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Chapter Eight

Odysseus did not see Achilles that day after his brief time with the captive Trojan princess. He had meant to, if only to assure the unstable warrior that she was alive. A bit worse for wear, but she was alive. But he had not been given a moment's peace once he'd left Agamemnon's tent. He had been distracted by thoughts of the girl all day though, his mind often wandering back to her and wondering whether or not she had endured more abuse upon Agamemnon's return. He that prayed she had not…

By evening, however, he was in Agamemnon's tent once more. His pretense for the visit was different this time; he came not as a compassionate, curious man, but as a king under Agamemnon's command. Even so, as he entered the tent his eyes immediately went to the bound figure anchored near to the king's throne. The girl did not notice his arrival so much, or if she had she did not show it – she seemed preoccupied with trying her damndest to make herself invisible as Agamemnon slouched partially over her with a goblet in his hand and glazed look to his eyes.

The king was nearly drunk… Odysseus could only imagine the terror that must run through the poor girl's head whenever Agamemnon's accusing, wine clouded gaze fell over her.

Odysseus took a silent seat on a low bench beside a try of fruits, helping himself to a few fat grapes. Across from him sat Nestor, his white head bowed, eyes lifting only enough to glance over Odysseus in silent greeting.

The air in the tent was stagnant and heavy. Tense.

"They're laughing at me in Troy..." Agamemnon shattered the silence, but compounded the ill ease around all of them. His eyes were down to the side, on the dark curls of the captive princess. His goblet passed from one hand to the other and then he reached down to grasp a fistful of those curls and pulled back until all three men heard Cassandra's grasp of protest and her face became visible, neck forced in an intense arch.

Odysseus felt the itch to protest as he watched, shifting slightly on the bench as though he meant to rise to the girl's aide. He felt Nestor looking at him and he fell still again.

"You. Your father. Your brothers," Agamemnon spat out the words, particularly venomous at the mentioning of the two princes of Troy. "Filth. Dogs."

Odysseus watched Cassandra's fingers curl her bound hands into fists against the pole. Defiance etched into her features and stiffened in her back and in her shoulders. Her eyes returned the king's stare, hot and disgusted, a challenge issued from their brown depths. The King of Ithaca had to respect the girl for her strength if nothing else – he knew how truly frightened she was of Agamemnon, of what he could do. He'd seen it for him self, consuming those same fierce brown eyes only this morning. But even through her fear she was strong, unyielding – she would not bend and she would not submit.

The more and more Odysseus watched her, the more and more of Hector he saw in her. He imagined the pride that would fill her every pour if he were to tell her such a thing.

"You are damned, king of kings," Cassandra matched the cruel man's tone for tone. Her eyes bore into his, jaw tight, full of hate. "Hellfire calls your name."

"A prophecy?" Agamemnon's hand twisted in her hair at her gall. He sneered at her, mocking. "Do the Gods whisper this in your ears, Dog Princess?"

"I need no whispers to know a damned man when I see one." Odysseus saw the slight tremble in her as she struggled to keep from wincing or crying out to the vicious pull of her hair. "Before long, you will joining your filthy brother."

He backhanded her so quickly that not even Odysseus realized he'd done it until her yelp pierced the air around them. His hands fisted as he watched her reel back against the pole she was bound to. Agamemnon was up and out of his throne now, but Odysseus' eyes were trained on the now openly trembling girl as she hugged the pole defensively and hid her face from them once again.

"These Trojans," Agamemnon was saying. "Bold. Drunk with victory! They all think I'll sail home at first light!"

"Maybe we should," Odysseus said as he finally tore his gaze from the captive girl. He disguised the tension in his jaw by eating another grape while Agamemnon whirled around on him.

"Flee? Like a whipped dog?" Agamemnon looked from Odysseus to Nestor like the green-eyed king had lost his mind.

"The men believe we came here for Menelaus' wife," Odysseus continued, ignoring Agamemnon's silent insult. He looked up, expression blank, but a slight air of humor and mockery punctuated his words, "…Won't be needing her anymore."

"My brother's blood still wets the sand and you insult him!"

"It is no insult to say that a dead man is dead," Odysseus' brow twitched slightly, rolling another grape between his fingers.

The two men stared at each other, Odysseus' irritation and hostility for Agamemnon's treatment of Cassandra barely contained in his accusing green eyes. Agamemnon's own gaze narrowed at the expression the Ithacan wore for him, glimpsing the emotions and accusations. The Mycenaean king spared a glance between Cassandra and Odysseus…

"If we leave now," Nestor broke into the silent battle between the two men, "we lose all credibility." Odysseus dropped his gaze and head, breaking his stare from Agamemnon and the volatile king stepped away, returning to his throne as Nestor continued. "The Trojans can beat us so easily. How long before the Hittites invade?"

"If we stay," Odysseus began again, "we stay here for the right reasons." Agamemnon turned just before reaching his throne and Cassandra, meeting a once again accusing green stare. "To protect Greece, not your pride. And your private battle with Achilles is destroying us."

"Achilles is one man," Agamemnon shook his head.

"Hector is one man," Odysseus stressed and watched as Cassandra shifted at the mention of her brother. "Look what he did to us today."

"Hector fights for his country!" Agamemnon bellowed, "Achilles fights only for himself!"

"I don't care about the man's allegiance. I care about his ability to win battles."

"He's right." Nestor's voice drew Agamemnon's stare momentarily away from Odysseus. "The men's moral is weak…"

Agamemnon stepped away from his throne again and Odysseus bowed his head, letting out a silent breath of relief as the man also moved further away from Cassandra as well. "Even if I could make peace with Achilles, the man won't listen to me! He's as likely to spear me as speak to me!"

"Only as you deserve," Cassandra spat out, head lifting to glare as well.

Rage flared in Agamemnon and the king took one violently intended step towards the bound Trojan. Odysseus jumped to his feet, positioning himself between the man and girl before Agamemnon could draw any closer to her. Nestor and Agamemnon both looked startled by the Ithacan king, though Agamemnon's surprise vanished in favor of anger quickly.

"Protecting the Trojan whore?" Agamemnon bellowed, "To who is your allegiance, Odysseus?"

Odysseus did not answer the king's question. "Negotiate. Achilles is an intelligent man; if you speak with him as such he will listen. Do not play games, negotiate."

"So I am to bend to his every will?" Agamemnon drew himself up, prideful as ever. "Ask him his terms and give him everything he wants?"

"He will ask for only one thing," Odysseus assured the other man. He still would not allow Agamemnon to come any closer to Cassandra.

"And what is that?"

"He'll want the girl back," Nestor provided for Agamemnon and Odysseus nodded affirmation.

"No!" Agamemnon raged, throwing his goblet aside. The remaining wine within stained the rug it landed on, the cup tumbling and rolling on the floor before it finally stopped. The Mycenaean king attempted to shovel past Odysseus, but the good king would not let him and Agamemnon's anger compounded. "Stand aside!"

"He takes your theft of her as insult," Odysseus said, not moving, lifting his palms to the raging king. "Keeping her here only convinces him of such. Until he has her back he will not fight. He will leave."

"Let him go then! I don't need him!" Agamemnon finally shoveled past Odysseus and immediately towed over Cassandra, hand in her hair again and pulling her as far from the pole as her bounds would allow. Possessive of her and roughly combing his fingers through her hair, "She is mine!"

The fear was back in Cassandra's eyes and they were on Odysseus.

"If you keep her then she is right." Odysseus forced words from a tense jaw and pointed at Agamemnon, "You are damned and you condemn the men to the same fate."

Agamemnon fell silent, looking from Odysseus to Nestor. When Nestor nodded agreement with Odysseus' accusation, the Mycenaean king's jaw tensed in defiance and his hand clenched against Cassandra's skull. "She is not up for bargaining!"

"Then you lose Achilles and you will lose this war!" Odysseus was shouting now as well. "And if you raise your hand to her again you will lose Ithaca as well!"

All three men knew Odysseus' threat might as well have been an empty one. If Odysseus pulled Ithaca from this battle, he would have Agamemnon's wrath upon his head as well… and Ithaca just simply could not afford an enemy like Agamemnon. Even so, the declaration stilled them all.

"Fine," Agamemnon finally relented and released Cassandra's hair with a vicious shove that had her bracing herself against the pole to keep her head from colliding with it. "Take her! He can have the damn girl."

Odysseus watched and listened as Agamemnon stormed out of the main room and past a tapestry into his private quarters. The sound of belongings being upturned and thrown around in his wake filtered out to them and Odysseus might have found it amusing, as Achilles had acted the exact same way when he'd lost Cassandra, but the Ithacan king was preoccupied with the girl herself at the moment. He felt Nestor watching him as he crouched down to Cassandra's level and began working away at the cording that bound her to the pole.

"That could have been very foolish," Nestor was saying.

"Righting a wrong is never foolish," Odysseus spoke over his shoulder as slowly, but surely, he freed Cassandra's wrists. He looked her straight in the eyes, "Can you stand?"

She gasped as her hands were freed, drawing them to her chest. The muscles in her arms flared and ached, being used again after so long of being stuck in only one position. The limbs felt heavy and her body was hesitant to let her move them, but she reached out to the pole once more and attempted to pull herself to her feet with it's help.

Cassandra's legs shook violently, burning with liquid hellfire. She drew in a shaking breath, gritting her teeth together as she pushed herself up the pole with all her might. Her legs gave out beneath her and she dropped down on the floor, breathing hard – three long weeks without use had turned them to jelly. They would not function properly.

"No," she gasped, a sheen of sweat beading over her face from the strain. "I… I can't."

"Alright, alright… it's alright," he spoke softly, trying to sooth her as tears of frustration and not a little pain sprung up into her eyes. "Here… let me have your arm…"

Cassandra felt a sob bubbling up her throat as she did as she was told, holding out her hand and arm to Odysseus and allowing him to draw it up and around his shoulders and the back of his neck. She sucked in a harsh breath as one hand steadied her back and the other scoped up beneath her useless knees. He stood and she was lifted up with him, her hand clutching the cloth of his tunic near the back of his neck and her face turning inward to his shoulder. She could not help but weep as she was carried away and out of this most hated place – relief flooding her. Finally, the abuse was over.

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Achilles was starting to get a bit stir-crazy. He'd been able to keep himself from fully losing his mind through practice matches with Patroclus and his men, but he was itching for battle. He felt… lazy, watching Agamemnon's army, and Patroclus' accusing stares weren't helping matters. His cousin had refrained from actual verbal arguments since their last nearly a week ago, but Patroclus had never needed to open his mouth for Achilles to hear him.

He refused to relent though. Either Agamemnon would give him what he wanted or he would leave – Achilles would win either way. Though, in all honesty, he preferred one victory to the other. It did not seem he would get his pick…

He was just beginning to contemplate rising up from his reclined position to seek out Eudorus and tell him to ready the ships to leave at morning light when the sound of someone approaching caught his attention. The steps weren't exactly heavy, but they were agitated and he didn't recognize the gait. His hand curled around the but of his closest weapon, prepared to meet any threat that may come – what actually came… he wasn't prepared for.

A man came barreling into his hut, arms full.

"Odysseus…" Achilles frowned, relaxing his hand but not his expression.

The Ithacan king did not respond to him and Achilles watched as he shouldered past the canvas and leather flaps and to a bed of furs the blond had piled against one wall. He placed a girl on those furs… not just a girl, Achilles realized a split second later.

Cassandra.

Odysseus set the girl down – she'd stopped crying for the most part, but her face was wet and she was still shaking, breathing still a bit labored. He eased her from his arms, but found that the hand she had clenched in his tunic would not release. Not only would she not let him go, but she pulled him in as well. Cassandra pressed her forehead into his jaw, her other hand lifting to grasp his tunic at his other shoulder as well and just hold to him.

"Thank you…" she finally croaked out. "Thank you, thank you… Thank you."

"Sshhh…" Odysseus pressed his hand to the girl's back as she thanked him, once more trying to sooth her. He carefully pulled her hands from his shoulders and eased her down onto her back on the furs, whispering, "You're alright. You just lay down now, close your eyes and sleep… you are safe now."

Cassandra stared up at him as he settled her hands down and folded one over the other on her stomach. She nodded slowly, taking a deep, shaky breath and did as she was told. Odysseus and Achilles both watched as she closed her eyes and fell asleep what seemed only the next second later.

Odysseus shook his head as he sat back on his heels, sighing in relief himself, "…absolutely exhausted." He turned his head to look at Achilles, "Poor thing."

Achilles had yet to say a word. He sat, half crouched, stuck between sitting and standing, staring at the girl Odysseus had soothed into slumber.

"Leave her be for now. Let her rest," Odysseus was saying as he looked over the other man's expression. He'd never seen Achilles look so surprised before. "She has endured much more then is her due."

Achilles looked at her then. Really looked at her as Odysseus pushed to his feet and took a step back. Her face was shadowed to him, but not enough so that he couldn't see the bruising along her jaw and cheek, perfect fingerprints painted in blue and healing yellow-green on her neck. The scrap of rings and hard knuckles split her lip and cut her brow. Blue eyes followed dirt and blood speckled white linen to her folded hands – her wrists were raw and angry with rope burns. Of what he could see of her arms… they were much like her face and neck, bruised. Her feet were bare, legs instinctively curling under her in what must have been the position she'd been bound in for the last three weeks. And she was thin. Far too thin.

He felt the same anger he'd felt the day Agamemnon's guards dragged her into the Mycenaean's tent flare in his gut. He looked up at the green-eyed king standing in the middle of the hut, hands clasped behind his neck and watching him with the kind of wary gaze that told Achilles he knew exactly what was running through his head.

"I'm sure some of it was done by Menelaus," Odysseus explained. His brow jumped, head tilting from one side to the other, "…before yesterday at least."

"You're making excuses for him now?"

"You know I'm not," Odysseus gave his friend a frown. The Ithacan king sighed, frown falling from his face as he looked to the deeply sleeping Trojan. "He did no lasting damage at least. No more then some rest and a few good meals won't fix."

Achilles turned eyes back to Cassandra. He understood what Odysseus was telling him – Agamemnon had been cruel, a monster, but he had at least had enough sense not to force the girl to his bed.

"Achilles… you are expected to fight from here on. That was the negotiation."

"He lives to see another day," Achilles growled. "That is my negotiation."

Odysseus shook his head. "You need to lay down your pride now. I took her from him tonight under the pretense that this battle between you and he would come to an end. If you do not abide by this, he will take her again." The good king turned eyes back to Cassandra, watching her sleep. "And I can not promise you that I can take her from him again. No more then I can promise the damage he does once he has her will not be irreversible."

Achilles was silent.

"You wanted her." Odysseus gestured down to her, "I have brought her to you. Now, whatever you do with her, you must be responsible. Whatever happens to her is on your hands now."

Achilles nodded slowly, letting what his friend said actually filter through. He knew Odysseus was right, he understood. And despite his own feelings towards Agamemnon, he knew how things had to be. He'd like to think a thing like Cassandra's theft from his hut would never happen again – one look at her and he knew he couldn't risk it.

"You tell Agamemnon," Achilles began, fixing Odysseus with a stare. The Ithacan king was sure the burn he felt from it couldn't have entirely been his imagination. "That if he ever touches her again… if he ever comes near her again… I will kill him. And dead men need no armies."

Satisfied, Odysseus nodded. He remained standing where he was a moment longer, looking over Cassandra and the blond warrior that watched her every breath with the intensity of a wild animal stalking prey… a Lion, he recalled Cassandra describing Achilles. Yes, it was true. He watched over her like a Lion, fiercely guarding what was his.

"I will have Eudorus bring food and drink."

Achilles nodded as Odysseus left. The warrior reclined back against the wall, as he'd been before the Ithacan king came in, blue eyes trained on the sleeping girl lain out on his furs.


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