Holding My Last Breath

Chapter Two- The Process

Helen shut the door lightly, Briseis remaining on the bed. As she crossed the floor, she kicked the laurel crown. Picking it up, she saw a small stain of blood on the very tip of one of the leaves. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking down onto the sheets.

"They say you were with Achilles when Hector was recovered," she said softly, almost whispering. She watched Briseis nod, no expression.

"They say you were weak, unable to fight him back." Again, a nod. "And that he took you even on the night he killed your cousin." Nodding. "And that you are an being of pity; the bad things always happen to the best of us." Nodding.

Helen shifted off the bed and walked towards the door. She turned, looking down at the crown in her hands.

"I don't believe any of it." Briseis shifted her eyes to look at her cousin by marriage. Helen, beautiful as Aphrodite, was crushing the laurel leaves in her hands, bending and cutting into her soft hands. She looked up into the expressionless face of Briseis. "You aren't weak; you never were Briseis."

In a flick of the wrist, the golden crown, crumpled and bent, was thrown out off the balcony and into the city below. Helen's eyes adjusted to the dark as she walked to the door again. She turned one final time to see Briseis sit up on the bed. "I wasn't real until I gave myself to Paris. I never felt alive until he touched me. Don't pretend anymore, Briseis. The lies have gone on long enough." She opened the door slowly.

"Don't lie to yourself anymore," she whispered, the tears coming to her eyes. She slipped out, shutting the door and walking down the hall. Her balance was shaky and she supported herself on the wall. The tears blinded her and she slid to the floor in a pool of misery. Guilt racked her body and soul all the time she was in Troy. Now Hector was dead and it was because of her.

She felt warm arms around her and leaned in. Briseis stroked her hair and sat against the wall. The two princesses of Troy remained there for the longest time, soaking in the reality of what truth and love gave them.

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Achilles watched as the horse now took on the shape of what it was called. Two ships were stripped for the 'offering', but with the amount of men they lost, they could have destroyed twenty with more to use. He watched the ropes and wood move into the intricate positions for their plans. A hand on his shoulder shook him from the vision.

"I didn't actually think it would look anything like a horse," Odysseus said with light humour. "With our luck, it would look like a fish before a horse." Achilles didn't laugh, but nodded to the irony of the situation. A few minutes passed with silence between them.

"They won't just let you take her, you know that?"

"I plan on it," Achilles said in a low, dangerous voice.

"Just making sure you already planned for the dangers," he replied, knowing better than to continue the conversation in this direction. "What of your men? Who's command will you place them under for the attack?"

"None. They are to return long before the attack takes place." Achilles met the confused but wise eyes of his friend. "I will not have them take part in this massacre." With , he, he turned and walked away. Odysseus waited until he was far enough out of earshot to give a small laugh.

"Maybe the girl is worth retrieving," he said softly. "She's the only thing keeping him human now."

Achilles walked away from Eudorus, his second in command slightly if not completely stunned by his orders. He went into his tent and stretched out on the bed. He wasn't sleepy or tired, but the feel of the sheets against his back caused him to drift off. He remembered back only six days before:

She wasn't awake when he left the tent and he figured, as he pushed through the flaps, she would still be asleep. She remained the same as when he left, arm hanging over the edge, lower half twisted slightly, hair in a perfect splay across the pillow. He sat down in the same spot again, goblet in hand.

For the longest time, he watched her sleeping. The sun was a third of the way up in the sky before long but she slept onhillhilles didn't care; she was a virgin at this time yesterday; she wasn't now....about three times over. The girl had the absolute right to be tired. She didn't fall asleep right after like most people do. She stayed awake, eyes shut, breathing heavy and uneven. When she did open her eyes, it was because she was looking away from him, towards the opposing wall, were she would have been sleeping.

Achilles was fansinated by the look on her face. It was what futher proved what happened to her while they were together was for real. She had a soft look, tinged with sweat and tear streaks. Her eyes were lazy, searching the mid air for an invisible object to focus on. She was laying against him so he felt her heartbeat slow down. It never went all the way down, remaining just at the point of excitement within her chest.

Her face showed satisfaction, complete and totally happiness tucked beneath a shade of recovery. Her body ached naturally. He was much bigger in size compared to her. Her muscles inbetween her legs throbbed from the unknown position they held for the longest time, pressure and friction causing traces of heat to remain. Her arms were tired from holding on as tightly as she did.

His attention was snapped to when she stirred. She turned onto her side, away from him, hair cascading off her shoulder, exposing her bare back to him. The sheet was down around her waist, allowing her sensuous curves to shine through. A small moan escaped her lips, causing Achilles to change his position to watch her better.

Briseis felt his eyes on her back as she rolled over. She turned her head into the pillow, allowing the poof of hair on the side cover her face on the exposed cheek. Opening her eyes slowly, she took stock of her situation: swollen, achy, tired, and naked beneath the sheet of a man who now watched her with avid attention.

She thought it would be best to pretend to sleep again, forcing the oppertunity for conversation into another time slot. But he already knew she was awake. No back stepping at this point.

She turned slightly, squinting her eyes so he could see it. She gave the tiniest yawn and rolled onto her back, stretching her legs. Blinking, she first turned her head to the direction she previously faced, like she didn't notice Achilles sitting no less than four feet from her position on the bed. Remaining that way for a while, she waited for him to make a move first.

Achilles gave his famous smirk at Briseis. She was playing the game he unintentionally started. He wasn't one to lose quickly or at all, but for catching onto him, he was willing to give her this victory. He stood and walked over, pouring another goblet of watered wine for her. He placed it on the table beside her and bent over, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"You must be thirsty," he said softly then turned and exited the tent, leaviriseriseis happy she got him to speak first, but stunned at his words.

Achilles rolled onto his side and watched as tmptympty space on his bed slowly started to resemble her tiny figure beneath the sheets. He inhaled and the scent of jasmine was in the air.

He was going to get her back.