The mighty warrior Achilles, who no man could beat, the invincible champion of the Greeks, awoke to find himself tied to a post in the center of a wooden hut not entirely sure how he got there. He groaned loudly and immediately unknown female voices sounded from outside.
'He has awakened!'
'Quickly go and find the Chieftess.'
A moment of recollection hit him; he had been hunting for game in some nearby Trojan woods, sick of fish, when he had been caught in an elaborate trap, and then promptly knocked unconscious by a female and a blunt rock. Bracing himself, Achilles tried to find a weakness in his bonds. He'd be the laughing stock of the entire Greek camp if he didn't escape soon. He felt an acute pain in his neck and he looked down to see a knife pressed firmly against his throat drawing a thin line of blood.
'Do not attempt to escape, you will not make it past this hut alive.' His captor released the knife as he stilled his movements and stepped around into view. Achilles took in the worn-in sandals, armour covering slender calves, a pair of fine female legs scandalously covered by a short skirt made of animal skins, a taut stomach and full breasts also covered by a scrap of animal skins before looking into the face of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her face was oval and features flawless. Her lips, which were currently forming a wry smile, were full and red, with a siren's call to be kissed. Her eyes were a hypnotic sea blue, the colour of the ocean he had crossed to reach Troy and were alight with amusement. Long hair of a lustrous brown tumbled over her shoulders and she wore a gold circlet to assert some sort of authority. The only sight that wasn't so becoming was the large, powerful sword hanging casually at her side, as well as the bejeweled knife she still held in her hand. She seemed to be well aware of the appraising looks he was giving her body and placed her hands on her hips.
'Does the might Achilles like what he sees?' He avoided her question.
'You know me?' She lowered herself gracefully onto a pile of animal skins serving for bedding opposite him and began to fiddle with the knife.
'Aye we know of you, how can we not? You are a living legend.' She looked up with an impish grin. 'Can't imagine why. The finest warrior in all of Greece tied to a pole and being taunted by a woman? How the mighty have fallen!'
'Who are you girl?' He demanded, irritable and uncomfortable, if not a little embarrassed. She met his stare with her own, her eyes like blue flames, licking at the corneas.
'You would dare to address your captor so?' A silent battle of wills passed between them and Achilles spoke without breaking the eye contact in an attempt to gain the upper hand.
'I know of no other name to call my captor.' She nodded at his underlying challenge and relaxed her position.
'My name is Sana, and I am Chieftess of the Selasya Tribe.' He was thrown; he had never heard of such a tribe. Sana laughed at his blank expression.
'You have not heard of us,' she stood and began to circle him like a vulture, except a much more attractive version of one he deemed. 'A pity indeed, yet it is to be expected.'
'What is to be expected?' He asked levelly, not letting her know that her cryptic statements were increasingly agitating him. She knelt before him.
'We are a small tribe and we follow ancient traditions long forgotten by the Greeks?'
'You are Trojan?'
'Yes,' she waved her hand to signify its unimportance. 'But we care nothing for your war.' He shifted slightly.
'You feel no loyalty for your people and King?' With a hiss her blade was at his throat again, all light-heartedness long gone.
'They are not my people! I do not bow before that foolish King Priam or his idiotic sons, I would rather die first!' She withdrew her knife and stood up, her entire manner on edge.
'You have much to learn great Achilles.' With that she quickly left him still bound, wondering if he was to be killed come dawn.
I know it's short but please review! There's lots more to come!
Next Chapter: Achilles first day in the tribe and a history lesson