One Little Mistake

SACRIFICES
Disclaimer: I'm just a poor, slightly psychotic scriptwriter. I don't know or own them, so don't sue me. All you'll get is pocket lint.
Beta: Melanie

Many months have passed since Achilles brought me aboard his ship in the bonds of a prisoner. Many things have changed in my life, but I still remain a warrior and a Prince of Troy. Nothing, not even the forces of an enemy upon my freedom and my body, will change who I am. I stand in Achilles’ cabin waiting for him, as I have waited every night. This night, though he does not know it, will be different. I spin the dagger in my fingers, the lamplight glinting off the sharp blade like the promise of a lover and as I wait for him, I think back to that first day before all my choices were taken from me. The day we left Troy.

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I woke in Achilles tent still tied to his bed with a silk scarf and the warrior himself wrapped around my helpless body. Stiff and uncomfortable, my body ached in places it had never done so before. The pain itself brought back all the memories of my kidnapping and claiming by Achilles. I knew this would be my fate the moment his eyes met mine in Agamemnon's tent. I expected it to be brutal and it was, leaving me grasping fruitlessly for control over my shock and pain. Never before had I loved a man and I was unprepared for what Achilles did to me. It was always women with the hot, silken mysteries of their scented bodies that held the most magic for me. Their bodies moving beneath mine, and their soft cries of pleasure were like ambrosia, the food of the Gods, to my ears.

Patroclus roused Achilles just after daybreak. The army was finishing up their preparations to leave, for his deadline would be kept. That gave me only a few short hours to find a way to escape, if one lay open to me. I had no idea that Achilles had ordered the bulk of his warriors to guard this tent or that I would be kept so tightly bound. Nothing came close enough to hand to allow me the opportunity to free myself and it would have done no good anyway. My face was too well known. I could hear the shouting of the Greek kings and Achilles’ answers. He was leaving and there was no one there that had the power to stop him.

Several hours after daybreak, Achilles and Patroclus entered the tent. From what I could hear, my father was requesting an audience with the great warrior and my heart lifted. Soon I would be home and back in the arms of my lovely wife. Her golden hair would surround me and her gentle lips would touch mine, erasing the nightmare of the previous night. Achilles donned a flowing cloak of deep crimson trimmed with gold and glanced in my direction with that mocking smile. I heard him ordering Patroclus to stand watch over me.

The younger man laughed softly as he replied, "Whatever for, cousin? You have half your army standing guard around this very tent. Prince Paris is going nowhere."

"Nevertheless, I wish you here to protect my prize. I trust you, cousin." Achilles smiled down at the younger man, an unexpected expression of tenderness in his eyes.

I had not thought compassion any part of the warrior who had taken me in such savagery the night before, and I clenched my fists above their bonds for his demeaning treatment and his brutal uncaring use of what did not belong to him. Achilles bent his golden head and his lips briefly touched those of his cousin and lover. He then strode out of the tent in a swirl of crimson, leaving Patroclus in charge of me. I shifted restlessly, the silk around my wrists digging into my skin. Usually not accustomed to eating until midday or so, I had not been allowed a bath and my sweat sd skd skin itched. Dried blood still coated my thighs and my entrance burned painfully, but I made no sound or plea, for my pride was too great.

Patroclus noticed my discomfort and he shook his head at me. "After Achilles deals with your father, he will have Briseis bathe and take care of you, but not until then," I was told.

"I would speak to my father." I ordered, "Untie me and bring me to where they meet."

"You do not give the orders here, my prince. You will stay here until my lord Achilles sees fit to release you. He has left orders that you are not to see nor speak to Priam and I am here to make sure those orders are carried out." Patroclus approached the bed with a knotted cloth in his hands.

I knew what he would do with me, how he would enforce Achilles orders and for once I swallowed my pride as I pleaded, "Please Patroclus. Convince him to let me see my father one last time."

Patroclus only shook his head, an expression of regret on his face before he thrust the cloth between my teeth and secured it tightly. Shaking my head in protest, I glared at the other with the helplessness that I felt. Then I suddenly heard my father's voice greeting Achilles and pulled hard on the silk scarf holding me prisoner. I fought and struggled without avail as my father bargained for my life. Patroclus stood near, not interfering with me but close enough to stop me should I win free or attempt to harm lf. lf. I bit back a sob as my father offered Achilles my weight in gold if the warrior would ransom me. All Troy would be stripped bare of its riches to buy back my freedom. Achilles refused with a sneer audible in his voice, for he too was the son of a king.

My sister Cassandra offered herself in my place. We were not close, my twin and I, yet she still chose to sacrifice herself rather than leave me to Achilles’ brutal hands. He did not even bother to answer her and my heart ached for my sister. The next voice was one I never expected to hear again. Helen, my wife, had come. Her offer to Achilles tore at my soul and I cried out, the sound muffled by the gag. She would return to Menelaus, she promised, if the mighty warrior would withdraw his claim to me and free me.

Achilles’ scornful, brutal answer came to me clearly, "Woman, you can strip naked and run through the streets of Troy for all I care. Paris is mine. There is nothing you can offer me that will change my mind."

From my father's anguished cries, I knew that Achilles had ended the audience. I could hear him begging Achilles for the chance to see me one final time, a request that I knew would never be granted. I closed my eyes and went limp with exhaustion and anguish. Patroclus kept a close anxious eye on me bu did didn't need to bother. There was nothing I could do. My fate had been pronounced. I heard Achilles come back into the tent and his murmured conversation with his cousin. I stared up at the pale cloth ceiling of the tent in a state of shock. I did not notice the bustle of activity that followed Achilles’ departure until the gag was taken from my mouth and a cold bronze blade slid through my bindings. I sat up, rubbing my sore wrists and lifted dull, uncaring eyes to Patroclus concerned ones.

"There is food if you wish it and Briseis will tend to your injuries," he said gently.

I nodded and allowed the woman to bathe me. Vaguely I remembered her as a serving woman to my mother, Queen Hecuba. She had begged to be sent to serve Achilles, not as a servant but as his wife. I could see Achilles had treated her well. She was gowned in pale yellow linen and gold decorated her wrists and neck. She washed me gently and with great care. The soothing ointment she spread on my sore entrance relieved the pain and I sighed in relief.

Briseis told me, "Your sister, the priestess of Apollo, sent this for you. She feared that my lord would take you and was most concerned that you receive it."

Cassandra again. First her offer to take my place and now this. All our lives a special bond, able to see and feel what the other was going through, had linked us. I had always considered it a curse more than a blessing and treated her badly for it. After all, our parents had chosen to keep her, while I was sent away as if I meant nothing. The fault was not hers but I still punished her for it. I wondered if I would ever have the opportunity to make amends to her. Closing my eyes, I saw her face clearly. Her lips moved and for a moment her voice whispered in my ears. I smelled the scent of her perfume and the touch of her hand on my cheek. My heart eased and I knew without words that she had forgiven me long ago. She knew all I wanted to say and her phantom lips brushed my forehead in love and farewell.

Once my bath was finished, my wrists were bandaged and I was clothed in a crimson tunic fastened at my shoulders. The linen was exceptionally fine and bordered in gold. I knew I looked every inch the Prince I was. I grabbed Briseis’ arm before she could leave.

"Help me escape," I begged her.

Her eyes went wide as she insisted, "No, your highness. I cannot."

"Please, Briseis. For my mother and the kindness she showed you, help me escape." I seized her other hand, desperate to persuade her to help me.

Briseis shook her head wildly and yanked her hands from my grasp. She fled the tent and I stood up, clenching my fists. Before I could do anything else, Patroclus re-entered the tent carrying several strips of leather. I stepped away from him, my head held high in defiance. I would not quietly allow Achilles to drag me through the camp bound like a common prisoner. I was a warrior, a Trojan, and a Prince. Patroclus did not bother to argue or persuade me. He gestured to a pair of guards standing outside the tent. They quickly held me pinned with my arms at my side while Patroclus tightly tied my wrists together in front of me. The Myrmidons released me and left with as little fuss as they entered, leaving me standing in dumbfounded silence. Patroclus took my arm and led me from the tent.

Achilles was waiting for me, a faint smile of triumph and pleasure on his handsome face, and helped me board his chariot. He threw a cloak of crimson that matched his own over my shoulders to shelter me from the cool ocean breezes and clasped it at my throat with a brooch of fine gold. He held me tightly in his muscled, sun bronzed arms as the chariot headed for the harbor. I glanced back over my shoulder at the walls of my home. They were there; my father's kingly robe and my mother's sparking jewelry the most familiar sights of my life. Standing next to my parents was my brother, Hector and his wife, but it was the two figures next to them that had my breath catch in my throat. Cassandra stood beside Helen, one dark and one fair. Their eyes never left mine until the distance between us was too great.

Achilles led me aboard his ship and stayed at my side while the lines were cast off. The ship glided majestically through the harbor and out to sea. I watched Troy slowly disappear into the distance and my heart hardened into a cold and ashen lump with the sorrow I felt. Long after my home faded beneath the horizon I stood at the railing, Achilles at my side. Perhaps he feared that, despite my bound hands and the expanse of water, I would attempt to jump and swim back. He didn't need to bother. I can't swim.

The sun was beginning to descend before he finally took my arm and guided me to his small cabin. It was as luxuriously appointed as his tent had been. A meal of grapes, bread, oil and cheese waited on the table. Achilles offered me a glass of wine and I shook my head. I wanted nothing from him. But he refused to be dissuaded, and he unclasped the cloak from around my shoulders, allowing the priceless linen to pool at my feet. His hand caressed my cheek and I moved fro from him. The action only provoked him more. He grabbed a handful of my hair and drew me to him, his lips fastening on mine in a deep passionate kiss. A warm tongue explored my mouth, forcing its way in to flirt and to dominate. His hand slid out of my hair and I could feel him fumbling at the ties of my tunic. I twisted away, trying to escape his offending touch. It was a fruitless task, but I would not submit to him without a fight. He pulled me closer; our bodies flush against one another with my bound wrists crushed between our chests, and his hands roved over the naked flesh of my back.

Reluctantly he released my mouth, breathing heavily. His fingers brushed my chest as I raised my hands and shoved him away, my eyes meeting his in defiance. Achilles snarled and threw me onto the bed, moving with a swiftness that startled me. He straddled my body, pinning me beneath his bulking size and grabbed my wrists. Dragging my arms high over my head, he tied me to an iron ring set into the wall behind the bed. I writhed futilely, desperate to throw him off. I might as well have been trying to hold back the ocean waves or stop Apollo's chariot from raising the sun into the sky. Achilles is a powerful man, a warrior that no one has ever been able to defeat. In my helpless state, what was I able to do against him?

His mouth attacked my neck while his hands held my hips still. The fevered touch of his lips trailed kisses down my chest and teased my nipples with his tongue until they were hard. I gasped at the sensations that washed through my body, and I fought to steel myself against them. He moved back up to my neck, sucking and biting at my earlobes. I gritted my teeth in an attempt to ignore the warmth flooding my body, for this was not an act of love and I wanted no part of it. It was wrong, and I hated myself for allowing such weaknesses to show through even as his palm cupped me, stroking me through the fabric. My back arched and I struggled against the bindings. The bandages protected the fragile skin of my wrists and allowed me greater strength in my fight, but I was unable to break free.

Achilles stripped the tunic from my writhing body and used his superior body weight to hold me still, while he promised breathlessly, "You are mine, Paris. Surrender to me and I will show you such joy as you have never had with a woman."

"No."

"Why should you wish to resist? You know you will never escape me," he declared, confusion on his handsome face.

I looked into his eyes, and said defiantly, "I am a warrior, a Trojan and a Prince. I will never surrender."

Achilles face twisted in rage. He lifted his hand as if to strike me and I glared back at him, daring him to do his worst. Instead he flipped me over onto my stomach, my arms crossed in front of me, and I tensed. I knew what was coming. But instead of pain, I felt his hands gently stroking my back. From my neck to my hips, his calloused fingertips drifted in spiraling circles, easing knotted muscles. He paused over the deep bruises his hands had left on my hips the night before and he kissed them, like a mother soothing the hurts of a small child.

He worked his way up my back, pressing kisses along my spine until he reached my neck. His tongue lightly trailed up my neck to my ear and he cradled my body to him. His hands coaxed me into a kneeling position, massaging my thighs while his tongue roved over my neck. A well-oiled finger brushed against my entrance and my body instinctively tightened. Achilles murmured incoherently in my ear as his finger slid into me. Another joined it and I could not stop a gasp of pain from escaping me. Achilles waited until my discomfort eased before I felt his fingers stretching me. Pleasant warmth built up in my groin and spiraled outward, drenching my body in a pleasure I had never before experienced. I moaned deep in my chest, the sound ending on a whimper and I bit my lip, holding back further cries.

"This is what it means to be loved by the greatest warrior in the world." Achilles whispered softly, "Surrender and it will be yours for the asking. I will be yours as you are mine."

I forced my traitorous body to remain still against the onslaught of pleasure his hands inflicted on me. My hands tightened on the leather straps binding me to the bed, reminding me that I was a prisoner. My father's face lingered in my mind along with the last words I heard from him, a desperate plea to this man who now held me against my will.

"Never," I whispered.

Abruptly Achilles fingers ripped out of me with no hint of the tenderness he had previously shown. He grabbed my hips in a punishing grip and his teeth bit deeply into my neck, eliciting a small cry of pain from my throat. The vulnerable flesh was sucked until tears came to my eyes and my body squirmed with the instinct to escape the small torture. With a growl, he tore his mouth away and I felt blood trickling down my throat.

"Then be used as the slave you are," he hissed as he viciously slammed into me, violating my body yet again.

Unable to stop myself, I screamed in agony. My back arched and I thrashed beneath him, every part of me on fire with pain. His violent thrusts tore my helpless body asunder and I gasped frantically as my face was pushed mercilessly into the blankets. My torment lasted moments but to me it felt like a lifetime. I descended into a red tinged darkness and I cried out silently for Cassandra, feeling the absence of her presence for the first time in my life. When it was finally over, I lay limp and trembling on the bed as Achilles stood over me. His fists were clenched, his chest heaved and his green eyes were lit with a fiery madness.

"You will surrender to me or I will return to Troy and destroy everyone you love," he thundered, his voice clawing at me.

I rolled onto my side and stared back at him with no hint of the fear I felt in my eyes, "Do what you want. Troy will stand against you. The gods would never permit it. You will not have them and you will never have me."

Achilles fury washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me in his rage. "I will take everything from you," he promishrouhrough gritted teeth.

I laughed, my breath coming in short pants. "You already have. You took my honor and my freedom. What more do you think you can do to me?"

He le dow down until his face hovered over me, and his green eyes bored into mine as if he were attempting to search my soul. Caressing my cheek, his wine scented breath stirred my dark curls as he whispered the vow into my ear, "I have your lifetime to find out. Count on it."