Holding My Last Breath
folder
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
6,731
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
S through Z › Troy
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
14
Views:
6,731
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 Nine
Chapter Nine- The Middle
Briseis rocked back and forth gently, the breeze from the incoming cool weather blowing across her back. Pat, as she nicknamed him, lay in her arms, eyes wide and searching. He was a very curious baby, always looking and touching and sensing everything he could. She smiled down at her son, stroking his cheek lightly. He gave a gurgle-ish giggle, taking hold of his momma's finger tightly.
At four months old, Pat had done nothing but make his parents' lives happier. His smiles, his gestures, even his crying was a welcome edition to their world. His favorite place to be was in their arms, curled tightly against their body, looking straight inheirheir eyes.
Briseis gently tickled his feet, his little kicks a responce. She kissed his forehead sweetly and sat back, rocking a bit harder.
In her mind, she mentally retraced her path for the umpteenth time. She followed it from her home, to living in Troy, to the temple of Apollo, to Achilles' arms, to her room in the palace, to the room on the ship, to their bedroom, to the nursery. She refered to things by location, save the one of Achilles. The first time she could clearly mark something in her book for him was the night her saved her, carrying her to his tent.
Portions of her mind that chastised her for leaving Paris and the Trojan survivors now died off in a chorus under flood waters. She knew now that she chose the right path. Every minute of everyday, Briseis could breathe. She was still bound to the rules of eddicute, but found that in her home, they were less confining.
Achilles treated her as an equal, not a second class citizen. He constantly asked for her opinion and was delighted to argue with her over anything. He loved her courage and iligeligence, inciting controversial conversations with her on purpose, just to hear her fight for her own beliefs.
Briseis watched as Pat's eyes drifted shut, twisting slightly to lean his head more against her chest. A few more moments passed and he was sound asleep. Gracefully, she left her chair, taking him to the nursery. He had a cradle that was dark wood with the symbols of Phtia and the Gods to protect him as he slept. He wiggled a bit, then settled into the soft of his blankets.
She became aware of Achilles' vision on her back. It felt like warm candle wax on her skin, coating her through and through, waking her senses. She waited by the cradle for him, knowing he would watch her for just a little while, then make contact.
He stood watching her as she laid their first born child into the cradle. He had watched her rocking him out on the balcony and relished the sight. Somewhere in his mind, parts of him also scolded him for her decision in Troy. Would she be happy? Would she feel loved? Would she want to be a wife? A mother?
One of the first nights Pat was with them came to mind. The baby was upset and crying, the nurse unable to quell him in anyway. Within a second in her arms, he calmed, hitching breaths for a little bit. She smiled and held him close, humming lightly to him.
Briseis lay in bed with him in the middle, surrounded by blankets and her arms. He lay next to them, watching his son's newborn eyes shift and turn about the room. They rested upon his mother's form, happy to see the woman that carried him nearby. His tiny fingers gripped tightly to her's, drawing another smile from her.
That night, the baby slept in their bed. Neither moved for fear of hurting Pat. Instead, they lay facing the child. He was content within the confines of his parents' hold. In the middle of the bed and in the middle of their lives.
Achilles wrapped his arms around Briseis' waist, feeling the soft curves beneath the material. She leaned back, stroking his arm and kissing his shoulder over her's. They don't speak, letting the silence over take them. The only noise is the little snores from the cradle.
Briseis rocked back and forth gently, the breeze from the incoming cool weather blowing across her back. Pat, as she nicknamed him, lay in her arms, eyes wide and searching. He was a very curious baby, always looking and touching and sensing everything he could. She smiled down at her son, stroking his cheek lightly. He gave a gurgle-ish giggle, taking hold of his momma's finger tightly.
At four months old, Pat had done nothing but make his parents' lives happier. His smiles, his gestures, even his crying was a welcome edition to their world. His favorite place to be was in their arms, curled tightly against their body, looking straight inheirheir eyes.
Briseis gently tickled his feet, his little kicks a responce. She kissed his forehead sweetly and sat back, rocking a bit harder.
In her mind, she mentally retraced her path for the umpteenth time. She followed it from her home, to living in Troy, to the temple of Apollo, to Achilles' arms, to her room in the palace, to the room on the ship, to their bedroom, to the nursery. She refered to things by location, save the one of Achilles. The first time she could clearly mark something in her book for him was the night her saved her, carrying her to his tent.
Portions of her mind that chastised her for leaving Paris and the Trojan survivors now died off in a chorus under flood waters. She knew now that she chose the right path. Every minute of everyday, Briseis could breathe. She was still bound to the rules of eddicute, but found that in her home, they were less confining.
Achilles treated her as an equal, not a second class citizen. He constantly asked for her opinion and was delighted to argue with her over anything. He loved her courage and iligeligence, inciting controversial conversations with her on purpose, just to hear her fight for her own beliefs.
Briseis watched as Pat's eyes drifted shut, twisting slightly to lean his head more against her chest. A few more moments passed and he was sound asleep. Gracefully, she left her chair, taking him to the nursery. He had a cradle that was dark wood with the symbols of Phtia and the Gods to protect him as he slept. He wiggled a bit, then settled into the soft of his blankets.
She became aware of Achilles' vision on her back. It felt like warm candle wax on her skin, coating her through and through, waking her senses. She waited by the cradle for him, knowing he would watch her for just a little while, then make contact.
He stood watching her as she laid their first born child into the cradle. He had watched her rocking him out on the balcony and relished the sight. Somewhere in his mind, parts of him also scolded him for her decision in Troy. Would she be happy? Would she feel loved? Would she want to be a wife? A mother?
One of the first nights Pat was with them came to mind. The baby was upset and crying, the nurse unable to quell him in anyway. Within a second in her arms, he calmed, hitching breaths for a little bit. She smiled and held him close, humming lightly to him.
Briseis lay in bed with him in the middle, surrounded by blankets and her arms. He lay next to them, watching his son's newborn eyes shift and turn about the room. They rested upon his mother's form, happy to see the woman that carried him nearby. His tiny fingers gripped tightly to her's, drawing another smile from her.
That night, the baby slept in their bed. Neither moved for fear of hurting Pat. Instead, they lay facing the child. He was content within the confines of his parents' hold. In the middle of the bed and in the middle of their lives.
Achilles wrapped his arms around Briseis' waist, feeling the soft curves beneath the material. She leaned back, stroking his arm and kissing his shoulder over her's. They don't speak, letting the silence over take them. The only noise is the little snores from the cradle.