As screams continued to reverberate throughout the city, the old King of Troy knelt beneath Zeus's altar. He did not pray for himself, instead he prayed for his people because he wished to die.
Priam could no longer live with the memories that rushed through his mind day and night, and he knew that they would slowly turn him mad, and ultimately be the death of him. But he did not wish to wait years for death to eventually take him; he wished his pain to be cut short.
As he prayed, he remembered how he had been awoken from rare sleep at the sound of screaming and shouting through his city. He had felt his heart stop when he saw the destruction that the Greeks had already left in their paths, and knew they would already be heading towards his palace.
He had rushed to his wife's chamber, running as fast as he could for one his age, but she was not there. Then, after hearing the voices of the Greeks, Priam knew that they must have taken his wife, but he did not go after her.
The king was not so foolish as to think he could defeat tens of Greeks and save his wife before more came, and he knew that she would not die that night. He knew that the Greeks would take her and give her as a spoil of war to one of the soldiers or kings that fought, and as much as this repulsed and sickened him, he knew he could do nothing.
Priam knew that his daughters would be safe also, or as safe as they could be within Greek hands. His daughters were Princesses, and he felt they would not be harmed, but as his mind flickered to think of Andromache and Astyanax, he felt his heart shudder.
Dread sunk into the pit of Priam's stomach as he thought of Andromache, because he knew that she would live that night but her son would not. He could already feel that his grandson was in danger and did not dare to hope that he was wrong because he was a man of war also.
Priam knew how the minds of the Greek Kings worked because he had faced war many times in his life before and knew whose lives would usually be spared when a city was sacked and defeated.
A quivering breath escaped Priam's mouth as he thought of his family and he felt cold tears run over the lines of his aged face. He clamped his eyes shut, determined not to release more tears, and continued to pray.
He knew his people needed him now, not only could he hear their pain, but he could feel it also. He felt as if he were being stabbed continuously as he heard his people's pain and felt more tears leak from his eyes.
The door to Zeus's temple opened silently and a tall figure entered. He crept into the shadows of the hall, his heart hammering against his chest. He froze for a few moments and stared at King Priam before creeping near him.
"I do not need to see you with my eyes to know you are there," said Priam and his voice rung proudly throughout the temple. He slowly opened his eyes, and turned his head to see who had entered.
Priam had expected to see a mere Greek soldier as he turned his head, yet he was horribly surprised. He was right in assuming the person was a soldier, he could see that by the man's attire, but he saw something unexpected as his eyes wandered over the man's face.
The eyes of Achilles, the eyes that seemed to blaze like a ferocious fire, glared at Priam and the king was horrified. He had dreamt of those eyes ever since Hector's death, he had seen those frightening eyes in his thoughts for what seemed forever.
"Achilles?" said Priam, his voice barely above a whisper.
The man looked at Priam for a few moments, his face unreadable. He looked down to his sword, that had once been his father's, and noticed that it dripped the blood of his victims onto the cold, stone floor.
"I am the son of Achilles," he said finally and he looked up from his sword. He almost appeared to be in a daze, his thoughts all seemed blurred, and he suddenly realised that he was shaking.
It was then that the son of Achilles, Neoptolemus, realised what he had done. He looked down to his sword once more and his eyes became fixed on the blood that covered it. He could almost hear his victims whispering in his ears, he could hear their cries of pain and his face lost all colour.
Priam was stunned by Neoptolemus's words, he was not even aware that Achilles had a son. He looked at Neoptolemus's eyes once more and knew there was no mistaking that he spoke the truth as he certainly had Achilles's eyes.
Silence filled the hall as Neoptolemus looked at his sword, and Priam looked at Neoptolemus. He felt immediate hatred boil within his veins when he looked at Neoptolemus because he was the son of Achilles, which Priam thought was more than enough reason to hate him.
As Priam continued to look at Neoptolemus, however, he noticed something he had never seen within Achilles, and that was guilt.
"You've never taken life before, have you?" said Priam, an almost authoritive tone returning to his voice.
Neoptolemus heard Priam's words, but said nothing and continued to stare at his sword. He had never taken the life of another before; he had even been repulsed by hunting as a child until he heard that his father enjoyed it, it was only then that he forced himself to like it.
It had never dawned upon Neoptolemus that almost every act he did was to either prove how alike he was to his father or to gain attention from his father, he had done it so often that he now did it subconsciously.
"Do you fight for yourself or for your father?" asked Priam and he slowly rose to his feet. He already knew the answer to his question, he could see it within Neoptolemus's eyes, yet he knew Neoptolemus hadn't realised it.
Again, Neoptolemus heard Priam's words yet he remained silent, though he inwardly asked himself the question. He immediately answered that he fought for his father, that he fought to seek revenge for his father, and it was then that Neoptolemus asked why he took the lives of innocent Trojans instead of the lives of those that had caused his father's death.
"You are confused," said Priam, "you do not know who you fight for or why. You think you fight for your father, but why are you not fighting for yourself? That is the rule of war, to block out all emotion; otherwise it gets in the way." He did not know why he said this to him; he only knew that Neoptolemus was no man of war.
Neoptolemus shook his head angrily. He wanted to fight for his father, he had always wished to honour and please his father, but when he thought of the lives he had taken, he wondered if it was worth it.
"I fight for my father," stuttered Neoptolemus, and he felt his grip tighten on his sword, "I fight only for him!"
"Your father is dead," said Priam and he began to step nearer to Neoptolemus, "you can not save your father now, no matter how many innocent lives you take."
"Stay back!" said Neoptolemus, and he suddenly raised his sword to Priam's throat. He had his father's skill, and could move in the blink of an eye. He glared at Priam angrily, his breath beginning to rise.
Priam gasped quietly as he felt Neoptolemus's sword press against his neck, and even though he wished to die, his eyes were still wide with fear.
"I do not ask to live," said Priam, and his voice was no longer calm, instead it was now filled with fear, "so you may kill me now."
Neoptolemus sneered angrily. He did not like being ordered as to what he may or may not do, especially not by a man who had played a part in his father's death.
"Make no mistake, King Priam, I came here tonight to kill you and I intend to do so," whispered Neoptolemus, a mad glint returning to his eyes. He somehow felt spurred on by the fear within Priam's eyes and his sneer widened across his face.
Without saying another word, Neoptolemus carefully lowered his sword, and then he grabbed Priam by his shoulder and dragged him from the temple. He wished to humiliate the king, he wished the people of Troy to see how weak their king was, and so Neoptolemus dragged Priam to the gates of the palace.
Neoptolemus pushed Priam against the gate once they had reached it and immediately withdrew his sword once more. He could see the fear growing within Priam's eyes and that only encouraged him because he knew that he was now like his father, he knew that he could now put fear within a king's heart, just like his father had been able to do.
Priam's body began to shake as he leant against the gate and his eyes slowly wandered up to his palace. He had been born into wealth and power; he was destined to be king as soon as he was born into the world. He had had a path to follow, a nation to rule, yet he now saw that his nation was crumbling down all around him and he closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to savor the memory of Troy when there was only joy and happiness throughout the city, yet all he could see within his thoughts was the images of his city burning.
After the adrenaline from killing had calmed down within Neoptolemus, he finally began to doubt his actions that night. He had believed he was going to go to the palace and kill those who had aided his father's death, yet once he climbed down from the wooden horse, he found himself killing all those in his path.
The fear within Priam's eyes, however, had now reawakened the fierce adrenaline within Neoptolemus's veins and he no longer felt guilt for the lives he had taken, all he wished to do now was to revenge his father's death.
Sensing Neoptolemus's sudden change in mood, Priam looked away from his palace and stared into the cold eyes of Neoptolemus. He felt only pity for the man that stood in front of him because he knew that Neoptolemus would soon regret his actions of this night, and be forever plagued by the memories of it.
"I am surprised you have not begged for your life yet," Neoptolemus sneered, his cold manner returning. He wiped the blood from his sword onto the blades of grass beside him and then smirked. "I have cleaned my sword, as best I can, in your honour."
Priam had no thought of replying to Neoptolemus's words as he did not care if he was killed with a clean sword, all he wished for was his pain to be cut short and for the images of his burning city to be taken from his mind.
"Tell my wife that I love her," said Priam, after a moment. He had planned to say nothing, to face death with a proud and fearless face, but as he looked up to his palace once more, he could not help but think of his family. He saw the grin from Neoptolemus's face fade, and continued on. "Tell Polyxena and Cassandra that I love them, that I could not have been blessed with better daughters, and tell Cassandra that I'm sorry."
At the sound of Polyxena, Neoptolemus stepped closer to Priam and raised his sword slowly. He had not forgotten about the woman who had stolen his father's heart, he had not forgotten her role in his father's death, but he had pushed her from his mind until now.
"Tell Andromache that I'm sorry," said Priam, and his voice shook even more when he saw Neoptolemus advance towards him. "If my grandson … if he is still alive, then please make sure that he remains safe."
Priam knew that he would see no one else before his death, and that Neoptolemus was the only one who could relate his last words to his family, and so he told him. He did not expect Neoptolemus to say his last words to his family, but he knew he should at least tell him, just in case.
Neoptolemus said nothing, although his mind had registered the words. He stepped forward once more and was silent as his eyes wandered over Priam's face. He actually felt guilt scratch at his insides when he saw the weak old king in front of him, but he stepped forward once more.
In one swift movement, Neoptolemus had raised his sword and inserted it into the stomach of Priam. He stabbed the king four times and tried to ignore the sound which escaped the man's mouth when he did so, but he found that the moans only rose until he had stopped.
The son of Achilles then watched as Priam slowly sunk down to the floor, smearing blood over the golden gates. He looked over Priam's body for a moment and then walked away, his sword firmly gripped within his hand.
Blood seeped from Priam's deadly wounds and death slowly washed over him. There was no longer fear spread across his face, or fear blazing within his eyes, instead his face was peaceful.
The King of Troy was now at peace, he no longer had to face the destruction of his city or the mistakes he had made by allowing Helen to remain in Sparta. His mind could no longer dwell on the images of his sons' dying, and his mind could no longer think of the dark things that would happen to the ones he loved. He was now at peace.
The gods had enlightened Cassandra on many events in the war, she had seen blurred images of the downfall of Troy in her thoughts and dreams, yet she had never seen her own death. She realised this as she ran towards the temple of Athena, with fear in her own heart because she did not know if she would die that night.
Despite all that the gods had planned, Cassandra still felt close to them. The temples of the gods were her haven, her sanctuary. The gods understood her; they knew what thoughts swirled through her mind and knew what emotions flowed through her heart.
Cassandra quietly entered the temple and was immediately greeted by the bodies of priests. Three of them lay dead in the centre of the room, the Greeks having came here already this night, and their blood was mixed together to form a pool around them.
She felt her breath leave her for a few moments when she saw the priests, because not only did it sicken her to see innocent men killed, she had also known them.
As a child Cassandra had begun to come to the temple of Athena, as well as many other temples, and she would spend hours there. She would sit and pray, or learn about the gods and it fascinated her.
Cassandra now scanned the hall, looking for more bodies or hidden Greeks within the shadows, and then walked over to the priests. She closed each of their eyes and then wiped the blood from their faces with her white robe.
There was nothing she could do for these men now and so she silently prayed to the gods that these men would be taken safely to the underworld, and that others like them would be granted the same respect.
After a few moments of silent prayer, Cassandra rose to her feet and then went to kneel before the goddess's statue, but when she was about to do so, she saw that a small wooden bust of Athena had been knocked from its stand and onto the floor.
She carefully picked it up and brushed the dirt from it when she heard the door to the temple open. She gasped when she saw a Greek enter the temple and immediately hid behind the large statue of Athena.
The Greek was Ajax, who had been within the wooden horse as it was dragged within the city. He was said to be brave, one of the bravest within the Greek armies, yet he was also arrogant and felt himself better than the gods.
Cassandra turned her head to look at the Greek once more. She saw him stand and sneer at the dead priests for a moment and then, to her surprise, she saw that he looked directly at her.
The man stared at Cassandra for a few moments, his eyes wandering over her beautiful and innocent face. He wore no expression, but when he looked up to her eyes he saw her fear within them and then smirked evilly, showing his brown teeth.
Cassandra leapt to her feet, still holding Athena's bust. She ran to the end of the temple, expecting to see a door she could flee from but she saw nothing. Then suddenly she spotted a light coming from a hall that led to the east of the temple and she ran through it, seeing a door at the end of it.
Her slender fingers had almost reached the handle of the door, she could reach it if she outstretched her arm, but she then felt a man's hands grab around her waist.
Ajax pulled Cassandra away from the door, laughing at the protests she made and then tried to restrain her hands as she tried to hit him. His smirk was immediately removed, however, when she slapped him across his face.
Cassandra felt the fear rise within her and she felt her heart quicken rapidly. She had not meant to slap him, she only wanted to get away, and now she felt that it was a mistake. She felt his glaring eyes upon her and shuddered with disgust as his eyes wandered over her body.
Then, without caring that she was a Princess of Troy, or even that she had caused him barely any harm worth such a punishment, Ajax forced Cassandra down onto the floor. He pushed her so hard that she cried with pain, and he would not relax his hand on her chest until her back had touched the cold floor.
It was then that Cassandra's maidenhood was robbed from her. Her robe was pushed up to her waist and Ajax lowered down over her. He only laughed at her screams, and smirked at her yelp of pain as he entered her, and he ignored the tears that rushed down from her pale face.
Still, despite what was happening to her, Cassandra continued to hold onto the bust of Athena. She held it tightly, hoping to receive some relief from it, but no comfort came. No help came to her, and it was then that Cassandra began to hate the gods…
A/N: It has been said that Cassandra was clinging onto a miniature wooden statue of Athena at the time she was raped. I've chosen for it to be a wooden bust of Athena, just in case anyone was wondering.
Also, if at any time anyone believes the rating should be changed, please tell me. Thank you for all of the reviews :)
Yu – gh? I'm really sorry but I don't know what "gh" means – was it a mistake? Sorry!
Lily – Thank you, I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter! In a way, I'm glad it was emotional as that's what I was aiming for because it must have been that way. Thank you for the reviews :)
Kal's Gal – I agree, I feel bad for Andromache too. Thank you for the review :)
Caz-jket – I'm glad that the last chapter was descriptive and that it was good, thank you! It is terribly sad, and Astyanax was adorable, it's just so horrible that he had to die at all. Thank you for the review :)
Priestess of the Myrmidon – Tossing Helen into a fire seems like a plan ;) She did have a horrible ending, according to the myth though. Apparently she was hanged on a tree. I'm glad you like the job I've done with this story, and thank you for saying you admire me :) Thank you for the review too!
Aesya – I'm glad you love the story, and thank you for saying you think it should be published :) Just having people read this means a lot to me, so don't worry about not reviewing before this. Thank you for the review!
Idun03 – Thank you for saying it was brave to show the horror of what really happened in the last chapter :) I'm glad you enjoyed the description of Astyanax's death, and that it effected you in the way that it did because that is what I was aiming for. Thank you for the review, and I'm glad you liked the last chapter!
Queen Arwen – I'm glad you liked the last chapter and that you enjoyed how it was written. I'm also glad you liked my portrayal of it, thank you! Thank you for the review too and for saying I outdid myself :)
Measureayear – Gosh, I would love to write Hector coming in and saving everyone, but I made a commitment from the beginning to stick as close as I could to the myth. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and found it good despite it being sad. Thank you for the review :)
Coz – Thank you for reviewing both chapter 62&63 :) Andromache certainly won't die, but as you've read, Astyanax does die. I'm glad you like this story, and that you think I've done well, thanks! I'm sure I'll write another after this, although I may take a little break first.
Meitsi... – Don't worry, it's not the end of the story yet. I'm not sure how many chapters are left of this yet, but there's still a few :) I'm glad you could feel Andromache's pain in the last chapter, and thank you for the review!