. Maybe that was the reason.

"A couple heads of cattle enough to risk your beloved little brother's life?" Scraggly-Beard sneered, and Paris rolled his eyes and almost lost consciousness again. Hektor didn't---

"Hey, I recognize him!" Someone, further back, shouted. "That's the crown-prince of Troy! Wouldn't the commanders, or their father, pay much more than a couple cattle for them?"

A pause.

Paris was pretty sure he lost more than just a moment or two, his head ringing, for suddenly he had air again, his chest, head, throat, throbbing with his hitching attempts to breathe and four men were gathered around Hektor, tying him up. Why the fuck had he done that, when he'd said... When yesterday--- Coughing, Paris managed a full breath finally while Scraggly-Beard gripped him by the chin - and throat, but not enough to fully choke him again. Still, he flinched, wriggling against the ropes. His wrists hurt.

"And if that's Hektor, something pretty like this must be the guilty party, the reason why we're here at all."

Hektor cursed. Paris stared into brown eyes far sharper than the drawling accent to Scraggly-beard's Achaean had given an impression of, and faintness threatened for another reason entirely than a lack of air.

"I'm sure Lords Menelaos and Agamemnon would be really interested in your company, so we'll keep you until they can get here," Scraggly-Beard said, smiling toothily again.