Hey everyone. Thanks once again for everyone who reviewed my story. I'm building up quite a little collection of reviews that I never thought I would have. I was reading someone else's story the other day, I wont say who's, but some people leave the most horrid flames! I couldn't believe it when I saw this particular one! Some people are so cruel, and they would tell someone that they should never write again! I make sure that I defend the person who is being flamed as I have never read a bad story. Constructive criticism, like what I have received, is fine. But when people tell you that your story is awful that is just plain wrong! That kind of talk can steal a person of their confidence permanently. I think that if we ever see a flame, we should defend that person and try to recover what the flamer has done. And also we should speak to the horrid flamer! Thanks peeps.

Sorry, I've been babbling, but I feel really strongly about this. To say such wicked stuff to someone is so wrong. If people hate the stories they read so much then WHY do they continue to read them?

Thanks so much everyone. On with the story…

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Her hand was shaking; Briseis, disappointed, had begun to despair. They had been searching for the babe for nearly half a day. Night surrounded them and still the child was missing from them. Tecmessa's cremation would be here soon. Achilles had insisted that she were burned instead of buried. He also insisted that every Greek warrior should be present. No one dared argue.

Briseis looked at the mud below her. She felt so guilty that she had not found Eurysaces in time for the funeral. Maybe it was better actually that he didn't see his mother burn.

Tecmessa was lying atop the pyre, the stars her witnesses. Witnesses of the end of the beautiful life of a beautiful woman. Tecmessa had died well before her time. Briseis would be the one to burn her. She wasn't sure if she wanted to do so, but she was sure Tecmessa would have preferred Achilles to do it and so she gave him the task.

She held her breath as he climbed to the top by ladder. The mound that her fragile body sat upon was higher than the other pyres and all could see this magnificent lady, who Briseis believed to be dead because of her own sin.

The pyre roared to life; Tecmessa began to burn. Her soul vanished into the underworld, her dead life just beginning.

"Find peace, friend." She whispered to the smoke above her. Everyone around her was watching too, everyone would know Tecmessa's story. A princess stolen at the age of ten, forced into slavery and died for a sin she hadn't committed. Briseis hung her head, refusing to look at the fire anymore for the tears in her eyes were burning her more than the red flames. Achilles, returned from the task, put his arm around her and held her close so she could weep on his chest. People were staring but she didn't care. Men's eyes were made to look so let them stare. Tecmessa would never live again. She could shed some womanish tears for that displeasure.

Men could not give her once second of forgiveness for her tears. Were they all emotionless themselves? Briseis frowned when she sensed their eyes on her once more. Men cry, they cry in battle, as children, from pain, from laughter. Yet should Briseis cry they curse her for being none other than a cliché, cursing mans existence. She was the strongest woman that most men knew, and to know Briseis was to know true courage and bravery. She was a girl, but were she a man she would be known for her courage. She had sat through her family's slaughter, how many men had endured that? She was forced to marry a man twice her age, and was made to share his bed during her young teenage years. How many men had endured that also? And what about losing her brother? Her twin. Bienor, the only person she truly cared about. How many twins had been lost in the battle? Not many. Briseis had never gone through the agonies of childbirth herself, but she had watched and helped women who had. She laughed at men for thinking that she was weak, for how many of them had given birth to a squirming youth? And yet now, they would mock her for crying at her friend's funeral. For everything that Briseis had been through in her short years, she believed that she deserved to part with some tears!

Achilles glared at them and they turned their heads. He held her, wishing that he could bring her the ecstasy that she needed. But he knew that she would never let him. She was weak on their first night together, physically and emotionally. He doubted that she cared about her life anymore after watching her family being killed. But now…now would be different; Briseis was a remarkable woman and he didn't believe that she would let him do that to her. He was never quite sure what her feelings about him were. Briseis on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to rely on Achilles. She believed that she could trust him. She wasn't sure why, and it didn't really matter to her. She wasn't sure whether or not she believed in soul mates, but if she did then Achilles would be hers.

That lifted weight off her shoulders.