Disclaimer: I officially own the following- nothing, zip, zilch, nada, nein, etc. Don't sue.
ZELINA-- Mythology buddy! (hugs) I'm glad you're liking it so far, please keep reading!
FlamingMushroomz-- Thanks for the compliment on my writing. I'm in college right now, so I don't have the time I'd like to work on anything original, so I do this for a "writing exercise." And to your question about reviewers... I dunno, I guess I need to ask for my readers to do more "word of mouth" or whatever to spread the word. ;-)
wild-vixen-- You caught me on the chess. (blushes) I know the Greeks/Trojans had something similiar to it, but I could not find out or remember what it is called... Oh well. Glad you're liking the story so far!
shariena-- Here you go, hon! Next update, and I think you'll recognize one of the men here... And sorry, I can't tell you if anyone will die or not. It'll spoil any surprises. ;-)
The Temple of Apollo, Three Days Later
Entering the temple reminded Petra why she missed her weekly visits. The serenity washed over her gently, calming her thoughts and inner confusion of the past few months. She stepped out of the sunlight and into the comforting coolness of the building, her gaze towards the glittering statue at the end of the hall. Her breath caught at the beauty of the craftsmanship.
At her side, Briseis tapped her arm. "I must attend to my duties," she whispered. She used as little words as possible to avoid interrupting her cousin's worship. "Will you be all right?"
Not wanting to speak and disturb the atmosphere, Petra nodded.
She continued her slow pace down the floor towards Apollo's statue. When she reached the base, she bowed into a crouch and began the typical prayers of praise to the sun god. Ever since her mother's death, Petra found these actions comforting in ways no one else could understand. It had nothing to do with her religious beliefs; in truth, she barely agreed with her father sometimes about Apollo's might. But these traditions brought back the few comforting memories of her mother.
The solemn words of extolling slipped off of her tongue in habit. But her concentration kept her from hearing the bells tolling like signs of doom outside.
One soldier, sent by Priam to protect his daughter, hesitated at the door. "Should we do something?" he whispered to his Captain.
The captain glanced back at the bowing royal and shook his head silently. They could not interrupt her worship, but they could be prepared. Then he saw the ships on the horizon.
Her praises done, Petra began her purpose for this trip. "Apollo," she began, "please give me guidance. My father cannot decide upon a marriage for me. Hector will never force me into any union. Paris is a romantic boy who cannot understand the ways of the world. What can I do?" Her hand caressed the cold stone.
Looking up, she saw the blank expression of the deity.
"Can you even hear me?" she demanded desperately.
Outside, she heard yells and screams, interrupting her thoughts. Then a clear word reached her ears, freezing her blood.
"Achilles! Achilles!"
Petra stopped. Achilles was the commander of the Myrmidons, the fiercest warriors of the Aegean and Greece. Absolute terror shot through her, making her hands visibly shake. Dear gods, why today…
Pulling herself together, she quickly finished her prayer. "Merciful Apollo, we have always given you the reverence you deserve," she whispered, wiping her damp palms on her plain dress she had chosen. Hector had advised it, to avoid any incidences with Paris' old flirtations. "Please protect us now, in our hour of need." She stepped away, then paused. "And please give our men the victory against those marauding barbarians. Thank you."
Now finished, she stood, scanning the room for potential weapons. Sadly, the temple of Apollo had very few objects that could really do any damage for self-defense purposes. She wished now that she had brought her hip dagger (another gift from Hector) for protection.
"My lady!" Her entourage of soldiers had entered. She nodded.
"Captain, take your men outside and aid the men on the beach," she ordered. Jutting her chin out, she spoke with determination. "We must not let the Greeks near the temple of Apollo for the city's morale!"
"Yes, my lady." To argue could mean his life and it was now common knowledge that the princess knew how to protect herself. Before leaving, however, the Captain hesitated, then hurried over to her, unbuckling his sword. He handed it to her solemnly.
Petra nodded again, accepting it gladly. "Thank you. Now go."
She watched them go, biting her lip nervously. Hopefully, they could hold back the Greeks until reinforcement arrived, if any did. She slid the sword out and let out a few test swings. It was heavier than she was used to, unfortunately, but it would do. She hurried out of the main room to find a better place of defense.
Throughout the temple she could sense the panic. But the priests tried to continue their prayers despite this. However, she could not find Briseis anywhere.
Outside the Temple
Hector flinched violently. But he could hardly help it, for who had ever seen a man hurl a spear that far and kill his target? For the first time since his arrival to the beach he felt the tinkling of trepidation down his spine.
Fighting back his panic with the metaphorical broom, he led his men towards where the spear-thrower had gone—into the Temple of Apollo.
The steps were littered with Trojan bodies. Each man had obviously not expected his gruesome death, apparent on their faces. The men tried to step respectfully around the carcasses.
As Hector passed, one man he had assumed dead suddenly lunged and grabbed his nearest leg. "Zeus!" Hector jumped, then knelt with shock. It was the captain who had escorted Petra to her… Dear gods. "What happened?" he demanded as he helped the poor man sit up to speak.
"M-my… my lord… forgive… me…" The man tried to talk through his blood-stained lips, sweat mingled with his life water on his face. He choked and shook as he attempted again.
"Shh, be calm, my friend." Hector tried to comfort the dying man, but had no idea what to do. "You did well."
"I…" The soldier struggled for strength. "I gave… her… my sword… She told… she… she…" A cough interrupted him, splattering blood.
"Who? Who told you?" Hector demanded with growing panic.
"She's… still… here." And with that, the captain traveled to the river Styx, knowing he had failed his country and his lord.
Staring at the new corpse in horror, Hector finally shouted orders.
"Lady Petra is somewhere inside. Find her!"
The Trojans hurried inside, for Petra, despite her absence from their training barracks, was still a comrade-in-arms and a member of the royal family. Hector joined them, pushing up to the front to scan the dark for any sign of his sister.
What he saw broke his heart. Apollo's priests lay strewn all over the floor, slain by Greeks. But none of the bodies were Petra. Where was she?
Then a bellow broke the silence.
Out of the shadows came waves upon waves of the Myrmidons, each attacking to the best of his ability (which was great). Anger poured like molted lava through Hector. He did not yell nor even speak, but made quick movements to slay whoever attempted anything against him.
Hector reached the end of the hall, where Apollo lay in ruins. A voice spoke out of the darkness.
"You're either very brave or very stupid to come after me alone."
Elsewhere
"Briseis!" Petra shouted, running through the halls. Where could she be? Back when they were children, Briseis always hid the worst when they played games, where would she hide… oh dear. Petra headed to the rooms containing jeweled tributes to Apollo. There she spotted her cousin.
"Briseis!" Briseis looked up from her position underneath a table holding the chalices used for formal ceremony. "Come, we need to find another place for you. They'll find you in two blinks here!" Grabbing her cousin's arm, Petra dragged her, protesting, out of the treasure-laden room in the direction of the kitchens.
Screaming priestesses and worshippers ran past them, clawing out towards the door. Petra winced when one overly panicked woman scratched her across the left cheek, but she pressed on. They finally reached the empty rooms.
A quick scan confirmed her hopes- no one would come here. The air still contained the unpleasant stench of recently butchered meat, probably for one of the sacrifices.
"Hide here." Petra tucked Briseis into one of the closets. "Stay until everyone's gone, then run to the city. Promise me!"
"Bu… But you…"
"I'll be fine," Petra lied, hugging her cousin for what she was sure would be the last time. "I'll join you there."
She covered Briseis with the empty sacks then hurried back towards the main room. Her hand gripped the sword again, adjusting her hold on the weapon. Some high cries and shouts reached her ears but she ignored it; she listened for anything close-by that indicated the Greeks infiltrating the temple.
Once near the front, she could hear rough Greek. She slowed her breathing and listened. Her heart sank when their words confirmed her suspicions:
"We really have made it big this time!"
"Indeed! Achilles will be pleased with this bounty!"
Swallowing, Petra knelt and attempted to crawl past them. If she could make a run for it, perhaps… In her bulk, however, her sword knocked over an urn, making a loud crash. She swore under her breath before pushing herself up and running. The two Greeks caught sight of her.
Outside
Hector left angrily at Achilles' tsk, taking a shortcut through the kitchens to the outside. Under his breath, he cursed all Greeks to Hades and back.
"Blasphemous murdering snake eating-"
"Hector?"
He froze when he heard a familiar voice. "Briseis?"
The priestess let out a cry of relief. "Hector! I'm in here!" He followed her voice to the pantry, opening it to reveal his now-dirty and frightened cousin.
Throwing her arms around him, Briseis sobbed. "Petra told me to hide until tonight then run to the palace, and then she left, and I could hear Greeks- oh, Hector!" she wailed into his chest.
His heart sank when she told him of Petra's part in her hiding place, but he only smiled for Briseis's sake.
"You did well, Briseis," he said soothingly.
"Did you find Petra, too?" she asked hopefully.
"Let's get you home." Hector purposefully pretended to not hear her. "Once we're in Troy, you can tell me everything." They hurried out to join the retreat to Troy.
Inside the Temple
"Hey, you there!"
The soldiers chased her, and Petra inwardly thanked her father for forcing the family to come here so often. She could run through this building blind-folded.
However, she was not used to the dead bodies strewn everywhere. She choked back a cry at seeing her old friends, the priests of Apollo, peaceful men, lying slain all over the floors. Her blood boiled inwardly at this. They covered two whole floors.
She turned and faced her pursuers, surprising them. "You killed defenseless men!" she shouted, wielding her sword. "Animals!"
Every lesson Hector had given her came back as one advanced.
The lead Myrmidon lunged forward, sword scything towards her throat. Petra ducked under the blade and lashed out with her foot; her foot connected painfully hard with the Greek's knee, letting out a sickening crack that echoed through the hall.
Screaming in pain and collapsing on one of the fallen priest's corpses, he still vainly tried to rise again, only to fall with a whimper at his broken leg. Petra used the opportunity to scramble to her feet. Without sparing a second thought, she drove her blade into the man's unprotected armpit with all of her might. The blade slid in smoothly, slaying him noiselessly. Charon will be busy today, she thought grimly.
With slow but purposeful intent, she turned with eyes blazing at the now lone Myrmidon. "Who are you?" the survivor gasped, gawking. Her eyes narrowed at him, scaring him even more.
Slowly, she raised her sword, pointing at him.
"A loyal servant of Apollo's, no doubt," a voice said from behind her. Twirling around in impulse, Petra found herself caught in the gaze of the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
Nevertheless, she had no time to contemplate blue-eyed men.
Reacting from instinct, she attempted a blow at his wrist. Without looking away from her eyes, he blocked it, then disarmed her. Her sword hit the ground with a loud clatter that made her jump and him chuckle.
His amused look only angered her. "Now are you going to kill me," she demanded, "once I'm unarmed and helpless?"
"You, my lady," he informed her, "are far from helpless."
Before she could respond, a hand grabbed the back of her neck. She jerked a hand up in an attempt to free herself, only for her eyes to glaze over and her body to fall limp.
The last thing she was aware of was the blue-eyed devil swooping down to catch her in his arms.
Achilles looked down from the limp woman in his arms to the soldier who had knocked her unconscious. "Why did you do that?" he demanded in annoyance.
"M… my lord," the man stammered with confusion, "She was going to kill you."
Sighing, Achilles shook his head. "No, she wasn't," he said softly, looking down at her insensible form. "Take her to Agamemnon's tent, with the other things you found." The soldier nodded, opening his arms. He grunted in surprise when she felt light.
The Pthian watched her go thoughtfully before he headed out to where the ships were landing.
As far as the eye could see, Greek ships kept sailing up from the crystal blue waters onto the white sands of Troy, with men jumping to the ground only to find the battle over. In disappointment, they half-heartedly helped their countrymen land.
Ajax, the giant, hurried towards Achilles and slapped the prince's back. "You are as fearless as the gods!" the man declared sincerity shining on his honest, rough features. "I am honored to go to war with you."
"As am I," Achilles replied absently, "I look forward to seeing your skills with an axe."
Grinning at Achilles, Ajax returned to his men, roaring orders happily.
Achilles kept walking until he spotted Odysseus. "If you'd rowed slower, you would have missed the war!" he scolded.
"I don't mind missing the start," Odysseus retorted cheerfully, "so long as I'm here at the end." Achilles paused in his pace, shaking his friend's hand. Odysseus pulled his friend close and spoke in a low tone. "I doubt anyone will ever forget your grand entrance onto Troy's shores."
"That's what I planned," Achilles shrugged nonchalantly. If his actions angered Agamemnon, well, that was just a bonus in his opinion. "How was your wife?"
Odysseus' smile faded slightly. "She was not too happy I left so soon after our son's birth. She's afraid I'll miss him growing up."
"Well, then, we'll have to hurry to finish this for you," Achilles responded. He always had been fond of Penelope, and disliked seeing his friend in trouble. "I look forward to meeting…"
"Telemachus," Odysseus supplied.
"Good strong name. May he be as clever as his father."
Smiling, Odysseus replied, "From your lips to the gods' ears, my friend." He hurried to shout his own orders to his men. Achilles smiled and shook his head, walking off towards his own camp.
The Myrmidons had been busy after finishing the battle; the whole camp had been set up and now the men started building fire pits and polishing their armor. A few yards away, Eudorus shouted orders as six men dragged the ship closer to shore.
"Cousin!" Patroclus jumped off the ship and hurried to Achilles' side. "We took Apollo's temple! Surely this will discourage the Trojans!" he added hopefully.
"Either that, or infuriate them," Achilles predicted, "then they'll act careless."
"My lord!" Eudorus approached from the shore. "King Agamemnon requests your presence in his tent. All the kings are gathering to celebrate the victory." He gestured towards a large, ridiculously-ornate marquee. The symbol of Mycenae hung on a post outside the tent.
Achilles rolled his eyes at the sight. Agamemnon's ego would only get him a slit throat. A fool could tell that the king of Mycenae must dwell there.
But he only nodded at his lieutenant. "You fought well today."
Surprised at the rare compliment, Eudorus only said, "My lord," and excused himself.
Patroclus almost bounced on his feet impatiently. "Well, Cousin?"
To his surprise, Achilles motioned him closer. Curious, Patroclus leaned in to hear his cousin's whisper:
"Go to the tent where the men put the spoils and get the bag of cups there. Bring them to Agamemnon's tent as quickly as possible, along with half of the men's plunder." Achilles patted his cousin's back. "Do not fail me."
"I won't," the boy promised, puzzled.
Achilles watched Patroclus hurry before sighing and stepping into his own tent. He ignored the setup and only rinsed off some of the blood stains on his skin and change into a fresh black tunic. He took his time, letting Agamemnon fume.
Agamemnon's Tent
Moaning softly, Petra opened her eyes to see the room she was in sway. "Oooh…" Her words were muffled by the gag at her mouth.
She blinked slowly until the room came into focus. Apparently, she was tied to one of the edge posts of a tent, the one of royalty—she recognized the be-jeweled cups and rich tapestries from Hector and Paris' returns as Greek treasure. A polished set of armor leaned against a carved throne, looking like it had rarely seen battle. Perhaps this was Agamemnon's tent.
"Ah, our young Amazon's awake." The dark male voice that reached her ears made her tense. A figure knelt in front of her. Agamemnon.
His ugly features and leering eyes distorted her face reflexively into repulsion but she fixed them quickly. To survive here, she could not reveal her true status in Troy. Besides, if Agamemnon's reputation had any shards of truth to it, he would make her suffer to bring her father to his knees.
The rumors surrounding Agamemnon never described his hideous appearance. A jagged scar covered one cheek, with a bristly and braided beard surrounding his head. Two beady little eyes peered out at her.
"Aren't you a beauty?" Agamemnon breathed, his hand cupping her jaw. She stiffened. "I've never seen such eyes…"
"They're just eyes," a bored and bitter voice interrupted Agamemnon's musings. "Just like any other woman's." Petra caught the man slamming down a wine goblet on the other side of the tent onto a table from the corner of her eye.
He must be Menelaus. Petra felt a swell of pity for Helen.
"You are looking on the outside, Brother," Agamemnon disagreed, his eyes devouring her slim figure. "Look at the potential." He cupped her chin again.
Fighting back the urge to gag, Petra only shrank from him, shaking her head adamantly. It only made the carnal Mycenaean smirk.
"Perhaps later," Agamemnon planned, "I'll have her give me a bath. After that…" he picked up a strand of her hair and inhaled deeply as he held it to his nose, "who knows?"
I can't wait to see my brothers put your head on a spike.
"Mmm, she smells sweet." The chuckle he gave made Petra's stomach lurch in alarm.
"She's just a whore, just like any other woman," Menelaus muttered.
"Oh, now, brother, don't be so bitter. I'll give her to you first, after the meeting tonight," Agamemnon offered. The other kings had started drifting in on the other side of the tent to emphasize his point.
"Eh…" Menelaus considered her. His cruel eyes cut into her deeply. "Why not?" he shrugged after a moment. "I'll break her."
Nodding, Agamemnon rose to his feet and walked forward to greet his fellow fighters. Petra was alone in her corner. She felt a lone tear fall down her cheek and glared at the floor. She had to keep herself together if she had any chance of escaping now!
A shadow fell over her during her musings. She looked up and froze in alarm.
It was the blue-eyed demon from the temple!
He, however, knelt next to her and undid the gag at her mouth gently. "The monster," he muttered, frowning at her bound state. His hands dropped after touching the gag, never going beyond propriety.
"Thank you," she mumbled, trying to wet her dry mouth by swallowing.
Before he could say anything to her, someone called out, "Achilles!" He looked up in response.
Petra's heart went from relieved to terrified. This man, who had held her life in his hands at the temple of Apollo, was the mighty warrior Achilles of Pthia? Why was she still alive?
One of the men signaled for him to rejoin the group.
"Pardon me," he excused himself, rising to his feet slowly.
"You're asking the wrong person," she said stiffly. "Apollo probably won't forget your sacrilege, anyway."
Instead of becoming incensed like Agamemnon or Menelaus would be, Achilles smiled at her spirit. "You must be royalty," he only said, before joining his comrades.
"Wha…" But it was too late, he had left.
Achilles paused before giving his full interest to the speech-making, glancing back at the girl. She had apparently let go to her confusion of him, because she now scanned the entire tent, looking for some means of escape. Resourceful, skilled with a sword- she already intrigued him beyond any other woman he had ever met. He returned his attention to Agamemnon.
Unfortunately, Agamemnon had decided to give an uplifting speech about their future victory on the city of Troy, which sounded suspiciously like the one given on Mycenae's shores before the mass launching.
Odysseus caught Achilles' eye and rolled his own each time Agamemnon made some dramatic gesture to emphasis. Achilles nodded.
The other kings, however, sat enthralled to Agamemnon's spell.
Finally extremely bored and annoyed, Achilles stood and cut Agamemnon off mid-word. "We have heard your boasts before, king of Mycenae, and my men wait for me to return before retiring for the night. So our men don't fail from exhaustion during our future glories, may we move on to the real purpose of this gathering?" He crossed his arms over his chest in a silent challenge.
"How dare you…!" Agamemnon sputtered at this show of insolence.
"Perhaps we should start," Odysseus interjected hastily in an attempt to keep the peace. "The men are exhausted, and we could-"
"Fine!" Agamemnon snarled, quite put out at Achilles stealing his glory. It was no secret to anyone in the tent that the two leaders shared huge animosity towards the other. "Shall we begin the dividing, then?" His sullenness disappeared as soon as the gold and silver started to emerge.
The dividing occurred all too quickly for the hostage in the corner, who had tried to use the time for some escape. Now she had nothing.
With despair, she watched the concluding argument between Sparta and Ithaca come to a halt, with Odysseus still holding the same amount of treasure as at the beginning.
It was now Achilles' turn. He signaled for Patroclus, bringing forward the bags brimming full of treasure. Each of the other kings leaned forward to get a first glimpse of the hidden plunder. Achilles opened the sacks to reveal the shine of precious metals.
"I have already kept half for my men," he announced, "for their hard work this morning. This, however, is my personal share." He pulled out one goblet, inwardly relieved at Agamemnon's obvious and practical state of drooling at the gleaming stones. "Taken directly from Apollo's temple," he added coaxingly, "used to appease the patron god of Troy."
"Indeed, a real treasure," Agamemnon agreed, eagerly.
"And I am willing to give them to you," Achilles continued, "under one condition."
Agamemnon and the other kings frowned at that, confused, including Odysseus. "What would that be?" the king of Mycenae asked, his eyes never strayed from the cups.
"You have something I want."
To everyone's (including Petra's) surprise, Achilles walked across the tent and knelt next to her.
A/N: Ooooh, what's going to happen next? I have to confess, I did "steal" some ideas from the story "Please, Achilles, Please," one of the fanfictions here (I can't remember who wrote it, but go read-- it's good!). Other than that, though, I'm trying to keep it original as my work.
Oh, and if nobody reviews... (sinister glances) I won't write! So there!
Just kidding, but please review, I really appreciate the comments... except when there is no constructive criticism behind it.