Chapter Title: Broken
Briseis silently made her way back to Achilles' hut, avoiding the paths of the drunken men that lumbered about. As she neared the tent, she froze. The moans that she heard from there were definitely coming from more than one woman.
"Briseis!"
She whirled around to face Patroclus and his cocky grin.
"You shouldn't be eavesdropping," he chided her lightly.
"You can hear them without eavesdropping," she shot back, her cheeks flushing, wondering why Patroclus had to always catch her at her most embarrassing moments.
"Would you like me to tell them to quiet down?" Patroclus suggested playfully, heading for the entrance.
"No!" she exclaimed and grabbing his arm, pulled him away.
"Why not?" he challenged her and then teased, "It's nearing your bed time so I better tell them to get out or where shall you sleep?"
'Never!' Briseis was crying in her mind. 'How can I go back in there? Back into that whorehouse?'
"I won't go back in there!" she yelled, her thoughts consuming her and screaming for her to take action.
Patroclus looked surprised at her raised voice and shrugged. "Fine, then you'll have to sleep in my tent."
She followed him and wondered about how shameless she had become. 'Sleeping in a man's tent?' she asked herself. 'What would Uncle, or Hector, or even Paris think?'
But she would rather sleep there than see those whores lying on 'him.' And he would flaunt her in front of her, showing off his nightly conquests before he made her submit by force. And afterwards, he would laugh at her for she would become just like those whores. Shaking now, Briseis curled up in Patroclus's tent, trying to force those thoughts away before they drove her mad.
She must've lied there for hours, struggling to blank out her mind and to just fall into sleep when moonlight poured onto her face. Shielding her eyes that were now accustomed to the darkness, she saw Achilles in the doorway. Only an azure toga covered his lower body and she wondered if he was cold.
They both heard a groan and looked at Patroclus who was covering his face with something that resembled a pillow. Finally, he threw off the pillow and sat up to stare at Achilles and Briseis.
"What is it?" he demanded, cranky about his disturbed sleep.
Achilles glanced at Briseis and casually remarked,
"I almost stormed over to Agamemnon's camp to see if he had stolen my property again."
"Sorry," Patroclus mumbled. "But she didn't want to take part in your nightly fun."
Smiling, Achilles shrugged. "If she belongs to me, then she is yours as well."
"I don't like it when people talk about me as if I were some cow," Briseis broke in.
"Then you would be a very troublesome cow," Achilles replied, smirking at her. "For everything that involves you now involve trouble...and defiance."
Kneeling down to face her at eye level, he suddenly grasped her arm and examined the healing cuts on it. His rough fingers traced a gash that had just begun bleeding again.
Briseis hardly dared to breathe or move as his grip held her. Why was it that whenever she was near his presence, she felt petrified?
"Are you comfortable here?" he asked.
She wondered why he would care and quietly replied, "Yes."
"Wouldn't you rather sleep in a bed?" he questioned. "Most women of royalty prefer to keep their skin soft."
His tone was mocking now. Patroclus interrupted, laughing,
"You're joking, cousin! Briseis would as soon as kill herself than sleep in a bed with one of us in it."
Achilles looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said carelessly,
"Come, Briseis."
She didn't budge. Patroclus whispered for her to move.
"Must I carry the royal princess?" Achilles demanded impatiently. And when she still didn't move, he sighed and crouched down to carry her.
He lifted her up in his arms as easily as he would lift up a child. Briseis's cheek was next to his chest again, but this time, he was bare. She could feel his skin, warm, and she could feel his steady, rhythmic heartbeat. Suddenly scared, she pushed herself out of his arms and said in a shaking voice,
"I'll walk."
At least the whores weren't in his bed when she came in. Of that, she was extremely glad. She saw his weapons and armor tossed carelessly on the ground, unused and gleaming of pure silver. There was no blood. Briseis recalled that all of the Myrmidons in camp had been in camp all day.
"Why didn't you join the battle today?" Briseis asked.
"I no longer fight at the whim of Agamemnon," Achilles replied simply.
"What made you decide that?" she inquired, her heartbeat racing. Most girls in her situation would've wanted him to reply that they were the cause of him abandoning his warrior self. She feared the answer.
"I make my own decisions," Achilles responded loudly.
"I suppose that it's not because you fear the gods," she mused out loud.
Achilles looked back at her, first annoyed, then pensive. He tossed her a blanket and whispered by her ear,
"I'll tell you something that your priests don't tell you. The gods envy us."
His voice was silky smooth, deep and full like the ocean. It was like a honey sweet web that she had gotten stuck in and the more she struggled, the more she was wrapped up in it. She listened.
"They envy us because we are mortal," he continued. "And every moment is more precious in our lives because we are mortal."
'He's lying,' Briseis thought desperately, still struggling.
"We will never be here again," Achilles murmured. "This moment shall only happen once."
He looked at her face so softly, so tenderly in awe like the way Paris looked at Helen.
"You will never be lovelier than you are now," he said gently, a totally new side of him.
Briseis drew in her breath. She felt enchanted, the same way she felt after hearing Priam tell her a story. And yet, there was still struggle in her.
"I thought you were just a dumb brute," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I could've forgiven a dumb brute."
But he smiled, because he knew that he had broken her. She had expected him to do so by force. But he had drawn her in like predator drawing prey and then shattered something in her by words, mere words. But powerful, seductive words.
'I need help,' she prayed. 'For he knows whatever happens next, will be only a victory to him.'