Holding My Last Breath
folder
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
6,724
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
6,724
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Troy, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter Three
Chapter Three- All the Pretty Horses
"This is wrong." Andromache squeezed Briseis' hand as she repeated those words. They sat on the opposite side of the square from Helen and Paris, newly named heir to the throne. Neither of the two women prefered the clamour that came with sitting under the royal tent for the celebration of the Greek defeat. Instead, a merchant who knew the princesses offered a private balcony for them to watch from; thankfully, no one had noticed their recently widowed princess and their 'poor, helpless' priestess.
Briseis sat on the edge of her seat. The feelings within her swelled, crested, and crashed out with fear and anxiety on her face and in her words. Something wasn't right about this offering to the Gods. The Greeks, as she knew from her time amoung them, were not easily defeated as this proclaimed. It was too easy. But the people dancing and cheering below had no quam oerieerie so the beast of wood was brought into the city.
She tired of the ignorance of those around her. Only Andromache and, surprisingly, Helen shared her recently discovered intellect. Those at court made clear note of the changes in Briseis. The past few days proved that she did not require the affection and pity of those around her; she was well off on her own. In the twelve days of peace, she went from Trojan myth to Trojan whore and traitor. But no one said these things aloud; Paris wouldn't stand for it. He took the burden of titles through out his life and prefered her safe from that.
But as everyone well knew, Paris wasn't really good at protecting things no matter how much he loved them.
Briseis' mind wouldn't stop telling her all the wrongs of the situation so she decided to retire. Andromache followed suit, not wanting to be left alone to watch the dance of ignorance before her. As they started to leave the balcony, Briseis turned one last time to look at the horse, focusing on the head.
She shook off the feeling, but she knew that she felt it. The cold, illuminescent steel of eyes upon her skin.
******************************
Even with the palace thick with smoke, Briseis could find her way. Screams and yells camefromfrom the citadel as the Greeks finally broke through the gates. But it didn't matter to her; she ran to the most remote part of the palace: the statue of Apollo. Away from the court room and the temple riches, she was, in her mind, safe.
Dropping to her knees, Briseis prayed. For the safety of her cousins, for the life of Hector's son, for the deliverance of her people some place far from here. She finished praying her prayers to Apollo and looked up at the statue. His stone features no longer held the awe and power as when she was his vestal virgin.
She focused on the black behind her eyelids. Now she prayed, but not to any God. She prayed for Achilles. Gripping the necklace once worn by his cousin, she whispered his name lightly onto the heated air, hoping somehow he would hear her and find her.
***************************
The halls were crowded, but Achilles made his way through without any trouble. He had no clue where he was or where he was going. The swift beating of his heart told him the way to go. He watched as Odysseus stuck down the Trojan general, the young prince Paris firing arrows expertly into the crowd.
He found himself where few people were running, the air still cool and not blackened with smoke. He climbed up a tall stair way and rounded the bend to see an open courtyard. The grass was vibrant in the darkness, the whole scene set against the burning city. He focused his eyes down to the four on the furthest end of grass.
Agammemnon held a sneer and clutched harshly at the supple throat of the one person he came into this city to find. He jumped over the first wall and started down the steps. He started across the courtyard, watching as the King of Kings dropped under the hidden blade of a princess. His men grabbed at her, one holding her as the other drew his sword.
In a blaze of power and light, both men lie dead on the ground, Briseis confused as to what happened. But the liquid fire running beneath finely tanned skin brought her back. She was lifted up to her feet, still holding onto his arm. Their eyes met and for the first time in her life, she felt the Gods answering her prayer.
He brushed a strand of hair back from her face to reveal a healing wound from Agammemnon. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, enjoying her tightened grip on his forearm. He turned to go, but the vision of Paris with his arrow aimed prevented him.
"NO!" Briseis shoved herself and Achilles to the ground. Two arrows flew past them, and Achilles watched as she ran to the source. She made sure that as she moved, she blocked the path to the man behind her. "Paris stop!"
At his cousin's stunning request, he lowered his bow, arrow still taut within it. Achilles watched, equally stunned, as this woman showed signs of true bravery and undaunting love.
"Please Paris," she whispered, making sure only he heard her voice. He came down the steps and grabbed his cousin by the arms. His face asked the question all three of them needed the answer to. "Because I love him. Please Paris." His glance shifted from her to the form of the man who killed his brother. He came up behind her, Briseis backing slowly into his form for protection.
Paris, for the first time in his life, understood his actions with the clearest of wisdoms. He denied safety, hope, and peace for everyone by bringing Helen here. He wasn't about to deny Briseis something that she seemed to crave and require more than air. He looked into the blue orbs of Achilles, warning in his eyes.
"If you ever hurt her, it will take the hand of the Gods to stop what will become of you," he said clear as day. Achilles didn't doubt those words shockingly. If he ever hurt Briseis, he would kill himself without second thought. He watched as Paris gripped her in a tight, but brief hug, kissing her on the cheek.
"Take the back way to the stables and go through the east gates," he said. He took one last look at his cousin, then turned and left.
****************************************
Briseis didn't clearly remember escaping the burning city. She lead Achilles swiftly through the back passages of the palace where no one had been. They reached the stables and her memory goes fuzzy. She remembers holding tightly to him as they rode out the east gates that, thankfully, the Greeks had not overtaken at that moment. Her last clear cut memories was his hand taking her's from around his waist and squeezing it.
She still had her eyes shut as he carried her below the deck of the ship. He placed her on a soft bed and watched for a few moments. The darkness of sleep crept over her and she willingly gave into it. She remembered hearing "We set sail in few moments my lord" and fell into a deep, sweet sleep.
"This is wrong." Andromache squeezed Briseis' hand as she repeated those words. They sat on the opposite side of the square from Helen and Paris, newly named heir to the throne. Neither of the two women prefered the clamour that came with sitting under the royal tent for the celebration of the Greek defeat. Instead, a merchant who knew the princesses offered a private balcony for them to watch from; thankfully, no one had noticed their recently widowed princess and their 'poor, helpless' priestess.
Briseis sat on the edge of her seat. The feelings within her swelled, crested, and crashed out with fear and anxiety on her face and in her words. Something wasn't right about this offering to the Gods. The Greeks, as she knew from her time amoung them, were not easily defeated as this proclaimed. It was too easy. But the people dancing and cheering below had no quam oerieerie so the beast of wood was brought into the city.
She tired of the ignorance of those around her. Only Andromache and, surprisingly, Helen shared her recently discovered intellect. Those at court made clear note of the changes in Briseis. The past few days proved that she did not require the affection and pity of those around her; she was well off on her own. In the twelve days of peace, she went from Trojan myth to Trojan whore and traitor. But no one said these things aloud; Paris wouldn't stand for it. He took the burden of titles through out his life and prefered her safe from that.
But as everyone well knew, Paris wasn't really good at protecting things no matter how much he loved them.
Briseis' mind wouldn't stop telling her all the wrongs of the situation so she decided to retire. Andromache followed suit, not wanting to be left alone to watch the dance of ignorance before her. As they started to leave the balcony, Briseis turned one last time to look at the horse, focusing on the head.
She shook off the feeling, but she knew that she felt it. The cold, illuminescent steel of eyes upon her skin.
******************************
Even with the palace thick with smoke, Briseis could find her way. Screams and yells camefromfrom the citadel as the Greeks finally broke through the gates. But it didn't matter to her; she ran to the most remote part of the palace: the statue of Apollo. Away from the court room and the temple riches, she was, in her mind, safe.
Dropping to her knees, Briseis prayed. For the safety of her cousins, for the life of Hector's son, for the deliverance of her people some place far from here. She finished praying her prayers to Apollo and looked up at the statue. His stone features no longer held the awe and power as when she was his vestal virgin.
She focused on the black behind her eyelids. Now she prayed, but not to any God. She prayed for Achilles. Gripping the necklace once worn by his cousin, she whispered his name lightly onto the heated air, hoping somehow he would hear her and find her.
***************************
The halls were crowded, but Achilles made his way through without any trouble. He had no clue where he was or where he was going. The swift beating of his heart told him the way to go. He watched as Odysseus stuck down the Trojan general, the young prince Paris firing arrows expertly into the crowd.
He found himself where few people were running, the air still cool and not blackened with smoke. He climbed up a tall stair way and rounded the bend to see an open courtyard. The grass was vibrant in the darkness, the whole scene set against the burning city. He focused his eyes down to the four on the furthest end of grass.
Agammemnon held a sneer and clutched harshly at the supple throat of the one person he came into this city to find. He jumped over the first wall and started down the steps. He started across the courtyard, watching as the King of Kings dropped under the hidden blade of a princess. His men grabbed at her, one holding her as the other drew his sword.
In a blaze of power and light, both men lie dead on the ground, Briseis confused as to what happened. But the liquid fire running beneath finely tanned skin brought her back. She was lifted up to her feet, still holding onto his arm. Their eyes met and for the first time in her life, she felt the Gods answering her prayer.
He brushed a strand of hair back from her face to reveal a healing wound from Agammemnon. He kissed her lightly on the cheek, enjoying her tightened grip on his forearm. He turned to go, but the vision of Paris with his arrow aimed prevented him.
"NO!" Briseis shoved herself and Achilles to the ground. Two arrows flew past them, and Achilles watched as she ran to the source. She made sure that as she moved, she blocked the path to the man behind her. "Paris stop!"
At his cousin's stunning request, he lowered his bow, arrow still taut within it. Achilles watched, equally stunned, as this woman showed signs of true bravery and undaunting love.
"Please Paris," she whispered, making sure only he heard her voice. He came down the steps and grabbed his cousin by the arms. His face asked the question all three of them needed the answer to. "Because I love him. Please Paris." His glance shifted from her to the form of the man who killed his brother. He came up behind her, Briseis backing slowly into his form for protection.
Paris, for the first time in his life, understood his actions with the clearest of wisdoms. He denied safety, hope, and peace for everyone by bringing Helen here. He wasn't about to deny Briseis something that she seemed to crave and require more than air. He looked into the blue orbs of Achilles, warning in his eyes.
"If you ever hurt her, it will take the hand of the Gods to stop what will become of you," he said clear as day. Achilles didn't doubt those words shockingly. If he ever hurt Briseis, he would kill himself without second thought. He watched as Paris gripped her in a tight, but brief hug, kissing her on the cheek.
"Take the back way to the stables and go through the east gates," he said. He took one last look at his cousin, then turned and left.
****************************************
Briseis didn't clearly remember escaping the burning city. She lead Achilles swiftly through the back passages of the palace where no one had been. They reached the stables and her memory goes fuzzy. She remembers holding tightly to him as they rode out the east gates that, thankfully, the Greeks had not overtaken at that moment. Her last clear cut memories was his hand taking her's from around his waist and squeezing it.
She still had her eyes shut as he carried her below the deck of the ship. He placed her on a soft bed and watched for a few moments. The darkness of sleep crept over her and she willingly gave into it. She remembered hearing "We set sail in few moments my lord" and fell into a deep, sweet sleep.