Author's notes: A sample I made for a client.
Briseis finds Achilles standing by the camp's make-shift kitchen, still in his morning robes that revealed his unblemished skin and etches of muscle. She tries to not falter in her steps as she passes him by, but not without bidding him a quick morning greeting out of courtesy. He regards her with his unnatural blue eyes, as cold and daunting like the sea from which the goddess Tethis had sprung.
"May I have a word with you?" He asks.
The girls murmur excitedly at one another, speaking about how lucky Briseis must be in order to catch the apple of Achilles' eye, and Briseis has never been thankful that Achilles doesn't speak Anatolian.
Briseis nods at him without a word, and the two head off to the far side of the camp, near the beach of Trojan waters. The waves gently lap at their feet as the rising sun shimmered the surface of the sea. To think that this is where the thousand ships of the Greek warriors had come.
"Patroclus told me about your offer," Achilles starts. His eyes are unreadable and distant. "Please do not be angry at him for disclosing the matter."
"It's fine," and she means this. Patroclus is first and foremost Achilles' companion, hetairoi in Greek. He speaks very intimately of the term that Briseis almost thought of it as marriage, once. "I apologize for pressing into your relationship like that."
Achilles shakes his head. "I have a child. I don't see why Patroclus shouldn't have one," When he catches the surprised look on her face, he adds. "Patroclus knows. The conception was not something that I had agreed with, to be honest."
Briseis doesn't know how to reply to that, so the prince continues. "I am very well aware that Patroclus wants a family, a child. I cannot give that to him. But he loves and cares for you enough to be his…surrogate."
Surrogate, not wife. Briseis expects no less of a possessiveness from the prince. "Patroclus refused. He is incredibly faithful to you," She suddenly remembers her time with Patroclus by the river, quiet and serene, before she threw all caution in the window and kissed him. He tasted like all the sweet things in the world, but his sweetness belongs to someone else, the prince. Nonetheless, she wants the scraps, and offered Patroclus to mother his child and still be with Achilles.
"He is. I want to make him happy," And the prince says this so earnestly that it is unbelievable to think that this is the same man who desires glory and fame for his conquests. "We have talked about this, last night. I will not mind if you spend a night with him."
And, as if he has been reading her thoughts, he adds. "I have utmost faith in my philathos that he will return to my side afterwards."
Philatos is what they call each other. A term of endearment, if Briseis remembers her Greek lesson correctly. She is amazed at Achilles' faith in his companion as much as she grieves for her lost dream of a good husband and a happy family, sealed into the grave by a single, Greek word.
Briseis is not a stranger to Achilles' and Patroclus' liaisons. She has known that since the day Achilles has chosen her as his war prize.
She remembers cowering before the Greeks when she was presented to them like meat in the market or a merchandise ready to be bartered. She fears for her life when the prince of Pthia chose her and hauled her in her tent where no one can her scream. It does not help to know that she has witnessed the prince kill as many as 12 men in one strike.
Then, Patroclus comes along and kisses the prince.
She has heard of these arrangements before in selected cities across Anatolia and even in the rich city of Troy. They say the Greeks are a fervent practitioner of this tradition, and it shows in their kiss. The Myrmidons must've dealt with this relationship between Patroclus and the prince for years, having grown with the two lovers and seeing nothing strange of it. Odysseus and Diomedes know about the relationship for being far too wise for their ages and knowing everything that happens in any corner and crevice of this camp. Agamemnon and the other princes do not care, so long as Achilles gets up to fight another battle. The only people who does not know are the common soldier and the slave girls, who choose to immerse in their own circles and away from the secretive world of the princes.
Even if the relationship had not been revealed to her in the beginning, she would've known sooner or later. Each gentle touch of the hands and the meeting of their eyes are always filled with gentle affection and unconditional happiness.
Back then, she is indifferent; she worries too much for her life to react properly to such an intimate display. Then, Patroclus leads her by the hand and helps her make a life among the Greeks. From the start, Briseis found it interesting to watch their relationship. But, as her feelings grew for Patroclus, she feels the prick of the barbs every time Patroclus smiles at Achilles.
It does not help that she can hear their professions of love while she sleeps in her tent at night.
"Are you sure about this?" Patroclus says as he arranges the medicinal herbs that Briseis and the girls had picked mid-day. It is quiet and a bit sullen with Achilles and Myrmidons gone, off to fight the Trojans for another day. "You don't have to do this, if you don't want to."
Briseis shakes her head. "I believed that I showed my consent when I offered to be the mother of your child," Only when they are alone together, she shows her more mirthful and confident side. She wishes her days are spent like this, but only without the carnage and the circumstance of the war just beyond these tents.
"Yes, but I-I can't marry you."
That is obvious; Achilles has already laid his claim on Patroclus since the beginning. "I know," and it hurts. "But that is not part of the deal."
Patroclus smiles sadly. It is a trait that he often shows when he's upset but does not want to show his emotions to others. "You deserve a much better man."
She gives an equally sad smile in return. But they are not you, is what she wanted to say. But instead, she replies, "I know."
More years pass and more girls have been claimed by Achilles. They have grown with the same tender treatment and respect as Briseis did, but she is grateful to have Patroclus' exclusive friendship and companionship.
She hears the girls say that Achilles is the most handsome among the Greeks, with Odysseus or Diomedes coming close second. But Briseis believes that Patroclus can outshine the prince if he wants to.
Achilles' beauty is far too perfect, far too unnatural. He looks more like the statues of the gods in the temple. But Patroclus is full of flaws and ordinary charms, but that is where his beauty shines. She loves everything from his dark messy hair to the dark freckles that dust his cheeks; to the scars that cut through his fingers and the snorts in between laughs.
She imagines Achilles loves them, too.
It has always been the two of them, Achilles and Briseis, who always took notice of Patroclus. Patroclus is like the sun, needed and loved, but only gawked upon during sunsets. While Achilles is the moon, always chasing after the sun and its warmth. And Briseis?
Briseis is Icarus, destined to fall after the first light.
Achilles is there when Briseis visits Patroclus in the prince's tent.
He regards Briseis in the same way as he did this morning but treats Patroclus like he is the world. The prince gives Patroclus a kiss, a show and a threat, before he stands from his bed and approaches Briseis. "He is yours for the night."
Briseis nods. "I intend to make it count."
When Achilles finally leaves and the privacy of his tent is theirs, Briseis wastes no time in removing her robes and standing in front of Patroclus for him to see. She guides his hands in the way she wants to be touched, her breasts, her waists, her hips, and her thighs, until he knows how to pleasure her.
At one time, she asks. "Have you slept with a woman?"
"I have," he answers. "But I think I'm used to acting as the 'woman,' I'm afraid."
"So, you've learned a lot about pleasure then?"
Even at this light, she can see the blush in Patroclus cheeks. It makes her feel hot even if it shouldn't. "Guess so."
"Show me?"
Patroclus only hungrily kisses her as a response.
When she's wet and ready for him, Patroclus lays her on the bed, on the soft sheets where Achilles lays. She feels annoyed that she needs to be reminded of the prince even in the throes of lovemaking, but this is a condition that Briseis must abide. She distracts herself with the sound of Patroclus' ragged breaths and feeling of his hardness against her entrance. When he finally enters, the pain and pleasure and Patroclus are the only things that she suddenly can only think about.
Patroclus, Patroclus, Patroclus.
He lets her cum first, lets her ride her wave of orgasm before he comes into her, just as planned. He presses soft kisses alongside her cheek and throat when he pulls out, and Briseis almost cries at the loss. She has gotten what she wanted, but it is not enough; if only, she wants more.
"Are you okay?" Patroclus asks. From the gaps of the tent flaps, she sees a glimpse of Achilles, waiting patiently for the night to end.
No, she wants to say. Why can't you choose me? Instead she says, "Kiss me."
Patroclus obliges before he returns to Achilles at the very first light.