HI! This is my first story, so thanks for clicking my link! This is a story from the point of view of Briseis starting at her childhood and going till after the war ends. Updates should be pretty frequent, since school is coming to a close. Reviews are very welcome!

Disclaimers: This is the question I've been stewing on for months now: Why do I have to write a disclaimer when I am just writing a story with no intent to publish other than one when David Benioff went and screwed with The Iliad and got away with it? Anyway, don't own any of the characters and they aren't mine.

P.S.- A group of my friends from school and I have invented LAPHH- the League of Achilles, Paris and Helen Haters (feel free to join). This should give you an idea of what my allegiances are, and why some characters aren't exactly the way you'd hoped them to be. Just a warning.

- -

As I begin to formulate what I must say now, and try to plan my story in a way so that it does not seem sordid or blunt, I realize that I have lived a life defined by men. While I am in no way saying that I have accepted a rule of cruel or indecent fools, it must be acknowledged that the events in my life have often been set into motion by men, whether personally, or purely by chance. Many have left an impression on me, be it good or bad. A few I loved, though only three ever truly laid claim to my heart. One of these three survives, while the other two found their way to the Elysian fields long ago- one at the hands of another. One man brought my path to that of a second, and that man, in his turn, gave me a third. Throughout my life, men have been a constant source of triumph and struggle, tragedy and goodness, hope and love.

I think that it would be appropriate to start, however, with the first to ever touch my heart. My protector. My strength. He gave me the will to be who I am, to let the fire of my soul burn when so many other women were stifled. He was a cousin by blood, but a brother in love. He is part one.

Part one is life, and life is Hector.

Hector was my first- the first man who meant the world to me. When I was younger, we were a puzzle, two pieces that fit together side by side. We were not two, but one, bound by loyalty and a love that few understood and even fewer possessed. Even after Andromache came our love for each other was fierce, and in many ways she became my sister and the circle of our love widened. Hector, for me, represents life. He represents the will to live.

Part two is Paris, and he is change.

Paris, though also my cousin and occasionally my partner in crime when we were young, does not bring joy to my eyes when I think of him, though he once did. Paris and Hector shared a bond as well, the bond of brotherhood, and to me he will always be a catalyst- a force of change, a hurricane that leaves only destruction and death in its wake. When I look at him, even now, I do not see his silky features- I see blood. I see the sandy and motionless body of one was once tall and proud with nobility, once warm brown eyes empty and bottomless; a body ransacked of the larger than life man who once inhabited it. I see the rosy mouth of another, lips attempting to curl carefully in an effort to choke out his last words, blonde hair soaked in sweat and draped over my legs as the life left him. Paris is motion, Paris is the destruction of what exists and the creation of the new by sheer force. Paris is change, and the pain it brings.

The third that follows Paris can only be one man. He is the most important part, for he holds two meanings. His first is love. His second is death. He represents the ending. My life continues, but my story in many ways ends with him. Achilles.

The fourth part has only just started and is far from its finish. It is the very introduction of another chapter in my life, the start of a portion of the story that takes on a different form than the previous three.

This part belongs to Leander, and he is the phoenix; for his part is rebirth.