This was death. It was cold and all-encompassing. It made his body tingle
like he was being paralyzed then able to feel again. The haze fogged up his
eyes until he could see nothing. The darkness surrounded him, choking him.
It made him wonder if his body would continue breathing actions even though
he did not need it anymore. He wondered if being born was the opposite of
this; if your body tingled and then became warm while you were brought into
the world. The silence and finality of it all made his ears ring. His
fingers ached for something tangible. He felt almost as if his head would
burst from the pressure of the emptiness around him.
Vaguely he felt as if there was ground under his feet. His eyes cleared and he became aware of an environment around him. It felt like death. The world seemed to be all in muted grays, like a cloudy dawn. There were a few sparse trees on the landscape, but they all looked as if they'd never seen a drop of water or a ray of sunlight. Their spindly branches beckoned him like a flame to a moth.
He shivered.
To his left, he suddenly became aware of a presence. A wide river stretched out, and he couldn't make out any shore but the one nearest to him in the fog. A dark figure stood in a boat on a small, rickety dock. He approached it, warily. His feet felt like stone.
"I am Hector, Prince of Troy," he called out, his voice betraying the fear that ate at his heart.
As he stepped onto the creaking dock, a bony hand poked out from a sleeve. At first glance, the prince had sworn it was a skeleton hand, but he soon saw there was pale flesh covering the bones.
He felt through every inch of his person, but found no coins for the boatman of the Underworld.
His spine stiffened. He felt like someone had poured ice water over him. No coins. Achilles had not left him to a proper burial in Troy. His body must have been desecrated.
He wished a thousand curses on the Greek warrior, and looked helplessly toward the boatman, only to find him gone, without a ripple in the water to prove his existence.
"They didn't leave you two coins for the boatman?" a silky voice taunted him. "Such a shame."
Hector whirled around to see a young woman standing at the foot of the dock, her hands on her hips expectantly. Her skin was also pale, almost grayish, but Hector guessed that she must have been strikingly beautiful when she was alive. The only thing that retained color in her was her eyes, blue as Forget-Me-Nots. Her hair was a muted corn silk blonde. She wore light leather shoulder armor and a leather bustier, with a heavy studded belt with tassets over her short, pleated skirt. Her feet and calves were covered with high black boots, and leather gauntlets adorned her arms, like a warrioress.
"Who are you," she asked, strolling up the dock to stand right in front of him, looking up into his dark eyes. "You must be nobility, with all that pretty armor." She reached out and stroked his chest plate, giggling. "One would think someone would have left someone like you a couple coins."
Her cruel smile taunted him. Hector immediately disliked her.
"I am Hector, Prince of Troy," he repeated. "Who are you?"
The young woman giggled, skipping around him like a schoolgirl. "A Prince of Troy! I never would have guessed!" She laughed, teasing, and grabbed his right gauntlet, pulling him off the dock. "Amazing that I would get such a man to play with!"
Hector wrenched his arm away from her and glared at her. "Who are you, Lady?"
She stopped, pouting. "Oh, this prince is no fun to play with." She stuck her lower lip out momentarily, breaking into a mocking smile. "My name is Aelin. I am not royalty." She laughed again, the sound of it grating the prince's nerves.
"What do you want, Aelin?" he demanded, wanting to slap her, then immediately feeling guilty for the thought.
Aelin stopped prancing and turned to him. "I am a tour guide for the poor unfortunate dead who can't afford the toll for the boatman." She started walking away, raking her hand through her long blonde locks. "Come on, boy..." She stopped and cast a sultry look over her shoulder. "And stop looking at my ass."
Hector trotted quickly to her retreating form, matching her stride once he reached her. "You're not royalty, you said. That's obvious. But who are you?"
Aelin smiled, a dark smile that gave the impression that her entire being was devoid of empathy and kindness. "I am a Greek. Your arch enemy from what I understand, due to the flow of dead soldiers that have been passing through." She sauntered over to a fallen tree and perched herself precariously on a hanging limb. "Troy must be losing, if you, their greatest soldier, are here."
"Troy will never fall to the Greeks," Hector growled, doubting the validity of that statement for a fleeting moment.
Aelin saw the flash of concern in his eyes and pounced upon it immediately. "You cannot be very smart, if you went out to face Achilles one-on-one, no matter how good of a warrior you are." She ran her tongue thoughtfully over her perfectly aligned teeth. "I bet your death was so much fun for him. I saw his cousin, Patrocles, not too long ago. Unfortunately, the boy found his coins before I could have any real fun with him." She grabbed Hector by his gauntlet and guided him over to where she was sitting, so he was less than two feet in front of her. "Would you like to have some fun?" She snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him between her legs, locking her heels behind him and grinding against his hips seductively. "I've never had a prince before."
Hector used every ounce of restraint to distance himself from the sensations she was igniting within him. He grabbed her thighs and roughly pushed her legs away from him. She nearly lost her balance and grabbed a branch above her to steady herself.
"Aww, you find yourself completely incapable to even fuck a Greek?" she teased "You could have your way with me to spite Achilles. He'd hate it if you had a Greek woman, especially since I was once a Myrmidon." She hopped off the branch and turned around, bending over the branch and swinging her head around to look at him, her hair cascading off her shoulder in waves. "You don't have to look me in the eye, if you don't want to," she offered, wiggling her hips a little to draw his attention to the fact that her skirt had ridden up and unveiled her thin, white cloth undergarment.
Hector pinched his eyes shut and shook his head roughly, trying, unsuccessfully, to clear his thoughts. "No, woman! For the last time, I will not fuck you." He stomped off in the opposite direction, back toward the river. "Leave me alone. I do not need, nor desire, your 'guidance.'"
Aelin's smile quickly faded and she chased after him. "Wait! Don't leave me so unsatisfied!" she called, catching him and clinging to his arm. He dragged her across the packed dirt, trying to ignore her form hanging off his.
"Leave me alone," he said again in a low voice. He looked at her with a mix of anger, pain, and despair in his dark eyes and Aelin immediately released her grip.
She stopped dead and stood, rigid, as Hector stalked away. He glanced back and, for a moment, he thought he saw a scared little girl standing in place of the hardened warrioress. He paused, looking for the change again, but instead only saw Aelin and her stony expression.
Confusion clouded his mind, like the fog on the river Styx. Had she really changed?
He looked at Aelin again, but she was slowly walking away from him, her armor clanking loudly in the empty landscape.
"Aelin?" he called tentatively. "Why do you do this?" He took a few steps in her direction.
She stopped as he addressed her. "Do what?" she asked, turning her head slightly, but not looking at him.
"Torment yourself and everyone else so," the prince explained, taking her forearm and guiding her to him. "Who wronged you so that you have become like this?"
Aelin's eyes narrowed and she studied him. "Is this a trick? How do you claim to know anything about me?"
Hector paused, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips before continuing. "Well, this façade you put on. It's the demeanor of a woman who had a terrible wrong done to her. What was it?"
Aelin sneered. "It was nothing. The man I thought loved me killed me. That's why I have no coins. He left me in a field somewhere to rot. That is all."
Hector wrapped his powerful arms around her. "I am sorry. Things should never have to be that way." He stroked her hair lightly. A heavy feeling settled in his tunic and he patted his armor with his free hand. A sensation on his cheek startled him and he soon realized Aelin had licked the side of his face and was sucking on his earlobe. He shoved her away from him and she laughed, her cruel personality overcoming her again.
"Come on, Prince of Troy, do you think I would be so weak to let the actions of a man affect me?" she licked her lips. "The only actions I want from any man are to fulfill my desires. Now if you would be so kind..." she started toward him.
Hector thrust his hand inside his chest plate and retrieved the objects that suddenly appeared in his tunic. His eyes lit up and he held the two coins up in front of him. "Well, it seems like you'll have to find someone else to fulfill you. I must be going now."
Aelin's scream of defeat echoed off every corner of the barren wasteland. It rang in the prince's ears as he deposited his coins into the bony hand and climbed into the boat. He looked over his shoulder at the crumpled form in the dirt and smiled mournfully. He knew her anger and hurt would consume her for eternity. He was glad that it was over for him. He was going home.
The End
Vaguely he felt as if there was ground under his feet. His eyes cleared and he became aware of an environment around him. It felt like death. The world seemed to be all in muted grays, like a cloudy dawn. There were a few sparse trees on the landscape, but they all looked as if they'd never seen a drop of water or a ray of sunlight. Their spindly branches beckoned him like a flame to a moth.
He shivered.
To his left, he suddenly became aware of a presence. A wide river stretched out, and he couldn't make out any shore but the one nearest to him in the fog. A dark figure stood in a boat on a small, rickety dock. He approached it, warily. His feet felt like stone.
"I am Hector, Prince of Troy," he called out, his voice betraying the fear that ate at his heart.
As he stepped onto the creaking dock, a bony hand poked out from a sleeve. At first glance, the prince had sworn it was a skeleton hand, but he soon saw there was pale flesh covering the bones.
He felt through every inch of his person, but found no coins for the boatman of the Underworld.
His spine stiffened. He felt like someone had poured ice water over him. No coins. Achilles had not left him to a proper burial in Troy. His body must have been desecrated.
He wished a thousand curses on the Greek warrior, and looked helplessly toward the boatman, only to find him gone, without a ripple in the water to prove his existence.
"They didn't leave you two coins for the boatman?" a silky voice taunted him. "Such a shame."
Hector whirled around to see a young woman standing at the foot of the dock, her hands on her hips expectantly. Her skin was also pale, almost grayish, but Hector guessed that she must have been strikingly beautiful when she was alive. The only thing that retained color in her was her eyes, blue as Forget-Me-Nots. Her hair was a muted corn silk blonde. She wore light leather shoulder armor and a leather bustier, with a heavy studded belt with tassets over her short, pleated skirt. Her feet and calves were covered with high black boots, and leather gauntlets adorned her arms, like a warrioress.
"Who are you," she asked, strolling up the dock to stand right in front of him, looking up into his dark eyes. "You must be nobility, with all that pretty armor." She reached out and stroked his chest plate, giggling. "One would think someone would have left someone like you a couple coins."
Her cruel smile taunted him. Hector immediately disliked her.
"I am Hector, Prince of Troy," he repeated. "Who are you?"
The young woman giggled, skipping around him like a schoolgirl. "A Prince of Troy! I never would have guessed!" She laughed, teasing, and grabbed his right gauntlet, pulling him off the dock. "Amazing that I would get such a man to play with!"
Hector wrenched his arm away from her and glared at her. "Who are you, Lady?"
She stopped, pouting. "Oh, this prince is no fun to play with." She stuck her lower lip out momentarily, breaking into a mocking smile. "My name is Aelin. I am not royalty." She laughed again, the sound of it grating the prince's nerves.
"What do you want, Aelin?" he demanded, wanting to slap her, then immediately feeling guilty for the thought.
Aelin stopped prancing and turned to him. "I am a tour guide for the poor unfortunate dead who can't afford the toll for the boatman." She started walking away, raking her hand through her long blonde locks. "Come on, boy..." She stopped and cast a sultry look over her shoulder. "And stop looking at my ass."
Hector trotted quickly to her retreating form, matching her stride once he reached her. "You're not royalty, you said. That's obvious. But who are you?"
Aelin smiled, a dark smile that gave the impression that her entire being was devoid of empathy and kindness. "I am a Greek. Your arch enemy from what I understand, due to the flow of dead soldiers that have been passing through." She sauntered over to a fallen tree and perched herself precariously on a hanging limb. "Troy must be losing, if you, their greatest soldier, are here."
"Troy will never fall to the Greeks," Hector growled, doubting the validity of that statement for a fleeting moment.
Aelin saw the flash of concern in his eyes and pounced upon it immediately. "You cannot be very smart, if you went out to face Achilles one-on-one, no matter how good of a warrior you are." She ran her tongue thoughtfully over her perfectly aligned teeth. "I bet your death was so much fun for him. I saw his cousin, Patrocles, not too long ago. Unfortunately, the boy found his coins before I could have any real fun with him." She grabbed Hector by his gauntlet and guided him over to where she was sitting, so he was less than two feet in front of her. "Would you like to have some fun?" She snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him between her legs, locking her heels behind him and grinding against his hips seductively. "I've never had a prince before."
Hector used every ounce of restraint to distance himself from the sensations she was igniting within him. He grabbed her thighs and roughly pushed her legs away from him. She nearly lost her balance and grabbed a branch above her to steady herself.
"Aww, you find yourself completely incapable to even fuck a Greek?" she teased "You could have your way with me to spite Achilles. He'd hate it if you had a Greek woman, especially since I was once a Myrmidon." She hopped off the branch and turned around, bending over the branch and swinging her head around to look at him, her hair cascading off her shoulder in waves. "You don't have to look me in the eye, if you don't want to," she offered, wiggling her hips a little to draw his attention to the fact that her skirt had ridden up and unveiled her thin, white cloth undergarment.
Hector pinched his eyes shut and shook his head roughly, trying, unsuccessfully, to clear his thoughts. "No, woman! For the last time, I will not fuck you." He stomped off in the opposite direction, back toward the river. "Leave me alone. I do not need, nor desire, your 'guidance.'"
Aelin's smile quickly faded and she chased after him. "Wait! Don't leave me so unsatisfied!" she called, catching him and clinging to his arm. He dragged her across the packed dirt, trying to ignore her form hanging off his.
"Leave me alone," he said again in a low voice. He looked at her with a mix of anger, pain, and despair in his dark eyes and Aelin immediately released her grip.
She stopped dead and stood, rigid, as Hector stalked away. He glanced back and, for a moment, he thought he saw a scared little girl standing in place of the hardened warrioress. He paused, looking for the change again, but instead only saw Aelin and her stony expression.
Confusion clouded his mind, like the fog on the river Styx. Had she really changed?
He looked at Aelin again, but she was slowly walking away from him, her armor clanking loudly in the empty landscape.
"Aelin?" he called tentatively. "Why do you do this?" He took a few steps in her direction.
She stopped as he addressed her. "Do what?" she asked, turning her head slightly, but not looking at him.
"Torment yourself and everyone else so," the prince explained, taking her forearm and guiding her to him. "Who wronged you so that you have become like this?"
Aelin's eyes narrowed and she studied him. "Is this a trick? How do you claim to know anything about me?"
Hector paused, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips before continuing. "Well, this façade you put on. It's the demeanor of a woman who had a terrible wrong done to her. What was it?"
Aelin sneered. "It was nothing. The man I thought loved me killed me. That's why I have no coins. He left me in a field somewhere to rot. That is all."
Hector wrapped his powerful arms around her. "I am sorry. Things should never have to be that way." He stroked her hair lightly. A heavy feeling settled in his tunic and he patted his armor with his free hand. A sensation on his cheek startled him and he soon realized Aelin had licked the side of his face and was sucking on his earlobe. He shoved her away from him and she laughed, her cruel personality overcoming her again.
"Come on, Prince of Troy, do you think I would be so weak to let the actions of a man affect me?" she licked her lips. "The only actions I want from any man are to fulfill my desires. Now if you would be so kind..." she started toward him.
Hector thrust his hand inside his chest plate and retrieved the objects that suddenly appeared in his tunic. His eyes lit up and he held the two coins up in front of him. "Well, it seems like you'll have to find someone else to fulfill you. I must be going now."
Aelin's scream of defeat echoed off every corner of the barren wasteland. It rang in the prince's ears as he deposited his coins into the bony hand and climbed into the boat. He looked over his shoulder at the crumpled form in the dirt and smiled mournfully. He knew her anger and hurt would consume her for eternity. He was glad that it was over for him. He was going home.
The End