Days became weeks and weeks became months. That's so unforgivable that I couldn't even begin to apologize for it. Yes, you all have permission to kill me.

Chapter 23: You Screamed I'd Fight Away All of Your Fears

Agamemnon found his way through the crowds, limping from the side wound he's suffered from Achilles. All for his little whore, he thought with contempt staring at the trail of blood that stained a marble white temple.

Agamemnon had seen Paris kill Achilles at his heel. How Paris had known to shoot at such an insignificant little spot for it was the warrior's one spot of weakness was a question he would ponder after this war. Maybe in his throne in the palace he had just invaded… whilst he ruled and profited over the trading goods in the Dardanelle straits. The thought made his blood warm.

After Achilles had died, he saw an arrow whiz past the battle scene and into the shoulder of the Prince. Almost immediately, poison was apparent. Seconds after that, the same fog that had carried Paris away from battle when his brother, Menelaus, almost killed him, enveloped the Prince yet again and, just like before, he disappeared.

Helen was at the Temple of Aphrodite in hopes that she could find sanctuary but the doors were shut and sealed away from unwanted visitors. The moment all of Hades seemed to seep out of the pores of the earth, Helen tried to run for safety but now all she could was hide behind the marble pillars of the temple.

From her high view,her heart began to feel the terror and pain that the war had inflicted on this beautiful city. She looked down upon it and remembered one of the reasons she was so able to run from her home and to this place. Sparta was a warring state. Its pride was its soldiers and its legacy, its obsession with strength and power. She was a woman who did not understand war and conflict. All she understood was beauty and grace, all that was bestowed upon her at birth. She ran to Troy for it was the cultural center of that very same inherited beauty and grace and in one fell swoop, Troy and Helen were ripped of those gifts. As tears sprung from her eyes, she wondered if maybe it was not that she was running from that ugly city of blood lust but trying to hide from the fact that her cursed beauty was what brought on that ugliness in the first place. How else could she explain the transformation of the beautiful Troy into a city of rape and sacking but that her presence led the ugliness there?

In her hiding place, she had already spotted one passerby. She had seen Katriana bathed in light come to the very doors that were locked and shut, that no woman could possibly open, and Helen watched her enter those doors without so much as even lifting a finger to push. She didn't understand it and she couldn't fathom how she could begin to understand it.

Crying still and terrified of what it would mean when they caught her, she crawled to the back of the pillar trying to hide from a soldier that was ascending the steps. She let out a frightened yelp when Agamemnon appeared beside her.

"Have you come to kill me?" she sobbed. "Ten years, Agamemnon, ten years of death all to just return to the same exact point we started with: Menelaus with me as his trophy."

"Save me from your tears, woman. I have no compassion for you. This war necessitates the death of a certain prince for its our victory to be final," he snapped. "Now where is he?"

"Inside," Helen murmured. Agamemnon gripped the sword in his hand and stormed into the Temple, following the trail of blood onto the altar where Paris lay, slowly dying and a woman sat by him, helplessly.

"Get out of the way, woman," Agamemnon ordered. Katriana turned around and saw Agamemnon with his sword's blade stained with blood. Her face creased with a frown but she looked more annoyed than afraid.

"Who are you?" she asked calmly, almost snobbishly, and she stubbornly retaining her seat.

"It does not matter. This does not concern you."

"First a child and now a wounded man?" she scoffed. "Some Achaean. Can't fight those who can't defend themselves properly, can you?"

"I am here to draw Paris' blood and I shan't leave till then."

"Then you shall never leave," Katri's eyes flashing with growing anger as she got up. "Agamemnon, The king, the coward, the man who can not even fight his own wars and must call for the entirety of Greece to take down ONE city."

"Stand away, woman!" The words had left enough of a bruise on his pride. How dare this weakling suggest that he was incompetent! "This fight is only to his death so go now that I may make it swift," Agamemnon growled but Katri just glowered, now standing before him with no weapons to speak of.

"No," she answered. "I command you to leave this temple and to leave Paris alone." Her eyes spoke of nothing but calm anger and Agamemnon found her foolish bravery almost laughable.

"I've killed many far more innocent than you, woman. I'll have no qualms with killing you now to get to him," Agamemnon said.

"Kill me, then, if you feel it necessary," she replied haughtily. "But you'll have to cut me down piece by piece to get to Paris."

"If that is the way to get to your misguided prince, then so be it!" Agamemnon cried out, and he brought up his sword to dig into the woman's side.

But the blade swung down to Katri. By all reason, she should have been in pieces before them now. Her blood SHOULD be spilling onto the marble steps of the temple. But it didn't. Katriana stood in the same spot, unflinching, without a scratch. Her hand had caught the blade but it didn't cut her palm. She merely held it as if it was nothing but a feather that she caught.

The sword fell with a clash onto the stone when her fist opened and Agamemnon backed away horrified.

"You are no ordinary woman," he choked, falling backwards and looking up Katri, seeing her in her truly glorified form as did Paris. He looked at the angry scowl on his best friend's face and felt as though it was still the face he felt most familiar to but with something drastically changed.

"Immortals are no ordinary people," Katri simply replied, kneeling down to the fallen man. "Neither are we easily forgiving to those who don't respect our wishes and I DO believe I made a command quite clear a moment ago." She pretended to think as her hand took hold of Agamemnon' neck and brought him up to a standing position. "What was that command, Agamemnon?"

"Y—you wished me… You wished me to leave Paris alone," Agamemnon choked as the fingers around his air supply slowly tightened.

"You see as the second daughter of Eros and Psyche, I hold Zeus' family lineage, his strength and the rashness of humanity and with Aphrodite's blood running through my veins, I get a tad tempestuous and a bit violent with those who don't do what I want," Katri explained in a dangerously low voice. "So when I tell you to leave the man I love alone, you will obey, understand?" Agamemnon could only nod since there was no air left for him to speak. Katri's hand released the neck and stepped away as Agamemnon fell to his knees gasping for what he needed most.

"Air! Air!" he gasped clutching his chest and looking up, fearfully, at Katriana.

"You are to leave my grandmother's house and you shall leave without Paris' blood on your hands. Tell your people that he has died and nothing more. You do not speak of me to yourself or to anyone else, understand, Agamemnon?" Katriana ordered.

"Yes."

"Good... now leave us be!" Agamemnon scrambled out on all fours and, for a brief moment, the chaos outside could be heard and seen clearly by Paris and Katri but the wooden doors close and it was silent again.

Before I'm thrown reviews of confusion, PLEASE read the next chapter as it'll explain LOADS of things.