A/N Thanks for the reviews!!
The guy name I've found is Anton. Again, I found it on the Internet, and it was one of the easiest to pronounce. It's the version of Anthony, and Anthony is Roman, or so I think. I'm just in ninth grade people; I haven't traveled the world just yet, although I'm planning on going to Greece over the summer.
Sorry for the numerous spelling mistakes, I don't like reading my own work It bores me.
Oh yeah, for this fiction I'm taking the version that Agamemnon took Briseis as compensation for Chryseis. Tell me if that information is wrong, I would appreciate it VERY much.
I feel ashamed to admit that as I walked the priestess to Achilles, I was excited to meet the famous Greek warrior again. I was planning on not making a fool of myself. I felt selfish, bring this priestess to Achilles, while dreaming about her new captor with fond thoughts instead of trying to comfort her. Yet I couldn't help it, I was too much in love with the man.
We came to the Myrmidons' camping grounds. All eyes turned on us, all the men were instantly filled with either lust or homesickness for their own wives or lovers. No one came to ask us for our business, perhaps they thought I was simply walking my possession for fresh air.
Tired of being stared at but not helped, I walked up to one of the men sitting nearby. He dared to continue studying the priestess's beauty until I stood directly in front of him, blocking her from his view. "Tell me where Achilles is," I demanded. Holding onto the priestess hands gave me the feeling of being higher than the blue-eyed soldier before me. They all wanted her, but I had her, for the time being.
Envy and lust, that was basically all I saw in those men. Seeing these low emotions in them made me want to see Achilles even more, I wished to see power, honor and, above all, glory. All I saw so far was hunger and desire.
The soldier only smirked at my demand and pointed behind me, at the largest tent I had seen so far, next to the Kings' tents that is. Agamemnon would never stand having someone having a larger tent than his. I should have known it was Achilles, and I damned myself for my lack of logic, but I continued to deliver the priestess to the great warrior without showing my embarrassment. Better to make a fool out of myself to his men than to Achilles himself, I told myself.
We were about to enter his tent when the priestess stopped me. "I don't know your name," she told me. I was surprised we hadn't exchanged names yet, even after we had both kissed one another. I laughed inwardly at how foolish I had been in my moment of passion.
"My name is Anton," I replied. Truly it was my brother's name, but he was still an infant. When coming to the war ships I was asked only two questions, my name and which province I was born. I only had to lie for one of them.
"Anton," she echoed my name with tender love. It began to dawn on me how foolish both of us were being. We had met only a few hours before, in an awful situation as well. My nation had defiled the temple of her god, and I was the one who brought her to our camp as our captive. Yet we found something inside of each other to love. And we found it quickly. "My name is Briseis," she looked at me and smiled softly.
I was drawn to her, and no matter how unreasonable I was being, I was in love with the thought of her. A fragile woman, a beautiful woman that was what she was. She was a precious flower, the last flower before the winter, the kind one would cherish.
I was beginning to use the metaphors of old men who sat at taverns, who wept over lost loves. They say women are foolish, but I have my doubts.
I didn't say anything else to my beautiful flower, Briseis. I left it at that, for I saw no better way to abandon her. Give her your name and go, I repeated to myself as I drew back the curtain of leather strips.
I could imagine her disappointment. To her, I was a contradiction to what I was supposed to be; brave, strong and honorable. Never, was a man meant to be shaken by another force, but Achilles was too strong of a force for a disguised woman like myself to compete with.
"My lord," I called as I brought my head into the tent, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. The air was hot, and I could smell the burning sand mixed with metal. Close to the door stood a basin of clear water, which Achilles used to wash his face. He barely glanced at me when I intruded, he didn't seem surprised. I suppose he had no reason to be, no one would dare to attack him here.
He took another handful of water and splashed it across his face. His hands grabbed to sides of the basin and he leant over the water. Drops of water slid down his face into the remaining liquid, and his golden hair fell forward, curtaining his profile. Inhaling deeply, I could see his chest raising and falling slowly through his armor.
"What do you want, boy?" he finally addressed me.
"I bring you a. . . a gift," I felt like I was betraying myself as a woman when I called her that. "A gift from Agamemnon."
"Agamemnon," he repeated the name with spite. I worried that I had angered him, but it seemed that speaking the name with hate was all he was doing to express his rage.
Briseis's hands stiffened in mine. I darted my eyes towards her, trying to silently tell her to prepare herself for the worse. It was foolish of me to mention Agamemnon.
"What is this gift?" he asked, beginning to strip his body from his armor. I lowered my eyes and felt myself blush. Hopefully the sun outside shadowed my face.
"A Trojan maiden, my lord," I explained. He smirked at me, as if to send me a message. He knew what the gift was before I even told him, but he wanted to hear the words.
"A woman? Hmm, how amusing," he snickered. He threw his armor at the other end of the tent. Finally he looked to me, he frowned slightly; "Have we met?"
"Shortly my lord, outside the temple of Apollo."
"Ah yes, the frightened boy," he remembered. "The one who stuttered."
"Yes my lord," my head dropped shamefully. I had wished my helmet had obscured my face. He stepped closer to me, directly before me. His large hand reached up to my face and he gently raised my head so he could better see me.
"Yes. . . the same eyes," he muttered to himself. He released my face, smiling.
A tingle went through my body. A man of his statue and fame had never touched me when I was a woman. My shoulders were too broad, my hips too narrow, breasts too small and I was undesirable for marriage because of my barrenness. After unsuccessfully trying to conceive for two years, my husband labeled me a wasteland for children bearing and met whores at night behind my back. I was a tasteless fruit to him, and I was left to lead a life without love.
Yet disguised as a man, I was able to win the fancy of the greatest hero who has walked the earth. The greatest son of Greece.
My body was in an animalistic heat. I forgot my love for Briseis and craved to take Achilles in pure raging passion. From the look in his eyes, which resembled blue flames of fables, I could tell he wanted the same thing. My heart was racing, my chest raising and falling.
Briseis had only stirred a smooth passion in me, Achilles had started a storm. I understood then, why men took men for companions. Women were too fragile to love with a fiery passion, but a man could endure that flame. I could endure it.
I took three steps back. He couldn't take me in passion, it would ruin everything like Briseis loving me would. I pulled her in front of me, showing Achilles what Agamemnon was giving him. I gave my flower away, to be crushed in the hands of a killer, all too save me from doom.
No, Briseis could not save me from doom. I could feel it, it was like the wind, invisible but there. No fear came with the whisper of doom, it was going to happen and I could not change it, so fearing it would be futile.
I could see that my withdraw hurt his pride, but amusement shone in his eyes. He reminded me of a cat, looking down on a cornered mouse. The warrior was not expecting to finish the war without enjoying my company, he was confidant he would have me. He intrigued me with his arrogance.
"Your name, fearful soldier?" he grinned. Grabbing Briseis and pulling her into the tent, he moved her aside so he could see me.
"Anton," I answered quickly, still breathing heavily from desire.
"Very well, Anton, I look forward to our first battle," he told me. "Maybe then you'll see why you won't refuse me a second time." I really had no replies for that, I simply bowed and quickly left. First I walked quickly, and then I jogged. The whole way, I could feel his eyes on me from behind.
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"You even loved the killer Achilles?" Helen asked, amazed. I looked to her, she was sitting more comfortably, her legs stretched out not laced together as a lady.
"Loved? No, no, desired," I approved her question. I could see her thoughts in her eyes, but I could not read them. Did she see me as a whore now? I shook my head. Of course she didn't, she understood what both Achilles and Briseis meant to me.
I noticed the continuing festivities above us and realized that Helen was absent from them. It was hard to believe that the reason for the tragic war wasn't even present, the main gift of the winning was sitting in a jail cell with a prisoner. "Won't Paris miss your company?" I asked her. She looked up at the lights and smiled, perhaps she too was imagining the irony.
"He knows I'm here," she answered plainly. The answer was good enough to me, because in reality I didn't care whether or not the young prince moaned her absent company.
"Don't think my tail was all love, for it was war and blood for the most part," I continued with my tale. . .
A/N Thanks for reviewing everyone. Tell me any tips if you have any and keep reviewing. Thanks to everyone!
Don't worry the story won't just be about her liking/loving/desiring people. I just wanted to get the part of establishing her relationship with the major characters over. And it might seem like she is contradicting herself at times, but I meant for that to happen. It might not show so far, but it will later, just stick to the reading and it will improve. The story WILL improve, I PROMISE!
Anyway, pls R&R!