Title: Fires that Would Never Be Forgotten
A/N: This is my first Troy fanfic, so be nice. And please R&R, and give criticism if you like. I'm an open book!
Briseis straightened up. She heaved a sigh of relief as she saw that Agamemnon was dead. But she soon saw that she had other attackers to deal with. As she clutched the bloodied dagger in her hand, standing ready for them, a blur of golden hair and purposeful sinew flew past; and almost before she knew what was happening, her two attackers lay dead at Achilles' feet.
"Achilles," she whispered, and fell into his arms. He caressed her hair.
"I was looking for you," he murmured.
"And I, you."
"It is lucky I came when I did…" his eyes strayed to Agamemnon's corpse, "Although, I'm not at all sure that you wouldn't have been able to take those two on yourself. I saw the way you killed Agamemnon. Quick thinking."
"Hush," she whispered. "I knew you would come. I know you well enough to understand that. When you are passionate about something, you're ready to give your life for it. It's what makes you such a good warrior. So much impulse, and so much passion."
He looked down at her, and the tender smile playing about his lips may have seemed strange to some, but not to Briseis. She knew under all that muscle, there was a heart that allowed him to love. It was the one thing that saved him from being cruel; and cautioned him against being merciful, at the right times.
He opened his mouth to say something, but hurried footsteps and shouts sounded in the surrounding halls. He pushed her away from him, and readied his sword.
Paris burst into the room. "You scoundrel," Paris shouted and quick as lightning, he fitted his bow with an arrow and took aim. The bow twanged as it set lose the lethal weapon.
A shout echoed in the hall, a mass of dark hair and fair beauty threw itself across the room.
"NO!" Briseis shouted at the top of her lungs. Almost before she had time to think, she had thrown herself in front of Achilles. There was the sickening sound of metal piercing flesh as she met the arrow that was meant for him. She started to fall. Achilles caught her and lowered her to the ground.
"Briseis," he said in a choked voice, "Why?"
Briseis gasped for air and her face contorted, as a wave of pain wracked her body.
"Why?" Paris said, his voice full of horror and disbelief. His bow had fallen uselessly to the ground, as he realized what had just happened.
Briseis strove to speak. Her breath came in short gasps. "He is a good man, Paris. Spare him." She coughed, and a trickle of blood dripped down her chin.
Beside her Achilles turned his head away, fighting tears. He did not want to be weak in front of her. Paris's guilt-filled sobs were echoing through the room. Not a word was said. Paris came and sat beside her next to Achilles; head bowed and shoulders shaking. She smiled at him, but most of her attention was on Achilles.
She grasped his hand and the gesture said all that she wanted to say to him, which she had neither the words nor the strength to say. Achilles pasted a smile on his face for her sake and turned his head towards hers. Every moment was agony. He could not long control the emotion, a lump was growing in his throat and a tear was threatening to spill onto his face. Eventually it did fall, but her eyes were closed and she didn't see it.
Every second seemed to last an eternity, as the two men waited for Briseis' inevitable doom. And just when the silence in that room became almost too much to bear, when the ragged breathing of the dying woman started to echo in their ears as if they would never stop, the grasp loosened and the hand slid lifelessly to the floor.
Then Achilles' tears fell fast and thick. Short gasps issued from his mouth, as he tried to control his sobs. He stayed, bent with grief, for a long time, until he felt Paris's hand on his shoulder. He turned his face up to the man's watery gaze.
"You are truly a good man Achilles. I'm sorry, but I won't be able to spare your life. This is war. You are supposed to be my enemy. Please understand." Paris's gaze was full of pain and guilt…and helplessness.
"I understand, Paris. There is nothing left in this world for me now anyhow. I do not want you to suffer with my death on your conscience. Don't blame yourself for what I'm about to do. You have nothing to do with it. I go to be with her, to protect her even in the life beyond. Perhaps we will meet someday as friends, Paris. Right now we part as such."
He took the dagger that Briseis had thrown aside after he had rescued her, and stabbed himself hard on the heel with it. He sank to the floor next to Briseis. He died quietly, with a hand across her chest; a silent promise to Paris that he would protect her even in death. Paris continued to stare at the two lifeless bodies for a few minutes.
He started to turn towards the door. Suddenly he realized that he would never be able to face Helen again; never be able to tell her that Briseis had died at his hand. Helen had said that she did not want a hero, but did she want a traitor as a husband? Did she want to live with a man who had killed his own cousin?
He sighed and turned back, his mind made up. He took the bloodied dagger from Achilles' side.
We will be together again, my love. Though not in this world, at least the next.And then he plunged the dagger deep into his heart. And even as the body fell lifeless to the floor, a smile still played about its lips.
The gold of the rising sun shone on them making their bloodied bodies burn like ceaseless fires. Fires that would never be forgotten.
THE END
Well, I wasn't very comfortable with the mushy stuff ya know, but I tried it anyway, just so I knew how I was with it. I'm never comfortable with all the lovey-dovey scenes. Still, you got to try right? THEREFORE, this fic is EXPERIMENTAL. So please don't hesitate to CRITICISE and for Pete's sake, REVIEW.