SPECIAL THANKS TO REVIEWERS! - chapter is a bit shorter this time around, but the next should be longer.

Chapter Ten

Cassandra fell asleep with Achilles' voice in her head and his eyes on her face, the memory of faintly quirked lips lulling her as much as his assuring words. It had been a long while since she'd slept without a care or worry. It had been a long time since she'd closed her eyes at night and felt totally at ease, safe. Even at home, with Hector and guards never too far away, she'd often fallen into restless sleep with concerns and personal fears holding true deep sleep at bay.

After the secret Achilles had shared with her concerning gods and their true worth, Apollo took a backseat ride on her mind. She couldn't forget the intensity of his eyes, the honesty she'd seen in him and the way his voice, husked with whispering, had flowed over her. Washed her of worries better then any holy bath or perfumes could have. And when he'd finished… she'd honestly never felt so beautiful in all her life as she did with his eyes on her. Bruised, sore, with scrapes and dirty nails – she'd felt more stunning then in his hut, leaning on her good side on furs with him sitting beside her, than she'd ever felt within Troy's walls with all her fine clothes and ornate hairpieces.

And not only had he said she was greater than anything Apollo's wrath could inflect upon her, but he'd actually believed it.

He'd stayed there on the fur with her after that, continuing his sharpening of his blades while she picked at the fruit left over on the tray set out for her. He'd been close enough that when she'd finally given in to her sore, tired body and lain down, she'd fallen asleep with the warmth of his body radiating off of him and against her bare feet and ankles.

She woke up to Eudorus settling a tray of fresh food on the stand for her.

He went totally still when he realized she was awake and watching him, his pale eyes darting away from her face quicker then they'd landed on it. The soldier was extremely uncomfortable with her, she could tell.

"You are uneasy around me," she accused softly. "I saw it before and again I see it now. Why, Eudorus?"

Eudorus visibly swallowed, shrugging lightly, "I've… never served a princess before. I don't want to displease you."

Cassandra frowned at him and shifted up on an elbow. "No…" she shook her head. "No you… you aren't to serve me, Eudorus. I'm no princess here. Please. Please don't walk on pins and needles around me. Don't treat me any better then you would yourself."

He nodded, but the mild bob of his dark head didn't convince her.

"Eudorus," she said his name again if only to be sure he was actually listening to her as he filled her cup with water. "Have you eaten this morning?"

His eyes finally connected with hers and she held them as long as she could. The expression she found in them was sheer surprise; obviously, her question was one of the last he'd ever expected from her.

Cassandra smiled when he did not answer her. "Come," she gestured for him to join her as she sat up, "sit and eat with me."

Eudors' brow twisted over his eyes as she reached out and took an apple from the tray then held it up towards him.

"Sit and eat this apple, or risk hurting my feelings forever." She put on a sharp face, a no nonsense expression and got a small upward curl of the man's lips in return. Finally, the soldier gave in and took the offered apple. "Thank you."

"You are strange," Eudorus told her as she retrieved some fruit for herself and he took a bite from his apple.

"How so?"

"You invite a man you do not know to sit and share your meal with you," he explained while shaking his head.

"Achilles trusts you." She shrugged, "Why shouldn't I?"

"And you trust Achilles so blindly?" Eudorus looked at her, clearly perplexed by her. "He is a Hellene, you realize. Native Greek born and breed. When he fights, he fights against your people. Your brothers. When he kills, he kills your people."

This made her hesitate. "Yes… but it is my understanding he hasn't fought in three weeks."

"Only because Agamemnon insulted him by taking what my Lord considers his. You." Eudorus focused on his apple rather then her face, "Now that you've been returned he will fight again."

"I guess I didn't think about it like that…" she chewed slowly as a whole new wave of thought began to hit her.

Achilles would fight now. She knew he was a fierce warrior, arguably the best to ever live. And she knew if he fought he would eventually cross paths with her brother. Hector was an amazing man and strong warrior himself, but was he better than Achilles? She had to keep reminding herself that a lamb would kill Achilles. And Hector was no lamb.

If they were to come together in battle, Cassandra knew what would happen.

She inhaled sharply, seeing it all so clear suddenly…

Hurt and anger radiates off one – a cry for blood and revenge.

Guilt pours off the other.

Sharp shrieks of swords slicing the air, crashing against shields.

One man falls, trips, dust flying – dry clouds lifting around the gates of Troy and collecting in heaving lungs. But the battle is not at its end.

Heavy breathing. A mighty Horse and Lion dancing death around each other. When the kill strike comes it is the Lion's roar that remains, not the stomp of a stallion...

Eudorus allowed her to fall silent, respecting the moment of thought he knew she was retreating into. It wasn't until she'd remained silent for a good five minutes that he glanced up to her again. What he saw was a bit troubling. Her dark eyes had clouded, warmth he'd seen previously frozen over and nearly black now. Her lips hung slightly parted, the fruit in her hand totally forgotten. She'd all but stopped breathing, staring straight ahead of her. Eudorus was no stranger to shock, but this… he'd never seen anything like this before.

"I've upset you." He said, but even his voice did not break her of the strange trance she seemed to have fallen into. Eudorus lifted a hand to the girl, in front of her face first and then gingerly placed his fingers against her wrist, "Cassandra?"

Eudorus' fingers on her startled her from the vision, and she jumped, inhaling sharply and dropping her apple. His hand left her immediately, as though she'd burned him, Eudorus startled as well. She was breathing hard, brown eyes clearing even as they filled with tears. He wasn't sure he could handle tears if they fell…

"I'm… It was not my intention to upset you."

"No… no, it's alright." Cassandra took a deep breath, steadying herself. She bent and retrieved the fallen apple, placing it back on the tray with mildly shaking hands.

Achilles was going to kill her brother.

"Where is Achilles now?" She asked, feeling shaken to the core and desperate to know Achilles was not killing Hector now.

Eudorus watched her face. A new emotion flashed across her dark eyes – desperation. "He is with Agamemnon and the other kings this morning. They are discussing future battles."

"They will fight today?"

"I do not know," Eudorus shook his head. "I fight when my Lord tells me to fight. I will know what I need to know when I need to know it. Not before."

She'd visibly calmed in the few moments since resurfacing from her vision. A slight tremble in her hands were still present, but she was breathing normally again and the desperation in her eyes had lessened upon hearing the Greeks were not on their way to Troy's gates that very moment. A small smile curled her lips, "And you accuse me of blind trust?"

Eudorus actually chuckled a little, shrugging lightly, "Yes, well… it would seem we are both guilty then."

Cassandra sat with the soldier until Eudorus had finished his apple and then made his leave. She remained calm enough, but Eudorus had seen a mild fear in her eyes no matter what she was saying to him during their time together – she seemed distracted by what he could not see or hope to know.

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Achilles still had not returned by afternoon, Eudorus had come again. Not for long though. The dark-hair soldier came with a noon meal for her and what he called a gift from his lord.

"From Achilles?" She asked, a little bewildered as she shift upright on the furs.

Eudorus nodded and handed over a bundle of cloth. "He thought you might be more comfortable in something cleaner…" He gave a mild smile, nodding his head curtly.

Cassandra accepted the bundle and unfolded what she quickly realized was a dress while Eudorus filled the washbasin for her use. The cloth was a pale blue, a darker ring along the bottom and soft with a long pleated skirt that tapered at the waist; the top was simple and boxed with a slightly slopping collar. It was sleeveless and nothing compared to the ornate garments she had at home, actually it was a lot like the one she had on, but it was clean and a gift from Achilles.

"But…" she frowned as Eudorus made to leave her, "Where did he find a dress?"

"Oh," Eudorus explained, "it was among the temple offerings. Obviously it won't do much use to anyone here so, my Lord thought you might…" He shrugged again and left.

Cassandra watched the flaps of the hut swing and then hung still. She rubbed her fingers against the clean fabric. Part of her felt odd accepting a stolen gift, pilfered from a temple at that. She could just her father's face now - the deep-set frown and disapproving shake of his head. She could see the humor in Hector's eyes as he stood behind their father, trying to keep a serious face and failing.

Then again… She took a look down at the one white garment she'd been in for three weeks. Dirty, stained, torn. She lifted the collar to her nose and took a tentative sniff. Not horrible, but… Cassandra still wrinkled her nose. And she could only imagine what her hair looked like. And she hadn't really washed her face since Odysseus had done it for her in Agamemnon's tent.

Mind made up, Cassandra shifted and slowly worked herself back up onto her legs.

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When Achilles was tired, he got fierce. Battle fierce. Raging beast fierce. And topping off being extremely tired with spending all morning and the better half of the afternoon in council with Agamemnon and a dozen other kings he couldn't care a rat's ass about, only made things worse.

He might as well have left a trail of fire with every step he took as he tore across the sand, shooting glares at any man who even so much as crossed his path. No one spoke a word to him and he saw Eudorus grab a hold of Patroclus' arm, stilling the young man when he attempted to approach his cousin – probably for the best too. Achilles could not have been held accountable for anything he did if the young man had actually approached and tore into him at that moment.

So, no one stopped him from flinging aside the flaps of his hut and charging in like a mad bull… and then freeze.

Cassandra stood at his washing basin, her back turned to him. She was leaning heavily against the basin and he could see her knees shaking under the strain of her own meager weight – three weeks without use did a number on muscles, so seeing her actually standing impressed him. Or, he would have been impressed had he not been so thoroughly distracted by the fact that she was completely bare.

She was bathing, his mind slowly realized as he took note of the wet cleaning cloth she was clutching and the bundle of her dirty dress on the floor near her feet. Her skin was clear and bright, washed moist and soft looking. She'd also cleaned her hair a bit as well; the dark curls hung a little wetly on her head – like she had combed wet hands and fingers through them over and over again. Also, he took notice that she was extremely aware of him – the fact that she'd frozen upon his entrance as well and now stood so stiff and ram-rod straight clued him in to that.

Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at him and Achilles had a momentary second of concern for her. She was so red faced he was almost certain she would pass out. She didn't though and they both just stood there as she quickly looked away and pressed her arms to her chest, her shoulders hunching slightly.

Achilles followed the line of her palm back. A livid bruise painted her side, it wrapped over slightly to her back… no wonder she favored her right side all the time. Achilles recognized the discoloration as a result of a kick and his jaw tightened, knowing Agamemnon must have done it.

Cassandra was trembling now and Achilles knew it was not from cold – he could only imagine how mortified and terrified the poor girl must be to be so vulnerable before him. He took pity on her, moving slowly over to where she had the laid out the light blue garment he'd instructed Eudorus bring for her and gathered it up in one hand.

"Turn," he ordered softly, keeping his voice low to an almost whisper as he came up behind her. She gave a shudder and he could smell the fear in her. "Calm down… You are safe with me, I'll remind you."

He watched her take another moment to steal herself before she slowly turned to face him. Achilles made to catch her eyes, but she would not meet his and kept her head slightly bowed, shoulders hunched and arms pressed to her chest to shield and protect. Her jaw was firmly set, tense – he could see that she was greatly stressed by the situation, but too proud to actually act out over it other then to vaguely shake in weaker moments. Surprising even him self, Achilles refrained from appraising the girl's body anymore then he already had – he'd just told her that she could trust him. He refused to betray that trust so soon.

The blond lifted the dress, dropping the neck over her head and pulling it down on her. Cassandra finally looked up at him, staring in total, unfounded surprise as he dressed her. She directed her arms through the proper holes, Achilles having to coax her into it a little before she moved at all.

Now dressed, Achilles allowed himself to take a look down her form. He nodded, "Suits you. I thought it would."

"…thank you." Cassandra managed softly, still looking startled and flushed as she stared up at him.

Achilles nodded. He was reaching out and touching the side of her face before he even realized he was doing it – feeling the freshly washed skin with calloused fingers, brushing into damp hair. Her rest had done her so much good – her eyes were brighter and she just looked healthier. The bruising on her face was beginning to heal, as were the scraps and minor cuts. In a week, she'd be just about good as new.

The warrior bowed his head and dropped a kiss to her forehead without really knowing why. He had just felt so compelled to do so… a single kiss, innocently placed, soft on freshly washed skin in hopes it would somehow heal all the wrong she'd endured.

And perhaps it was also a promise. A promise to shield her, clothe her, keep her clean and soft and brilliant – to never betray that trust she offered so freely to him.

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