A/N: Thanks for all the reviews you guys! Thanks to Siniver for helping me
with info and such on Troy. I AM trying to get through "The Iliad" so you
know. ( Also, it's been a week since I saw the movie, so I'm paraphrasing
here.
Chapter Two: The Whole Truth
Briseis sighed as she sat on her bed behind a shear curtain. She had told her son to wash up for supper and they would talk then. Now, she wondered. How am I going to do this? Moaning in frustration she covered her face with her hands. Oh Hermes give me the words to tell my son all he needs to know, she silently prayed.
She slipped out of her daily wear and traded the pale coloured toga for a dark dress that fell to the floor and covered her well worn sandals. She removed her gold colored wrist coverings and washed the kohl from her eyes.
Over the years, she had tried to be inconspicuous about it, she had collected some of the things that hadn't been broken or stolen during the war from the palace. Things like the wrist coverings she wore, some of her old robes, pottery and such. But of all the things she had recovered, the most precious was a mirror. Gold gilded and plated with turquoise it once belong to the great King Priam. Whenever Briseis looked into it, she was sure that she could see Priam faintly outlined.
Now, as she gazed into the reflective surface, she saw her son behind her standing at the washtub with a emerald green waist robe with gold thread woven in the shape of horses running along the midriff band. It was her favourite of all his things. The dark cloth made his tanned skin glow with an ethereal light. Dear Gods how he looked like his father. The cold steely blue eyes, wide shoulders and upper body, long slender legs and the same square jaw and cheekbones. Even the nose was identical. The only thing she could say she contributed to the genetics of her son was the hair. His was dark like her own used to be, before it began graying with age. It would have the same long curls that her own carried, except every few weeks he would take care and with a knife, shear it just under his chin. She shook her head as the thought of Achilles hair, soft on her face, long enough to hold in her palms, filled her head.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, brushed back her hair and stood up from her low bed. Pushing back the curtain, she walked towards the center of their circular home. The former sacrificial fire pit now glowed with a soft flame as she used two pieces of stone to start a spark.
"Son," she said softly. Achayus turned from the washtub holding a small towel that, when compared to his rather muscular chest, looked rather like a face cloth. She tapped the seat next to her and smiled.
Achayus nodded and before coming towards his mother, grabbed up the green matching tunic that was paired with his waist robe. He slid it over his head and pulled downwards to help it fit. The shirt too was sewn with golden thread in the shape of a giant horse head. It came down just above his stomach and covered the tops of his shoulders. Once he was comfortable, he sat down on the chair and faced his mother.
"I have thought of a way to start this, but now it just seems so... improper." She said her brows furrowed and her mouth screwed up into a small pout. "Do you remember the tales of Troy? The old women still talk of the great city that our marketplace once was. Have you heard the stories?"
Achayus nodded in response.
"Yes, Troy was once a great and majestic place with golden buildings, the king was loved by all as were his sons Hector and Paris. The Trojan War began because the youngest son Paris fell in love with the Queen of Sparta. But what does this have to do with my father and you?" he questioned confusedly.
Briseis took another deep breath.
"I am a Princess of Troy Achayus. I spent most of my life in the palace. I was cousin to Hector and Paris, and niece to King Priam." The mention of her family brought mixed emotions. "When I was 12, I began training as a priestess apprentice in the Temple of Apollo. I was sure the gods had called me. Silly now that I think about it." She looked at her son. The original confusion seemed to only greaten.
"You? A Priestess of Troy? But, I heard that the remaining Trojans escaped to a small island to live out their days. If you were one of their Priestesses, would you not be with them and not with me here on the beaches of Phenelaos?" he asked.
"Yes, there is much to explain, so please be patient. I supposed I should begin with how I met your father." She added patting her child's arm softly.
"When the war began. I was just a few years older than yourself. I was taken hostage from my home in the Temple by some of the soldiers of Sparta. I was blindfolded and bound and dragged kicking to a dark tent. One of the men leaned down and whispered in my ear that I would be a wonderful holy sacrifice to their leader. I struggled and struggled, but to no avail I was hostage. They tied me to a pole in the center of this hut like structure and removed my blindfold before leaving. I screamed for help but no one answered. Hours later, a man entered the tent, he was tall, bronzed from the sun, and angry looking. He looked at me with confusion as one of his men pushed the leather straps back and explained I was for him, as a present for their victory. I learned these were the men who were attacking the palace.
He dismissed his soldier and removed his armor. All the while talking to me. I refused to answer. I was scared, but also so sure that my gods would be there to protect me. He warned me that I was safe in his tent and his tent alone. He unbound me and tried to clean the wounds on my face but I wouldn't let him. Sighing he stood and ignored me. A messenger came, saying that his presence was requested by King Agamemnon and so he left. Not long after, more men arrived and I was again dragged off unknowing whether I would live the night.
I was held by two strong guards behind a curtain. I could hear a loud male voice talking, and I heard a familiar voice respond. The man, who tried to help me, was here. They exchanged words and I learned his name to be Achilles."
"My father." Achayus said listening intently. Briseis nodded and continued.
"He must be trading me for something, I thought. The guards gripped me tightly and dragged me out into the open. I realized that I was in the presence of Agamemnon himself. The man on the wooden throne was decked in jewels and fine clothes. The man from the tent stood in his armor again. The king taunted Achilles with deflowering me and to my surprise, and the kings I am sure, Achilles drew his sword and beheaded my captors. The guards drew their swords and I knew there was a bloodbath about to occur so I shouted that no more men should die for me. Agamemnon, in utter disbelief, handed me back to Achilles and ordered that we be dismissed.
Over the next few days, I remained Achilles captor. Often he would return from battle and talk to me. I would not usually answer. Strangely, I found him to be a fair companion although I frantically wanted to return to my home. One night, I was desperate to escape, so when he slept, I crept to his armor and removed his knife from his belt. I crawled up onto the bed and held the blade to his neck. To my shock, he opened his eyes and gripped my arms with such force that I feared I might break beneath them.
'Do it.' He goaded me. But I could not. Looking into his eyes, I don't know what I saw, but it seemed as if he was burdened by a great load. In a moment, he had rolled me and now pinned me beneath him, his arms holding me down and his legs pinning my sides.
'Do I deserve a kiss before you slit my throat?' he asked. And before I knew what was happening, he kissed me."
Achayus made a face. Briseis laughed and swatted him. "Yes, I know. I won't share the details. Those are for me and the gods. But may I continue with the story?"
He nodded.
"Thank you. As the war progressed, I soon became the lover to Achilles. He was gentle and kind, whereas the other soldiers were angry, raucous and mean spirited. I did not know at the time how greatly I would feel for him. King Priam eventually came to retrieve the body of my cousin Hector. Achilles had slain him in battle. When Priam learned of my staying in the Greek camp, he requested from Achilles that I return with him and that Hector be given a proper burial ritual. Achilles granted the request and I was set free. I remember leaving in Priams' chariot and looking back at a man who had shown me kindness and compassion when no one else would felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind."
As she spoke, she could see his face the night she left. He was terrible at concealing his true feelings. A look of anger mixed with sorrow and laced with longing was what he wore. It pained her heart still imagining his face. Achilles, she thought, I loved you so much it hurts still.
Coughing slightly, she continued with her tale.
"Twelve days after Hectors funeral, the Greeks were gone and a large wooden horse was left outside our gates. Paris felt it to be unsafe, but Priam, who had always relied on omens from the Gods, ignored the opinion of his son. The horse was brought in, and in the dead of the night, Grecian soldiers began raiding our city. Paris, Helen and Hectors wife Andromache hurried to the secret exit to a boat waiting off shore for us, but I ran to the garden to pray.
As I bowed down onto my knees, I felt a hand grip my hair and it was King Agamemnon. He shouted that I would die. I silently gripped his knife while he raged and when he pulled me to him, I gutted him. The body fell and I was horrified. I looked at my bloody hands and I looked up to see Achilles standing there. Emotion flooded my head and I fainted, he ran to my side to help me. He was telling me how he was going to take me away from here, take me home to Phtia, his home. He wrapped his arms around me and went to lift me, but I saw my cousin Paris standing yards away with an arrow and bow in his hand. He took aim and to the dismay of my cries, shot my love. The man who was deemed impossible to kill, was hit. I screamed as Achilles fell to his knees and Paris grabbed me to drag me away. I shrugged him off and ran to my dying lover. He cradled my face in his hands and told me of how much he loved me. I knew I had started crying too. I'll never forget the last words he said to me.
'You showed me peace in the midst of war.'
We embraced a final time before Paris wrenched me away for good. I screamed and I cried all the way out of Troy."
Briseis lifted a hand to her cheek. It was wet with falling tears. She looked at her son and saw that he too was crying. Wiping the salty mess from her own face, she spoke again, her throat thick with tears.
"I loved him very much Achayus. It pained me great, as it does still, to talk of him. I am so sorry for keeping this from you. I know now that it would have been better for you to know. I did escape Troy, but I was exiled by my own blood when they learned of you. A child of the enemy in the womb of a Trojan Princess? How absurd. It hurt Paris most of all. He refused to acknowledge you as a child of Troy. I was so angry and upset. The look in Paris' eye showed a hatred for what I was carrying so deep that I feared if I were to look to long, I would perish. That is how I ended up here, that is how you and I came to be and that is why I refused to talk about my past. It hurt too much. For years I was torn between my duty as a cousin of Paris and my duty as a faithful lover.
When you were born, I knew you would be just like your father. I could see it in your eyes. There was a time my son, when I hated to look at you because you reminded me of what I gave up, what I had lost and who I was without."
She looked at her soon. His distinct facial features were harsh lines as a look for frustration covered his visage.
"They exiled you? Why? Because you chose to love a man who treated you with kindness and that man turned out to be forbidden? For Zeus sake! Paris himself indulged in forbidden love, that was what the Trojan War was all about! How can he deny you the same rights? He chose to love, you chose to love. It is all the same. It wasn't right!"
Briseis looked down at her necklace and began to finger the amulets at her neck. She noticed her son staring intently at it. Smiling she removed it from around her throat.
"This was your father you know. He gave it to me." She didn't mention that it was during a divine god granted meeting that she'd received the jewels from Achilles on his way to meet to boatman. "He would want you to have It." She said finally pressing the gem into her sons palm. "It is all I have to remind me of him, or at least I thought so for a long while. Now I now I have you."
Achayus stared the necklace in his hands. He trembled as he raised his hands and let the heavy amulets drop down and let the leather rest where it fell.
"Mother I-"
But Briseis shushed him.
"No Achayus, I want you to have it. All I ask is that you forgive me for not telling you sooner. Do you understand how hard it was for me?"
"Yes mother. It angers me that because you chose to love that you were cast away. You are not a piece of garbage that someone can just throw away! You are the most loving, caring, wonderful person I've ever known, I'm not just saying that because you're my mother, it's true. I vow right here and now. The gods as my witness, I will have revenge. The Trojans who cast you away will pay. I will not allow it." Achayus said angrily.
Briseis stood up.
"You'll do no such thing Achayus Titus! You do not fear the gods as I do, this I know, but you do not want to anger them. It has been 18 years my son. I have learned to live with the shame I have been given. That does not stop me from loving Achilles still in death. Or loving you for that matter. Please my son, do not go opening a jar of bees to avenge me. I am happy. I have you." She reached out to embrace the boy. He stood rigid.
"I cannot let them do this to you!" he protested.
"It has been done already son." She said quietly. "There is nothing for you too do. Please, do not make an old woman grieve."
Achayus looked at his mother. She stood now, a small proud woman with dark graying hair and fierce eyes. He could imagine her in her youthful days, dark eyed and dark skinned with shimmering dark hair and wondered how anyone could cast her out. He would not allow that injustice to continue, but he wouldn't inform his mother. It would break her heart, literally. Sighing he lay his hands to his face.
"I do not have to like it, but I respect your choice mother. I will remain here in Phenelaos." He surrendered.
Briseis smiled contentedly and drew her son into a hard clinch.
"Thank you. Now, what do you feel like for supper."
Chapter Two: The Whole Truth
Briseis sighed as she sat on her bed behind a shear curtain. She had told her son to wash up for supper and they would talk then. Now, she wondered. How am I going to do this? Moaning in frustration she covered her face with her hands. Oh Hermes give me the words to tell my son all he needs to know, she silently prayed.
She slipped out of her daily wear and traded the pale coloured toga for a dark dress that fell to the floor and covered her well worn sandals. She removed her gold colored wrist coverings and washed the kohl from her eyes.
Over the years, she had tried to be inconspicuous about it, she had collected some of the things that hadn't been broken or stolen during the war from the palace. Things like the wrist coverings she wore, some of her old robes, pottery and such. But of all the things she had recovered, the most precious was a mirror. Gold gilded and plated with turquoise it once belong to the great King Priam. Whenever Briseis looked into it, she was sure that she could see Priam faintly outlined.
Now, as she gazed into the reflective surface, she saw her son behind her standing at the washtub with a emerald green waist robe with gold thread woven in the shape of horses running along the midriff band. It was her favourite of all his things. The dark cloth made his tanned skin glow with an ethereal light. Dear Gods how he looked like his father. The cold steely blue eyes, wide shoulders and upper body, long slender legs and the same square jaw and cheekbones. Even the nose was identical. The only thing she could say she contributed to the genetics of her son was the hair. His was dark like her own used to be, before it began graying with age. It would have the same long curls that her own carried, except every few weeks he would take care and with a knife, shear it just under his chin. She shook her head as the thought of Achilles hair, soft on her face, long enough to hold in her palms, filled her head.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, brushed back her hair and stood up from her low bed. Pushing back the curtain, she walked towards the center of their circular home. The former sacrificial fire pit now glowed with a soft flame as she used two pieces of stone to start a spark.
"Son," she said softly. Achayus turned from the washtub holding a small towel that, when compared to his rather muscular chest, looked rather like a face cloth. She tapped the seat next to her and smiled.
Achayus nodded and before coming towards his mother, grabbed up the green matching tunic that was paired with his waist robe. He slid it over his head and pulled downwards to help it fit. The shirt too was sewn with golden thread in the shape of a giant horse head. It came down just above his stomach and covered the tops of his shoulders. Once he was comfortable, he sat down on the chair and faced his mother.
"I have thought of a way to start this, but now it just seems so... improper." She said her brows furrowed and her mouth screwed up into a small pout. "Do you remember the tales of Troy? The old women still talk of the great city that our marketplace once was. Have you heard the stories?"
Achayus nodded in response.
"Yes, Troy was once a great and majestic place with golden buildings, the king was loved by all as were his sons Hector and Paris. The Trojan War began because the youngest son Paris fell in love with the Queen of Sparta. But what does this have to do with my father and you?" he questioned confusedly.
Briseis took another deep breath.
"I am a Princess of Troy Achayus. I spent most of my life in the palace. I was cousin to Hector and Paris, and niece to King Priam." The mention of her family brought mixed emotions. "When I was 12, I began training as a priestess apprentice in the Temple of Apollo. I was sure the gods had called me. Silly now that I think about it." She looked at her son. The original confusion seemed to only greaten.
"You? A Priestess of Troy? But, I heard that the remaining Trojans escaped to a small island to live out their days. If you were one of their Priestesses, would you not be with them and not with me here on the beaches of Phenelaos?" he asked.
"Yes, there is much to explain, so please be patient. I supposed I should begin with how I met your father." She added patting her child's arm softly.
"When the war began. I was just a few years older than yourself. I was taken hostage from my home in the Temple by some of the soldiers of Sparta. I was blindfolded and bound and dragged kicking to a dark tent. One of the men leaned down and whispered in my ear that I would be a wonderful holy sacrifice to their leader. I struggled and struggled, but to no avail I was hostage. They tied me to a pole in the center of this hut like structure and removed my blindfold before leaving. I screamed for help but no one answered. Hours later, a man entered the tent, he was tall, bronzed from the sun, and angry looking. He looked at me with confusion as one of his men pushed the leather straps back and explained I was for him, as a present for their victory. I learned these were the men who were attacking the palace.
He dismissed his soldier and removed his armor. All the while talking to me. I refused to answer. I was scared, but also so sure that my gods would be there to protect me. He warned me that I was safe in his tent and his tent alone. He unbound me and tried to clean the wounds on my face but I wouldn't let him. Sighing he stood and ignored me. A messenger came, saying that his presence was requested by King Agamemnon and so he left. Not long after, more men arrived and I was again dragged off unknowing whether I would live the night.
I was held by two strong guards behind a curtain. I could hear a loud male voice talking, and I heard a familiar voice respond. The man, who tried to help me, was here. They exchanged words and I learned his name to be Achilles."
"My father." Achayus said listening intently. Briseis nodded and continued.
"He must be trading me for something, I thought. The guards gripped me tightly and dragged me out into the open. I realized that I was in the presence of Agamemnon himself. The man on the wooden throne was decked in jewels and fine clothes. The man from the tent stood in his armor again. The king taunted Achilles with deflowering me and to my surprise, and the kings I am sure, Achilles drew his sword and beheaded my captors. The guards drew their swords and I knew there was a bloodbath about to occur so I shouted that no more men should die for me. Agamemnon, in utter disbelief, handed me back to Achilles and ordered that we be dismissed.
Over the next few days, I remained Achilles captor. Often he would return from battle and talk to me. I would not usually answer. Strangely, I found him to be a fair companion although I frantically wanted to return to my home. One night, I was desperate to escape, so when he slept, I crept to his armor and removed his knife from his belt. I crawled up onto the bed and held the blade to his neck. To my shock, he opened his eyes and gripped my arms with such force that I feared I might break beneath them.
'Do it.' He goaded me. But I could not. Looking into his eyes, I don't know what I saw, but it seemed as if he was burdened by a great load. In a moment, he had rolled me and now pinned me beneath him, his arms holding me down and his legs pinning my sides.
'Do I deserve a kiss before you slit my throat?' he asked. And before I knew what was happening, he kissed me."
Achayus made a face. Briseis laughed and swatted him. "Yes, I know. I won't share the details. Those are for me and the gods. But may I continue with the story?"
He nodded.
"Thank you. As the war progressed, I soon became the lover to Achilles. He was gentle and kind, whereas the other soldiers were angry, raucous and mean spirited. I did not know at the time how greatly I would feel for him. King Priam eventually came to retrieve the body of my cousin Hector. Achilles had slain him in battle. When Priam learned of my staying in the Greek camp, he requested from Achilles that I return with him and that Hector be given a proper burial ritual. Achilles granted the request and I was set free. I remember leaving in Priams' chariot and looking back at a man who had shown me kindness and compassion when no one else would felt like I was leaving a piece of myself behind."
As she spoke, she could see his face the night she left. He was terrible at concealing his true feelings. A look of anger mixed with sorrow and laced with longing was what he wore. It pained her heart still imagining his face. Achilles, she thought, I loved you so much it hurts still.
Coughing slightly, she continued with her tale.
"Twelve days after Hectors funeral, the Greeks were gone and a large wooden horse was left outside our gates. Paris felt it to be unsafe, but Priam, who had always relied on omens from the Gods, ignored the opinion of his son. The horse was brought in, and in the dead of the night, Grecian soldiers began raiding our city. Paris, Helen and Hectors wife Andromache hurried to the secret exit to a boat waiting off shore for us, but I ran to the garden to pray.
As I bowed down onto my knees, I felt a hand grip my hair and it was King Agamemnon. He shouted that I would die. I silently gripped his knife while he raged and when he pulled me to him, I gutted him. The body fell and I was horrified. I looked at my bloody hands and I looked up to see Achilles standing there. Emotion flooded my head and I fainted, he ran to my side to help me. He was telling me how he was going to take me away from here, take me home to Phtia, his home. He wrapped his arms around me and went to lift me, but I saw my cousin Paris standing yards away with an arrow and bow in his hand. He took aim and to the dismay of my cries, shot my love. The man who was deemed impossible to kill, was hit. I screamed as Achilles fell to his knees and Paris grabbed me to drag me away. I shrugged him off and ran to my dying lover. He cradled my face in his hands and told me of how much he loved me. I knew I had started crying too. I'll never forget the last words he said to me.
'You showed me peace in the midst of war.'
We embraced a final time before Paris wrenched me away for good. I screamed and I cried all the way out of Troy."
Briseis lifted a hand to her cheek. It was wet with falling tears. She looked at her son and saw that he too was crying. Wiping the salty mess from her own face, she spoke again, her throat thick with tears.
"I loved him very much Achayus. It pained me great, as it does still, to talk of him. I am so sorry for keeping this from you. I know now that it would have been better for you to know. I did escape Troy, but I was exiled by my own blood when they learned of you. A child of the enemy in the womb of a Trojan Princess? How absurd. It hurt Paris most of all. He refused to acknowledge you as a child of Troy. I was so angry and upset. The look in Paris' eye showed a hatred for what I was carrying so deep that I feared if I were to look to long, I would perish. That is how I ended up here, that is how you and I came to be and that is why I refused to talk about my past. It hurt too much. For years I was torn between my duty as a cousin of Paris and my duty as a faithful lover.
When you were born, I knew you would be just like your father. I could see it in your eyes. There was a time my son, when I hated to look at you because you reminded me of what I gave up, what I had lost and who I was without."
She looked at her soon. His distinct facial features were harsh lines as a look for frustration covered his visage.
"They exiled you? Why? Because you chose to love a man who treated you with kindness and that man turned out to be forbidden? For Zeus sake! Paris himself indulged in forbidden love, that was what the Trojan War was all about! How can he deny you the same rights? He chose to love, you chose to love. It is all the same. It wasn't right!"
Briseis looked down at her necklace and began to finger the amulets at her neck. She noticed her son staring intently at it. Smiling she removed it from around her throat.
"This was your father you know. He gave it to me." She didn't mention that it was during a divine god granted meeting that she'd received the jewels from Achilles on his way to meet to boatman. "He would want you to have It." She said finally pressing the gem into her sons palm. "It is all I have to remind me of him, or at least I thought so for a long while. Now I now I have you."
Achayus stared the necklace in his hands. He trembled as he raised his hands and let the heavy amulets drop down and let the leather rest where it fell.
"Mother I-"
But Briseis shushed him.
"No Achayus, I want you to have it. All I ask is that you forgive me for not telling you sooner. Do you understand how hard it was for me?"
"Yes mother. It angers me that because you chose to love that you were cast away. You are not a piece of garbage that someone can just throw away! You are the most loving, caring, wonderful person I've ever known, I'm not just saying that because you're my mother, it's true. I vow right here and now. The gods as my witness, I will have revenge. The Trojans who cast you away will pay. I will not allow it." Achayus said angrily.
Briseis stood up.
"You'll do no such thing Achayus Titus! You do not fear the gods as I do, this I know, but you do not want to anger them. It has been 18 years my son. I have learned to live with the shame I have been given. That does not stop me from loving Achilles still in death. Or loving you for that matter. Please my son, do not go opening a jar of bees to avenge me. I am happy. I have you." She reached out to embrace the boy. He stood rigid.
"I cannot let them do this to you!" he protested.
"It has been done already son." She said quietly. "There is nothing for you too do. Please, do not make an old woman grieve."
Achayus looked at his mother. She stood now, a small proud woman with dark graying hair and fierce eyes. He could imagine her in her youthful days, dark eyed and dark skinned with shimmering dark hair and wondered how anyone could cast her out. He would not allow that injustice to continue, but he wouldn't inform his mother. It would break her heart, literally. Sighing he lay his hands to his face.
"I do not have to like it, but I respect your choice mother. I will remain here in Phenelaos." He surrendered.
Briseis smiled contentedly and drew her son into a hard clinch.
"Thank you. Now, what do you feel like for supper."