Briseis.

Briseis fell to the floor, a pile of furs softening her fall before a hand grabbed at her hair again, pulling her toward a solid-looking wooden pole.
One of the men untied her hands at the front and quickly pulled her arms around the back of the pole to tie them. She wrenched a hand free and swung it with all of her might, clawing her sharp fingernails into the flesh of the man’s cheek and drawing blood. He yelped and let go of her other arm, and she jumped up and made for the door. She was quickly restrained by several men and lashed to the pole, her hands tied painfully behind her. The man she’d attacked stood before her, with his hand to his bleeding face. He raised his free hand and hit her hard across the face, before the large man shoved him away. “Fool, do not mark her face! She is for our Lord. If you must, hit her where it will not show.”
The injured man knelt and looked at her. “Where did you think you were going, priestess? How far do you think you would have gotten before one of ours brought you back?” he looked at the other man. “She is a wildcat. Achilles will have fun with this one.”
He landed Briseis a sharp punch in the stomach that knocked the wind from her and left her gasping as the soldiers left the tent.
She lay for a few minutes, gulping in lungfuls of air, trying to get her breath back. She tried to compose herself, and twisted her hands to try and loosen the ropes, which only seemed to cut deeper into her wrists. She slammed her body back, again and again, hoping to shake the pole loose from the sand, but ended up screaming and bursting into frustrated sobs. She laid her head back against the pole and realised with despair that even if she did manage to get free of the ropes, she would never escape the encampment. She hung her head and allowed hot tears to slip down her cheeks. So this was to be her fate then? To become the plaything of some warrior? Oh yes, she had heard of Achilles, the great hero of Greece. But she had no desire to submit to any save Apollo, and certainly not a man who found his glory in a mass of corpses. As if to prove her very point a man entered the tent, covered in the blood and dirt of battle. He stopped as he noticed her, the large man from the temple entering after him.
“We found her hiding in the temple my Lord. We thought she might; amuse you.”
His eyes roved over Briseis with a wicked grin before the man, who she supposed must be the great warrior, dismissed him.
Achilles crossed to a washbasin of rose-water and began to remove his armour, until he was fully naked. Briseis dropped her eyes to the sand as he washed himself, splashing the water on his face and arms and emerging none the cleaner for it all.
“What’s your name?” he asked her, fastening a leather wrap about his waist.
Briseis stared at the sand, saying nothing.
“Did you not hear me?” he asked again, sounding stern.
Briseis, seconds ago afraid, suddenly felt anger boil in her. This man had killed her friends, stolen her away as a prisoner and he dared to admonish her, demanding her name from her like some slave in the marketplace?
“You killed Apollo’s priests.” She accused through tears of anger and humiliation at being tied and helpless before this barbarian.
“I have killed men in five countries, never a priest.”
“Well then your men did! The Sun-god will have his vengeance.”
"What's he waiting for?"
"The right time to strike."
At this Achilles smirked at her, his eyes scanned her face carefully, gauging her as he leant to cut the cord that bound her wrists.
“His priests are dead and his acolyte a captive. I think your God is afraid of me.”
Briseis seethed at this. Who did this man think he was that he dared to offer insult to the Gods?
“Afraid? Apollo is master of the Sun. He fears nothing.”
His smirk widened at this.
“Then where is he?” He sounded amused, which enraged Briseis further.
“And you’re nothing but a killer!” she snapped angrily. "You wouldnt know anything about the Gods." A shadow passed on his face at these words.
"I know more about the Gods than your priests. I've seen them." Briseis turned her face away in annoyance at this lie.
"You're royalty aren't you? You've spent years talking down to men." He brought a lock of her hair to his face and inhaled the precious jasmine scent.
"You must be royalty. Even servants of Apollo have names," he urged more gently.
"Briseis,"
He moved suddenly and she jumped.
“Are you afraid, Briseis?” he asked her quietly.
“Should I be?” she asked in earnest. She had expected different from this man. His voice was musical, his words articulate. But for the dried blood on his skin he seemed more like a bard than a warrior.
“What do you want in Troy? You didn’t come for the Spartan Queen,” she wasn’t sure how, but she knew that the statement was true even as she spoke it. His face confirmed it for her.
“I want what all men want. I just want it more.”
“My Lord!”
Briseis turned to see again one of the men from the temple.
“King Agamemnon 'requests' your presence. The kings are gathering to celebrate the victory.”
Achilles’ face, just moments ago calm and interested now looked highly annoyed.
The man left and he turned back to her. "You don't need to fear me girl." he said matter of factly. "You're the only Trojan who can say that.
And with that he turned and stalked from the tent without looking back at her.
Briseis settled into a corner and laid her head down on some furs, too exhausted to even cry anymore she drifted into sleep.

A/N: Hey guys, please review. I know you're reading it I can see the hits, but if you dont review I'm going to assume thats because you think the story is crap, which isnt a huge incentive to keep writing it. It doesn't take long, it doesn't cost you anything, just let me know what you think. Please :)
~*Lydia