Here's a longer one for you guys! Thank you for all the reviews and positive feedback so far!

Disclaimer: I do not own Troy or any of the affiliated characters

Chapter 6: Guard Down

The sun was setting the next time the flap opened. By that time, Adara's cuts had stopped bleeding, her bruises were visible, her legs had cramped, and despite Odysseus's kindness, her wrists were being rubbed raw by the rough ropes.

She looked up at the entering figure. All she could see was a very tall, muscled soldier with shoulder-length light brown hair. He just stood there for a moment, looking at her, before he blinked and titled his head to the side, his brows furrowing. Then he moved to another part of the tent and picked something up. When he came back, he went behind her, and out of her peripheral vision she caught a brief look at a knife. Panic set in; yes, Odysseus had assured her she would be fine, but now she could not see what this man was doing. Her pulse raced and she began to struggle. "Please, don't move," he said. "I won't hurt you."

She did as she was told, but her heart beat didn't slow until she realized her hands were free. When he came into her line of vision again, he held the knife in one hand and the cut rope in the other.

"It's ridiculous to have you tied up like some kind of animal," he said with a small smile. Then he looked down at the rope and sighed. "This was good rope too." He tossed it into the corner, then moved around the tent again. When she looked up from rubbing her wrists, she saw he was holding out a round piece of glass she could use for a mirror.

He exited for a brief minute, and when he returned, he knelt down in front of her. She was surprised to see that what he'd gathered was a clean cloth and a bowl full of water. He saturated the cloth and handed it to her. He surprised her with a light touch for such rough, calloused hands. He rose to his feet after, but left the cloth and water with her.

A few minutes passed, during which time Patroclus did not bother the girl as she washed her cuts and bruises. But even in her dirty, disheveled state, he could tell she was beautiful.

A sudden smell brought him out of his thoughts. He could see the girl had noticed the scent too as she closed her eyes and inhaled. He exited the tent, and returned a while later with two bowls of a kind of stew. "Here," he said, offering her one. She accepted it with a nod. "My name is Patroclus," he said as she took the bowl. She made eye contact with him and nodded again, showing she already knew. She said nothing in return and busied her mouth with eating, not having realized how hungry she was.

They ate in silence, Adara with her mind on her food, and Patroclus with his mind on her. He knew it was a great honor to win a prize, but he hadn't won her. And she was even younger than he was. He had no doubt from the way she held her head up despite her injuries that she could take care of herself, but she shouldn't have to. Even he still had Achilles to look after him.

He watched as she failed to stifle a yawn. He rose and gathered two unused blankets from his pack and handed them to her. Then he proceeded to lay out his own blankets a little ways away from hers, giving her some room. With that simple action, she knew she was safe with him.

She set up her bed, moving a little slowly because of her injuries. When she finished and painfully laid down, Patroclus blew out the candle and settled down himself.

It wasn't long before his slow, even breathing told Adara he was asleep. She however, lay awake. It was true that both he and Odysseus had shown her kindness, but that was two men in an entire army of enemies. She was sure that the rest of the Greeks were more like Arcos and Agamemnon.

She realized then that she was completely stranded. If she ran, she'd run right into another soldier, making her position only worse. She had no communication, no way out, and little comfort.

For the first time that day, she allowed herself a few silent tears.

Adara woke the following morning with a start, dazed and confused. She looked around her and it all came back - again. She had woken up numerous times during the night, looking around her frantically before remembering where she was.

"Sorry," a voice said. She turned to see Patroclus fastening his sandals, his sword ready in its sheath. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she assured him quietly as she rubbed her aching neck; she wasn't used to sleeping on the ground. Her emotional, physical, and mental exhaustion prevented her from putting her guard up.

The fact that she gave him an answer stunned him for a moment. "Did you...sleep well?" he asked awkwardly.

Seeing no harm in this answer, she let out a humorless laugh. "No."

Although it was monosyllabic, Patroclus thought of it as possible progress, seeing as yesterday he couldn't even get her to open her mouth except for supper. "If you're hungry..." He pointed to a platter of bread, cheese, and fruit on the table. Adara rose to her feet, slowly and painfully, and approached the food. He attached his sword to his belt.

Just then another soldier with dark hair and bright eyes entered the tent. "Patroclus, we're almost..." He trailed off as he caught sight of Adara. He blinked and cleared his throat. "My apologies. I was unaware you had a guest."

"That's all right, Eudorus." The man opened his mouth to repeat his apology, but Patroclus cut him off. "Really, it's fine."

Adara looked up at Eudorus to give him a shy but reassuring smile, but he remained confused. Patroclus leaned in and mumbled something to him. Eudorus blinked, then seemed to grasp what he'd been missing. "Ah," he said awkwardly. "Understood." He nodded once, then left the tent.

Adara grew worried; she knew how men with prizes were supposed to act. "Don't worry," Patroclus assured her, seeming to sense her feelings. "He won't say anything. Eudorus is a good friend, and I trust him." He opened the tent flap, then turned his head to say, "All the same, it may be best for you to remain inside the tent for the day."

Remembering the way the men in the camp had looked at her the previous day, Adara had no problem complying. She had to admit, though, that she was feeling more comfortable with Patroclus, and that Odysseus had been truthful when he said she'd be treated well. With that thought, she realized that she would really like it if he came back alive.

After Adara cleaned up around the tent, she spent a very long time washing her clothes, her hair, and her body. But by the time she finished, it was still only midday.

She'd quickly run out of things to do, but she knew going outside without Patroclus - and perhaps even with Patroclus - would be a grave mistake. She sighed, her boredom catching up with her. She spent some time remaking her bed to get it as comfortable as possible. When she believed it to be in the best condition, she laid down on it and became lost in her thoughts.

Immediately, they drifted to her family and her friends back home, safe within the city walls of Troy. They probably thought she was dead. She hadn't realized that tears were starting to leak out of her eyes. Wiping them away angrily, she thought about Briseis, and wondered how her friend was faring. This only made her feel worse.

She shook her head angrily and thought about something that comforted her: healing. She went through every plant and every use she could possibly think of. Surprisingly, this did not make her think of Daan, but rather successfully took her mind away from her loved ones. She was so lost in her own little world of medicine that she nearly leapt to her feet as soon as the flap opened, revealing to her the sun, just about to set. In came Patroclus, his body and armor covered in dirt and blood.

Immediately, Adara's training came to her at the sight of the blood. She rose to help Patroclus to a seat and helped him remove his armor.

"Are you hurt?" she asked, laying his helmet aside and wondering if it was his blood.

He shrugged. "I've got a bit of a scratch, but most of everything else is just sore." He looked at his black and blues that were all beginning to color.

She let him wash the gore form his body and armor and dress in a thin cloth covering. Then, he sat down next to her and showed the 'bit of a scratch,' which was actually a long, deep gash on his upper arm. Still with most of her guard up, she did not make a sarcastic comment on the size of the wound, but instead cleaned in thoroughly and sewed it closed.

There was barely a noise in the tent; Patroclus made no sounds to show his discomfort or pain. When she finished, he moved his arm a bit, testing the flexibility of the stitches and his own movement. "Thank you."

"Adara," she replied after a moment's thought.

He looked to her, confused. "I'm sorry?"

"My name is Adara."

Their eyes locked. A second passed, maybe more, as each searched for something, though not sure what. Patroclus was the first to speak. "Thank you, Adara."

The trance broken, she replied, "You're welcome."

The next days passed similarly to that first one. Adara woke before Patroclus left to fight, her body adjusting so she rose earlier each day. She was sleeping better as well, and actually found herself a little more relaxed when she didn't think about her desperate situation.

Patroclus noticed, and was pleased. He had no idea how long she would be with him, and his plan was not to have her be afraid of him. He could see that she was lowering her guard a little more every day.

She knew it was happening, but didn't bother to try and put it back up. Around the other men would be one thing, but she found there was no need with Patroclus. Their conversations were more relaxed and less awkward. Adara was not telling him her entire life's story, and she didn't think it would be wise to say how close she was to the royal family, but after healing his cuts day after day, she spoke of being a healer, and even of her brother.

On her fourth day in the camp, Adara was treating a cut on Patroclus's leg, and he was explaining about his family and how his cousin, Achilles, was as close to an older brother as he would ever get, or ever need. The name stuck in Adara's mind, and after a while, she remembered where she'd heard it: in Agamemnon's tent, when he gave Briseis away. She felt a sudden wave of guilt completely drown her for not thinking of her friend more often. During the day when Patroclus was fighting, she made up her mind to ask him, but she was always busily distracted when Patroclus returned from the battle field.

He saw her face and how rapidly her expression changed as she healed him once. His face had been pale from loss of blood, so she didn't wish to trouble him, but he spoke first. "Are you all right?"

Seeing him speak despite his ashen countenance, she decided to finally get her answers. "There was a woman given to your cousin," she said. He blinked at her once or twice, taken aback by the fact that she knew that information. "Was there not?" she asked when he showed no sign of responding. He nodded. "Her name is Briseis." Again, he nodded. Now, he tilted his head in curiosity as he saw her shoulders drop a little and her voice lowered. "Do you know if she is being treated well?"

He looked at her face and bright, green eyes, begging him to give her good news. "Do you know her well?" he asked softly.

She looked down, ashamed of herself for not having given Briseis more thought. "She is a dear friend of mine."

Patroclus lifted her chin, making her look at his eyes, honest and true. "I assure you," he said, his soft, deep voice doing just that, "that while your friend is with my cousin, she will be treated well." He hesitated then, feeling bad for having to continue after seeing her relieved face. "But I can't lie to you, Achilles is known for having a temper. Though I don't believe she is in any danger from that. He is a good man. He wouldn't take his anger out on her."

Despite the second part of his news, Adara found herself able to relax considerably.

He smiled.

Read and review! I have this theory that reviews make me write faster *hint hint*