A/N: Sorry for the delay!
He woke up a few hours after dawn but he refused to get up. The moment was too delicious, too encompassing that he'd feel treacherous if he broke it. She was laying next to him, naked, one arm sprawled lazily across his chest. Her leg, likewise, was entangled over his, slowly driving him to the brink of insanity. He dared not move for fear that he'd rouse her, and she'd shift and break the haze that enveloped them. His breaths were long and deep as he tried to memorize her smell. He'd never been with a woman who smelled so completely pure, and at the same time intoxicatingly alluring. She wasn't even aware of the power she held in the palm of her hand, and how could she be? She'd sworn off men when she decided to become a priestess.
But she was a priestess no more.
She was just Briseis, his Briseis, and yet she wasn't. No matter what he did he could never make her his. The fact infuriated him as much as it pleased him. He twisted his neck so he could peer down at her face, but her mass of brown hair was in his way. Without thinking, he moved his hand to brush it away, and when his fingertips came in contact with her cheek, she stirred. Immediately realizing his mistake, he cursed silently, his body tensing when she shifted away from him.
Since he couldn't get back into the luscious position they'd been in, with her pressed flush against him, he found no need to remain in bed. He slipped from underneath the thin sheet and proceeded to dress himself. When he'd washed his face and put on a blue outfit, he moved to sit across from where she slept and reached for the platter she'd abandoned the previous evening. He ripped a few succulent grapes from the bunch, popping each one into his mouth as he observed her.
If it was possible, she was even more beautiful now. She was no longer a girl, and that somehow added to her captivating aura. She seemed tiny, almost invisible underneath the dark sheet that just barely covered her. But he knew that her appearance highly belied the power her delicate limbs beheld. She'd proven that just a few hours back when she'd almost made him combust into a ball of fire without even trying. She was the most unpredictable, infuriating, proud woman he had ever known, and he knew plenty. Only he'd never cared to really know any of them.
But with Briseis, it was completely different.
He wanted to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, and it unnerved him. He'd needed to hear that she didn't regret what had happened between them. Before, none of that had mattered. Before, all he wanted and needed was the physical aspect of the relationship. There was no emotional attachment.
Before.
But not anymore.
As he continued to ponder over the situation, a head poked through the leather straps. It was Eudorus.
"My lord," the faithful soldier began loudly, glancing over to the bed when Achilles pressed a finger to his lips. When he saw the priestess laying there, obviously naked beneath the sheet, he hesitated.
"What is it, Eudorus?" Achilles asked in a hushed voice.
The other man cleared his throat and looked at his leader again. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "King Odysseus wishes to speak with you."
Achilles nodded and Eudorus disappeared back outside. He looked long and hard at a sleeping Briseis, knowing just what his friend would ask of him. He'd say that Agamemnon no longer kept the priestess captive, and so he should fight with the Greeks again. He no longer had a reason to stay behind while the Greek army suffered humiliating defeat on the beaches of Troy.
Only now he did.
Somewhere between the first time he'd seen her and the first time he'd made love to her, she'd become a reason to turn back on everything he had ever wanted. Everything he thought he wanted. He remembered his mother, the only woman who had mattered to him until now. He remembered her and her words before he'd left for Troy. Before he'd left to find immortality. And, all of a sudden, he understood the beauty that was in the one thing he'd never cared for.
Family.
He understood the beauty of family. He understood the beauty of waking up next to the same woman day after day and having her soothe all the emotions he was too obstinate to show. Before he'd met Briseis, he wouldn't have given family a second thought. What his mother had told him while her elegant hands searched for seashells that were around his neck now began to resound in his head, slowly cracking the impossible wall every warrior had to put around his heart.
You could stay here and find a good woman to marry. You will have many children who will love you and carry your name with pride, and their children after them. But your name will eventually die out and you will be forgotten.
His eyes began to burn slightly and he blinked away the sensation.
If you go to Troy, glory will be yours. But I shall never see you again for your glory walks hand in hand with your doom.
He could still have his glory. He was still in Troy. The war was still being waged. When he walked out to meet Odysseus, he could agree to what his friend was sure to ask him. Without hesitation. But, he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure if he wanted glory, if he wanted the immense thrill of hearing his name roared by scores of fearless Greeks, or if he wanted his name moaned, night after night, from the depths of Briseis' throat as he made love to her. As he made their children who would have their mother's milky brown eyes and their father's powerful hands.
He just wasn't sure anymore.
He finally stood up, his mind clouded with his conflicting thoughts and desires. He left the tent quietly, looking over his shoulder for a last time as he pushed away the leather flaps. The sunlight spilled over her face and his breath hitched in his throat, and he knew.
He found Odysseus sitting a few feet away from his lodging, and the older man greeted him with a smile.
"Achilles, my friend. Come and join me." He motioned to an empty seat next to him, and Achilles sat down wordlessly.
"Are you ready to join us again?" Odysseus pressed, not wasting any time.
"We came to Troy for Helen," Achilles said, looking straight ahead. "Now that Menelaus is dead, there is no need to fight anymore."
"We cannot leave now, you know that. We must fight, or we loose all credibility before the world."
"If Agamemnon wants to sacrifice his soldiers for greed, I cannot stop him."
Odysseus nodded. "And what about glory?"
Achilles turned his head then, and when his friend saw that the clear, unreadable blue was now storming with emotions, he understood.
"Everything was so much simpler before morning," he replied.
"Women have a way of complicating things," Odysseus agreed. "I hope she is worth it."
"Why are you staying here?" Achilles wondered aloud. "Aren't you sick of being a servant to Agamemnon's greed?"
"Sometimes you have to serve in order to lead," Odysseus replied, knowing that his implorations would go unheeded. He didn't blame his friend, only wished that he'd chosen to fall for a woman after they won the war. But now it was too late.
Achilles stood up and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Of all the kings of Greece, I respect you the most," he said decisively before walking away. He walked back to the tent slowly, confused by what had just happened. He had just turned his back on everything that was supposed to matter the most in his life. He had just given up glory for a woman. A woman he wasn't even convinced he wouldn't tire of. Sure her defiance intrigued him now, but what about a week later, or a month? Would she still intrigue him as much? He hesitated in mid-stride, contemplating the warring thoughts in his head.
Was she really worth it?
Did she even want to be worth it?
Sure, she'd surrendered her body to him, but what woman wouldn't have? No matter how chaste Briseis had been, he'd had no doubt that eventually he would be able to unearth the desires that lay untouched beneath the surface of her calm, proud exterior. Last night, after he made love to her, she told him that she was content, but how much truth was actually in her confession? Perhaps she'd been blinded by the aftermath of what she'd experienced and hadn't known what she was saying. Perhaps all he'd aroused was that primal desire, the one he was so accustomed to, the desire he'd thought was more than enough.
His chest expanded as he found it harder and harder to breathe. When had emotional involvement become a part of the equation between a man and a woman? When had he decided that immortality was no longer as important as the satisfaction, the emotional satisfaction, of a woman?
When had he become a woman?
He clenched his fists furiously and turned around, resolved to take back what he'd told Odysseus. He would fight in the war. He would get what he came for - his glory. But, as his eyes landed on the spot where his friend should have been sitting, he found it empty. A wave of emotions passed through him, and he couldn't decipher whether it was relief or disappointment, or both.
It didn't matter much anyway, he decided. He'd join the army when they went for war that day. In fact, he'd go into his tent and put on his armor right away. The Greek soldiers would rally behind him, as always, and he'd hear their deafening roar as they chanted, "Achilles."
He pushed back the flaps of his tent and stepped inside, his resolution dissipating into thin air the moment he saw her. Her back was turned to him as she bent over slightly at the far side of the bed. The dark sheet was wrapped around her shoulders, but he now knew their exact texture and sweetness. She'd painted herself in his mind, and it was a picture he'd carry with him always.
He let the straps fall back as he stood still, waiting for her to turn around, but she was completely oblivious to his presence. She was too immersed in whatever she was doing, and he became increasingly curious as to what that was. He moved quietly toward her, smiling when he saw that she was looking at her reflection in a silver platter. Her eyebrows were creased in confusion as she tried to find a part of herself that he knew she thought she'd lost when he'd taken her virginity.
"What are you looking for?" He asked softly, startling her nonetheless.
Her head shot up and she peered at him with wide eyes. He looked breathtakingly handsome in his blue attire, and she found herself at a loss of words for a long moment.
Achilles arched his eyebrows, amused. "Well?"
"I - I'm trying to discern what's different about me," she replied quietly, half expecting him to laugh mockingly at her. Instead, he crouched before her, and she held her breath for what seemed like an eternity.
"What do you want to be different about you?" He inquired, his eyes trailing over her face and landing on her lips.
"I'm not sure," she confessed, looking back down at her reflection. "I should be different somehow, I know that much."
"If you mean physically," Achilles offered carefully, "you are. You're no longer a virgin."
Briseis shook her head, afraid of the storm that was brewing within her. Pleasure, satisfaction, guilt, fear, confusion - they all bore down on her, and her face etched into a deeper frown. "That would be stating the obvious," she said finally, mostly to herself. "It's something else, something I can't understand." She looked at him then, her brown eyes stormy and dark. "You must think me a fool, to be so preoccupied with something that's so natural to you."
He shook his head at the accusation, slightly offended. "Not at all," he told her firmly.
"I probably am a fool. First thinking that I could kill you, then allowing myself to fall into you."
"You never believed that you could kill me," he disagreed. "We both know that."
"But I am a fool. I am a Trojan. You are a Greek. We are on opposite sides," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "You came to destroy my country. Yet I cannot hate you."
Achilles swallowed away the lump that had formed in his throat. "I'm glad to hear that," he said just as quietly, tenderly lifting a hand to her cheek. She closed her eyes and unwittingly leaned into his touch.
"You will destroy it, won't you?" She continued, a single tear escaping from her closed lids. "You will destroy my country, and so you will destroy me. And still I cannot pull away from you."
"I won't," he chocked out, surprising them both. "I won't destroy your country. I cannot destroy you."
Briseis opened her eyes and looked at him skeptically. "You're lying," she observed, causing the edge of his lips to curl up.
"I don't lie, Briseis," he said, leaning toward her to smell her hair. "I don't lie."
