So, sorry for a long gap between updates, but here we are, right where we left off, and things are getting a little steamy!

Achilles skillfully closed the gap between them, capturing her lips with his own. Although enjoyable, their first kiss had been far too brief for his liking and this time Achilles took the time to explore her lips slowly and properly. They were soft and full as his own moved over Sana's, coaxing them to open with the practiced skill of a philanderer.

To his complete and utter surprise, Sana did not protest and lash out as expected, and he felt her body relax under his as her mouth opened up to him. Achilles took the advantage to nibble gently at her bottom lip eliciting a delicious moan from her like a mewling kitten, before his tongue delved deep into her sweet mouth. Sana responded almost instantly and before long their tongues were tangled in a seductive dance, a power struggle so appropriate to their situation he almost laughed aloud. He took hold of her wrists in one hand, the other trailing delicately but purposefully down the side of her body. Sana urged him onwards by arching her hips towards his and with unsuspected strength freed her wrists from his grasp to tangle her hands in his hair, down the smooth planes of his back, pulling him down even closer to her.

'So responsive,' Achilles murmured against her mouth.

'Quite,' she replied, before in a sudden movement she pushed him away and her hand shot out for the knife. She straddled the temporarily immobile warrior and he felt the now-familiar coolness of a blade against his throat. He looked up at her in complete bewilderment, not failing to notice how flushed and deliciously mused she was from their kisses. Sana was scrambling around for the irons and in his state of shock, Achilles put up no resistance as she bound his hands. Once they were securely fastened, she got to her feet regally and sent him a disdainful look.

'As I said Achilles, I am no mere woman, and certainly not one to be toyed with by the likes of you.'

Achilles managed to sit up, but could not find anything to say. Sana's glance went briefly to the now uncomfortable area of his body that was screaming in protest at her absence.

'I'm afraid that you will have to relieve yourself tonight My Lord.' She swept aside the animal skin doorway and disappeared into the night. Achilles let out an almighty groan and fell back onto the makeshift bedding. Never before had a woman lit such a fire in him, that whenever he thought he had the upper hand she could still make him her fool. Sana's kiss was imprinted on his memory and he shifted in discomfort, trying to find a way to spend the night despite the painful agony of male un-satisfaction.

Sana was meticulous in her attempt to distance herself from Achilles come morning, only too happy to allow Elya to ruthlessly drag him about camp like a dog, assigning him to manual labour in mending some of the thatching of the huts. She decided to hold council with some of her main and loyal advisors, discussing mundane things like food rations and construction and she thoroughly re-emerged herself in her role as Chieftess. She unwillingly admitted to herself that she had been distracted of late, too focused on her Greek prisoner and neglectful of her duties. Yet, despite her exceptional and somewhat formidable will power, Sana could not for the life of her keep her thoughts from the warrior and as her advisors started to bicker amongst themselves, she found herself unwillingly looking out of her hut and seeking out Achilles.

He was moving nimbly and without visible complaint of the roof of a long-dilapidated hut, re-thatching and strengthening. He had discarded his metal breastplate in the unforgiving sun and Sana cursed by the name of every God conceivable at the way his muscles rippled with his movements. She then proceeded (quite rightly) for the thoughts arising involving licking the beads of delicious perspiration from his chest. Elya stood guard avidly and for good measure lased out with a leather whip that she held firmly in her aging hand. It was all Sana could do not to groan at the images that came to her of herself, Achilles, a secluded hut and that whip. As if sensing her impure thoughts, by the Gods no, he looked up and caught her eye across the camp. For the briefest of moments that passed between them, which felt like an eternity, he had no expression except for something unknown held in his brown eyes, before a male smirk of delight crossed his face. At his pause Elya whipped at him again, which he ducked to avoid, and Achilles withdrew his gaze from Sana as he turned back to his task.

'My Chieftess?' Sana jumped and managed to offer a shaky smile for her advisor and trusted friend Leyana.

'Forgive me Leyana, what did you ask of me? I was far away in my own thoughts.'

'My Lady Sana,' Leyana began cautiously, tossing her long brown hair over her shoulder in annoyance at the sheer heat. 'I asked what is to be done with the mighty Achilles. The Greeks will be searching for him no doubt and I believe this to compromise the safety of the entire camp. Skilled as we are, we could not defend ourselves against an entire party of…ravenous Greek soldiers.' Sana hesitated; Leyana did indeed speak the truth. The Greeks would certainly notice Achilles' absence and Agamemnon would definitely not rest until his finest warrior was returned to his camp. To have Achilles remain with them endangered all that her mother and others before her and strived to achieve. Yet, although her call to duty was strong as the siren's call of legend, and however much she despised him for it, Achilles intrigued her. He elicited raw emotions that touched her very core, places unbeknownst, even to her. She did not want to be parted from the infuriatingly handsome warrior quite so soon, and as always her selfish needs won over the call of duty.

'I will meditate on the matter and present my decision to the council one week from today,' Sana decreed diplomatically with a content nod. A week gave her plenty of time to explore, and if necessary, humble the warrior. She caught sight of him again and felt a tremor in her stomach. That is, she thought with a sigh, if he doesn't destroy me through lust first.

'There is another issue in need of attention,' Leyana continued with the beginnings of an excited smile. 'The full moon approaches, it is time for the festival.'

There were feminine murmurs of interest and apprehension almost immediately.

'Ah yes, the festival,' Sana said with a wry smile. 'Tomorrow, if my astrology skills are intact.'

'Yes My Chieftess,' answered another woman, the one called Arwyn. 'The tribe is most anxious for the preparations to begin, yet feel hindered by a male presence.'

'I assure you Arwyn, Achilles will not by any means be an inconvenience,' Sana said, patting the other woman affectionately on the knee. 'In fact, I believe the whole experience may be rather enlightening for him,' she got to her feet and the rest followed, as was custom. 'Tell the women to prepare as usual come daybreak tomorrow, there shall be the usual festivities, merriment and drinking. I can feel the pleasure the Gods feel in anticipation of this cherished event, this month will be one of fertility, it has most certainly been blessed.'

The women bowed their heads, a gesture which Sana graciously returned before she made with haste from the hut.

'I sense a change in our Chieftess,' remarked Leyana, who some dubbed as the wise woman of the tribe, gifting with Divine Sight. There was collective agreement with her words.

'But what does this mean?' Asked the ever-curious Arwyn.

'I think,' began Leyana in a low, almost inaudible voice. 'That Sana may have found someone worthy enough to father her child, at long last.'

'You cannot mean…the warrior Achilles?'

'Tomorrow's festivities, I wager, will be even more revealing than usual,' Leyana concluded, a look of bemused curiosity across her fair features as she watched her trusted leader's retreating back.

'Keep moving you worthless Greek!' Elya shouted irritably, punctuating her words with another sharp lash at Achilles' exposed back. This one he did not manage to avoid in time and he let out a slight hiss of pain as he felt the blood break through his skin.

'I sense you are bitter my Lady,' he called down from the roof. Elya shot him a withering glare, taking a large desperate gulp of water from her sheepskin flask, desperate for some release from the abominable heat of a Trojan summer.

'Is it because you have not been called to a counsel of elders, and instead have the less attractive task of minding me?' He pressed, halting to better examine the aging woman standing below him.

'I do not question the honourable Sana's actions,' Elya replied, unconsciously expressing her inner frustration at exactly what he had guessed. 'I am proud to watch over filth like you if that is what she wishes.'

'Filth like me?' Achilles repeated thoughtfully. 'Filth as in my heritage? Or simply the fact that I am a man?'

'Neither work in your favour,' she sneered unpleasantly. 'Now stop talking and get on with your task.'

'No pray let's continue this conversation,' Achilles said, crouching and stretching out comfortably on the roof, his face a few feet above her, his eyes wide with suppressed laughter. 'It is most illuminating; never before have I heard my sex be so scorned. Dislike of the Greeks though, that's fairly common, especially I wager here in Troy.'

'Well what do you expect when you invade a nation for the sake of one pathetic king who couldn't hold onto his wife?'

Now that blunt summary of the purpose for war certainly made him laugh at its sheer accuracy.

'Maybe you should say that to Agamemnon, I for one would certainly appreciate some sense being forcibly knocked into that king.'

'The war is of no concern to us,' she replied. 'Nor to the families and villages that work the land. It is only those who dwell within the city who need to be concerned. We care nothing for either Trojans or Greeks, you can squabble all you want, we will outlast you.'

'Outlast us?' Achilles repeated thoughtfully. 'Yet what if Agamemnon decides to wage war on the peasant farmers, and your supply of fresh male seed is brutally extinguished? What would you do then?'

Elya hesitated; she hadn't thought of that particular scenario. As much as this die-hard Amazonian hated to admit it, the very survival of their tribe depended on a supply of men to breed with.

'We could cope,' she answered eventually. 'We would move on, perhaps into the mountains. Besides, we have enough children to raise and train as you can see.'

Achilles glanced around the camp and did indeed see an abundance of young girls, some stumbling around testing out the strength of their newly-developed chubby legs, others playing games and twirling in circles, their innocent laughter carrying towards him on the wind. Others were nearing the brink of womanhood, twelve-year-old girls whose bodies were starting to develop alongside their weaponry skills. The oldest adolescent he wagered to be Xante, and after that he could no longer call them girls, for they were fully-grown, somewhat intimidating women.

'Do you ever fear for their safety, the young ones I mean?' Achilles asked seriously. 'Without a man to protect them?'

Elya shot him a lethal glare and he barely managed to restrain his instinct to recoil from the hate that glimmered in her grey eyes.

'My father never protected me, and I survived, so why do they require male protection? They are safe and loved by women, and that is all the need. This conversation is over.'

With a crack of her whip, causing him to jump out of the way once again, she turned her stiff, proud back on him and Achilles returned, thoughtfully, to his work.

He was exhausted when he fell onto his makeshift bedding that night; Elya was certainly a cruel taskmistress, the welts on his back smarting as proof. Sleep came quickly that night, yet it felt as if he'd been asleep for merely moments when Xante came running into his hut, practically throwing the plate containing his meal at his chest before turning tail, giggling as she did. Dawn had barely even broken yet the sheer volume of noise coming from the camp astounded Achilles. He'd never heard so much feminine excitement displayed quite so loudly. The camp he walked into was far different to anything he'd seen in his time with the Selasya Tribe over the past few days. There were no domestic chores, nor any women training with weaponry. Instead, they were doing something most unexpected. They were dancing. The youngest of the girls were in the center of the others, who had formed a circle, and were adorned in honeysuckle flowers and other leaves from the trees around the camp. They were worshipping a burnished gold statue of the bull God Dionysos, who was also covered in delicate flowers. The young girls were laughing with the tender innocence associated with youth, dousing each other in rosewater, rejoicing as the sun came up, pink-tinged over the hills. The outer circle were dancing around the blessed Children of the Selasya, it was ecstatic, unrestrained, almost wantonly, a pure revelry dedicated to the empowerment of women and a plea for fertility. Achilles was, for a rare occasional moment, speechless. His mother had told him of the rituals practiced by some, sheer dedication to the Gods, yet he'd never been privy to witness one. Achilles had never viewed himself as a religious man; he'd delivered too much death to believe in something better than the life that he lived. Yet this, this total loss of inhibitions, opened his eyes to something more. The heady perfume of the water and flowers, joined by some sort of incense, was increased by the sweet music coming from wood flutes and lyres and the women began to move even more vigorously. It was then that Sana appeared and all coherent thoughts of the warriors vanished into the early morning sky.

'Sisters!' She cried as she stepped into the circle. The young girls, and music, ceased and the children bowed respectively. Sana, glorious in a floor length plum-coloured toga trimmed with gold, her hair pulled back to display her flawless face, approached the statue. 'Hail oh Dionysos,' she began, and the women echoed 'hail' dropping to their knees. 'Bless this most cherished joining,' she continued. 'Tonight in your name, we allow the seed to enter our wombs, pray let many more strong and beautiful women be conceived of this union, ever to be your faithful servants!' A cheer erupted, and Sana motioned for the young girls to come forward. 'Care for the young, may they grow in health, and goodness to do your will, and with lust for life!' She anointed each of the young girls with a thick paste upon their forehead. A goblet of wine was handed to her and she raised it piously to the statue, 'In your name.'

'In your name,' repeated the women, and all drank deeply. Sana, flushed, smiled at them all, formalities finished with. 'Now we feast!' This was certainly a popular sentiment, as all returned to their decadence, food and freshwater being produced. Sana hugged the children to her in delight before she rose and started towards her women, but not before she caught Achilles gaze across the camp. Her blue eyes were turbulent pools of emotion, once so hard to fathom, now completely bared to him. There was uncertainty, fear, hope, joy and strongest of all, desire. Desire for him. Achilles straightened his spine and met the eye contact steadily, to which she noticeably sighed, and granted the fortunate yet surprised Greek warrior with a small smile, full of promise, before turning away and leaving him fixated on the spot where she had been; in front of Dionysos.