A/N: Sorry I have not updated in a while, I've been at camp, which is where I will be next week. So I don't expect being able to update for another while. I am truly sorry, but I will do my best to update as soon as possible!

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing.

Chapter 3: Hate

If I was anything like my brave cousin Hector, I would have stood my ground and fought until my last breath. If I was anything like my handsome cousin Paris, I could have used my charm to flee from violence. If I was anything like my wise uncle Priam, I would have delegated the situation and been able to talk my way out of any sort of confrontation. Alas, I am like none of them. I am a coward and that is exactly what I acted like.

Two burly Greek soldiers entered through the leather straps. Fear enveloped me as I slowly moved away from the strangers. One sneered at me, apparently knowing something I did not.

"Dirty Trojan whore," one of them laughed, "sure Agamemnon will have a use for her!" he directed toward the other. The biggest started toward me, laughing.

"If he doesn't, I would be glad to take her off his filthy greedy hands. Not like he's given us anything else worth all the fighting we do. Now," he said turning his filthy Greek head toward me. War had not been friendly to him; but then again it was only friendly to the winning king. "It would be in your best interests to not fight, bitch."

"Why are you trying to talk to her? She probably can't even understand you! Remember, she is a Trojan!" They both laughed haughtily at this. I could feel my blood boil with anger. 'Do they think the Trojan people are ignorant idiots? How dare they!'

"You filthy pigs! You have no right to even set foot on Trojan soil! You…" I did not have time to continue my rant, for the largest man's hand connected with my lower lip before I could utter another curse. I swore to avenge my people, though I had no earthly idea of how I would manage it.

"Looks like she can talk, but I'm sure Agamemnon will change her tone." At this the two men seized my arms and began to drag me bodily out of the tent. I struggled with all my might. I did not want set eyes on their stupid king, who had brought so much destruction and distraught to my people.

"Let me go! You insipid beasts!" My voice was becoming strained from my screams of distress. The burly soldiers continued to tow me toward a ship that had been covered in a large ambiguous tent. There was no doubt in my mind that was where the bastard of a king was calling his temporary home. On Trojan sand, no less.

By this time we had gathered an audience. Soldiers were gathered around the path to the tent, laughing in their blunt way. They had come to see the 'stupid Trojan whore' that was now the prize for their king, instead of their champion. 'Let them laugh,' I thought bitterly, 'Apollo will have his revenge. Then they will laugh. Then they will see. Those grins will be wiped clean of their dirty Greek faces.'

I continued to kick and scratch the two soldiers carrying me all the way to the boat-tent. There they stopped outside a large entrance flap. One of them slapped me across my face and I quieted momentarily. I could here voices coming from inside. One of them was vaguely familiar; the other was completely undistinguishable.

"Better have nicer manners with him, he's not as agreeable as we are," one of them snickered. I spat in his face, as a response. He did not have time to strike me though, for a guard at the tent had signaled for our entrance. On instinct, I began to struggle again as the soldiers' grip on my arms tightened. I knew I would have bruises.

"The spoils of war," I heard a falsely smooth voice say. It was dripping with pleasure and sarcasm. I struggled again as I came into the view of a large room, lavishly decorated. My eyes darted past the figure of a large man, fashioned much like the room. This was Agamemnon, a dog of a king and my country's worst enemy. I hated every piece of this man before me, and had it not been for the two soldiers that held me so tightly I would have made sure he knew it.

But my eyes came to rest on the man in the middle of the room, Achilles. He was watching me, his blue eyes boring into mine. I shot him a look of disgust before turning back to Agamemnon.

"Release her at once," Achilles ordered the men holding me. Agamemnon laughed half-heartedly.

"I have taken what I wished from the temple of Apollo. I think she will be quite enjoyable company, don't you Achilles?" He grinned wickedly at me. I began to struggle again. All I wanted to do was drown out his voice. I could not bear to hear him speak for it brought anger searing through my Trojan veins.

I stopped mechanically as the slash of metal resounded throughout the tent. The men's grip on my arms loosened in their surprise. Achilles was at the ready with his sword held prepared for death, in the middle of the tent. What was he thinking? Greeks were obviously stupider than I had imagined. That, or this particular Greek had been dropped on his too many times as a child. I went with the latter.

"I said release her." Achilles ordered once more. I took this chance to get away from the soldiers' grasp. When I turned, all eyes were on me. Now, I am nothing like my cousins, as I have said, so I am not used to being the center of attention. My hatred for every man in the room was slowly, and unwillingly, overpowered by my duty as a priestess. Damn me for becoming a priestess.

"STOP!" I yelled. To my surprise, everyone did. I turned and looked Achilles straight in the eye. All I saw was blue, and for a moment, I was lost. But my thoughts rushed back to me as he gave me a look of question. "Too many men have died today." I said thinking back on the priests and the soldiers at the temple. "If killing is your only talent, that is your curse. I won't have anyone dying for me."

For a moment no one said anything. I did not notice though, for I was lost once again. However hard I tried, I could not look away from the blue eyes. They were a mixture of surprise, anger, entertainment, and something I could not place. I returned with a look of stone reverence.

"Well, well, well, the mighty Achilles, silenced by a slave girl." Agamemnon laughed again. Achilles stood straight again, his blade falling to his side. I could see my hatred for the king mirrored in his eyes. Perhaps we had more in common than I thought.

Agamemnon moved past Achilles and over towards me. He carried the distinct smell of sweat and wine. I turned my face in disgust as he picked up a lock of my hair and sniffed. "Tonight, I'll have her give me a bath, and then," he turned towards Achilles, "who knows?" Achilles stiffened as he brought his blade up to point directly at Agamemnon.

"Before my time is done, I will stand over your corpse and smile." He said. For once, I believed a Greek. With that he put his sword away. Agamemnon dropped my hair and motioned to the two soldiers. Again I felt their fingers baring into my arms as they carried me towards the back of the tent. I struggled only a little as I looked over my shoulder.

Achilles watched me as I left. His eyes were filled with rage. I can only imagine the look of distress that was on my face. In all truth, I would have rather let the soldiers beat me to death than go to Agamemnon's bed. But I had no choice. Hate filled me once more as we turned a corner and I could no longer see the blue eyes. I realized that a small comfort had been taken away, and that now I was truly on my own.

A/N: Well, what do you think? Mabye not as good as the last and probably not exactly the same as the script, but I hope you liked it! Please review and tell me what you think!

Thanks, LR