A/N: Ok, so this is a revised copy of the last chapter. I realise now that Briseis' child could not have been killed by a simple blow to her abdomen: thank you Richgal. I know this probably wouldn't have killed it either, but I'm kind of stuck for ideas right now, so any help would be great.
Briseis stood wearily by the river's edge as dawn began to lace the sky. There was a small cliff, about six feet high, which she stood at the edge of, looking down, and below swirled the ever-dancing water. She felt so tired: she just wanted it all to end: the pain, the sorrow, the grief, the exhaustion.
Suddenly she heard a cry of pain and spun around to see Paris striding angrily out of the trees towards her. It had been Andromache's cry that Briseis had heard, and she quailed inwardly as she realised what Andromache must have told him.
After Paris stumbled Andromache. Her hand was raised to her cheek, and Briseis could see blood was beginning to well up. Looking properly now, Briseis saw Paris' face clearly. The sheer hate and rage on it made her stop in shock. Never before had she seen such raw emotion in his usually placid features.
She met Andromache's gaze for a moment, and the frightened woman's eyes pleaded with Briseis for forgiveness, and Briseis knew that her precious secret had been revealed.
Paris strode towards Briseis, and she could feel herself cringe under his enraged stare. Not even when Achilles had held her by the throat, with the power to throttle her, had Briseis felt so weak, so helpless.
In three short strides Paris crossed to Briseis and hit her smartly about the cheek. Briseis' stood still, gasping with shock, for a moment, her chin still above her shoulder, before she turned to meet her cousin's tirade.
"Is it true?" he demanded of her.
"Is what true?" Briseis asked, trying to find the courage to face up to the oncoming onslaught.
"Is it true…" Paris asked, his face right up to hers, "…that you carry the bastard child of the man who destroyed Troy?"
"If you mean am I pregnant with Achilles' child?" Briseis mustered her courage, fuming at Paris words. "Then yes, it is true."
Paris hit her face again, but this time Briseis was ready, and she slapped Paris back. He caught hold of her arm, and for a moment stood, poised with one fist clenched. Briseis lifted her chin proudly, daring him to hit her, but he let his hands drop to his side.
"You will kill it," he said in a controlled voice, turning away from her.
"No," Briseis voice was scarcely above a whisper, and she stood with her head bowed and her hand resting on her abdomen.
"What?" Paris asked in a dangerous voice, turning slowly back around to face her.
"I said no," Briseis eyes rose slowly, and they glinted as dangerously as Paris'. The Trojans had gathered around them, but neither saw them.
"You will do as I say," it was an obvious effort for Paris to control his voice.
"No," Briseis repeated.
"I will not let the bastard child of Achilles live!" Paris shouted suddenly.
"It is also my child, and you cannot, you will not take what is mine from me," Briseis spoke quietly, but every word dripped with anger.
"I can, and I will!" Paris screamed at her.
Suddenly Helen burst through the ring of onlookers, grabbing her lover's arm with pleading eyes.
"Let her be," she begged. "She's done no wrong."
Briseis was still wracked with grief for the angry words she had spoken to Helen, and when their eyes met, she could see that Helen was trying to make peace. But Paris did not even see his lover; the woman he had destroyed a kingdom for, he was swept up with rage, and had seen nothing but Briseis.
This was not Paris, Briseis thought. It was as if her cousin had been taken over by someone else, for his anger was not of this world. She looked at him her eyes pleading with him for compassion, but they were met with nothing but coldness.
"Now you are going to tell me that you will the child," Paris said, oblivious to Helen's pleas.
Briseis shook her head defiantly, and Paris hit her with such force that Briseis took an involuntary half step backwards. A half step too far, she realised, as her feet slipped on the edge of the overhang. She struggled desperately for balance for a moment, before falling heavily with a cry of fright.
The distance was not far, but Briseis fell awkwardly, twisting as she dropped, and landed roughly on her stomach on a rock embedded in the stream. Cold water washed around her, luckily not too deep, and she lay still. A cry of fright went up from the onlookers above, and Andromache and Helen rushed forwards to find a way down the rock face.
A shooting pain shot up from Briseis' abdomen, and she groaned in agony. In that moment she knew Paris' wish had come true: Achilles child was dead, and the pain of the realisation hurt as much as the stabbing pain in her stomach.
An agonising scream rose, and Briseis was not even aware that it was coming for her. She screamed and sobbed, and then, blissfully, the scream stopped, and Briseis lay still.
Paris seemed to wake, as if from a dream, and looked down on his unconscious cousin around whom the water lapped, dazedly. He looked up, but none of the others would meet his eye. Helen and Andromache had lifted Briseis between them, and slowly the crowd dispersed, leaving Paris, shaking in the horror of what he had just done.