Disclaimer: I still own absolutely nothing. In fact, I'm in debt. Please don't sue.
Oh my, a new chapter after 3 days! (looks out window to see a pig fly by). JK, but I felt that I should get this out now that I just finished it.
To my lovely reviewers:
Nerwen Nenharma- Sorry to "steal" the idea first; but I'm glad you like it!
Scouter- Aww, thanks, hon!
janell- I'm glad you like her, she wasn't originally like this in my head. :-P
shariena- (gasp) No long review? (pouts) Jk, I'm glad you've stuck with reviewing each chapter, I'm glad to get what I can!
Star reacher- Here ya go!
wild-vixen- again, another person who's stuck with me throughout the story! Thanks for the indepth review, I appreciate that you put what you liked, and gently gave advice. I shall take it into consideration. :-)
xLightbulb- (snicker) I know what you mean about Paris. La sigh, la gasp, etc.
Siyavash- I didn't mean to snap at you earlier, dear, I'm sorry. I just felt that you were being very negative and not giving any real advice on what to do. I promise, there is actually a reason behind Petra being able to handle a sword, etc. It will start to be explained more in the next chapter, just be patient.
I'm still in college and actually finishing finals this week (ugh), and then I have to get a job. I swear, I promise, I vow that I shall finish this story and this is not the end, nor will I drop off the face of the planet. It'll just take me a while to update, because I need to figure out what's happening next, and I also need money... See above disclaimer.
Despite her earlier resolutions, Petra found herself questioning whether or not to use the opportunity to clean herself. She did not have a problem with her dirty state, having been worse off before from sword practice with Hector (in fact, she used to prefer it to perpetual cleanness); but she could wash away the scents from her bathing oils and the palace. If Greek soldiers were anything like Achilles, they would soon realize her probable royal state.
Petra stood with resolve and hurried to the basin. The water still had steam billows rising from it, and on the floor next to them was bathing oils. Ignoring them and soaking a sponge, she wiped off her face.
She could not help the sigh that escaped her lips from the hot water caressing her skin. "Mmm…" It felt absolutely heavenly.
Before she knew it, she had slipped out of the ragged remains of her clothes and given herself a thorough cleansing. She gently wiped away the grime and sweat from her adventures off of her body, smiling at the wonderful feeling of clean skin. Despite her tomboy habits of childhood, she did appreciate pampering herself more than in her childhood.
Kicking her dress to the side to avoid dripping, she slowly let the cloth slide down her legs and scrubbed away at the blood that also refused to come off. She winced at the bruises there but ignored them, finally standing up and shaking her hair loose behind her.
It was absolutely exhilarating being clean again.
It was precisely the moment she had finished bathing that Achilles reentered abruptly.
Both stared at each other, her eyes wide with shock and fear, his wide with surprise and something unidentifiable. Her hands shot upwards, attempting to cover herself modestly, as she ducked her head forward and let her hair drape her body.
A whimper of embarrassment escaped her lips. So this was how Apollo would punish her for her almost kissing the Greek warrior! She almost wished the sun god had just asked his father to strike her down with lightning instead. Then she would not have to face the humiliation of this before her enemy raped her!
Achilles tried to look away, but it proved more difficult than he believed. In front of him was surely a nymph or some far-lost goddess. From her small feet to her head, she was a perfect sculpture of slender curves and smooth planes. He clenched his jaw and fists to fight the urges in him that were both questionable in nature and extremely inappropriate. With some unknown force he turned away, swallowing hard, and held out the bundle of cloth in his arms to his side.
"I apologize, my lady," he said, his voice gruffer than usual. "I only wished to give this to you."
Petra slowly stepped forward, stretched out and grabbed what he held. To her surprise and relief, it was a plain sheath tunic of browns and gold, alike those that servants at the palace wore, but it was fresh clothes.
She slipped it over her head as Achilles spoke, his back still to her. "It is not much, but I had not counted on you when I came here."
"It's better than what I had," she argued, her head finally finding the neck to her dress. She let it settle around her body loosely and made an attempt to brush her hair out of her face with her fingers. "You can turn."
He turned, with inner regret at her now fully-clothed state, and scanned the gown. To his pleased surprise, her hair billowed behind her instead of up and back. She continued to shake it back while turning as if to ask for his approval. He almost laughed at her girlish attitude then noticed the plainness of the dress.
When he had gone through his trunks and found one of Patroclus' old training garbs that had accidentally been packed along, he had only thought of getting something for his captive to wear that was not hopelessly torn and dirty. Now he almost felt like he had insulted her with such a plain garment.
This girl deserved much more. He knew it, and spoke his opinion out loud.
"You need something finer," he commented on the gown, frowning at its simplicity. Petra's eyebrows furrowed together at his comment and she nervously wiped her hands on the front of it.
"This is fine," she mumbled, looking down at her sandaled feet. She felt her emotions conflicting strangely. This man, who could have thrown her back onto his bed and had his wicked way with her had not only given her clothes and a bath, but also now declared that he wished to dress her in something more befitting a free princess rather than a captive slave.
"Well," Achilles stepped forward and let a finger tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear in a sudden and affectionate gesture, "I believe you deserve more." He smothered a grin when her stomach suddenly growled loudly. "Hungry?" he teased.
Why am I putting this much effort into her comfort? He ignored the question within him. He would feed and clothe her, then wonder at it later when he had the time to muse over honey-eyed maidens.
Her face flushed slightly, but she only shrugged nonchalantly. She would never eat any food this man offered her until she knew she could trust him. With her thoughts now so bewildered about him, she knew that would not happen for a while, making her inwardly moan at the thought of no food.
"I'll have a tray brought to you," he promised, obviously not knowing her thoughts. "I need to check on my men's encampment, but you are welcomed to wander through the tent at your leisure." Hesitating, he added, "It would not be wise to leave by yourself just yet. Tomorrow I shall provide an escort for you."
"My lord-" she began to argue, but he cut her off with a pointed look.
"Achilles," he corrected.
"My lord," she repeated stubbornly, "you needn't bother with a lowly captive. I'm sure your men have better things to do with their time than let me enjoy a few breaths of fresh air now and then."
Despite his disappointment that she did not call him by name, he felt amusement at her continued arguing. "Not really," Achilles said, biting back a smile. If she knew that he was smiling at her, he would take two steps back in their relationship, however bizarre it may be. "All they really do here is training. It won't be a bother, trust me."
He started to leave, then paused at the tent flap.
"Oh, and girl?" She looked up from where she still stood. "You needn't fear me. You are the only Trojan who can say that." With that last thought, he stepped out into the sunshine.
Outside Achilles' Tent
Eudorus waited for Achilles to reappear from his tent before approaching him. Ever since meeting that girl, the leader of the Myrmidons acted very strangely, more gentle than Eudorus had ever seen. Never had Achilles shown this type of respect towards any of his consorts.
"My lord!" he called out when Achilles stepped out. Achilles looked up expectantly for whatever his second-in-command needed, but he looked a little dazed at the same time. Eurorus frowned with concern. "My lord, are you unwell?" he asked hesitantly, not wanting to anger his leader but still worried despite all.
To the Myrmidon's surprise, Achilles almost… was he blushing?
Clearing his throat, Achilles only shook his head and nodded towards the encampment. "Call the men together," he ordered as he started to walk to his cousin's tent. "I wish to speak with them now."
"Yes, my lord." Eudorus hurried to complete his task, inwardly wondering if this talk would have anything to do with the girl.
He had seen little of this girl, his first sighting being when Achilles walked into the Myrmidon's site with an unconscious woman in his arms last night. But that was all Eudorus had seen, for Achilles whisked her into his tent and did not exit until the following morning with instructions to bury the dead from the day before. Eudorus thought nothing of this. Achilles disliked having other men able to ogle that which was his and Eudorus respected and understood that decision.
Many of the Greek captains loathed Achilles' skill and loyalty from his men. They would think nothing of taking his prize, especially Agamemnon.
However, Eudorus continued forward, yelling out orders for the men to quickly convene in front of their lord's tent in order to receive instructions. The men looked over curiously, despite their obedient actions; for they knew that no fighting would happen today. The other Greeks were still moving onto the shores of Troy, and then they would move onto Troy or some other adjourning cities nearby such as Thebes.
Meanwhile Achilles paused at his cousin's tent. "Patroclus!" He received no response, but the sun was halfway through the sky, letting him know that his teenage relative most definitely should be awake if not otherwise. "Patroclus!"
"What?" came the sullen response from within the structure.
Trying not to roll his eyes at the very evident pout in Patroclus' speech, Achilles only said, "I wish to discuss something with you, now."
A few moments of silence passed. Before Achilles could barge in and probably give Patroclus an undignified exit of his establishment (probably ending with a dunking in the Aegean), Patroclus yanked his tent flap out of his way and stepped out into the bright sunlight, wincing at the rays beaming right into his eyes.
Some Greeks walked passed as the young man stepped out, and they paused, elbowing each other's ribs and chuckling. "Did we disturb your rest, young prince?" one called out jeeringly. "Sorry, we had too much work to do today to take note of that!"
Patroclus' face flushed with humiliated rage as they continued their taunts. Achilles clenched his jaw at this poor attitude from older men, who knew that Patroclus was probably a better fighter than them combined.
"You see why I wish to be alone?" Patroclus asked bitterly once the men had passed. "You see why I hide in here, not facing men who don't understand why I am not allowed to fight? Do you see, cousin?" he demanded angrily.
"I see a passel of fools that for some reason you listen to." Achilles' calm words dissipated Patroclus' fury. "You are a far better fighter than them by far, and they dislike that knowledge."
"Then why don't you let me fight?" Patroclus demanded, still stung. "If you had left me in Pthia, at least I would not have to listen to this every day!"
"And I would sail away knowing that my one cousin, the person I had sworn to protect, hated me for leaving him behind?" Achilles shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. He started to walk back to his tent, gesturing with his head for Patroclus to follow him. Patroclus reluctantly fell into step with him while Achilles continued.
"You are an excellent student, Cousin, the finest ever. But I wished for you to continue your training, which I cannot oversee if here in Troy. Perhaps, if this war lasts long enough, you will eventually fight in it." He kept a smile on his face, despite his inner dreading that he would never see his star pupil's success. No matter how the days were going, or how he felt about his captive in his tent, Achilles knew that his mother's predictions were rarely false.
Your fate walks hand in hand with your doom.
A shiver ran down his spine despite his attempts to shake off that superstitious streak in him. His mother's predictions had yet to come true, but maybe he would be lucky.
A Week Ago, on Pthia Shores
Thetis stared at the black-sailed ships bobbing slowly up and down in the harbor with a lump in her throat. Oh Peleus, she thought achingly of her dead husband. Did you send your son willingly to his death, my love? Would you be at his side, were you still alive?
Thoughts of her dead husband only saddened her more than she originally was feeling. It had been so long since Peleus had been at her side, comforting her in times of worry and trouble.
"My lady?" Wiping away a runaway tear, Thetis turned to see a nervous Eudorus hesitating at her side. "We're about ready to leave."
"Yes," she replied simply. She could not prolong the inevitable.
But her brave front failed to fool Eudorus, who had served the lady Thetis and her son for his whole life. The compassionate nature of the older lieutenant stirred with pity at the worried look in Thetis' eyes, and the whiteness at her clenched knuckles.
Searching for any sort of comfort, Eudorus offered softly, "I'll watch over him, my lady." Her brilliant blue eyes, so like those of her son, looked up into his with an unexplainable emotion flickering in their cerulean depths. "I swear by Apollo that he shall never be harmed while I am around."
Her expression never faltered from its outer calm, but she spoke quietly so nobody would hear, with warmth seeping into her eyes: "Thank you, Eudorus. I would like that."
Eudorus bowed to her, a pleased smile on his face. He turned and yelled more orders to the men while they boarded the ships.
"If you stay in Larissa…"
The woman prophetess had always known that her son would be a skilled and sought-for warrior. She, despite her secret longings, accepted that she would never hold her grandchildren, nor see her son married to any woman.
The home she now had, near the sea and her son's palace, would never hear children's laughter or the patter of their feet running up and down. She would not make seashell necklaces for them.
She would never watch her son grow old…
"If you go to Troy…"
Walking along the dock, she watched the weapons and armor being carried off the ship. She lost herself in her thoughts.
Troy. A battle that would be fought over one woman's infidelity to her husband, on the surface, or over the land of Troy, as Agamemnon wanted. Will it be worth your happiness, Helen of Troy, to see so much bloodshed?
Men passed her, faces she would never see again until Charon crossed her over in his boat.
"Mother." The voice of her son interrupted Thetis' musings.
She pasted a smile onto her lips and looked up into Achilles' face. Her hand rose to touch his jaw gently. "Your path has been chosen. I can do nothing to sway you."
Achilles sighed, letting one hand cover her small one at his face in a rare gesture of affection. "Who would I find, that would ever surpass you?"
The compliment brought a chuckle to her lips, despite the force behind it. "Oh, my son," she sighed, her face darkening, "You will always be remembered by men." She let herself fall into his open arms, and she whispered, more for herself than him, "Remember me."
"How could I forget you?" he murmured back. The warrior kissed his mother's cheek before finally stepping back. "Perhaps there is a chance I shall see you again, Mother." She shook her head sadly, though.
Thetis held up a hand at him in a gesture of farewell, blinking back tears. "May Zeus protect you."
He refused to respond to that, but he nodded firmly.
On the ship, he glanced back, only once, to have a last look at his beautiful home. At the dock, he saw the one lone figure watching the boats sail out of sight. Her cloak billowed in the wind, around her fragile frame.
"Goodbye…"
Back to Present, in Troy
Were thine that special face?
The face which fills my dreaming,
Were thine the rhythm'd grace
Achilles shook himself out of this bittersweet memory and paused Patroclus next to his tent. "The girl I bought last night," Achilles began, then stopped himself.
Patroclus waited patiently for his cousin to continue. When no conclusion came to the thought, he prodded, "The girl…?"
"Cousin, would you…" Achilles stopped, hesitating over his words. How could he ask this without offending Patroclus? "Could you… possibly… keep an eye on her? For me?"
"What?" Patroclus felt his face burn with shame. "Be the watcher of a woman? The men will mock me!" he sputtered with shock, and Achilles did not blame the boy's protesting. It could be a heavy blow to a young man of Patroclus' pride.
But Achilles remained firm. "I cannot keep her safe, Patroclus. I would feel better if she were under your care."
Were thine the form so lithe and slender,
Were thine the arms so warm, so tender
Frowning, Patroclus kicked a stone away. "Why did you bring me here?" When Achilles only sighed and rubbed at his temples with one hand, Patroclus added heatedly, "I am not allowed to fight, I cannot do anything that would possibly put me at risk, and now I am to guard a woman!"
"Guard the consort of Achilles," his cousin corrected. "I trust you to keep my most valuable treasure safe. No other man here can say that."
"Most valuable? Cousin, you do not even know her name!"
"I know." Achilles looked back at his tent, his eyes distant as if he could see through the fabric and into his temporary dwelling. "But this one is different than the others."
The younger man shook his head at the cryptic reply of his elder, still confused. Despite his brief glance at the girl and seeing her beauty, Patroclus still did not understand his cousin's attraction to the Trojan captive. She was a woman, like hundreds of others that they saw in their travels, except with better skills with a blade.
Still, his loyalties lay to his country and cousin.
Patroclus sighed. "I shall protect her for you," he promised reluctantly with the slightest hint of a pout.
Were thine the kiss divine,
Were thine the love for me
Achilles smiled at that, letting his hand grasp the sullen boy's shoulder. "Thank you, Cousin," he spoke with complete sincerity, his usual mocking tone completely gone from his voice. "I would not entrust this to everyone." Patroclus brightened at his words.
"I shall not let you down." Squaring his shoulders, Patroclus strode with purpose to Achilles' dwelling.
He paused at the tent flap, let in a deep breath, then entered.
As Patroclus walked away, Odysseus joined Achilles. "Your cousin seems to be in better spirits today," the wise Greek observed. "Any particular reason?" Achilles shrugged.
"He is to guard the girl."
"Ah, yes, your prize from Agamemnon." Odysseus' tone changed from jest to sincerity, his face sobering. "Do you know honestly what you are doing, my friend?"
"What do you mean?" Achilles demanded, hackles rising.
"I mean," Odysseus frowned at Achilles' attitude and elaborated seriously, "that she is not the experienced whore like your previous prizes. That girl is very young, innocent and should be handled carefully. Can I trust you to do that?"
Hating the feeling of being scolded like an errant child, Achilles retorted stubbornly, "She is mine, and I shall do with her as I please! What claims have you to her?"
"Only the claim of a father who would do anything to keep his own children safe."
The love which fills my dreaming,
When all these charms are thine
Then you'll be mine, all mine.
Odysseus' refusal to lose his temper and calm words quenched the fire in Achilles. Sighing, the Myrmidon warrior rubbed his chin thoughtfully at the wisdom Odysseus spoke.
"Your reputation with women is well-known, my friend," Odysseus continued solemnly, with no trace of humor in his tone. "I know you have previously never taken any woman by force; you never had to. But I advise that you tread carefully with this girl."
Achilles glanced at the tent. Force her? He would sooner fall upon his own blade than kill the fire in her, which that would surely do.
"Do not concern yourself about the girl." He let his eyes return to his friend's. "I vow to protect her as long as she is mine to claim." Odysseus nodded, satisfied.
"I would like to meet her," Odysseus said. At Achilles' surprise, the king of Ithaca smiled. "I'd like to meet the woman who has earned the protection of the Prince of Ptia so effortlessly. She must be a remarkable young lady."
Grinning at that, Achilles shrugged. "She's different."
Were thine the love for me,
The love which fills my dreaming,
When all these charms are thine
Then you'll be mine, all mine.
Inside Achilles' Tent
Bored. That one small word, so overused by masses of people, described Petra's current state of mind perfectly.
Being inside Achilles' tent, she could not tell how many minutes had passed since the Myrmidon prince had left to take charge of his camp, but it felt like days. She knew that many would envy her current predicament: lying around with absolutely nothing required of her. She hated it intensely.
She had tried various amusements. She reorganized the different stones she had discovered in the sand; her knowledge of Greek weaponry had increased by studying Achilles'; the pattern of his shield would forever be in her memory; and she even made a small sand castle.
Petra let out a huff and ungraciously flopped onto the fleece bed. What else could she do? She had no friends to talk to, and she dared not speak loud for fear of attracting attention from her captors.
Sighing deeply, she leaned forward with her elbows at her knees and rested her head in her hands.
"When that I was and a little tiny boy/ With hey, ho, the wind and the rain," she started to sing under her breath the song Hector had usually whistled while working. Under the circumstances it was an odd choice, but it comforted her and gave her an occupation. "A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day…"
Then she heard something outside.
Her body stiffened and she prepared for attack. It could not be Achilles, she knew with growing trepidation. He walked silently; always, if his last two walk-ins were any indications of his normal activities.
Since when is anything about this day normal? With an inner sigh, she slowly stood and moved to the side of the entrance, waiting for her intruder.
After a heart-stopping moment of silence the head came through the door, then the rest of the body of her unknown visitor. She held her breath, waiting for him to step further in.
When he did, she lunged and tackled him to the ground, using his surprise against him. Grabbing one of his arms, she twisted it behind him and shoved all her weight onto her knee in the middle of his back. A surprised yelp escaped from his lips, but she only ground his arm a little tighter and pressed a little harder.
"Who are you?" Her voice sounded extremely calm for someone who had just been frightened out of her wits.
And her captive did not feel very happy about his current predicament.
A/N: Were Thine that Special Face, by Cole Porter; When I was and a Little Tiny Boy by William Shakespeare (shamelessly stolen because I know no ancient Greek songs). GO REVIEW!
(runs off to finish finals and get a job)
