THE WILL OF THE GODS:
"Paris! No!" Briseis cried and Paris stopped for a moment.
"Paris." A sweet, heavenly voice, sweeter even than Helen's whispered. Paris turned around and beautiful woman standing there. She was tall, with long blonde hair that fell to her shoulders in rippling waves, with eyes the colour of turquoises and face so clear it was like it was made out of porcelain. She wore a dress, like the sky at sunset, pink-red, edged with gold.
"Who are you?" Paris asked in awe.
"Aphrodite. Goddess of love – I gave you Helen remember?" Paris remembered and smiled.
"I need you to do me a favour."
"Anything, O Beautiful One."
"Let them go, dear Paris."
"Who?"
Aphrodite pointed one delicate hand at Achilles and Briseis.
"I cannot let him go, with my cousin!"
"Paris, they have suffered enough. Briseis is Achilles' last chance at redemption."
"He killed Hector!"
"You will always have Helen. Let him go. Briseis loves him. Please."
Paris hesitated, and then lowered his bow.
"Go."
Achilles swept up Briseis in his tanned, muscular arms, both gave him a look of thanks and left.
It was a cloudy night, but the full moon shone through. Achilles stood there, his armour clinging to his sweat-drenched skin. After Paris had spared his life, he had taken Briseis to his ship and they had sailed off. Achilles' brown-haired lover was below deck, sleeping. The stars were faintly glistening like diamonds. Far in the west, a gold-scarlet spark was visible. It was Troy. Burning.
Achilles went below and saw Briseis lying on the bed, her blood-splattered Trojan priestess robe on the floor beside her. Achilles slowly removed his unique armour and washed off the blood of Troy. His vessel headed towards Phtia, Odysseus' towards Ithaca and his beautiful wife Penelope.
Never as beautiful as Briseis though. Her chocolate brown eyes fluttered in her sleep. Achilles stroked her unblemished skin. Except for the purple-blue bruises, the welts on her wrists and a couple of pale pink scars on her face – she was perfect. Her dark brown hair lay on a pillow. Achilles slipped under the thick blanket and pressed his body close to hers, an arm around her waist, the other around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him than she already was.
Achilles rested his chin on top of her head, so her head was cushioned in the hollow of his neck. He kissed her sweetly and gently and drifted off to sleep in his warm, sweet, perfect paradise of Briseis.
For once, he knew that nothing would separate him and Briseis. Absolutely nothing.
CAPRICORNUS152