crossoverfic | atg/troy crossover

Title: If you think I’m pretty
Author:

elf_skitzo
Fandoms: Troy, Alexander
Pairings: insinuated Hephaistion/Alexander, Alexander/Bagoas, and Hector/Paris
Rating: PG-13 for sexual innuendo, suggested incest, and angst
Summary: Paris doesn’t like being told no
Beta: the incomparable, strawberry flavoured

simon_lloyd for her advice and tailoring
AN: title inspired by “Missed Me” by the Dresden Dolls. I'm just dipping my toes into the pool that is Men of Myth, though at this rate with

simon_lloyd's encouraging I'll take a dive. The story takes place at the Men of Myth Convention,

stewardess_lotr's creation.

Paris had been elated when he heard that Alexander and his entourage would be at this year's convention. Despite Hector's objections, Paris planned to stay as close to Achilles and Patroclus as possible, knowing that the pair had been idolized by the Macedonian. He began to wonder if he had a weakness for blondes when he spent more time pondering how to get beneath Achilles' leather kilt than he did looking for Alexander as he wandered through the convention center.

Luck smiled on him, and it wasn't long before he spotted a head of flaxen curls leaving the cafe. Paris began to hone in on his prey when the sudden appearance of another man stopped him in his tracks.

Paris had forgotten about Hephaistion.

He fell back, watching the pair closely. Hephaistion looked like he would follow Alexander to the end of the world and gazed after the young king with those big blue eyes.

Then Paris smirked. He'd just have to get them alone.

---

It wasn't until that evening that Paris saw either of them again. The Greeks were throwing a party for the newly arrived Macedonians. Paris suspected it was an excuse for drunken brawling. He snuck in to the place Agamemnon had rented, doubting that any of the Greeks would be pleased to see him crashing their party.

Miraculously, there were a few friendly faces for him to schmooze with - two of those faces belonged to Achilles and Patroclus. The former smiled when he saw Paris; the latter blushed and mumbled a greeting.

Unlike Hector, Paris was very good at talking about nothing.

The conversation meandered around such things as who had come to the convention, the fact that Paris had better stay hidden from Menelaus, Patroclus's becoming blush, and Odysseus's drunken rhetoric.

Achilles hinted several times that Paris was welcome to join he and Patroclus when they left, but Paris was not paying attention.

Hephaistion left the room, and with the way that Alexander looked after him, Paris decided to find out if the rumours were true. With a smile he excused himself, winking at Patroclus when he neither accepted nor declined Achilles' advances.

Paris found Hephaistion taking some air on the balcony. As he moved closer he noticed the man was wearing eyeliner and a Persian robe. Before Paris could open his mouth, he was addressed by a soft voice.

"The great Paris of Troy. What brings you to our little get together?"

Hephaistion did not sound like the fierce warrior he was reputed to be. His voice sounded like a bard's. Hector couldn't sing.

Paris realised that he was taking too long to answer. He chuckled and said, "The company."

"Come to sell Aphrodite's favour to the highest bidder?"

He was startled by Hephaistion's bluntness, and offended by it. "I sell nothing."

Hephaistion only shrugged and looked out at the illuminated cityscape. "Men and women line up to give you what you want. There must be something to gain from it."

Paris narrowed his eyes at the back of Hephaistion's head. If the Greeks were spreading rumours, Zeus help them. But this was no time to lose his temper. Paris shrugged. "Love. What else is there to have?"

Hephaistion laughed and Paris felt his cheeks burn. He felt like a child left out of some joke.

"Love? Oh yes, I'm sure you've loved more than your fair share, Prince Paris. Does Aphrodite seek to favour me with your love tonight?"

Hephaistion turned; the moonlight threw the contours of his chest and stomach, exposed by the open robe, into sharp relief. Paris refused to look below the man's collarbone. Hephaistion looked at him, boring holes into him with his large eyes, then looked past Paris and into the room they had left.

"Or do you wish to conquer Alexander, when no other man has succeeded?"

Not even you? wondered Paris, seeing the concern hiding behind Hephaistion's calm facade. Or are you afraid of competition?

Paris glanced over his shoulder, then shrugged as he returned his attention to Hephaistion.

"Perhaps," he answered warily. "He seems agreeable enough." Paris paused, then smirked. "And fond of wine."

Hephaistion frowned and looked at the floor between them. Paris felt a momentary victory, but then the other man lifted his gaze again and fixed him with a penetrating stare.

"Yes, Alexander collects love as other men collect gold. But after you have had him, and when the morning comes, will you love him then? The only thing that Alexander values more than love is loyalty. To him you cannot have one without the other. You cannot give him that, Paris, but he would love you with all that he is. I will not allow you to break his heart."

Paris felt his chest tighten. He did not break hearts! He shared the bliss of love with anyone willing to accept.

"Are you afraid or jealous, Hephaistion? I see a Persian boy following at his heels. Why don't you chase him away?"

"Bagoas?" Hephaistion looked into the room again and sighed. "He adores Alexander, and I won't begrudge either of them the other's affection. Bagoas is loyal, perhaps to a fault, and I doubt he could live with himself if he hurt Alexander. We serve our different purposes. I am not afraid of losing Alexander, especially not to the likes of you."

Hephaistion gave him a hard look and Paris squared his shoulders to keep from cringing.

"No, not to you or anyone. He is my Alexander, and as much a part of me as I am him."

The secretive and mocking smile on Hephaistion's face stoked the heat of anger in Paris. He clenched his jaw and turned on his heel, storming away from the infuriating man. He wanted Alexander to love him now more than ever.

---

Paris rushed back into the hall to find Alexander. The Macedonian king was surrounded by laughing men. Some were loudly complimenting the black-haired boy serving wine. Even Paris found himself drawn by the shy Persian. Alexander surrounded himself with beauty, and Paris longed to be part of it.

"Paris! What are you doing here? Naughty boy. Be sure that Menelaus doesn't see you without Hector nearby."

"The warning is taken, Odysseus."

Paris almost smirked when he caught Alexander looking him over appraisingly. He knew he had been right to wear the red chiton.

"Alexander! This is Prince Paris of Troy."

Alexander's eyes lit up like a boy's and Paris smiled graciously. Oh yes, thought Paris, I can weave a web around you.

"Paris? Hector's brother?"

His expression fell behind his smile. Of course, heroes spoke of heroes. "Yes. Unfortunately my brother declined to accompany me this evening."

"He's got more sense than you, then," said a rough-looking man from Alexander's left.

"But Paris has enough bravery to sneak into his enemy's house. That must be admired, Cleitus."

Cleitus snorted, but Paris glowed beneath the praise. No wonder everyone loved Alexander. He looked like Apollo, with gold curls crowning his head instead of laurels.

---

Paris waited all night for an invitation. Alexander looked at him, studied him. He could feel the man's eyes on him even after Hephaistion returned. But as the party began to die, and as men began to leave or pass out on couches, Paris felt more desperate for a promising look. An unfamiliar stab of jealous tore at him when he saw Alexander and Hephaistion lock eyes across the thinning crowd.

Alexander rose to leave. Paris immediately followed. He caught up to the Macedonian before the doors touched his shoulder. Alexander looked surprised, but pleased.

"Paris. I had not expected to be graced with your company again tonight."

Paris felt a glimmer of hope and flashed a coy smile. "Indeed? I would be pleased to remain in your company for the rest of the night..."

Alexander arched a brow at him, then smiled gently. "No, though I am flattered."

Paris was not deterred and pressed on. "But the way you looked at me--"

"Was the same as the rest of the men in the room. You are lovely, Paris. I certainly can't deny that."

"All of the other men wish me to warm their beds. Would you deny me your love?"

The question seemed to startle Alexander. Paris took the opportunity to move closer and was soon able to smell the other man's hair.

Alexander looked at him, then leaned forward. Paris closed his eyes in habit, but felt lips touch his brow and not his mouth. He opened them again, confused.

"Of course I would not, but there are only two that I will share my bed with, and I will not offend either of them by bringing you there."

"What offense?! Love is love. How could they keep it from you?"

"It is not so simple, Paris."

Paris pulled away. His stomach hollowed and it felt as though there was a great void growing in him. Alexander was being polite in his decline, but it stung like a slap in the face. No one had ever said no to him on the grounds of loyalty.

"Good night, Paris."

Paris stood still for several minutes after Alexander left, gathering himself together. He picked his head up, then made himself leave.

The ride back to the hotel was dismal, especially when he realised that this would be the first time in a while that he had come back to sleep in his own bed.

Maybe Hector would let Paris crawl into his.

---

Paris let himself into their room cautiously, in case Hector was already sleeping.

"You are back early."

He nearly dropped the plastic key card when he heard his brother's voice. "I can only tolerate so much time with the Greeks," Paris said curtly.

Hector sat up and looked at him closely; Paris kept his head down and began to take the beads out of his hair.

"What happened?"

The concern in Hector's voice made Paris smile a little.

"I met Alexander."

Paris's comment immediately put Hector on edge. He saw his brother's jaw clench from the corner of his eye.

"Did you?"

"Oh yes. He reminds me of you, but he's more polite." Paris smirked over at Hector, who no longer looked amused. Teasing his brother made Paris feel a bit better. But he had not anticipated that Hector would continue the conversation.

"And?"

Paris blinked and nervously put the last bead down. "And... well, nothing. He and his bastard general successfully ruined my night."

Hector was silent. Paris continued his evening routine and washed the kohl from around his eyes.

"He turned you down?"

Paris scowled, annoyed by the awe in Hector's voice. "Do not sound so shocked. You are not the only one that turns away a good lover. I thought he would let me love him. That's what he wants."

Hector shot him a warning look through the reflection in the mirror and Paris froze.

"All you have in your head is this idea - some romantic notion of what it is to be a lover, and it didn't even strike you until tonight that you could be wrong, did it Paris? Alexander and Hephaistion are what lovers are - what they should be. And you... you're..."

Paris slammed the drawer shut and turned on Hector. But his anger vanished when he saw an unfamiliar pain in his brother’s eyes.

"What am I Hector?" His voice came out weaker than he had intended.

Hector sighed and looked helpless, something that distressed Paris more than the hurt he had seen.

"You... are a child, Paris, who thinks only of himself. People can love children, but children cannot be lovers."

Paris sank back. Hector stayed with him to baby-sit. Hector was good with children; Hector was good with Paris.

"But.. but you.."

"I look for a love that just isn't there. I love you as you cannot - or will not - love me in return. Paris, I would die for you, but you scorn me and shame me with every lover you take to bed."

"I want them to love me!"

"Is it not enough that I love you?"

"I want it to be!" he screamed back, startled by the volume of his own voice. Paris slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified by his confession. Hector looked stunned as well, then sighed.

"Come to bed, Paris."

The invitation spurred a surge of anger through him, and Paris felt the desperate need to strike back at Hector.

“No,” he spat.

“Where are you going?”

"To find more agreeable company.” Paris wanted to sting him, wanted to give pain through being blunt. He had not turned down Achilles and he doubted the Greek would turn him away.

“Paris…”

He looked up, glaring at his older brother. Hector was still sitting on the bed, looking defeated. Paris swallowed the lump in his throat and did his best to ignore the tightness in his chest as he grabbed the plastic key card again.

“Paris, don’t do this.”

Paris closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “I’m just a child throwing a tantrum, aren’t I Hector?”

He felt a grim sense of satisfaction when he saw Hector’s shoulders sag. Paris turned abruptly and left, slamming the door behind him.

---