Briseis.

Disclaimer: You know the deal. If you recognise it, I don't own it!

Briseis knelt before the altar of Apollo, the gentle scent of honey wafting over her as she lit the beeswax candles, and knelt to pray before the great Golden God.
Her eyes closed softly, and her head bowed as she murmured her verses, odes to Apollo, and prayers for the safe deliverance of her home.
Outside the temple battle raged, she knew, as did the priests who bustled about her. They had no fear, for the battle was not against their God and no soldier who had come to their shores had ever dared to try and take the temple of the great Sunlord. So here they stayed, going about their business and preparing to try and amend the bloodshed that the day’s battle would surely bring.
Briseis finished her verse and stood to light the next candle when a shout was heard from the front entrance.
Through the temple they swept like an illness, raising their swords against the unarmed priests until the blood flowed like the rivers to the Agaean. Briseis stood frozen to her spot, before bolting for the tunnel to the temple kitchen. Eyes searching frantically for a place to hide, her heart raced in her chest like a goatskin drum. She wriggled herself between the baskets of grain and maize and closed her eyes, trying to still her shaking breaths. After only minutes the shoutsthe the priests had all but quieted, and Briseis felt hot tears pricking her eyes, knowing why. Dead men made no sound.
She heard armoured footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway and she buried her head in her arms, trying to breathe silently. She felt the footsteps pouring into the room but she dared not lift her head to count how many there were. As she heard the noises of the men sacking the room, she realised the futility of her hiding place. They would of course take everything in the kitchen, including the baskets that she now hid behind.
She stood and broke for the door, running straight into a large man. He gave her a shove and she stumbled back into the room.
“What is here?” one of the men leered. “A kitchen slave?”
“She is no slave, fool. Look at her garb, her hair shines with precious oils. She’s a Virgin of the Gods.”
The other man stared at Briseis in awe, almost reverence, for only a fleeting moment before his leer returned. Holy virgins of the Gods were the most holy of priestesses, and highly valued prizes of war.
“Where are the others like you?” the leering man asked her.
The other virgins of Apollo were safe within the walls of Troy, away from the fray, and serving to give hope to the people. Briseis was the only one outside the great walls, and this was simply because only the virgin priestesses could light the candles and chant the verses at the altar.
The larger man shook her by the shoulders.
“Answer the question!” he demanded. His large hand squeezed her shoulder, strong fingers pinching painfully into the muscle.
Briseis winced, but narrowed her eyes at him with disdain. She maintained her silence. She would never breathe a word to these men about the whereabouts of her vestal sisters, the beloved daughters of the Sunlord. Her face set in resolve, and the large man frowned.
“Very well. Take her to the Captain’s tent.” He waved dismissively and two men seized her by the arms. One took a length of rope and bound her wrists tightly. She kicked and struggled until a third man grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her painfully toward the door.
When they reached the side exit of the temple Briseis heard the voice of her cousin Hector. With a surge of hope she yelled out to him and a hand roughly covered her mouth. She bit into it hard and received a cuff to the side of the head that left her ear ringing.
As she was dragged along the once golden shores of her homeland Briseis’ eyes welled up at the sight before her.
Now stained red with the blood of enemy and kin alike, the beaches of Troy were awash with carnage. Mangled remains of what had once been men littered the sandy shoreline for as far as she could see. She sniffed bitterly at the price of war, and the greed of the men who waged it, and she hung her head sadly and walked with no more fuss. Turning her head back to glimpse last the sight of the Sunlord, that his golden face might give her some hope, Briseis saw with horror that the head of the God had been struck off, and lay at His feet. Renewed rage surged through her at this sight and she struggled again with twice the fervour, thrashing wildly against the men who held her, but to no avail. Entering the Greek encampment she saw men turn to stare at her, ghastly grins on the faces of some, and once or twice a fleeting expression of pity. She raised her chin up high, she was a priestess of Apollo and she would show no fear to these men.
She lost her footing as she was shoved suddenly sideways into one of the many circular tents that the invaders had set up so boldly on the shores of her home.

A/N: Please read and review, I'd love to know what you guys think. If you come across any spelling or punctuation mistakes in this story I would very much appreciate an email, as I am an avid perfectionist. I would request constructive criticism only please, flames will be used to light my own candles at the altar of Ceridwen :)