Authors Note: I'm reposting this chapter, mainly in an attempt to annoy people. Also, because I wanted to edit the chapter a bit, get more reviews, and I forgot to add an author's note. On the bright side, I got my first flame today. It was more then a page long, proving that some people have even less of a life then I do.
Other Author's Note: Yes, it's a bit sappy. Live, or let live.
Don't think about guards. Don't think about people randomly coming into the tent. Think about Hector.
I focus on Hector's face as I try to scrape the ropes off my hands. No luck. Hector could do this. Hector would just break the ropes. All I can do is grate my wrists on them, opening up scabs that healed hours ago.
Hector. Hector!
I throw myself forward, trying to wrench off the ropes for once and for all. It doesn't work, and pain shoots through my fingers.
"That's not how you do it."
"What? Who's there?" The only person with that voice is dead.
"It's Brisies."
"Brisies! Gods, how did you get here? They said you were killed!"
"No, no! Hush, Paris, we must be quiet. Don't move your wrists, or you'll make them bleed more."
"How did you find me? How did you survive when the temple was destroyed?"
Brisies eases the ropes off my hands, and I grab her in a bloody hug.
Death, death is so final; Brisies, cousin, I'm so glad you're alive.
"This is a touching reunion."
Achilles is in the tent.
godsdamnit
"Achilles, you followed me?" Brisies moves in front of me.
"I'm a soldier, darling."
Achilles seems even bigger in the dark, his hulking figure overflowing the narrow space.
"Please, Achilles. He's my cousin. I can't let him die."
"Brisies, no." I push past her. She's not Hector; she can't protect me.
Apollo, I'm scared
Achilles grabs my ruined wrists.
"You were trying to escape before she came. You're not as much of a coward as I thought."
"My brother is coming for me. I can't let him die for my stupidity."
Achilles drops my hands. "No, I suppose you can't."
He draws his sword.
"No!" Brisies cries. I raise my hands in a gesture of surrender, drawing Brisies behind me.
Achilles laughs. "I think this belongs to you."
He does a quick twist with his hands, and a second later is offering me the sword, hilt-first. I blink, not understanding
"You were stupid enough to try and pick it up on the battlefield."
It's the sword of Troy.
He offers me the sword again, and I take hold of the hilt.
"Thank you."
"Don't. And remember, tomorrow morning, I had nothing to do with this."
Achilles leaves the tent as silently as he came.
The sword is cold and heavy. I wonder if I can defend myself with it. My arms feel numb after being tied for so long, and my hands are torn and throbbing.
I bundle a cloak in my arms. "Brisies, do people wear these?"
"Yes!" She sounds excited, "All the time! That's perfect!"
"Yes." It's a trick I used to visit Helen in Sparta.
Brisies puts her head out of the tent and looks around.
"The coast is clear. Go!"
She pushes me out of the tent, just as the idea of fleeing the Greek camp becomes more terrifying then death inside the tents.
"Brisies, I can't do this!"
"Yes you can! You've already gotton free, that's half the battle. And you have a sword!"
"I can't use a sword to save my life!"
"If you stay here, your life is as good as gone anyway!"
"Come with me." I whisper finally, clenching her fingers.
"No." She pulls her hot hand from my white-knuckled one. "I can't."
"What? You must come with me!"
"I can't." She repeats. She glances toward Achilles' tent, and her eyes rest there.
She turns back to me, and I know why she can't leave.
"You love him." I sound accusing. I don't care.
"I do." Brisies's voice trembles dangerously, like she's admitting this to herself for the first time. Maybe she is.
I lift her eyes to mine.
"I won't condemn you for it. I started this gods-cursed war. And even if I had the chance to..."
I trail off, letting my eyes drop.
"You wouldn't give her back?" Brisies squeezes my hand.
"No. I wouldn't. I love her too much."
Now I'm awash with memories of Helen. I've tried not to think about her, even as Hector's death has tormented me. I never want her to be alone.
That's why I couldn't die today.
Because there will be tomorrow. And tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.
I won't be much longer, Helen. Don't worry about me. I'm coming.
"Good-bye, Brisies."
"Good-bye, cousin."
Before I can stop myself, I hug her again, a hasty, impetuous, desperate hug.