The tent flap opened, and I gasped, yanking up the blanket to cover me. My hair, grown longer with neglect for time to re-cut it, tumbled around my face, and I squeaked as Achilles ducked through.

He looked up, and my green eyes opened wider, mirroring his. He stopped, and I stopped breathing. Achilles looked at me carefully, taking me in from head to toe; my hair down, my chest unbound, and with the thin blanket wrapped around me and begun to smile. "Chrysaor…either my eyes are deceiving me, or you're-"

He stepped forward again and yanked at the blanket. Before I could stop the reflex, I had slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side, and then snapped back forward again. "By the gods, Chrysaor! Chrysaor, or whatever in Hades your name is-"

"Don't touch me!" I hissed. "My name is Chryse and if you touch me I swear on them, Artemis and Athena will have your…manhood if you touch me without my consent."

Achilles sank onto his bed, resting his head in his hands. "Oh, well at least you name isn't fully a lie," he whispered quietly. "It won't be that hard to learn now that Chrysaor's gone. Whose idea was this, anyway? You, a maiden, running off to war? How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm ten-and-eight-"

"So you'd didn't lie about that either."

"If you would please, the only thing I ever lied about was my gender, and even then I never lied about that because no one ever asked me if I was a boy or a maid!" I protested in a forceful whisper. "It was the two goddesses, Artemis and Athena. They're my…patrons, through a deal made with my mother, who was a water nymph. When she went to Olympia, she made them promise to watch over me. My father was a smith, Hectos of Athens. And I am Chryse, of Athens, and now, the Greek army."

"And what am I supposed to do with you?" Achilles whispered to me. "This is out of my hands. A maiden, living with me for a year and I never suspected it…Athena finds this amusing, doesn't she? And Artemis probably doesn't like the thought of it so much, because you must be a virgin for her to protect you, living in tight quarters with a man."

"It's really not any different then Briseis living with you," I observed.

"No, it's very different! How am I going to explain the new maid and the disappearance of Chrysaor?"

"You'll figure something out."

"Yes, I will. By all laws, I ought to drag you out and expose you for what you are publicly."

"But you won't."
"No, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because other then being desecrated by Athena, and Artemis, I have other reasons for keeping you here."

"Such as?"

"I can't exactly send you home now, can I? And furthermore…Briseis isn't mine anymore."

"What do you mean 'isn't yours anymore'?"

"I mean that Agamemnon fairly took her from me, stripping me of my honor. And if we can pass you off as an honor-maid from someone...that would save trouble, and his blood."

I had a bad feeling about this. "Oh, non, no, no! I'm not some cheap honor-maid! No, no! I came here to defend my country's rights, not be pawned off as some sort of…loose woman!"

"And you don't consider living in a man's tent for a year already loose?"

"Not when I was a man!"

"But you're not a man! You're a maid, gods damn it! And one that can help me by passing as my new show of honor!" Achilles leaned forward toward me, putting scant inches between our faces, staring right into my eyes. "And if you don't, you have two choices. I can either let you go here, in camp, with men who haven't so much as seen a woman for almost a year and some, or you will be sent into Troy for Paris, or whoever else wants you."

"So as an honor-maid, do I have to wear a dress?"

A long woman's dress-tunic felt odd after I had spent almost two years in the short tunic and gear of a standard boy. The long hems tripped me, and my legs brushed against the linen, making them tickle. The yards of sheer fabric wrapped around my shoulders and pinned to the straps of the tunic fluttered behind me.

I turned from the burnished mirror and looked at Achilles. "I feel…out of place," I told him, swiping back at my short hair that was pinned back and woven with delicate green ribbons that matched the dress. "I look like a maiden," I continued, turning back to the mirror. A girl with my hair and long eyelashes, pert nose and full mouth stared sullenly back, but all the frowning in the world couldn't disguise the fact that she was radiant.

"That's because you are a maiden," Achilles said, smiling and appearing beside me in the mirror. Brushing back a stray curl of hair, he looked at our reflections in the mirror. "A very beautiful one."

I frowned again, turning and walking away. Sitting on a small couch, she crossed my legs and folded my arms. "How do you propose to introduce me and explain where Chrysaor went?"

Achilles joined me, sitting across from me on a dining couch. "I was thinking about this last night…"

"And?"

He smiled. "You see, Chrysaor was one of a set of twins. He had a sister, Chryse. And when word got back to his father that his son was serving the great Achilles, he was so grateful that he decided to send his glowing daughter as a gift of thanks for his honor. When Chrysaor went to retrieve his sister, she told him that their father was horribly sick, and he left for home on the ship that she was brought on."

I pursed my lips and tapped them lightly with a fingertip. "Do you think they're stupid enough to accept that?"

"Most of them are. The others won't say anything against it."

"What makes you so sure about that?"

"If they discredited my story, they would be saying I was lying."

Standing up, I turned to the tent door and opened the flap. "I don't know, Achilles," I said contemplating the men that passed outside, sparring with each other, cleaning weapons and armor, or just sleeping or talking with their friends and allies.

"They may not be the smartest as a bunch, but how do you expect to convince Odysseus and Agamemnon? I think you're trying too hard. Your need for some foolish honor over a maid is clouding your clear view. You should be worrying about battle, and how to get into Troy, not how to pass me off as a twin and recover your 'honor'."

Achilles grasped my elbow and turned me around to face him. "You overstep yourself, Chrysa- Chryse. Even as Chrysaor you have no right to voice your thoughts like that. My honor is what allows me to hold my place alongside the kings and generals. And you'd be well off to remember that as long as you're here, living in my housing, wearing clothing my money provided, eating my food, I own you, male or female, and at any moment I can cast you out to the camp in all your uncovered maiden-hood."

I stared back into his blue eyes, keeping my head up and level to his, although many inches separated our height. "That's an empty bluff," I told him, wrenching my arm out of his hand and walking away. Turning over my shoulder I looked back at him. "You need me too much, and I know it. I'll help you now, Achilles, but I refuse to some parts of this supposed plan."

"I'm prepared to barter, brazen girl. What exactly do you refuse to?"

Raising a fine eyebrow, I walked over to him and poked a finger at his chest. "Firstly, I will play along and act the part of your little honor-maid, but only, and only to the people outside of this tent. I will not share your bed, I will not pick up after you, and weave for you. And I refuse to ever not speak my mind, whether I am a maid, a man, or a sheep. If you trusted Chrysaor's decisions, you should have no problems with Chryse's."

Achilles didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth twitched and I knew he was trying not to smile. He nodded, turning to the tent flap and opening it. "Where are you going?" I asked, not able to help myself. He looked back. "Well, if you're not going to clean up after me, to find another standard boy."

My eyes widened and I was latched onto his arm before I could help myself. "No! I mean, no, don't do that. I'll still do those duties myself. I don't mind. I like them."

He stopped, looking down at me. "Did you, or did you not just say you refused to clean up after me?"

I sighed, and took a breath. "No. What I meant was that I refuse to clean up your tent and camp after you. I won't make and wash your clothing, I won't cook your meals. You have other people for that. However, I like working with the horses and cleaning your weapons. And armor, even. Those jobs are interesting, and worth time and energy. Just because you know I'm a woman, I refuse to be treated like one. So, I'd like to keep my job. That is, if you'd allow me," I added, knowing that after my outbursts a little humility would go a far way.

He looked stunned for a moment, and then nodded. "Fine. Whatever keeps you happy, quiet, and out of the way of other people. But now, I do have to go and let them know that Chrysaor is…away."

"Do I have your word?"

"You have my word, as the son of Thetis and as a warrior of the Greek army."

I let him go, thanking him and the gods for hearing my bargain and plea.

As Achilles walked out, I stood in the doorway of the tent, waving and watching him go. He stopped suddenly a few yards down the way, shaking his head and turning. I smiled. He had just realized that he had been had by a girl, taken in by my big eyes and pleading grip on him. I laughed as he pointed a finger at me. I'd be in trouble later, but for now, it was worth it.

Achilles turned sharply as I drew the tent flap aside. "Don't!" he called out sharply, but I brushed his words aside and stood amused as he fumbled for clothing. "Oh, stop it. I've seen you naked before. It's not like this is anything new," I stated, as he glared at me.

"Yes, but you weren't Chryse the maid then. You were Chrysaor," he said, and then stopped, realizing how stupid it had sounded. I rolled my eyes to the heavens and dipped the cloth into the basin of warm water that was waiting and began to wash the blood and dirt and sweat off of his back and broad shoulders.

I sat on a rock on the thin strip of beach between land and the vast ocean, blankly staring at the flicking streamers of light that ran across the water's surface in the failing daylight. Wrapped in a thick woolen blanket that I draped over myself like a robe, and picking at the berries and strips of goat meat in the bowl beside me, I contemplated the situation I was in.

Needing some time to myself, I had strayed from Achilles' camps and had come down to the sea, going farther away then was probably safe or necessary, but I had walked until it felt a right place to stop. I turned my head around and looked at the camp to my back. It would have to be Agamemnon's, of course. Fate was fickle like that.

I knew I probably shouldn't stay long, but I couldn't bring myself to go back just yet. I didn't want to have to face Achilles or the soldiers, and this was the best way of avoidance I knew.

A figure of a soldier was walking down the beach. He stopped when he saw my figure perched on the boulder. Turning, he walked away quickly, leaving me in my peace. A nice gesture, or so I thought until my eyes came to rest on where he stopped to talk to someone. Even at this distance, it was impossible to not know Achilles.

His black robe swirled around him as he walked toward me, the ocean's waves coming to rest at his feet as he made footprints in the wet and soft sand. I turned away, looking at the sea, not acknowledging him until it was impossible with him in front of me.

"So do you always send someone to follow me?" I asked lightly, but with a bite in my words.

He looked at me, noticing my set jaw. "No, not regularly, but if you leave camp, I don't want you wandering alone," he said gently, resting his arms on the rock and leaning on it, looking out to the sea too. "Especially out this way."

"You don't think I could fend for myself if anything happened?"

"I know you could, but I prefer not to tempt Fate," he said, casting a look back at his rival's camp. "He's already taken Breseis from me; let's not try to add you to the list of things of mine he's captured for himself."

"Oh, so now I'm yours?"

Achilles looked up at me, and I was trapped between his eyes and literally, a hard spot. "Yes."

I shivered at the word, and turned, breaking the spell of his eyes. He continued, relaxing his posture and hold over me. "I don't mind if you want to roam, just be careful where you do. I know the sort of freedom you had before, and I don't want to rein that in. You don't like to be held close to people. I want you to be as free as you want to be, within reason, of course," he added. I knew that he didn't like me being this close to Agamemnon's reach. Rightly so. That I could understand.

He held a hand up to me. "Come. Let's go back to our camp." I acquiesced, placing my pale and slender hand in his larger and callused one. Steadying me as I jumped down, he kept my hand for a few moments before I turned to him, a question in my eyes. He dropped it then, and we started back to our camps.

This was part of the reason I hadn't wanted him to come down to me. The awkward silences were starting to settle between us, like the first slight winter's cold.

On the walls of Troy, inside the enemy city, Achilles and I stood, waiting for the arrival of those who had called us forward to enter the city in peace. I fidgeted with the gold bracelets that wrapped my arm over my plain leather band, and Achilles' hand rested on the sword he had been allowed to keep with him as a gesture of goodwill. Many things these Trojans might be, but foolish they were not. They had known there was no chance of getting me in here without an armed guard. Too bad they hadn't expected Achilles himself. I had had to cover my smile as the guards stared in shock and surprise as we entered through the gates, the maiden and Achilles himself at her side.

We hadn't had to wait long, but every minute that I spent waiting for this famed woman and the younger prince of Troy in this dress, with these bracelets, without the comforts of camp and my people grated on my nerves. Achilles caught my fidgeting, and raised a hand to stop me. I sighed, composing myself as best I knew how. Straightening up to my (not-so-impressive,) height, keeping my head up and shoulders back, I tried to act the part of a lady. I liked to think I didn't fail so horribly, but my breeding probably showed anyway, as well as the life I had led for the past five years.

Finally, Helen and Paris appeared. Instantly, I felt myself sinking into despair as the woman approached me. Here was a real lady, from the way she walked carefully, to the very way she breathed. Her statuesque height and slender form only set my boyish figure and muscles from labor off the instant she stepped in front of me.

Her blue dress set off her sky eyes, so I knew at least I hadn't been too wrong with the green tunic-dress for myself and my own pale green eyes. But after that I felt utterly unprepared. I sighed in remorse, and instantly was poked mentally. "Hello, Artemis."

"Wake up and stop feeling sorry for yourself, Chryse. You're not as bad off as you think."

"That's easier to say when you're a god against her then when you're a mortal woman standing in front of her."

"CHRYSE! YOU AREN'T JUST A MORTAL!"

I winced, begging back mentally. "Down a little, please."

"Fine. But remember, you are the daughter of Synae of the sea, the child of Hectos, whose crafts and strength a renowned far and wide, a warrior of the Greek army, maid of Achilles, and dear to the goddesses Athena and Artemis. …That sounds quite nice, put like that, doesn't it? Or should it be 'Artemis and Athena'?"

Disgusted, I tuned her out, but kept hold of what she had said. I might not be royalty, but I was just as important. I could bear myself worthy of those who had shaped me into who I was now.

Helen and I stood, mirroring each other. Both of us stood relaxed, yet poised for attack at any moment. Flanking us on our right were, conversely, Paris and Achilles. They glared at each other, and at the same instant, with the same careful movement, Helen and I both lay our hands on their forearm. Seeing what had happened, she quickly removed her hand from Paris, but I let mine linger as Achilles and I exchanged a look. The people surrounding us began to mutter quietly to each other.

Achilles frowned, shifting closer to me. We were both excruciatingly aware how defenseless we were in the enemy's hands. All that stood between our capture at the hands of the Trojan's was the word of an adulterous woman. Needless to say, I wasn't sure how much I trusted Helen of Sparta, and now, Troy.

I have to admit, Helen was lovely. It was easy to see why men, being those reckless creatures we know so well, would have started a war over her. But I wondered how much of all this she really comprehended; did she know how many innocent men she had killed, just because they were on an opposite side? Did she know how many wives' husbands, children's fathers, maid's lovers she had killed? Did she feel any regret for running to the Trojan ships with the prince, leaving her homeland, never to return? Did tears ever drop off of her pale cheek in the night, as she thought of her countries fighting each other? As I looked into her bright blue eyes, I had a feeling that she did. And that she understood. We might be enemies, both in war and as women of our men, but my heart went out for the woman, not so much older then myself.

Call it sympathy, empathy, anything you want, but I understood her. Taking the first tentative step toward peace, I set my shoulders and reached forward, resting a hand on hers. "Helen. I've heard many things about you. We finally meet."

She raised her eyes to look into mine. "Chryse. I'm sure they were both good and bad. I've heard more yet of you. Welcome."

Turning to Achilles, with a grace I never could have managed, she nodded serenely at him. "And Achilles. It's been some time since I've last seen you in the halls of Sparta. I trust you're as well as always."

The air of diplomacy that surrounded her was light, but hung over her slim shoulders with the ease that show she had worn it long. I now realized what set her apart from most women. It wasn't so much her beauty, although that too was great. It wasn't her titles, her birthright, or her riches. Helen possessed an easy air of maturity that leveled the ground between her and men and made her their equal. I fairly drooled in envy. It's one thing to gain respect through muscle and words, and another to gain it merely because of how you conduct yourself.

There was still and edge of rivalry and unease around our little group. Paris squirmed under Achilles' gaze, and I blushed under Paris' roving eye. Truly a connoisseur of women, I wasn't sure that I trusted this prince as much as I trusted his kingly brother.

My fears were confirmed when Paris lifted his head to the sky and shouted. "Aphrodite, give me back the golden apple! I've been cheated!" A slow murmur rose through the crowd as we waited, watching for any sign of the goddess. We didn't have to wait long. Out of the clouds a figure ascended, and the goddess of love and beauty came to stand between the four of us.

"What is the trouble, Paris?" she cooed, tilting her head to the side and blinking coquetteishly. "Why must you yell so for me?"

Indignantly, he turned and pointed at me. "Tell me if she is not more lovely then Helen," he shouted, and the crowd began to raise their voices behind the goddess. I backed up, and Achilles wrapped a protective arm about my shoulders, scowling at the Trojans and their prince.

Aphrodite sighed and gestured, and the crowd died down. "My dear, this matter is out of my realm," she explained. "Two of my sisters must take this case over from me." She muttered something under her breath, and Athena and Artemis appeared beside her. Neither had the flair for the drama their sister did, and it took less energy to apperate then ascend from Olympus.

Artemis giggled, and Athena glared, whispering under her breath something about "stupid, petty mortals." I grinned, and she shot me a look that caused me to smooth it out into a proper closed face. For all of her seriousness, I liked the grim goddess. Achilles reminded me somewhat of her. It makes sense, as she was his patron goddess as well.

Clearing her throat, Athena got the attention of the raucous group of people gathered. Paris frowned at her, and she glared back. Artemis ogled at the man from behind her sister. Helen's frown deepened. "Now, I want to clear something out right now," Athena started, her low voice hard. "I don't particularly like you, prince, or these people, so I'm going to make this as clear and quick as I can. As one of the contenders for the golden apple, I can fairly tell you that you were not cheated. The woman by your side was the fairest at the time. For any injury on your part, we are not to blame. Chryse was so young at the time of the judging that she wasn't a contender for Helen." (I didn't know whether to be relieved or affronted.) "All I can say is that Time had a trick on us, and that you'll have to be content with what you have." Athena's gray eyes cut to me. "I have other plans for Chryse."

I swallowed hard at that one. Gods and planning never go very well together. Look where I was now. In the middle of a war.

Artemis shrugged her shoulders. "Chryse can't be touched, Paris. It just works that way. Take Helen and don't make this war for nothing." I could sense the level of comfort between Helen and I had just dropped several levels with these comments. I felt it a shame. Under different circumstances, I would have probably liked the woman.

A light pulsed around us, and we all shut our eyes. Achilles shielded his eyes with his arm, keeping his eyes open so he could see if anyone tried anything. Raising my hands down from my face, we all gaped at the host of gods that had filtered into the assembled crowd.

Ares himself presided, stepping forward. "My sisters are right, Paris. You must follow their ruling. As for the girl," (I received a casual glance from him. My hair prickled on my scalp, and I felt him look right through me.) "She might be the fairest now, but you can't take back what was in the past."

Men and gods nodded assent to both comments. I raised a hand to my brow, hoping to cover my embarrassment. I didn't like the way I was being looked over like some sort of ox up for inspection. I felt naked without a sword or dagger by my side. Even having Achilles there didn't help my feeling of unease. I felt truly alone in front of all these strangers.

Achilles snaked an arm around my waist, nudging me softly. "I think it's almost time to get out of here," he told me softly. "I don't like the looks of the crowd."

Turning to him, I replied: "I don't either."

"You wouldn't."