Chapter Title: MY Vision

Briseis's POV

The Greeks have left.

Simply packed up and gone. Without foul oaths and savage promises, they left. Without Helen, they left.

I had expected Menelaus to stir up a storm of rage. I had expected him to drive his sword through Helen as soon as she appeared. He did neither. Of course, he protested. He protested, saying,

"But she is my wife! Your son, good King Priam, is no more than a pirate, stealing off my wife like he would steal my lands, my gold, and my treasures. You hear me, she is MINE!"

I wondered, 'How many times does he have to state that before he realizes that we get it. We get it. She's yours. So why don't you just steal her back?'

Of course it wasn't that simple or Menelaus would have just grabbed her by her long hair and left. Paris would not give her up. Uncle would not give her up. Because we had the glorious, the golden Helen of Troy among us, the Trojan men would not give her up.

As soon as Cassandra had found out that Menelaus had left without Helen, she threw herself into frenzy before calming to a cool elegance.

"They will come back to our shores," she stated confidently.

And then, she called me to her side. We sat on two ornately carved wooden stools, looking out of our balcony, toward the horizon. From that balcony, you could see the wide stretch of beach that surrounded Troy and you could see the tiny black dots that were the Greek ships becoming smaller and smaller.

Cassandra looked out toward the horizon as if she could see something other than that vast emptiness. As if she could read my thoughts, she touched my hand and said,

"You can see it too."

And suddenly, the roaring waves that crashed against the rocky cliffs turned into crackling flames that seemed to reach the midnight sky. Red. Golden. Yellow. All I could see were the vivid colors of fire spreading around me. All I could smell was the stench of smoke. All I could hear were the screams of those perishing.

Perishing? From what?

Cassandra's chillingly cold hand let go of mines and it vanished like a wisp of smoke. I turned to see Cassandra's clear eyes regarding me. Her eyes were like pools of lake water, lightly gray and reflecting all the colors that she saw. Her eyes were mirroring red, golden, and yellow so I knew that she had seen it too.

Cassandra was not the only one who saw visions, or rather hallucinations as many people scoffed. Her twin, Helenus, had that gift too. But Helenus tended to be more quiet about what he saw. He knew what to say and when to say it. As I began my training as a priestess, he was my mentor.

Though more serious and solemn than Paris, Helenus was a better mentor to have than the high priest who had you whipped for not sprinkling enough ash onto Apollo's altar.

Trying to maintain a very solemn and devout expression, I marched slowly up to the altar and sprinkled the coarse ash into the sacrifice dish. The high priest observed me sternly before remarking sourly,

"You're acceptable."

If he hadn't accepted me, Paris would've thrashed him anyway.

I flashed a smile at Helenus which he returned. And then, the most unexpected thing happened. The warning bell began to ring.

Whenever an enemy's ships were spotted, the guards in the watchtower would immediately ring the huge warning bell that meant: Get back into the city and stay there.

But the temple was outside the city walls and the high priest simply scoffed and said,

"Apollo will protect us."

And that was when the first flame of doubt flickered inside of me. Would Apollo protect us from bloodthirsty Greeks and even more bloodthirsty swords?

Apollo. That was the only thing to keep us protected. A belief. We would be the first target since we were unguarded and undefended. No priest carried weapons or knew how to use one. The most we could do is sprinkle ash to blind the enemy.

The war was over before it started. One ship had gained an incredible lead in front of the others and the Greeks inside stormed out and onto the beach. For a moment, I was bewitched by that sight and then Helenus grabbed my arm.

"Come with me," he hissed.

He pulled me toward the back of the temple where there was a hidden cranny behind a massive tapestry.

"Get in and stay in," he ordered. "Don't make a sound."

"What about you?" I called after him.

He didn't answer. He didn't even look back as he rushed away.

And then, the war was inside the temple. I could hear the cruel battle-cries and the howls of victory over old priests. I could hear the clang of cold, hard metal and steel. And as I peeked out of my cranny, I could see a priest fall, slashed through by a jagged sword. Sudden tears filled my eyes as I gagged at the sight of so much lost blood.

For one woman. For one king. So much blood was lost.

And then, I saw the most horrible sight of all.

A man with golden hair had knocked off the soft gold head of Apollo's statue with one blow of his already bloodstained sword. One priest had rushed toward him to scream in protest.

One sword swipe later, that priest's head was removed and as it fell, I recognized it as the head of my own, dear Helenus and the murderer was Achilles.