AN: Was it just me or was anybody else having trouble with Fanfiction's Document Manager? Oh well. Anyway … a lil somethin somethin for you all. Say thank you in your reviews.

Agamemnon's Pet Monster

She hated lentils, would sulk and sift through them like she was digging for gold, loved milk and hated most fish apart from the crunchy fried ones Eudorus had made one night. Apples were preferred green and tangy, as were grapes, and wine was enjoyed sweet and watered down heavily. She also had quite the sweet tooth and nuts made her cough all through the night, even though she loved them. And she would grow sick of anything that was given to her more than twice in a row.

As he had thought, quite the upkeep.

But it was worth it, because when he came back with the food she would be there. He would watch her eat and force her to talk to him, she would answer with either 'yes,' 'no' or the new favourite 'I hate you.' Then he would be summoned to get ready for battle and the only thing on his mind would be her.

He worried about her safety and comfort, fretted over her inability to keep down foods, pined for her and seethed with envy every time she called for her brother. And she did, every night. He'd have to change that. Then he would come back from battle and she would be there, waiting for him.

It was different, maybe that was the attraction, where once war, death, and fame had clouded his mind, whether awake or asleep, now they seemed insubstantial. Trivial. Whatever it was, he hadn't felt it before and he wanted it. Forever.

~X~

Achilles walked across the camp with a plate of goats' cheese, a freshly killed kid's thigh meat and more milk. The bread was untouchable now, the men had found little cream coloured eggs in the flour and eating it anyway had killed off six and landed the other five in the healer's tent. She would have to put up with lentils until someone raided a nearby city.

He stopped and smiled; she was peering out from under the flap curiously at the Myrmidon camp but remained safely inside their tent so that nothing apart from her eyes and her forehead showed. He had noticed that she was bored silly, she had taken to pacing up and down and building mounds with the sand inside the tent, even spoke to him more often without him forcing her to, though she would look most reluctant and would then continue to look guilty and ashamed for the rest of the night.

He walked closer to the tent and she ran back inside when she spotted him. Chuckling to himself, he pushed the flap back but stayed at the doorway. "Why don't you come eat outside?"

She shook her head vigorously but Achilles noted that the shake wasn't as strong as it could be.

"Come, you'll be safe, I'll be there the whole while." She glared up at him and Achilles didn't have to be a mind reader to guess her line of thought. But after a distasteful sweep around the confines of the tent and a wistful gaze at the entrance she nodded nervously and together they left. The men stopped what they were doing to get a good look at her; she froze under their stare and took two steps backwards. He caught her arm and yanked her to his side, "it's alright, they won't hurt you."

He had to pull her along but eventually they reached a bench that vacated quickly for him. She ate her food hastily, gulping it down just to get back inside as soon as possible, eyes flitting this way and that like a cornered deer, and even drank all the milk despite the fact that she'd had it for breakfast and lunch today.

"Can we go now?" he was still getting used to the shock of her speaking to him of her own initiative.

"Of course we can," he got up and tucked her underneath his arm with a smug grin, she was so wary of the other men that she didn't fight to get away from him. His grin widened.

He knew that the men had been most curious about her. The Trojan Princess that was said to be most dear to Hector and so dear to Achilles that he hadn't had any women round and had lost his reckless zeal for battle. Yes, the men had been dying to get a glimpse of her.

"You needn't fear them," he said, loud enough for his men to hear as well, "they won't touch you, they know what will happen if they dare. You can go around the camp as often as you like. Whenever you like." He wasn't worried about her running, there were sentries posted everywhere and she could hardly get into any trouble here. His men were rowdy and rough but they also followed his orders as if Zeus had sanctioned them and were fearful of upsetting him.

~X~

She didn't know what she had done to deserve this. One moment she was toppling one of the stupid sand mounds she had built and the next she was pressed against the walls of the tent with him writhing against her.

She wasn't that stupid, she knew with what intent he watched her. Eyes following her every step like a hunting dog watching a stray cat, and he didn't even have the manners to make an excuse for his behaviour.

She had enough brothers for her to notice a thing or two - as much as Hector and her parents had tried to keep her innocent, when her brother Polites had been interested in King Hyratacus' eldest daughter he had made all sorts of excuses to touch her at the feast. He would accidentally bump into her or touch her fingers when he was passing her a platter of carved quail - that she just must try, and again when he passed her a bowl of pomegranate to sample. However, she hadn't understood why the adults had tittered and clucked at that. Their exchanges hadn't gone unseen and they were married before the year was out.

Achilles did none of that, if he felt like touching her, he did. She would escape from his clutch when she was sure he was asleep only to find herself back inside the circle of his arms when she awoke. He would stop whatever he was doing to stroke frantically along her spine, or gently kiss the hollow of her throat, or lay his head tiredly on her chest, breathing heavily, moistly, on her covered breast. And as days passed, he only grew more daring. Yesterday he had held her down and lapped at her collarbone while she had stared at him in bewilderment, and today - today he had pushed her up against a wall.

His head was buried against her shoulder, practically into her shoulder, and he was panting and groaning as if in pain as he rubbed himself against her. Frightened, she pulled his lowered head up by the hair and found not the tears she had been expecting but a look of ecstasy on his face. His eyes looked delirious, unfocused, and there was a light sheen of sweat forming on his upper lip that seemed to grow and cover more of him with every passing moment.

"What is it?" she asked timidly. His eyes blinked into focus and he moaned loudly, making her jump, an erratic thrust of his hips made her head bang backwards but when the next thrust came, she felt his palm softening it for her, spanning her skull gently with a hand strong enough to crush it. "What is it?" she repeated, now too curious to keep silent.

He clenched his jaw hard, fisted the hand he had up on the wall next to her head and then bent down so he could press their foreheads together - his was strangely damp. "You," he answered, then he stiffened, clenched all over, teeth gritting as if in anger, body shaking hard enough to jostle her and damp with sweat as if in a fever, and then slumped against her, completely unravelled. For a long while, there was silence on her part and nothing but raspy breathing on his, similar to a racehorse after a long, hard run. When it evened out he gathered her into his arms with a fond look, placed her gently on the bed and left to go clean up at the basin. The wet cloth going down to his groin … When he came back he kissed the corner of her mouth and fell into a deep sleep with a satisfied smile.

She had no idea what had taken place but since it had something to do with an un-chaperoned man and woman, she gathered that it wasn't anything good. And since it had something to do with him, it definitely wasn't good for her.

Therefore, at the crack of dawn she was up, Achilles stirred, his face scrunched up, his fingers curled around air to pull her back to him but he had long since gotten used to her waking up at ridiculous times and wandering around the tent so he huffed and settled back into an even deeper sleep. With nothing much to do all she did was pace around and sleep.

Then, she left.

~X~

She looked the other way, where the plains were. Where Troy was. And wondered what would happen if she just walked- not even walk, just ambled casually off camp and towards Troy - upon which she would break out into a ran whilst screaming her head off, of course. Then she noticed the guards, lots of them, all armed, all eyeing her. She turned and walked the other way.

It was hard enough to hurt.

"They won't hurt me … it's safe. Absolutely safe. Perfectly safe," the sight of a one eyed fellow with really bad teeth made her speed up into an almost jog. That's when she walked past a pompous looking tent with crimson hangings, it caught her eye and she thought nothing of wandering inside. Achilles had said she could after all.

This tent was far larger then Achilles' but just as sparsely decorated, she turned to leave in disappointment but stopped when she noticed the glitter of gold further inside, behind a curtained off room. The gold had been heaped in large puddles all over the floor in a round room that was dominated by a stern black throne. The gold wasn't much, and neither was it much to look at - her father had a hundred fold of this back in Troy.

She picked up a gaudy looking goblet that weighed her arms down and inspected it. It was made of solid gold and had four square amethysts the size of her eye worked into it, the rim was speckled with smaller ones. She dropped it and carried on looking. An off-white lounger with spindly legs and onyx lions carousing around caught her attention next, there was even a cute little onyx cub hiding behind his mother but that too lost her attention when she saw a medium sized vase in another pile next to her. It told the tale of Jason and the Argonauts, its paintwork so detailed that she could count the eyelashes on handsome Jason's face. She went around it to see the other side and spotted a huge black monstrosity perched on a stool a few feet away from the throne.

It was an immense vase, its paintwork half finished, showing the full-length figure of a mighty man with bulky, muscle riddled arms and a wide chest held upright by sturdy feet. He sat on a black throne and gazed wisely out at a burning Troy.

Bile crept up her throat.

"What are you doing in here? Get away from my painting," snarled a voice behind her. It was the man who said she was to be given as a gift to Achilles, and when she saw that he was only a little man, barely taller then her, with a pot belly, stubby legs and a nonexistent neck, she burst into laughter.

~X~

"Achilles!"

Achilles cursed and rolled over, fingers searching for her instinctively.

"Achilles!"

He couldn't feel her. He opened an eye lazily to see if she was playing with the sand again - would have to talk to her about that, find her something to do to keep her busy. His left shoe had gone missing as had Eudorus' dagger sheath and her health tonic.

She wasn't there either. He pushed himself upright and stared blearily around the room. Not anywhere.

"My lord," Eudorus bustled into the tent looking hassled. "King Agamemnon is demanding your presence."

"Where is-" he asked Eudorus.

"Outside my lord … with Agamemnon."

Achilles shot off the bed, tied a wraparound loosely around as waist and ran outside. Agamemnon stood there, fuming, surrounded by a good number of his men; two of them were holding Apollina between them. Who was clutching the side of her face. His Myrmidons, sensing a clash, circled Agamemnon's wary soldiers like jackals, waiting for his say so before they pounced. Eudorus stood to Achilles' right, his hand tense and ready to pull out his sword.

"Control your whore!" Agamemnon spat, the men holding her pushed her forward but he caught her before she fell and hauled her upwards. Tilted her chin up gently so he could see her reddened cheek. She trembled in his arms like a leaf, eyes wide in shock. Cheeks wet with tears.

"Did you hit her?" he asked softly. Dangerously.

Agamemnon's oncoming tirade faltered, he glanced at Achilles guardedly, and his men reacted similarly. One man, a short fellow with dirty blond hair and a viscous looking scar running across one side of his face, quaked. Achilles sat her down tenderly on the ground and then darted past Agamemnon to deck the shivering man so hard he collapsed on the sand. His nose was shattered, his face an explosion of red, as was most of his tunic, and Achilles' fist.

With an uproar Agamemnon's men unsheathed their swords and made to rush at Achilles, his men, loyal only to him, whipped out their own swords and stepped forward, boxing them in. Realising they were severely outnumbered the Mycenaean's looked towards a spluttering Agamemnon who screamed at them to stand down.

"The next time it'll be fatal," he warned Agamemnon. He turned his back on the King, picked up Apollina and re-entered the tent.

"What did she do?" asked Odysseus who had just appeared at the scene but had gotten the gist of the matter.

"She … broke my vase …" Agamemnon answered as if in a daze. "What did she do to him?"

~X~

He set her down on the bed and looked her over. The skin just looked reddened and though there might be a little pain, he doubted whether it would even bruise but he turned to get a cloth and some cold water anyway. But as he was leaving something jerked and held him in place, he looked down and saw small hands holding onto his tunic. She sniffled, wrapped her arms around his waist, laid her head on his stomach, and began to cry.

"Shh," he soothed, running a hand through her messy hair, "it's alright, I taught him a lesson didn't I? When I meant that you could wander wherever you please I meant in this camp, my camp, not anyone else's. If you want to go past our camp then you tell me and I'll come with you."

"Why me?" she whimpered into his bare stomach making him shiver and shift closer to her.

Achilles remained quiet for a while, to both think and enjoy the press of her skin against his own. He didn't know how she was going to take this. "… Because I've changed," she shook her head, not understanding but Achilles didn't explain further. "Why … not me?"

She stiffened and pulled away from him, suddenly remembering who they were and why they were here. "Because you're you," it came out soft, scared, but laced with anger.

He stared at her, surprised that a girl so small could hurt him with three words when men twice her size had managed less with three weapons. This time it was he who stormed off, leaving her to sleep alone inside the tent, eyes filled with guilt and shame.

~X~

King Agamemnon didn't sleep at all that night, instead, he paced up and down his chamber in a panic, not even fiddling with the heaps of gold soothed him. He was worried for a reason; a celebrated augur had prophesised to him that Troy would not fall while Hector, guardian of the gates, still lived. The man had not been able to tell him anything beyond that but another ludicrously expensive visit, this time to a prophetess of Athena, had informed him that the war would not be won without a son a Peleus. And Peleus had only one son. Achilles. So, it had been simple to put two and two together.

He had first heard of Achilles when he was over conquering Salamis, apparently old Peleus was about to kick it, leaving his fifteen year old son sitting pretty as the sole heir to the throne, and Agamemnon suddenly wanted to be the boy's best friend. A little more investigation had had him well informed about the boy's talents with a sword and spear, and the name of the man who had trained him. Chiron didn't just train anybody after all; among his students were Heracles, Jason, Theseus and old Peleus himself. It had taken them a while to find the boy; his mother had heard of his coming and hidden him away with a bunch of pretty girls hoping it would sway his decision towards marriage rather than warfare.

They found his hideout but King Lycomedes wouldn't let them approach the lad let alone talk to him, no doubt in the hopes that heir-to-the-throne Prince Achilles would marry one of his pretty daughters. Therefore, he had Odysseus sent for. The man had a tongue of solid silver and could convince you that parting with your soul was in your best interest.

He strolled into town at noon and came skipping back with the boy before it was time to eat.

He had sent him on raid after raid, battle after battle, watching him grow from a lanky, surly fifteen year old to a towering, surly twenty-something-year-old. An irritating twenty-something-year-old to boot, but more importantly, the boy's natural talent for killing had been nurtured to the point where one planned celebrations ahead of time.

Achilles was simply born to win wars.

But … recently … he fought and fought well enough but there wasn't the zest for it that he had been feared for. He chased men and cut them down but not with the same satisfaction, the same glee, and in meetings he seemed distracted, didn't even argue with him just for the sake of hearing his own voice. Moreover, as soon as the meeting was over he would rush out, back to his infernal tent.

He knew that men, especially during war, went a little crazy for women, what with them having to so often go celibate for long periods of time, and their impending deaths hanging over them and all, but this was ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. But he didn't know what to do about it without having his face caved in for his intrusion.

That was the thing about raising monsters. You teach them to bite and bite hard, you show them the way to glory, and fame, and riches beyond their wildest dreams but eventually they'll stop distinguishing master from enemy.

He had made Achilles the man he was today, showed him his purpose, the reason the gods had put him on this Earth, but he had a feeling that his generosity would come back to bite him on the arse.

"Ungrateful bastard."

AN: I really love writing Agamemnon, he's such a … fleshy character to write. Did anyone guess about the crimson? A chapter will be dedicated to the first person who notices where I got that from, or maybe it's too subtle. Oh well, it's a hard puzzle.

And for all those who are going oh no! that was hardly anything, we want sexy time! Don't worry, all in good time. And not even that far off.