Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in Troy and am in no way, shape or form connected to the movie.
Briseis wanted to curl up and scream, or return to Troy where she could die with her lover, but Paris' grip relentless grip on her arm dragged her along the dark passageway. Her mind had gone numb and she felt no emotion, save for a desperate need for Achilles. And with every stumbling step she went further and further from her lover.
Paris had been dragging her unresisting form along the passageway for almost three hours by the time he smelt fresh air. A few minutes later they came out into a cave, and from there, into a steep valley, cut by a fast flowing river. He turned to check on his cousin, and assured that she seemed to be alright, hurried upstream.
Another half hour later and they found the surviving Trojans. They had got a fire organized, and Paris was oddly proud to see Helen taking charge of the dazed survivors. She gave a small cry when she saw Paris approaching, and flew to his arms, burying her head in his chest and weeping uncontrollably.
Paris let go of Briseis, ignorant of everything but the immeasurable relief that his love was safe, and he held her close to him, soothing her and murmuring comforting words.
Briseis suddenly remembered the feeling of Achilles' safe, strong arms, carrying her away from the soldiers in the Achaean's camp. A wave of grief and loss washed over her, and the pain was so physical that she swayed slightly, almost falling.
She felt a hand on her shoulders, and was vaguely aware of being led close to the fire and wrapped in warm blankets. As they pain slowly lessened, and she was once more numbed to the grief, she drifted off to sleep.
Andromache, cradling a babe protectively, turned accusing eyes to Paris from where she sat beside Briseis.
"Achilles?" she asked him.
"Dead," he answered shortly.
"By whose hand?" Andromache could not keep the relief out of her voice.
"Mine."
Andromache looked slightly shocked, and she glanced at the sleeping form of Briseis before turning back to Paris.
"You killed your cousin's lover?" she asked incredulously.
Paris shrugged. "He killed my brother."
Andromache shook her head and pulled the blanket up around Briseis' shoulders.
"And I think you may have killed your cousin," she said softly, turning to watch her sleeping child.
Briseis saw Paris raising his bow to her lover. She cried out but he released the arrow and she heard it whistling through the air before it hit Achilles. She screamed out in horror, and shouted at Paris to stop. But he didn't. Another arrow sped past her, burying itself deep in her lover's flesh, and Briseis could feel his pain in her own breast.
Briseis woke screaming, and this swiftly turned to sobbing as she realised where she was and what had happened. She curled up, trying to block out the pain and grief, and buried her face in her hands.
Paris was woken by Briseis screaming, and he rolled out of his blankets and walked quickly over to where she was sobbing.
"Briseis," he said soothingly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Briseis raised her head, her eyes full of pure, unadulterated loathing. Paris paused, taken aback by the hatred in her gaze.
"Briseis," he said in shock.
"Get away from me," she said softly and dangerously, spitting on him.
He straightened up, astonished by her behaviour, and Briseis took the chance to get away. She pulled herself to her feet and ran off along the river until she was out of sight of the man who had killed her lover.