A/N: finally, an update! I'm up to my eyeballs in exams, and I've lost all inspiration to write. Shame on me, I haven't checked this chapter very well. Please alert me if there are mistakes.

Chapter Three

"Father, why's the entire army here?" Antilochus asked to Nestor.

For once, wise old Nestor could not give an answer. "I suppose because Lord Agamemnon wanted them to be." was the eventual and hesitant reply. He gestured to the overlord but almost whacked Diomedes in the face. The king of Argos growled.

"Who's that girl?" Diomedes asked Odysseus in a low voice, still glaring at the king of Pylos. He cast a glance at the golden-eyed maiden standing at Achilles' side.

"Antimony: Trojan priestess of Aphrodite." Odysseus said back, nodding.

"Gods, you do know everything." Diomedes teased lightly to his lover.

"No, Patroclus just came running to my hut last night crying like Phyllis, ranting on about anotherslut who stole Achilles from him: that's her."

Diomedes took another look at Antimony as Menelaus and Paris started their fight (the brunette didn't have to be a seer to know what the outcome would be): he had to admit she was enchantingly beautiful, but he couldn't trust anyone with silver hair and golden eyes.

Without further ado, Menelaus and Paris strode to the middle ground between the two territories: Menelaus glared a gaze of death, and Paris tried to look hard but ended up as girly as usual.

Paris was the first to strike, throwing his long spear with all his might. But alas! his former manliness was lost, and the spear fell a few metres in front of the Spartan. There was much scoffing and sniggering from the Achaeans. Cassandra resisted the urge to dash her head against the city walls until it ran with blood.

Before the sun had moved an inch in the sky, Menelaus had kicked the crap out of Priam's son, who staggered back to beg support from his brother Hector -- Aphrodite was getting a pedicure and couldn't risk her precious toenails to save him. The redhead Spartan spat on the ground in disgust.

"Priam you slag!" the redhead screeched. "Your sons are nothing but girls, your city is nothing but manure! NOW GIVE ME BACK MY WIFE!"

"Never!" squealed a high voice. "Helen is a person in her own right!"

"Women are?" Diomedes asked himself before turning for an answer from Odysseus; the Ithacan king shrugged unknowingly.

"I will fight you, Menelaus of Sparta!" Antimony stepped out of the soldiers. "I may just be a girl but I will beat you for the respect all women deserve!"

Patroclus groaned at his place beside Eurypylos, as did Cassandra from the back of the Trojan lines. The Achaean army laughed at the priestess as she drew a rusty old sword, ready to fight Menelaus.

But the mocking came to a sudden stop when Sparta's king fell to the ground with a thud, and did not rise until Ajax Telemon poured water over him. Aphrodite's priestess smirked and left without saying a word.

"What in Hades?" Antilochus couldn't believe his eyes. "Did you even see her move, fath--!"

"Shush!" the king of Pylos gestured with his hand for silence. The young man looked around him.

The dusty plains of Ilium were silent: the warriors on both sides had dislocated their jaws gaping; Menelaus was weeping on the ground in shame; tumble-weeds rolled past anonymously.

"Well," said Priam finally. "I guess Helen stays."

Paris cheered weakly; he was the only one who did.

---

Menelaus did not give up on Helen and continued with the war. It was only a month since they arrived at the shores near Troy but already everyone was bored rotten.

Nestor had begun to realise that taking Antilochus to Ilium neither helped his soldiering abilities nor his debating technique; Odysseus ran out of opportunities to scheme and Diomedes fell into a sulking disappointment when he realised his hair couldn't always be cool and alight. Achilles seemed the most entertained, since he decided to stay inside his hut with his new bitch Antimony.

While the son was Peleus was amused, the other Achaeans were not: without their best fighter their morale took a battering. Hector, who seemed to have gained the strength of twenty Cyclopes, became the best (and only competent) warrior of the Trojans. The only person who could take him out was Achilles. But the lazy bastard wouldn't come.

Finally, Patroclus had enough.

"ACHILLES!" the son of Menoitios stormed into the hut, flaring up like Diomedes' much missed hair. "WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU FIGHTING!"

Achilles cast a cool glance to his best friend and turned his gaze back to the sleeping Antimony. "I'm busy." He stated.

"Achilles, men are dying out there!" Patroclus cried desperately. "They need you, not just as another warrior but as a leader!"

"Men die all the time," Peleus' son muttered as he stroked Antimony's silver locks. "This is a war, it is expected." He turned to Patroclus. "Besides, it's not my skills that you need, it's my image. My image is all I have... if that's so important to the people then take my armour and go as me."

The shallow self-pity was nauseating, and Patroclus could not stand it any longer. The brown-eyed young man grabbed the carelessly discarded armour and stormed out of the hut as angrily as he came in.

On the way, he saw a maiden in scarlet robes followed by a boy in black. But Patroclus took no notice of them and turned his attention back to his battle as Achilles.

---

Cassandra smiled sunny. "Hello Odysseus." she said; Aeneas recoiled in shyness behind her. They had scuttled into the Achaean camp after Cassandra found out Chryses, father of Chryseis, did not exist. This was devastating news for the prophetess, who realised that it meant that no plague would terrorise the Achaeans. Cassandra spent the morning screaming and gnashing her teeth before devising up a plan: there was only one man with enough brain cells left to help her.

Odysseus squinted at the Trojan princess in front of him, still half asleep. "The hell--?" he muttered.

"I am Cassandra, daughter of Priam, priestess of Apollo," she continued casually. "And this is Aeneas, son of Aphrodite." Aeneas gave a little wave.

The Ithacan king rubbed his head and groaned. "Di," he called into the hut. "Where do you keep the very strong wine?"

Diomedes mumbled something into the cow-skins before rolling over and continuing to sleep. Odysseus rolled his eyes.

"Bad night?" the woman asked.

"You can say so." The auburn-haired man shrugged.

"Well, that's what you get for having sex drunk."

"How...?" Odysseus stared at her a little blankly; it was going to be a really bad morning.

"I'm a Prophetess and I see many disturbing things, but no one ever believes me."

Wise Athena, please help me... Odysseus thought. "What are you doing here?"

Aeneas decided to speak this time: he decided to try and live up to his hero-status. "We're here to ask you a small, small favour from you."

"Oh, what's that?"

"Kill Antimony for us."

To Be Continued...

A/N: Oh yes, T, you're right: Patroclus and Briseis did have a very good relationship. Patroclus promised Briseis to Achilles, and Briseis cried for Patroclus when he died. My fanon is getting in the way of my canon... sorry. Antilochus didn't play a big role in this, but I really didn't know how to use him. Hmmm...