The washing place was located in a minor branch of Scamander River, which flowed through Troy and forked into the surrounding seas of the kingdom. Shielding her eyes from the blinding sun, Briseis positioned herself beneath an old willow tree and glanced apprehensively at the armed soldiers behind her- men Achilles had ordered to escort and protect her during this venture. She would've been more relaxed were it not for her current state, as the area was quite picturesque, what with the range of trees forming a canopy over the landscape. Rushes, reeds and wildflowers were scattered along the riverbank, where groups of women clustered to do the daily cleaning. Overhead, a flock of birds flew to warmer pastures, signaling the change of season.

Briseis scanned the group of women before her. Some were richly dressed and finely adorned, adequately endowed by generous captors, no doubt- while some wore simple peasants garb, and had most likely been given to miserly slave drivers. Regardless of former rank or wealth, all women were slaves now, and equals in the eyes of their new masters. Baskets filled with clothing to be washed, coupled with drying blankets hanging from trees, reminded her of this grim fact. Yards off, a gathering of soldiers—other than the Myrmidons accompanying her— stood on guard to ensure that none of them escaped.

To her far right, a lady seemed to be taking her situation worse than the others. She was sitting on the edge of the riverbank, tearing her hair and crying her eyes out. Her wailing grew so loud that the women began to cover their ears and throw looks of irritation at her.

"Why is this happening to me!" she wailed, clutching her robe so tightly it looked as if she were trying to rip it to shreds. "I was the daughter of a prince…now I'm nothing but chattel in a house of murderers!" Unmindful of the tears streaming down her face, she lifted her shaking fists, wringing them in agitation. "I prayed so hard to escape the enemy. What use is the sacrifice of a dozen hecatombs if I am to waste my youth in such wretched company!"

"Whine a little louder, my dear- so that the Greeks can hear you," a nasty, laughing voice replied. Briseis' eyes widened when a figure approached the desolate girl. It was Chryseis.

"That's right. Cry louder so that the men guarding this area can hear you. You'll be less of a problem for all of us if your throat gets slit!" Chryseis wrinkled her nose in distaste, eyeing the woman's soiled dress. "I see your master hasn't been as generous as mine…no wonder you're making such a fuss!"

The girl gnashed her teeth at the stinging comment, and her face reddened with anger. "How…how dare you speak to me like that! Do you know who I am! I am related to King Enyeus of Skyros! And you're wrong to think my downtrodden state gives you the right to insult me!

"What a treasure you are!" Chryseis tossed her hair in mockery. "It's certainly an honor to be in the presence of such illustrious company. Perhaps you can call your royal entourage to escort you to the palace at Skyros…for a quick dress change, I hope. I could smell your rags' stench from the opposite side of the river!"

Briseis heard several women laugh, but she remained quiet, troubled by the developing fray. Leave it to Chryseis to start an upset. Then again, the other girl wasn't making matters easy for the rest of the captives, either. She had turned pale with embarrassment, but was unable to find a suitable retort- and how could she? Chryseis was regally dressed- resplendent in a robe of shimmering colors, a mantle fastened on her left shoulder in a way that was fashionable for ladies of the court. So…the high king had been generous, as he had promised. His favorite's impressive wardrobe and excessive confidence all but said it.

Chryseis was about to continue harassing her opponent when she caught sight of Briseis, and her malicious smirk deepened. Briseis felt no trepidation as her former nemesis made a beeline towards her. She was quite used to the other woman's cattiness- nothing the harpy could do now— or in the future, could affect her in any way.

"Why, hello Briseis- this is an unexpected surprise. When Lord Achilles carried you off from the assembly a few nights ago, I thought we'd never meet again. Does he treat you well?" she sniggered. "Do tell us about his fine collection of head trophies. You'd better be careful though, or he'll cut your head off if not satisfied with your performance…"

Briseis was spared from replying by the angry soldiers behind her. The loyal Myrmidons had not taken kindly to the affront, and one of them drew his sword from its sheath. "You dare to insult Lord Achilles, woman?" he snarled, raising his arm, getting ready to strike her down.

Chryseis' gasped as she beheld the advancing warrior, the point of his weapon gleaming against the morning light. "I…I didn't mean it! I-" she sputtered, nearly choking in fear. "Lord Achilles is…is…the most amiable of men…and I was just…just…"

"And how would you know that, eh?" he sneered. "Have you met him?" His comrades began to laugh when she shook her head, backing up against the water's edge. "Well…no, but…" she was speaking mindlessly, but the desire to live seemed to outweigh her pride for the moment. "He…has a very…good reputation and…"

Having Chryseis as far away as possible was the equivalent of receiving ambrosia from the gods, but Briseis would not have an innocent's death on her conscience, and she decided that some form of intervention was needed. "The king of Phtia treats me with respect," she said reluctantly, her soft admission halting the soldier in his tracks. "It was his idea I spend time here- to be able to relax and meet new friends." The men raised their eyebrows at this pretty speech, but she had succeeded in diverting the avenger, making him lower his weapon. With a cold glance he considered her and – when a minute or two passed, finally shrugged and left his prey to rejoin the crowd.

When Achilles' men retreated to the perimeter of the stream, Chryseis' sighed in relief, sitting down on a rock to catch her breath. "I suppose you'll want my gratitude for that daring rescue attempt," she said bitterly, unable to meet the Trojan princess' gaze. "I don't understand why you have an armed guard for a chaperone when none of us do. Forgive me if I don't see what makes you so special- you were parading your status back home and now you're at it again!"

Briseis felt the first stirrings of pity as she watched Khryses' daughter- so proud and willful that adapting to the life of a slave was made even more difficult. Chryseis' was still panting from her recent scare, and a few feet away the other girl was giggling merrily at the spectacle.

"Not so arrogant now, are you!" she crowed, holding her sides to keep from falling over. "I was hoping you'd back up into the river and fall right in! The expression in your face was hilarious. An open-mouthed trout caught in a net- no wonder you're so comfortable here. Murky water suits you best, so swim along my dear, and join your fishy friends! The river god is waiting for youto make you his queen next quarter!"

"Iphis, that's enough!" an older woman cried, rising from her squatting position in the grass. She came towards the laughing girl and laid a hand on her shoulder. "You were not sent here to quarrel with your peers- so kindly do your duty and attend to the washing."

"Well, fancy that!" Iphis snapped. "You're not being very fair, Hecamede- you scold me for defending myself, but you won't reprimand this swaggering braggart for starting the fight!"

Chryseis rose in fury and was about to charge, but Briseis held her in place with both hands, distressed that so much trouble could occur in the course of a morning. "The Myrmidons are watching this scene, and they have little patience with you as it is," she whispered in Chryseis' ear. "If you do anything more to add to the disturbance, they may not be as merciful as they were awhile ago." Desperation lay beneath the veiled threat, and while she hated using this tactic, it was the only available option. Fortunately, it worked. Humiliated, Chryseis roughly threw her arresting hands off, and strode away.

"Your friend should learn to control her temper," the older woman said, but there was mirth in her tone. "Yet I admit that Iphis did contribute a fair share in the argument- so I cannot help but apologize for her." Briseis studied the elderly captive. Her lengthy, wavy tresses were threaded with gray and there were fine lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth. She was an attractive woman despite her age, and the wisdom in her countenance was almost motherly.

"I am Hecamede- consort to king Nestor of Pylos. You are familiar with him, I hope?"

"Lord Nestor attended the assembly of kings- the same event where Lord Achilles bought me," Briseis said. "But I have not had the privilege of meeting him in person, if that's what you mean." She gestured at Iphis, who was promptly struggling to remove a stain from a dirty cloak. "Is she related to you?"

"I'm grateful she isn't," Hecamede laughed. "I was taken from the Island of Tenedos off the coast of the Troad. I'm currently employed in King Nestor's household as a serving woman- and occasionally, I am tasked to care for his sons." She peered curiously at her. "Don't you have anything to wash? We only have an hour 'til noon."

"Lord Achilles bade me go here for a spell, but that is all…I could help with your chores- if it's alright with you."

"Are you certain he wouldn't mind? He seems rather protective of you."

"I'm sure he wouldn't," Briseis said, flushing with self-consciousness. "I was sent to keep busy, and since there is nothing else to do…"

They spent the remainder of the day discussing their past lives while attending to the laundry.


Achilles smiled when he spotted her at the far end of the beach. She appeared more relaxed than usual, and for that he was thankful. Like a bride being led to her awaiting groom, the small party ushered Briseis forward, bowing when they stood before him.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

"The weather was rather pleasant, and so were the ladies I met," she said half-truthfully, accepting his hand as it engulfed hers. "For that, I thank you." She then did the unthinkable and smiled at him, and he was taken aback by the heartfelt show of gratitude. Linking their fingers, he dismissed his soldiers and guided her to his tent, where a meal had been prepared. Several wooden planks were nailed together to form a low table, and platters of salted meat and fruit were laid on the centerpiece. They ate for several minutes in companionable silence- Achilles pleased that she was beginning to feel at ease with him, and Briseis complacent, enthusiastically adding second helpings to her plate.


When they finished eating he decided to formally introduce her to his army.

Briseis shyly followed him into the clearing, which afforded a spectacular view of the landscape. Pairs of soldiers were engaged in sword practice amidst the sandy beach, while a throng of female slaves passed by, carrying bowls of food to be served and baskets of clothing to be washed or mended. Massive ships were docked across the shore, their sails flying in the breeze. A man ran up to them, bowing respectfully. She instantly recognized him as the soldier she spoke with the previous night.

"Call the men," Achilles ordered, and Eudorus darted off to gather the Phtians. Briseis grew nervous at the thought of being acquainted with an entire squadron, but she scolded herself. Letting them know she was Achilles' consort was all for the best. Perhaps they would treat her kindly after this.

The men were now congregated at the center of the camp, watching her curiously as they whispered among themselves. The looks they gave her were not malicious or disapproving, and she freely

scanned the sea of faces, noting that as numerous as they were, their obedience and admiration for Achilles was clear. She also spied the soldiers who had kidnapped her from the temple, but on this occasion, they could not meet her stare, so worried were they of displeasing their overlord. Achilles raised his hand, and the noise gradually lessened.

"Myrmidons, I present Briseis of Troy to you," he said, his voice ringing with pride. "Treat her with respect for she is my woman. Protect, honor and care for her as you would any other Greek…and know that the reverence you bestow upon her- you bestow upon me."

Briseis needn't have worried about rejection. The Myrmidons were a loyal crew, and regardless of what they thought, they responded with a loud roar of acceptance- and she sighed with relief. Initially, she had fretted of being despised for her origins, and the realization that these fears were baseless eased her to a considerable degree. One by one, Achilles introduced her to his men, and moving as if she were in a dream, she nodded her head and gave each of them a polite greeting. In a quarter of an hour the affair was complete, and the army disbanded to return to their obligations.

Suddenly, a Phtian officer arrived, harnessing a beautiful white horse for their inspection. Mesmerized, Briseis gaped at the radiant creature, wondering if it was an immortal. "This is Xanthus- he was a mere foal when I tamed him," Achilles said, stroking the animal's hair. Xanthus neighed spiritedly, prancing and stamping his hooves on the ground.

"He's magnificent- even Bellerophon's Pegasus couldn't equal him in radiance," Briseis said admiringly.

She yelped when Achilles lifted her by the waist and deposited her onto the horse's saddle. "There's more where he came from," he grinned, adjusting the animal's reigns, "he has a partner named Balius- who you'll be meeting in awhile." He hoisted himself behind her and gave the horse a firm nudge. The imprint of his legs beneath hers made her blush, but her discomfort was brief, and forgotten once they commenced touring the campsite.

"Do you see that batch of warriors?" Achilles asked, pointing westwards, "They fall under Odysseus' command. He is king of Ithaca, a comrade-at-arms and probably among the wisest of Greeks." Briseis observed that the Ithacans were a relatively small group, and when she commented on this, he added that they filled a mere twelve ships. "What they lack in numbers, they make up for in sheer cunning," he assured. "They follow their leader's example, and Odysseus is as wily as a fox."

The afternoon wore on, and Briseis learned how to distinguish one army from the other, and how to recognize them by the type of armor they wore. Man-made palisades were built as barriers in between camps, and Achilles stressed on her the importance of not straying far from his border. "The Phtians acknowledge you out of respect for me - but you may not receive similar treatment from the rest of the troops. Promise me you won't be visiting the remaining parts of the beach without my escort- or my men's."

She gave him her word and they continued in their stroll- heading north, where the Boetians erected their shelters, and the Athenians and Arcadians anchored their ships. A short distance away, Prince Menelaus' Spartans from Lakedaemon were setting up camp, hurriedly transferring properties from their sea vessels, while the neighboring Thessalonians proceeded in kind. From Ajax Telamon's Salamisians to Prince Thoas' Aetolians to old king Nestor's Pylians…the Achaeans had the largest and most diversified legions Briseis had ever seen, and they occupied the beach like a swarm of bees flitting through a field of sprig flowers. With Achilles' protective arms around her, and the slight ocean wind cooling her cheeks, it did not occur to her that such an adventure would never have taken place, had she been encased within Troy's walls, or the confines of Apollo's temple.

Seated upon proud Xathus, they plodded through the makeshift barracks, and Achilles regaled her with colorful tales of his journey to Troy.

"…Did they really leave the poor man in that island?" she asked, horrified with his final story.

"The water snake's bite caused an infection, which paralyzed Philoctetes…the army couldn't risk exposure, and finding a cure to his ailment was impossible in those circumstances." Achilles whisked Xanthus in another direction. "Sailing without him was a sad affair, but it was a necessity, as he would have slowed us down. We aid our wounded, but we do not pamper or cater to them. To do so would be a weakness, and a betrayal of the warrior's code."

She sighed wistfully. "I suppose he died— being alone in the wilderness with no one to wait on him…"

"His fate is unknown. But we left him with a ship of his own, ample food supply and an assemblage of healers and servants. If he manages to survive, he can still make the trip here and join the war."

"He must've been a considerable loss, if his bow and arrows were gifts from the great Hercules—as you said they were."

"That is the rumor, but it was his skill the army valued most, not the weapons he used. Philoctetes was an exceptional archer, and most famed throughout Greece." With the sun's rays slowly dipping the horizon, he marshaled their swift-footed steed back to the path from whence they came.

"Achilles!"

A handsome young man in gleaming armor was standing beside a tree hut, grinning like a sleazy merchant. Briseis perceived the intruder with interest. He was extremely attractive, his skin fair as hers, his curly brown hair reaching his shoulders, framing dark, deep-seated eyes that reminded her of Paris'. But unlike her cousin, there was a hint of malice in his demeanor, which was unnerving for someone his age. He strutted to where they were, his spotted leopard cape swaying to and fro with every step he took.

Achilles frowned. Nireus was a notorious rake, a man who chased every woman he fancied. It was also common knowledge that he despised the Myrmidons - Achilles included. There could be only one reason why the whelp would deign to speak to him. He tightened his arms around Briseis.

"What agreeable climate this is…you almost forget the war with the Trojans."

"You would know better than I, Nireus," Achilles replied smoothly, "seeing as you haven't fought in a single battle yet."

Instead of being insulted, the youth chuckled, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Sharp-tongued as usual, I see- it's no secret most Achaeans fear you! But not I…in fact, I've always admired your league of fighters. The Myrmidons are so courageous. And one needn't guess why- they take after their brave king!" Achilles suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, while Briseis stifled a twinge of alarm.

"…But I can't deny your accusation," Nireus sighed. "It's true I haven't been fighting lately. I'm not to blame, though- possessing a mere three ships to my name is pitiful, indeed. How I wish I had fifty! You should be thankful, commanding such a large battalion, amassing such treasures…" He leered at Briseis, and she involuntarily stiffened, leaning back on Achilles for support.

"Surely a man of your generosity can share a portion of his wealth with the less fortunate," he continued, fixated on the lovely damsel. "I've been quite lonely these past few evenings…with no one to tend to me…"

"If it's gold you desire, you can always pay Agamemnon a visit," Achilles said, and Nireus' smugness vanished. "Compliment him on his nonexistent valor and you'll earn a talon of it."

"Perhaps you misunderstood what I just said," Nireus began, but he was cut off.

"Perhaps you misheard accounts of my generosity," Achilles said coldly. The prince's fawning was but ploy to get what he wanted- but he was a very poor actor, and there was no chance the warlord would ever give in to his request. "I give what I can…but I can be downright selfish- and don't simply share people I value."

On that note, they cantered off, abandoning the frustrated prince, and it was already dark when they reached Achilles' domain.


"She's pretty…but I thought he wouldn't be acquiring a mistress this time. That's what he said back home." Patroclus shifted, trying to get a better view of the Trojan princess from where he sat. Achilles and Briseis were dining by the campfire, accompanied by a dozen Myrmidons. With his arm on the girl's shoulders, the warrior conversed animatedly with his men, while she chewed on a piece of roasted fish, seemingly content and unafraid.

"Well, he changed his mind, apparently…and I can see why." Eudorus flicked a glance at the lady who had so captivated his lord. "She's different from his previous consorts- that much I could discern from my conversation with her yesterday."

"You talked to her?" Patroclus asked, surprised. "About what?"

"She was wary of your cousin and I merely put in a good word for him."

"…What is she like?" the boy persisted.

" I don't know her well enough to give a detailed description," Eudorus said, popping a chunk of meat into his mouth. "But she's eloquent, soft-spoken and extremely ladylike…methinks she's descended from royalty." They watched a handful of soldiers address Briseis, and saw her respond to this in a friendly- if somewhat shy- manner. In a few minutes she too, was conversing freely with the men, and Achilles was beaming with satisfaction. "She's very young, though," Eudorus continued, "I'm guessing only a few years your senior."

"Perhaps I should get myself a companion," Patroclus mused. "It might lure me from the excitement of the battle."

"Choose a maid who'll suit you best, if you do. There's no point in getting attached if it only gives you a headache." Eudorus arose, getting ready to return to his quarters. "…While we're at it, Prince Idomeneus will be dividing his loot this weekend, and he's extended an invitation to the house of Phtia. You could drop by his territory; you might find what you're looking for there."

The boy nodded, and when the Phtian commander departed, his gaze strayed once more to the foreign girl. Achilles had left her to fetch something in his tent for a while, and she was presently poking the cheery fire with the branch of a tree. Patroclus sat there for a moment- then he made a decision and got up, heading straight for her. He perched on a log perpendicular to hers, and she looked up, smiling uncertainly.

"Where are you from?" he asked, then mentally scolded himself. She was from Troy, of course! "What I meant to say was…"

"…I'm from the heart of the city," she said, dropping the stick and deliberating if revealing her origins was safe.

"Oh…um…and how old are you?" Patroclus bit his lip, wincing inwardly. Another senseless question and she'd get the impression that he was a naïve youngster- too inexperienced to be bothered with- even if she was but a few years older than he.

The awkward interrogation failed to bother Briseis. Truth be told, she was relieved that Achilles' cousin had made the effort to get to know her. It meant that he didn't consider her as a lowly slave, and that the boy- green as he was- was a gentleman. "I turned eighteen this summer," she said, giving him her full attention. "And I used to serve in Apollo's temple before…um, before your crew landed. You're Lord Achilles' cousin, aren't you? Your resemblance to him is remarkable."

"Everyone says so," Patroclus replied, "and I'm used to being compared to him." Briseis was about to object, but he reassured her. "No, it's alright, really. The comparisons are inevitable- we're related through my grandmother and most of our kinsmen have the same height, build, and coloring. We also spend a lot of sessions together- training, sparring, doing the things men do…so it's natural for them to size me up against him."

"He must care for you a lot to train you so extensively."

"He does…but I wish he'd treat me like a man and let me take part in the fighting." An interesting notion dawned on him, and he mumbled softly, almost to himself. "Do you suppose you could…maybe…" His brow furrowed and he grimaced. "…Perchance, you could…um…"

"What is it?" Briseis asked, baffled.

"…Convince him to let me fight?"

Silence ensued, and she blinked once, and then twice, trying to grasp his request. Nervously, he clenched his fists, turning red with embarrassment. "No, I apologize...I shouldn't have asked you…I'm the man here. I should master this dilemma and…"

"It's not that," Briseis said, carefully phrasing her answer, "I'm just not sure he'd listen if I broached the subject. We met scarcely two days ago, and I'm a virtual stranger- I don't see how my intruding could…" She saw his crestfallen expression and hastily added, "but I could mention it in passing…if that's what you want."

"I've already raised the matter and he won't budge," Patroclus said, dully. "If I bring it up again, he might lose patience and send me home altogether." Troubled, he paced the sand, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"You've had enough exercise for tonight, Patroclus," Achilles said, drawing near them, "proceed with that workout, and the beach floor will soon cave in." He grinned at Briseis and, lopping an arm around her waist, brought her close to him. "I see you two have met. I'm glad you're getting along."

Patroclus nodded, and in a characteristic show of gallantry, he took the priestess' hand, kissing it. "How can we not? Lady Briseis is the perfect muse, and I'd consider myself fortunate if I found someone with half her attributes."

"I don't deserve such praise," Briseis protested, but she was deeply flattered.

"Oh, but you do," the boy countered, enjoying her modesty. "The maiden who conquers my cousin deserves so much more, in fact."

Fondly, they watched the young man stride off, and Achilles leaned down to whisper in her ear. "He's right about that, you know." To his consternation, she recoiled and turned away from him. At that late hour, the area was nearly deserted, save for the abiding sentries who were charged with patrolling the border of the Achaean encampment. Briseis settled on a log and took a deep breath, focusing on the doused bonfire. The day had been wonderful, but by no means did the enjoyment garnered eclipse the confusion she previously felt.

Rubbing her knees, she regarded him warily. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

It was now her turn to baffle him. "What do you mean?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Exactly what I just said." She stared up at him, her eyes dark and contemplative. "You're the king of Phtia, and I'm— well, I was— a princess of Troy. Plainly speaking, we are enemies. You rescued me from the clutches of the Atreidei, and for that you have my eternal gratitude. But now that my life depends on you- I'm hard pressed to find the reason you've been treating me so kindly…"

Achilles crossed his arms, appraising her sternly, and while his belligerent stance instilled a pang of fear in her, she doggedly continued. "It's not that I want you to be cruel…no captive would willingly suffer, but…" She saw that the unrelenting aspect in him had not wavered. Standing straight and tall, he was observing her with a cool, calculating look- his arms folded on his chest, and a sandaled heel propped on the log beside her. So immersed in her monologue was she, that she completely missed the gleam of mirth in his eyes, the hint of a smile lingering in the corners of his mouth.

"My point is," she said, kneading her hands in her lap- a habit she had when nervous. "I may be young, but I'm not naïve. I know what's in store for me…what's in store for every female branded as a slave. You've been excessively amiable- probably more than I deserve. I just want to know why you're treating me as if we…well…as if we're betrothed." She ceased talking, and braced herself for his reaction.

He gazed into the distance for what seemed like an age, and when the trance was broken he scrutinized her, frowning. "Gossip spreads like the plague, does it not?"

"I'm sorry…I don't understand."

"Of course you do," Achilles touched his chin, feigning absorption. "You've heard various accounts of my behavior. The butchery, the blood drinking…mayhap, even the use of human skins for throw rugs. But if it will reassure you – I own that none of these claims are valid. I don't drink blood; I've always preferred wine. I collect treasure from the kingdoms I pillage, as any warlord would do after a raid. I won't be foraging for human trophies anywhere in the future, either— as I don't like most people, much less the skins that cover them. If the urge to redecorate my palace arises, I can simply hunt for an animal to do the job, and feed me while at it…" Amused, he tilted his head, and saw her staring at him, at a loss. "Does this allay your doubts, or shall I go on?"

"Lord Achilles—" she started, but he shook his head.

"Achilles, my name is Achilles…I don't want you addressing me as you would any other lord."

"Achilles," she repeated, strangely comforted by his bid for familiarity. "I had misgivings about you—

in the beginning of our acquaintance, that is. But I never believed in the gossip. They were too exaggerated, too sordid…" She shrugged helplessly. "It was also obvious that there was no evidence to base the rumors on."

"But you fear me, nonetheless."

"I would be lying if I said otherwise… yet it is the situation that worries me, above all." She faced him then, her voice calm, yet beseeching. "What are your plans for me, Achilles? And why the need for this courtship ritual? I cannot stop you—from taking what you want. I should despise you if you forced yourself on me, if you pitted your will against mine…but you've done none of that, which consoles yet confuses me all the same."

Achilles' heart twisted at this profound confession, and his mind captured the prevailing scene. With her long hair swaying in the wind, framing a visage of pure, unadulterated beauty…she was a picture of innocence and dejection. An intriguing contrast of strength and vulnerability. She admitted a desire to comprehend him, to truly see him for what he was…and this was a common goal, for many endeavored to fathom his actions, failing throughout the years despite their exertions. And he didn't give a damn what they did, or how they viewed him. In her case, it was different. The desire to expose himself was not as astounding as the wish for mutual reciprocation. He longed to see her true person without any barriers between them. To know what she wanted, what she thought, what she loved.

Reaching out, he pulled her into a standing position, and gently cradled her face with rough hands. "You realize, of course, that I always take what I want?" His intense gaze held her captive, and she wordlessly nodded. "You realize that I don't care what people think, that I deem myself accountable to no one?" A possessive arm slid around her back, anchoring her body to his, and she leaned into his embrace, her palms resting on his chest. "If I despised a man, you can be sure he'd be aware of it." Strong fingers tipped her chin up, and his thumbs caressed her lips, rubbing against their inviting fullness. "Likewise, if I admired a woman, I'd certainly have no qualms showing it."

"Achilles—"

He bent down and kissed her then, sensuously covering her mouth with his, lightly teasing the soft, pink lips that had aroused and excited him. His tongue expertly probed and parted them, and she welcomed the invasion, her mind reeling with conflicting emotions, her heart beating like mad. Her shy acceptance motivated him to even greater heights and he deepened the kiss- fiercely gathering her with both arms, his mouth slanting over hers with overwhelming passion. She gasped when his tongue explored her further, but she offered herself willingly, holding onto his breastplate for support as he buried his hands into her hair, bringing her closer to him.

When he finally broke contact she was panting softly, her cheeks flushed. Closing her eyes, she buried her head in the crook of his neck, while he stroked her back soothingly, rubbing his jaw against her forehead.

"Is it always like this?" she asked, shaking with some unnamed feeling.

"No, it isn't." Achilles tightened his embrace, marveling at the power she held over him. "It's never like this." She looked up at him then, and he saw— with enormous satisfaction—that she was as disoriented as he.

He was instantly reminded of a pressing issue. "I want you to anticipate my return, Briseis," he said, gripping her forcefully, and with unconcealed ardor. "…I want you to wait for me, no matter how early."

"Why? Where are you going?"

"I'll be raiding the cities of Thebes, Antandrus and Adramyntium in a couple of days…" He saw her melancholy expression and misinterpreted its cause. "It's something every warrior does, and we've already established that I'm not the man to shirk from it."

"Will you be gone long?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't.

He chuckled, delighted by her actual concern. "If all goes well, I should be back in a week or so…I trust you'll find ways to amuse yourself in my absence? Most of the Myrmidon will be riding with me- but I'll leave a handful of soldiers and serving women to attend on you." Pressing a tender kiss on her forehead, he decided it was time to retire.

For Achilles, the episode was a step towards attaining the only maiden he ever cared for in his whole life. For Briseis, it was the advent of more to come, and the first instance she allowed herself to believe, that everything would be alright.


(to be continued…
)



Author's note:
For some reason, writing this chapter was extremely difficult for me- tedious, too. Bwisit! Anyway, hope you all like it…:D Also, I seem to be having trouble creating line breaks in between my scenes- so if ever this fic is newly updated and you don't see any line breaks, etc., just wait a couple of days- I'm usually able ot fix this thing. >

And without further ado, here is another Troy fan art located at

www(dot)deviantart(dot)com(slash)view(slash)15781021


Extra Notes:

Scamander river (also called "Xanthus"): What is now called the Menderes with the Mediterranean Sea- it is often mentioned in the Iliad. Achilles battles it in the book, an event which will not be happening in this fic, due to the exclusion of the gods/immortals.

Iphis: Patroclus' concubine in the Iliad. She is said to have come from Skyros and is often termed as "fine – girdled." Little else is known of her character- for the purpose of this fic, she too is descended from royalty.

Hecamede: Daughter of Arsinous. She came from Tenedos, and was given to King Nestor after he sacked the city.

Xanthus and Balius: Achilles' team of horses. Immortal in the book, and are said to be offspring of the wind god, Zephyrus.

Philoctetes: Skilled Greek archer. Left in the island of Lemnos after being bitten by a snake. He got well and followed the rest of the Greeks. He is best known for shooting (and killing) Paris by the end of the war.

Nireus: According to the Iliad he is the second most handsome of the Greeks…but a man of little substance.