Chapter Title: Animal
Briseis's POVCoward. I am a coward.
Even as I stared Achilles in the eye and acted like the self-sacrificing martyr I wanted to be, I was a coward. I was afraid. I didn't want to die and at the last moment, I closed my eyes and turned away, unable to watch my murderer sink his knife into me. But it never happened and I peeked at Achilles from the corners of my eyes.
He was still holding the dagger in one hand, but his other had gathered up a handful of my hair and he was leaning in, closer and closer. I trembled as I felt his presence right by my side, not daring to breathe as he breathed softly against my ear. He inhaled the scent of my hair, fingering the strands in his hand before letting them fall back against my cheek. This is not what murderers do their victims. This is what seducers like Paris do to victims.
"And you are here to punish me?" he questioned, though it was not as a joke. I doubt that anything with him would be a joke.
"The Sun God will have his vengeance," I spat. "And his vengeance shall be mine as well."
Back at the washbasin, Achilles tilted his head, considering how seriously I was taking this. I was dead serious. But he was patronizing me. Playing with me. He swept up great handfuls of water and sprayed it all over his face.
"His priests are dead and his royal acolyte held captive," he stated. "I think your god is afraid of me."
Afraid? Gods are never afraid of mortals. They are and always will be superior and almighty. How could he even dream that the forces that created this world are afraid of him? Compared to the gods, he was nothing.
"Apollo is master of the sun!" I cried. "He is afraid of nothing and most certainly not afraid of 'oh great!' Achilles!"
"Then where is he?" Achilles demanded sharply, gripping the basin with white knuckles and looking at me impatiently.
His sudden annoyance and anger had surprised me and my mouth shut automatically. I wasn't used to moody people like him.
He was mocking me, taunting me. He was acting as if his actions could still go on unpunished. Well, he was messing around with the wrong god. Had he never heard the stories of mortals who dared to compare themselves with the gods? Had he never heard of consequences?
Achilles was in front of me again and his blue, blue eyes were focused intently on only me. "What is he waiting for?"
I glared daggers at him. I wanted him to feel my hate, that burning hatred that was devouring my soul. I wanted him to know how much I wanted to kill him. But that hatred was now mixed well with confusion.
"The right time to strike," I whispered.
He seemed satisfied. Then,
"Were you related to that priest?"
I knew who he was referring too and fresh tears immediately filled my eyes. I refused to bawl like a child in front of the enemy and willed the tears to evaporate.
"He was my cousin," I said, my voice shaky.
"Is that why you're afraid?" he asked, still stony. "Is that why you hate me, Briseis?"
I hesitate. "You would hate me if I killed Patroclus."
He stiffens and I know this is true. He is like any other human being. He loves those closest to him with all his heart and he hates just as fiercely. And if he is like this as every other human being is, he must also have a weakness.
"Don't be afraid of me," he says and he brings the dagger down on the rope binding my wrists in one swift motion.
Hearing the slightest movement of the tent flap, he turns to face a messenger while I am left to calm my amazement.
"My lord, King Agamemnon demands to see you in his tent," the messenger announces respectfully.
"Demands?" Achilles inquires.
"Requests," the messenger quickly corrects himself.
Achilles scoffs and I am sure that this Agamem...Agamemnio or whatever that king's name is someone Achilles despises.
I am relieved when Achilles leaves me. Now, I can think clearly. His mere presence is disturbing. But I am not left alone for long because a few moments after Achilles is gone, two unfamiliar soldiers charge in, their glinting eyes scanning the hut. Their eyes rest on me and they head toward me, their smiles identically malicious.
My heart is beginning to pound again like that of a rabbit being chased by hunters and their dogs. I can do nothing though and I cannot run like a rabbit.
They pick me up too easily and swing me over their shoulder just like they would do with a burden. All I can do is beat my fists furiously at their back. If I can't be a rabbit, than a lioness shall do.
I jerk my head around and viciously bite the ear of the Greek who holds me. Blood leaks out and he howls, shoving me down toward the ground. I tumble and roll, landing near a pile of sacks. Crouching, I narrow my eyes at that enemy through my tangled hair. I become a feral animal, cornered.
But in the end, they win and I am dragged through the camp into the tent of another. I make a racket all the way. And when I look up, there is Achilles and he too looks like a wild, angry animal.