Spirits Forged in Fire

Briseis grasped her husbands strong arms as she sat atop him, riding him to completion. His chest and shoulders tensed, and he leaned his head backwards into the bed as he spent himself into her, groaning loudly. Realizing that he needed her right now, at this very moment, Briseis awkwardly slid off of him to lie next to him. His eyes remained squeezed shut, as her soft hand cupped his stubbled cheek.
"Achilles, are you all right?" She asked quietly, kissing his shoulder. Knowing that something weighed heavy on the blonde warrior's mind. After a moment of silence, Achilles began to speak, still without opening his eyes.
"My mother and I spoke before I left for the war. She told me that if I fought, I would never return home to her, that my glory lies hand in hand with my doom." Briseis just nodded, and waited for him to continue, still caressing his cheek and shoulder comfortingly. His clear blue eyes snapped open, as he turned to face her, gripping her shoulders tightly. "She was right, I died. The man that I was, the fearless Achilles, is no longer invincible. Who I was died when I gave myself to you for the first time, and I was no longer an individual. I was part of something, much bigger than me suddenly. This place, you, this child, it all feels so right." With tears in her eyes, Briseis nodded vigorously.
"It is right, my love."
"Do you understand me though? I need you. If something ever were to happen to you.....I would rather die than see...I cant." He choked up, as tears appeared in his once proud eyes. Briseis kissed him on the forehead and took his hands in hers.
"I know" was all she said in reply, and the two lovers clung to eachother in silence.

"Something worries him, I can see it."
"He is just worried for Briseis in her condition. I think its perfectly natural." Helen said, her smoky voice smoothing some of the young prince's nerves.
"No, its in his eyes. He doesnt think we can win this. He's like a caged lion, ready to spring at anyone in his path. But under his bloodlust, there is a fear." Paris paced across the bedroom floor, his wife sitting calmly on the bed.
"I hardly blame him. Menelaus is not as bold as his brother, and he has had time to think and plan. Please, lets not speak of this. Come to bed my love." She said, as she stretched out an arm in invitation. Still edgy, Paris took his wife's hand and climbed into bed next to her.


On a shore several miles away, well out of the view of Trojan outposts, the Greek fleet landed. Men carried supplies from the ships into the already contstructed tents. Amidst the bustle, only one man sat silent. He stared at the maps his spies had drawn for him, and ran over the plan in his mind. A shadow fell over the parchment paper, and he looked up, his face tight with anticipation.
"My King, the men are weary from the sea. Permit them to retire early this evening." Odysseus spoke slowly, watching Menelaus as he stood up slowly.
"Let them rest then, we will not strike yet." was all the King said, before waving Odysseus off. Silently, Odysseus strode out of the darkened tent. He scanned the beach before him, and nodded to several soldiers standing nearby, who began walking towards their own quarters. Odysseus walked slowly towards his own, wondering at the change that had taken place in Menelaus over the past several months. Grief for his brother had sobered him, but knowledge that it had been pride that killed Agamemnon had tempered his blind rage. Menelaus had become quieter, calculating even. His dark moods had proved deadly to those who spoke out against him, and Odysseus now feared at what might happen when all of his pent up fury is released. Agamemnon may have been powerful, but Menelaus had become dangerous.

i know...its a little short, but I had to set up the scene for some action. Anticipation is always a good thing, right? please review, it really does help me write faster.