The heavens dimmed to a blue hue as the sun started to sink beneath the horizon. Among the Greek campsite, fires were being built and the smell of food was hanging heavy in the air. In one particular tent, the atmosphere was not as cheery.

"You are the only Trojan who can say that." The blond warrior turned from the priestess hiding in the shadows and began to wash is blood-covered arms in the water basin.

"How very kind of you," the girl replied, slicked with sarcasm. She took a small step towards him, proving that she wasn't afraid.

The man hesitated as he brought the wet washcloth to his left bicep, but continued with a smirk. "You spend years talking down to men. You must be royalty," he deduced.

Walking towards her, he picked up a few strands of her hair and its aroma reached his nostrils. Trying hard to resist, Briseis stood her ground, not backing down.

"You are royalty," he placed his calculating eyes on hers.

Briseis shifted her head, pulling her hair out of his grasp. She held her head up high and said, "I am the daughter of Hesione and Telamon. King Priam is my uncle."

The warrior laughed. "I see it now. Both weak and both very stubborn." He circled around her. "You know he can't hide long behind those walls," he said tauntingly.

"Apollo built that wall himself along with Poseidon. You will never be able to breach it." She glared up at him.

"We shall see as time pass." His eyes glittered as the last beam of daylight caught his blue irises.

Briseis didn't like the look in his eyes at all. He seemed so certain of himself. But she didn't let this fear show on her face. "We shall."

"What is your name?" inquires the man, changing the subject.

She refused to answer him.

"Did you not hear me?" he said a little louder as he took of the linen that was wrapped around his waist.

"You killed Apollo's priests," she stated simply, failing badly to disguise her discomfort of his naked presence.

"I kill men and soldiers. Don't care about priests." He began to run the washcloth down his torso.

Briseis made the mistake to turn around and look at him. "Sun God will have his vengeance."

"What's he waiting for?" he asked, a bit impatient at her persistence of the power of the gods.

Briseis forced herself to look at him. "A right time to strike."

He refreshed his face with a splash of water. "His priests are dead and his acolyte is a captive. I think your dear god is afraid of me." He looked over at her challengingly.

She looked at him as if he were stupid. "Afraid? Apollo is the master of the sun. There's nothing He—"

"Where is He!" he interrupted her. Water dripped down his chin as his tolerance for her ranting was spent.

"You're nothing but a killer!" she spat. "You wouldn't know anything about the gods." She looked away, angered by his disrespect.

Out of spite, he flicked a shower of water in her direction with his hand. Finally, he picked a clean, navy blue cloth and tied it around the middle of his body. "You haven't seen twenty summers and you think you know me? I know more about the gods than your priests." He advanced up to her. "I've seen them." This time, the girl took a step back. He softened at this. "What's your name?" he asked again. At her silence, he coaxed, "Come, even servants of Apollo must have names."

At this, she finally answered, "Briseis."

The curtain to the tent was swept aside as one of the previous soldiers who'd brought her there stepped in. "My lord, the king requests your," his eyes shifted to Briseis, "presence." With that, he bid his leave.

"What do you want here in Troy?" she questioned. "You didn't come here for the Spartan queen." She thought of all the soldiers that came with Agamemnon and his brother.

"I want what all men want. I just want it more." He looked her in the eye.

Briseis caught the flicker of sadness in his eyes. It came all too fast and left all too early, but she saw it nonetheless. "Who are you?"

"Achilles."

She took a sharp intake of breath. So this was the man all other men feared, the greatest warrior ever known. The one rumored who cannot be killed, whose mother is a Nereid, retinue of Poseidon himself. She took another step back.

Taking one last look at her, he said, "No need to fear me, Briseis." He walked to the opening of the tent and before leaving, pointed to the bowl of fruit. "Eat."

King Agamemnon lived on his ship that was pulled onto the shore. Achilles arrived as night fell. Inside, the allies of Mycenae were offering gifts to their leader.

"Thank you, old friend. Tomorrow, we will eat supper in the gardens of Troy." The king smiled down on his kneeling ally. Looking up, he caught the sight of Achilles, who was glaring at his display. His smile faded away. "Leave us," he declared curtly to all that was present. Quickly, they dispersed out of the room.

Odysseus, a long time companion of Achilles, walked up to the warrior, chuckling. "War is young men dying and old men talking. You know this. Ignore the politics," he addressed about the offerings, knowing his friend's distaste for the king's lavish presentations.

Achilles patted the man's back, thanking his attempt to calm his frustrations with the king. Odysseus left the room as Achilles approached the king's seat. "Apparently you won some great victory."

"Have you not seen the Trojans desperately trying to regain their shore but fail every year?" Agamemnon cocked his eyebrows.

"I didn't come here for sand. You can have the beach." The warrior began to pace in front of him, clearly annoyed that he was called out to this.

"No, you came here so your name would be remembered throughout the ages."

Achilles stopped. He saw the slight smirk on the king's face.

"The victory of these past 8 years is not yours. Kings did not kneel down to Achilles. Kings did not pay homage to Achilles," Agamemnon said with a loud voice. The smirk was gone.

"Perhaps the kings were too far behind to see. The soldiers won the battle," he said calmly, not even slightly moved by the rising impetuosity of the king.

"History remembers kings, not soldiers!" He shot up from his seat and walked down the short steps to where Achilles stood. "Tomorrow I'll batter down the gates of Troy. I'll build monuments of victory on every island of Greece. I'll carve Agamemnon in the stones!"

"Be careful King of kings," he warned in a hush tone, "first you need the victory."