Author's Note: From now on, I'm going to blend the movie and my own ideas together so it'll be kinda different and kinda similar.
'Achilles?'
The men who had seized her now let go quickly and Briseis slumped to the ground. She lay unmoving, feeling coarse grains of rough, black sand scrape against her cheek. And then, someone was lifting her up and she leaned against her supporter, unknowing and uncaring of who it was.
"Briseis?"
She looked up, her vision blurred by the blood-matted hair in front of her eyes. His voice sounded much too young to be that of Achilles.
"Patroclus?" she murmured.
His face hovered above hers and he actually looked concerned. Around them, there were screams, dying screams of terror. Briseis could hear pain and as her head turned to rest against Patroclus's shoulder, she could see that wickedly glowing brand land on someone else's skin. She could see the skin glow too and then shrivel and blacken.
And then, strong, capable arms picked her up as easily as they would pick up a child. The hands tightened around her, protectively, and her cheek met the cold metal of a smooth breastplate. She curled against her protector, unaware of who it was, and finally allowed herself to sink into unconsciousness.
When she woke up, Briseis found herself lying in Achilles' tent again. She was lying on a small woven mat and in horror, found Achilles right next to her and dabbing at her wounds with a moist towel.
She gave a sharp gasp and rolled away, landing on her side and glancing at him in fear. He gave her a humoring look and then commanded in his usual arrogance,
"Come here."
She didn't budge and Achilles gave an exasperated sigh before moving over to crouch down next to her again. She froze as he bended over her to clean her wounds.
"Don't touch me," she said and slapped his hand away.
Patroclus was also in the tent and he stared at her, wondering how she dared to speak to his cousin in that way. Or maybe she had a death wish.
"Will I defile your pure Trojan skin?" Achilles snapped and tossed the towel in her face.
Briseis flew up and snatching the towel, flung it right back. It landed with a wet splat on Achilles' chest. He looked ready to strike her when Patroclus broke in and interrupted,
"Briseis can clean herself. She's a big girl now, isn't she?"
Briseis glowered at him.
But Achilles left her alone and she grabbed the towel back. Dunking it into the water and rinsing it out, she blurted out,
"Why do you kill?"
Achilles looked at her closely with his forceful stare and replied seriously,
"Because this is what I was born to do and nothing can change what I am."
"You could change yourself!" Briseis exclaimed, pulling apart the towel furiously.
"Why do you choose to waste your love and devotion on a god?" Achilles questioned. "I would think that the romance would be one-sided."
'There he goes again! Mocking me!' Briseis thought bitterly.
Achilles switched topics.
"To end one's life is the easiest thing," he said, more to himself than to anyone else. "You need no hatred. You can just do it."
Briseis was about to retort how wrong he was when she suddenly realized there would be no point. So she turned away, sullen, but not yet defeated.
After Patroclus had gone back to his tent and Achilles to bed, Briseis lay there in the dark. Her mind played back the conversation with Achilles over and over again until she could only hear his words in her ears and see his face speaking them. 'Is this what it feels like to go insane?' Briseis wondered. 'Will he pull me apart day by day until I am truly crazy? How long can I endure this?'
Unable to close her eyes because she would see him again, Briseis sat up and looked around the tent, recognizing his sleeping figure on the bed. 'How can a murderer like that sleep so peacefully?' she wondered. 'He deserves to have nightmares, to feel fear. He deserves to feel pain, not peace.'
Pain. And suddenly, she realized that she had the power to inflict that pain...to the only person whom Achilles loved.
Patroclus.
Assured by Achilles' steady, deep breathing, she crawled over to the pile of his discarded armor. Lying under the breastplate lay a dagger glinting with fulfilling promise. She snatched it up and taking one last look at Achilles, she darted out of the tent.
Luckily, no one else stood in the camp and only the glowing moon watched as she furtively slipped into Patroclus's hut. It was right beside Achilles and looked mostly the same. A massive pile of furs and bedding lay in one corner and there Patroclus slept so still, Briseis almost thought that he was already dead.
Briseis crouched down by the bed and gazed at Patroclus's face carefully. He looked so...innocent, so boyish and young. He looked like Paris.
'Could I kill him?' she wondered suddenly, doubting it. 'Achilles was right, nothing would be easier.'
Then, she touched Helenus's gold chain, which she now wore always. And the hatred returned, consuming the doubt.
In that moment, she wanted so fiercely for Achilles to feel the same pain that she had felt. She wanted him to fall to his knees and cry. She wanted him to feel like every other human being, to feel weakness and the curse of mortality.
Briseis raised the blade above Patroclus's neck and positioned it over a vein.
And before she could plunge it down, her conscience came back and she threw the knife as far away as she could before temptation sank in again.
No, she would never be able to kill like Achilles. Patroclus had helped her. He had been her ally, in ways. He was the reason she was still alive probably.
"Don't even think about it."
Achilles was at her side now and his face was dark with rage.
"I would never kill him," she spat. "Because I realized that my mistake was not killing you instead."
"Don't fool yourself," Achilles growled. "Your threat's an empty one because you wouldn't be able to kill anyone."
She flew up and opened her mouth to let loose some very ugly words when Achilles clapped his hand over her lips and ordered,
"You can say it when we're back in my tent."
And looking back at Patroclus, she decided to obey. At least someone deserved a peaceful sleep. And she trudged behind Achilles, her new plot forming in place.
Later, sit on the furs, plotting in the dark. Nothing is stopping me from running away.
Patroclus sleeps on a pallet nearby and suddenly, I find myself wondering if I could kill him. Nothing is easier, Achilles had told me. It would be so easy since he slept so deeply.
In that moment, I wanted fiercely for Achilles to feel the same pain that I had felt. I picked up the dagger slowly, raising it above Patroclus's neck. And then, I lowered it. No, I would never be able to kill for no reason like Achilles. Patroclus had helped me. He was my ally, sorta.
"Don't even think about it."
Achilles was at my side in an instant and he tore the dagger from my fingers.