Author: Sabine Hawks & Alma Aciginada
Rating: R
Characters: All of the major characters left alive at the end of the film and a few new ones
Feedback: Yes, please!
(2)
Briseis awoke with a clanging in her head. Her mouth was dry and tasted of sea salt. She peeked through strands of her black hair at the sunlight trickling into the cave through eroded holes in the ceiling. Everyone had fallen fast asleep after the harrowing journey through the paths within the mountain range. Andromache slept beside her, baby in arms, looking as beautiful as if she had not endured the horrors she had in the previous weeks. Helen was some feet away, snoring loudly to Briseis' surprise. She wanted nothing more than to see the princess fall into a deep sleep from which she could never awake. All this for Paris' greed, thought Briseis. She expected nothing less of her cousin, but she never expected he would find someone as irresponsible as himself.
A tear stung the corner of Briseis' left eye as she envisioned Hector's body being burned to ashes at the funeral ceremony. Never again would she hear his soothing words or feel his comforting hands in this life. Likewise, she longed to have held Achilles in his last moments before slipping into Elysium.
She wiped away the escaped tear, and lifted her head. The ringing in her ears subsided. She noticed as she looked around at the sleeping figures that Paris was not amongst them. As she rose to her feet she almost lost one as a blade shot out in front of her. Aeneas held the sword of Troy to her ankle. His eyes were fiercely alert. She grinned down at the boy.
"Forgive me, my lady," he whispered.
"You will make a fine soldier one day, boy," Briseis replied. "It is a comfort to have you at our side." Aeneas smiled with gratitude, and returned to sleep as quickly as he had awakened.
Briseis followed the cave floor in the direction of the sound of the falls. The blinding sunlight of Apollo greeted her outside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once her vision returned she spotted a familiar figure perched atop a nearby rock in front of a stream. As she approached Paris, he didn't even flinch. He looked ahead at nothing in particular, though it seemed he saw everything at once.
"We are not safe yet," he said. Briseis sat beside him, curling up to his warm body. "The Mermidan ship spotted our burning sails. They will likely pillage what is left of them before making their way back to Greece."
"But they will think us dead," Briseis was, at the very least, hopeful.
"Hopefully." Paris sighed. His eyes were red with fatigue. "I'm hoping that the wind blew sand across our tracks." Briseis tightened her grip around her cousin's arm. "Awake the others. We must make it out of Troy's boundaries before nightfall."
"We have no supplies," Briseis warned. "There are children too old to nurse. We…"
"We will go to the outskirts of the Thermodon River."
Briseis stopped short her breath. As a child, her parents told her stories of the people that lived in the area known as Amazonia. Great female warriors said to be descendant of the war god Ares were said to inhabit the river's edge. It was said they were giants in height, cannibals who fed on the flesh of women, rapists of the men who bore their children. She knew Paris was aware of these stories as well, and did not entirely trust his judgement as she had his elder brother's.
"Cousin, you know the stories," she said, her voice as feeble as her will to go there.
"I have," Paris replied with a chuckle. "And after what I have witnessed, a tribe of wanton women will seem child's play."
"But cousin..." she leaned in close to Paris, "they eat women and children." Paris laughed heartily at Briseis' naivete.
"They will eat arrows instead." He embraced her tightly and scooted her away. As Briseis entered the cave, she was met with many eyes. She was not looking forward to telling them what their prince had decided on.
On the fifth day of waiting for the arrival of Odysseus, Eudorus had grown impatient. He sat on the edge of his ship, his legs dangling over the side, staring at the sea. He often did this, sometimes for hours on end--his men would have to nudge him back to reality; it was a habit he had formed as a boy and he knew he would never stop marveling at the vastness of the waves. But now there were no men to clear their throats or touch him lightly on the shoulder--they had remained in the town drinking and bedding woman after woman. Eudorus had no desire for any of it. He wanted to speak with Odysseus, he wanted to know the fate of his master Achilles.
In the back of his mind was the image of the smoke rising from the Trojan ships. Where were they docked? Something about it irritated him--had he seen figures on the horizon? A sentry perhaps? Had he simply wanted to see them? He hated the thought of imagining a battle, seeking out violence when his master had commanded him to return home. But Achilles was no longer his master, Eudorus thought sadly, but within the sadness was anxiety--they were his men now to command as he wished. Eudorus looked over his shoulder at the cliffs lining the coast--somewhere beyond those jagged rocks lay another adventure. He thought about the men, about the families and duties they had back home and wondered if it was worth the risk. They had missed the sacking of Troy, they had missed a final opportunity for glory. Eudorus rose, sighing as he turned toward the town proper; Odysseus would have to wait.
Rating: R
Characters: All of the major characters left alive at the end of the film and a few new ones
Feedback: Yes, please!
(2)
Briseis awoke with a clanging in her head. Her mouth was dry and tasted of sea salt. She peeked through strands of her black hair at the sunlight trickling into the cave through eroded holes in the ceiling. Everyone had fallen fast asleep after the harrowing journey through the paths within the mountain range. Andromache slept beside her, baby in arms, looking as beautiful as if she had not endured the horrors she had in the previous weeks. Helen was some feet away, snoring loudly to Briseis' surprise. She wanted nothing more than to see the princess fall into a deep sleep from which she could never awake. All this for Paris' greed, thought Briseis. She expected nothing less of her cousin, but she never expected he would find someone as irresponsible as himself.
A tear stung the corner of Briseis' left eye as she envisioned Hector's body being burned to ashes at the funeral ceremony. Never again would she hear his soothing words or feel his comforting hands in this life. Likewise, she longed to have held Achilles in his last moments before slipping into Elysium.
She wiped away the escaped tear, and lifted her head. The ringing in her ears subsided. She noticed as she looked around at the sleeping figures that Paris was not amongst them. As she rose to her feet she almost lost one as a blade shot out in front of her. Aeneas held the sword of Troy to her ankle. His eyes were fiercely alert. She grinned down at the boy.
"Forgive me, my lady," he whispered.
"You will make a fine soldier one day, boy," Briseis replied. "It is a comfort to have you at our side." Aeneas smiled with gratitude, and returned to sleep as quickly as he had awakened.
Briseis followed the cave floor in the direction of the sound of the falls. The blinding sunlight of Apollo greeted her outside. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once her vision returned she spotted a familiar figure perched atop a nearby rock in front of a stream. As she approached Paris, he didn't even flinch. He looked ahead at nothing in particular, though it seemed he saw everything at once.
"We are not safe yet," he said. Briseis sat beside him, curling up to his warm body. "The Mermidan ship spotted our burning sails. They will likely pillage what is left of them before making their way back to Greece."
"But they will think us dead," Briseis was, at the very least, hopeful.
"Hopefully." Paris sighed. His eyes were red with fatigue. "I'm hoping that the wind blew sand across our tracks." Briseis tightened her grip around her cousin's arm. "Awake the others. We must make it out of Troy's boundaries before nightfall."
"We have no supplies," Briseis warned. "There are children too old to nurse. We…"
"We will go to the outskirts of the Thermodon River."
Briseis stopped short her breath. As a child, her parents told her stories of the people that lived in the area known as Amazonia. Great female warriors said to be descendant of the war god Ares were said to inhabit the river's edge. It was said they were giants in height, cannibals who fed on the flesh of women, rapists of the men who bore their children. She knew Paris was aware of these stories as well, and did not entirely trust his judgement as she had his elder brother's.
"Cousin, you know the stories," she said, her voice as feeble as her will to go there.
"I have," Paris replied with a chuckle. "And after what I have witnessed, a tribe of wanton women will seem child's play."
"But cousin..." she leaned in close to Paris, "they eat women and children." Paris laughed heartily at Briseis' naivete.
"They will eat arrows instead." He embraced her tightly and scooted her away. As Briseis entered the cave, she was met with many eyes. She was not looking forward to telling them what their prince had decided on.
On the fifth day of waiting for the arrival of Odysseus, Eudorus had grown impatient. He sat on the edge of his ship, his legs dangling over the side, staring at the sea. He often did this, sometimes for hours on end--his men would have to nudge him back to reality; it was a habit he had formed as a boy and he knew he would never stop marveling at the vastness of the waves. But now there were no men to clear their throats or touch him lightly on the shoulder--they had remained in the town drinking and bedding woman after woman. Eudorus had no desire for any of it. He wanted to speak with Odysseus, he wanted to know the fate of his master Achilles.
In the back of his mind was the image of the smoke rising from the Trojan ships. Where were they docked? Something about it irritated him--had he seen figures on the horizon? A sentry perhaps? Had he simply wanted to see them? He hated the thought of imagining a battle, seeking out violence when his master had commanded him to return home. But Achilles was no longer his master, Eudorus thought sadly, but within the sadness was anxiety--they were his men now to command as he wished. Eudorus looked over his shoulder at the cliffs lining the coast--somewhere beyond those jagged rocks lay another adventure. He thought about the men, about the families and duties they had back home and wondered if it was worth the risk. They had missed the sacking of Troy, they had missed a final opportunity for glory. Eudorus rose, sighing as he turned toward the town proper; Odysseus would have to wait.