*Disclaimer: I own nothing in this ficlet. I am not associated with the film TROY or Warner Brothers. I'm pretty sure the dialogue is a bit off, but what the hey, I've only seen the movie four times... :D I am making nothing off of this...but I hope you enjoy it!
*Summary: What was Briseis thinking as she watched the death of Achilles? Punishment comes in all forms...
Never-ending
The night air was hot as the slight breeze fanned the flames in all directions. Troy was burning. Agamemnon had laid siege to the land of Troy, and he had finally succeeded in breaching her walls in the tenth year of battle. Hundreds upon hundreds had been lost, including my cousin, Hector, by my love’s own hand.
I had fled here when I could not find Helen, Andromache, or Paris. I am helpless now. I am no longer a priestess; I had broken my vows to Apollo when I had consummated my relations with Achilles. Was this my punishment? I begged for Zeus and Apollo to forgive me. I begged for Aries to hear my cry and cease this war. Could they listen? Would they listen? I could only hope.
When Agamemnon’s hands went around my neck, I thought surely Zeus would strike him down...and then the dagger was in my hand. I realized that the Gods wanted me to fight my own war. Achilles was right; nothing was easier. Nothing was easier than pushing the blade through the tender skin of a hardened man, nothing easier than taking a life that was bent on taking mine. When I watched him fall to his knees, I felt excitement and horror at the same time; excitement that he was now dead and could harm no more Trojans or Greeks, and horror that I had taken a life. I knew that Achilles would either be proud of me for killing his enemy for him, or furious that I had not allowed him the opportunity to do it himself. Either way, he could now look down upon Agamemnon’s face and smile at his lifeless corpse. As the guards seized me and raised a blade to strike me down next, Achilles – my Achilles – slashed the throat of the one holding the knife, and ran the other through with his sword. As Achilles fell to his knees to pull me up from mine, Paris bounded into the courtyard and took aim with his bow.
“Paris…!” I cried out in fear for the man I loved, the greatest of the Greek warriors, Achilles, son of Peleus.
Achilles began to turn his head toward Paris at my cry just as the arrow pierced his heel. His head flew back in anguish as he cried out in pain. Tears welled in my eyes at seeing the man I loved in such anguish. Achilles was a soldier, the bravest I had ever seen, and to watch him fall because of an arrow to the heel was just preposterous. It just wasn’t right for a war hero such as him to fall because of an injured ankle!
“No!” My cries once again met the night air as the salt met my cheeks. Not Achilles! Kill the other Greeks! Any other Greek, but not my Achilles! “Paris! Don’t!”
A second arrow was loosed on Achilles as he lifted his sword to deflect another attack. Achilles missed blocking the arrow, and it embedded itself in his stomach. Achilles looked at me, and then got to his feet, as if to go after my last remaining cousin.
“Paris! Please!” Somehow I could not muster the strength to get to my feet, and so I crawled ever so slowly toward Paris as he rained a third arrow at the man I loved. “STOP!” I shouted.
What else could I do? As Achilles raised his sword to Paris, the head of the arrow collided with his stomach.
It was then that I found my feet, and I raced over to the wall Paris stood above. “Paris! Don’t!” I begged, but to no avail. Another arrow was loosed into his body, and it was then Achilles gave an odd sound as all of the air rushed from his lungs, and then the sword fell to the ground blade first.
“No…” I whispered in disbelief as I watched the golden blade plummet to the ground. Oh, Gods! Tell me that I was dreaming!
I knew then that it was too late for my Achilles. I flew to his side and dropped down to my knees beside him. Paris, behind me, lowered his bow and arrow. Surely he would not fire on his own cousin! My hands went immediately to his face, covered with sweat and tears. I looked at him, my tears falling freely. I looked over his armored body, recalling the feel and texture of the skin beneath all of that material…wishing that we had left Troy the day Patroklos had been killed by Hector and wishing that Patroklos had never defied Achilles’ orders. If he hadn’t, then Achilles would still have a cousin, and I would still have both of mine. I noticed that all of the arrows had been pulled from his chest, but the one in his ankle remained.
This was my punishment…losing the man I loved for turning my back on the Gods. I just knew it.
“It’s all right,” Achilles gave me a weak smile and wiped the tears from my face. I could smell the blood of the men that he had killed on his flesh.
I shook my head. “No…”
“It’s all right,” he repeated.
I shook my head again in defiance and pulled his face to mine for a kiss. I knew that Paris was looking on, wondering when his cousin had fallen for the man who had decimated his army, laid ruin to the Trojan kingdom, and killed his brother…my cousin.
I had never felt a soft kiss from Achilles. Not once in all those years. But this…this was almost regretful. Each time that he had kissed me, it had been full of passion and need…but this was different. This…was wonderful. When he pulled away from our kiss, Paris tried to interrupt the moment with his pleas to leave.
“You gave me peace,” Achilles spoke to me in a soft voice, “in a lifetime of war.”
A tear fell onto my cheek again. This was the end for the greatest of the Grecian soldiers. I could tell even though I wished again and again for it not to be true; for my love to live and to grow old with me.
“Go.” He begged me, and I collapsed against him, wishing to stay to meet my doom as well. “Go…”
“Briseis, come…” Paris pleaded and extended his hand to me.
I gave my love one last kiss, took his hand in mine, and rose to my feet. Paris then grabbed me quickly, and whisked me away down a series of corridors and into a tunnel.
Was this my punishment from the Gods? I break my vow of chastity to them, trade in my role as a priestess for the role of Achilles’ lover, and he is taken from me? He was truly right. It never does end, this path of death and misery…it never ends. I shall grieve the rest of my life over the death of this man who rescued me time and again from the hands of his countrymen, over the death of the man that I loved with every bit of my being. This pain that I feel, this emptiness, it is never-ending.