Calais was restless.

Sleeping wasn’t an option, his mind was to clouded by thoughts of the day.

The supposed wedding had been a lie, a lie to appease Artemis. The wind had come, but human sacrifices were taken from the land long ago.

And the prince had seen it, had stood there and watched. The first death he ever saw.

It traumatized him, Calais could see it in the way the man shifted in his sleep. His head resting on Calais’ lap.

Calais was pissed, Odysseus had lied. His words coming far too easily to be truth. The girl had been slaughtered, by her own father.

”A virgin Priestess would be better.”

Calais wrinkled his nose, glancing over at the blood stained grooms tunic of the prince as his hand gently moved through his lovers curls. Not only was that a lie, but by the gods the prince was already married. It clicked, and Calais closed his eyes. That is why Odysseus had suggested it. Because it was not a marriage, but a sacrifice.

Calais opened his eyes again, at least the wind had come. So they could head to Troy. But he was scared. The prophecy, the fact he’ll loose the prince all to a frivolous war that they both should’ve not be apart of.

Calais raised his hands to rub his eyes, a yawn slipping past his chapped lips. Why must this happen? He thought, one rough palm settling back in the princes curls. He looked down at the bruised eyes and the tears that seem to refuse to fall yet linger in the princes eyes. He felt horrible, for everything that’s happened. Perhaps, if he had never pushed that boy, he never would have known about the prince. Never would have gotten so attached and risk everything.

Boys took other boys as lovers, yes, but they almost always grew out of it, unless it was a slave boy. But, Calais couldn’t phantom not having the prince with him. Lying alone on the pallet, his side empty and cold. What would become of him?

I’d die. I refuse to live without him.

He thought, morbidly.