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Chapter One: Death of Briseis

How fast can one go from a life of royalty and prestige to a life of imprisonment? It can go in the blink of one's own eye. She had no knowledge of how long her time was away from Troy or Mycenae, the kingdom where her uncle sought to "bring her future to her". She had little knowledge of her present situation and even her memory recollection provided little to trust on. Her captors were faceless to her and she knew not about her whereabouts or location. She was away from home, away from everything she knew and the life that went with it. Briseis could not call for those she loved, for all she had was bare-stripped walls, stone cold floors, and a room without windows. The last image burned into her mind was a blur, the wall of Agamemnon's palace, and then nothing.

She had awakened from unconsciousness to the cold company of stone, from floor to wall, in a room of darkness and shadows. Not even Apollo's light could give her strength or a tiniest fraction of hope. Darkness and despair lingered in the room that held her prisoner.

Prisoner, she thought bitterly, for that was what she'd always be. Unhappiness and misery seemed to follow her almost everywhere. Her parents had died when she was barely three years of age, her uncle sheltered her and let her do not what she'd wish, duty was placed instead of happiness in terms of marriage, and now she was being abducted by men and kept in a place of hollowness and bone-chilling stone.

She sat numbly with her chin drawn up to her knees, her eyes staring blankly at the room's only door, the only barrier blocking her escape. She sat there for what seemed like hours, half torn between screaming for help or cursing those that had trapped her here. Waiting patiently upon the floor grew tiresome and so, Briseis' impatience surfaced as she stood before the bolted metal door. She wringed her torn and dirtied skirts in her hands as she stared, her decision now made. Her lips thinned as she glared and her fists pounded and her feet kicked profusely upon the surface of her cell barrier.

She didn't know for how long she had been pounding and kicking, for her rage and despair clouded her sanity and had taken over her body. Her captors came all too soon, for the door unbolted and two tall, brawny men entered with haste, their thick hands immediately grabbing ahold of her.

Briseis cried out as each man nearly crushed her wrist in a death lock, not caring when her face twisted and grimaced in pain. "I demand that you release me at once!" Briseis rasped, albeit nervously, while attempting to ignore her fear, loathing, and pain in front of these men. They were both silent and ugly brutes. Neither one gave her a response nor any indication that they had heard her. Both wore an expression of stone.

"Welcome, Princess," came a chilling sneer. Briseis struggled at the voice and she cried out as one of the men grasped and tugged harshly upon a fistful of her raven black curls.

Her round, frightened eyes, the windows to the depths of her heart, peered toward the direction of her cell door. her gaze landed upon a dark and foreboding silhouette of a man, one that stood between her and her freedom. The presence was cold and the voice full of arrogance and cruelness.

"Who are you," Briseis breathed, "And why have you brought me here?"

"I am your Lord and Master here for a short time, my dear. That is all you really need to know of me. Your status of power has been diminished and so, you are neither allowed to give orders nor defy me. You are now a slave."

Briseis seethed and vehemently spat, "My family will come for me!"

The man chuckled icily in reply and continued, "You will not be able to escape, My Lady, and by the end of your time here, your family will not want you anymore. Your new status will bring them dishonor. You are no longer the Lady Briseis, but the slave Maenra. If you try to escape, you will be beaten and given nothing for nourishment until my word for it is given. If you do escape, then this shall prevent you from running to your kin..."

His shadow moved carefully from the doorway to allow another entrance, a beast of a man, bearing a torchlight... and a-

"No!" Briseis screamed, her brown eyes widening in fear. Her movements of struggle became more fierce as adrenaline seared throughout every limb of her body. Strong, bruising hands wrestled and subdued her retaliation and Briseis cried out again as the hand that gripped her hair pulled backward with a new force of viciousness.

"Oh yes, dear one," her captor hissed. Briseis whimpered as he came forward, his hands suddenly grasping the material of her gown. He ripped the material from her body, exposing her neck, shoulders, and half of her breast. The man at his side, holding the hot poker and leering at her appreciatively, stepped forward.

"Behind her shoulder," the man ordered coldly, stepping aside.

The poker's radiating heat licked the bare flesh of her shoulder and Briseis tensed in anticipation of the pain that would soon come.

And come, it did.

She screamed as she never had before as the poker, the brand of a slave, seared painfully into her skin. Even as it was released from body contact, she could still smell her own flesh burn and hear it sizzle in objection from the abuse. Hot, fat tears poured heavily down her cheeks, betraying her will to remain emotionless and unyielding to their torments. Her body slumped as her consciousness began to slip from pain and exhaustion.

"Your life begins, Maenra. You will be clothed and fed here. And then you will be auctioned off to whomever I wish. princesses turned into slaves fetch a wonderful and very fruitful price, especially ones so innocent such as yourself."

Her vision went from tearful and blurred, to faint and finally, into nothing but blackness. She allowed the darkness to take her into its embrace and there, for a short time, she found peace.