Slowly she awoke to the same soft bouncing that had caressed her to sleep. Briseis stirred in her stiff position, her head curling in slightly. The sore spots on her body gave occasional sharp jabs of pain shooting up her and so she stilled, murmuring incomprehensible sounds as she tucked her head deeper into the warm crook of the arm she was resting on.

Her fingers grasped lightly at the coarse cotton they found and she placed it on the soft heat of his chest, unknowingly stroking it softly with her fingers.

As she did so, the bouncing ceased and the faint thuds on the sandy ground faded away. A sense of uneasiness crept through her sleep-filled limbs and she opened her eyes warily. The first thing she saw was just black and more black, and the undulating texture of cotton cloth. The she moved her eyes upward, seeing fine bronze skin dotted with gold flecks and lean muscles pulsing underneath.

Startled and uncertain at the current situation, she turned sharply and faced up. There, a strangely comforted and softened face stared back at her, a face with sculpted features and familiar piercing blue orbs.

Briseis froze instinctively, memories from moments and days before coursing back in a racing rush of blood to her head.

A painful anguish tugged at her heart for some unknown reason and more than anything else, she wanted to raise her hand to his cheek, which was glowing dimly in the moonlight, and feel for herself how he felt like. It would be, perhaps, the closest thing to a god that she would ever touch.

Her eyes were locked with his, a grave clear cerulean laced with slight amusement. She could see the dancing surprise and disconcerted marvel beneath them, drawing her deeper into an unwanted trance. Briseis breathed slowly, aware that her heart was, to her dismay and frustration, thumping rapidly in her ears. She made no move as Achilles inched his fingers higher up her waist, stiffening as the firm presses left a burning trail behind. Her stomach muscles clenched tightly, afraid yet somehow curious of what he would do next.

When painful knot in her stomach seemed to have reached its peak and her breathing almost non-existent, his fingers stopped and began to carefully draw her closer to him.

Her heart gave an unexpected jolt and started up its quick rhythm again. Slowly Briseis looked up, full of question as to what he was doing. He did not notice her at first, caught up in gathering the torn strips of her dress around her exposed skin, before glancing at her. Instantly the indecipherable blue swirl cleared and was replaced by another pool of emotions.

And for that short second, he was mortal.

You are foolish, Briseis! He was mortal all along. You know he is no god.

But then, there was no other way to describe it. He was no god; he lived not in the heavens above, nor wielded powers of immortality. He was mortal, like any man on earth; of flesh, blood and bone.

But, somehow, he was not just mere mortal either. His strides were coupled with a confidence and arrogance that easily matched those of the gods, his speech devastatingly simple yet greater meaning was concealed within. And most of all, there were those eyes. Cold, hard, unnerving stone, like the heartless soul of beaten and weathered man.

Briseis pushed the thought away, thrown even more off balance at what she thought she had seen. For that instant he suddenly seemed real, as though there was truly a possibility that there might be someone underneath all the layers.

To her relief, he broke the lingering gaze between them and she lowered her eyes down, staring ahead at the black sea. Then he resumed his strides, and nothing more passed between them. There was a precarious safety in his arms that only added to the growing load on her mind. Briseis stared despondently at the blackness, thoughts swirling in her head like an angry sea.

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They arrived at his resting grounds in quick time and Briseis hurriedly tried to etch out the grounds before her in her memory. In time, an opportunity to escape might come, and if it did, she had to be ready.

A cluster of well-built men huddling by a small fire rose at once and an unidentifiable figure came up to meet him. The darkness shrouding his face cleared as he stepped into the moonlight and Briseis recognized him as the raven-haired man.

"Eudorus." So that was his name. Achilles continued. "I will require a basin of water and some cloths. Find a clean robe and pass it to me."

"Yes my Lord." Eudorus said quietly with a polite nod before rushing off to a nearby tent.

In two long strides they reached his tent, and he bent down carefully to enter through. The action pressed her tighter to him and feeling suffocated and smothered by the close proximity they were in, Briseis struggled slightly, kicking her legs in protest to be let down.

Once he had managed to get in, he knelt down slowly by the pile of furs and withdrew his arms from her. Immediately she crawled backwards to the edge of the tent, drawing her knees to her chest. Briseis glared at him heatedly, suddenly furious at his actions; the cause of all the unnecessary turmoil in her.

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Thank you for all the reviews once more. I am so sorry for not updating sooner. School has really begun to take its toll. Hope you like this.