A Priestess For A City

"Poseidon talked to the fates for my Mom. They said I'm going to die." Achilles' words hung heavy in the air, as if the weight of his impending doom had settled upon the room. His eyes, once filled with wonder and possibility, now seemed empty and devoid of hope. It was as if the fates themselves had closed off all other paths, forcing him onto this one inevitable journey towards death..

"No!" I yelled furiously, my voice filled with desperation. Achilles jolted in shock, his eyes widening at my sudden eruption. "Because they said you will die, doesn't mean it will happen now. It could be in ten years, or even a hundred from now."

"Patroklos..." Achilles began, but I ignored him, my words tumbling out in a torrent of emotion.

"They- They're playing tricks! Trying to make us fall for these lies!"

Suddenly, my body froze in place, my pacing halted as Achilles seized my movement. I looked into his eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope, but all I found was resignation.

"Patroklos..." Achilles spoke softly, his voice heavy with sorrow. His eyes closed shut, and I felt his head fall against mine.

My own eyes closed, tears welling up and cascading down my cheeks. I couldn't hold back the overwhelming grief that washed over me.

"I can't lose you!" I cried, my voice shattering like glass. My wailing grew more erratic and uncontrollable.

"Patroklos..." Achilles' fingers gently touched my chin, lifting it up. I opened my eyes, meeting his glistening gaze. He had been crying too. "We both knew this was a possibility. We both knew that I could die by coming here. This doesn't change anything, except that I have to bring down the shield before I die or before someone else somehow manages to do so."

"It does change everything!" I choked out, my voice cracking. "Before, it was a possibility, but now it is certainty. I can't bear to lose you too..."

Achilles fell silent, and I stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. I wanted him to tell me he was wrong, that he had changed his mind. I wanted him to grab my hand and take me back home, away from this impending tragedy. But all he said was, "I'm sorry."

Those three words hung in the air, heavy with regret and finality. We didn't speak anymore. There was nothing more I could say to him, no words that could change his mind.

Fury and grief consumed me, intertwining in a whirlwind of emotions. I longed to hit him, to release the anger that burned within me. Yet, at the same time, I mourned for him, for the life that would be cut short. But above all, I simply longed for this chaos to end.

I wrapped my arms tightly around Achilles, burying my face in his chest. I cried, my tears flowing freely as if I had already lost him.

What else was I supposed to do? How else was I meant to react to this heart-wrenching situation? I felt utterly powerless, unable to stop him from walking this path towards death. And in that moment, I knew I was going to lose him, just as I had lost my father.

As my consciousness slowly returned, I could hear the sound of shouting in the distance. The emotional turmoil I had experienced had completely exhausted me, causing me to pass out.

As the shouting grew louder, my eyes shot open in an instant. Standing before me was Achilles, with Briseis tightly bound to the bed, desperately struggling to free herself.

"Untie me, you bastard!" Briseis screamed, her voice filled with anger and desperation as she pulled at the ropes.

"Calm down! We're trying to help you," Achilles attempted to soothe her, but he backed away from her wild kicking.

"Where is Chryseis!?" she screamed, her voice echoing through the room. Her eyes were wild with anger, searching for any sign of the missing girl.

I quickly stepped forward, my hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "Hey!" I called out, trying to calm her down. "We mean you no harm. In fact, we're the ones who healed your injury. You were bleeding really badly, and we saved you." I hoped my words would reach her, that she would understand our intentions and be willing to talk.

The woman's gaze shifted between me and Achilles, her anger still palpable. Her face twisted into a terrifying expression, reminiscent of one of the Erinyes. It was clear that she was not to be trifled with.

But then, something unexpected happened. Her eyes locked onto mine, and I could see a flicker of recognition and understanding. The tension in her face seemed to ease slightly, as if she was considering the possibility that we weren't her enemies after all.

"Why?" she grumbled, her voice heavy with skepticism. "Why would you help me?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before answering. "Why not?" I responded, my voice filled with sincerity.

Briseis scoffed, her laughter tinged with bitterness. "You expect me to believe that? That you're helping me out of the kindness of your heart?" Her words dripped with cynicism, as if she had long lost faith in the goodness of humanity.

I stood my ground, refusing to be swayed by her doubts. "Yes," I affirmed, my voice steady and unwavering.

Her face transformed, shifting from a sneer of disbelief to one of confusion. It was as if she couldn't decide whether I was a fool or if I truly believed in the power of compassion. After a silent moment of locked gazes, I noticed her muscles gradually relax on the bed, a glimmer of hope flickering in her eyes.

"Fine, but I'll only talk to you. Get him out of here," she demanded, nodding pointedly in Achilles' direction.

Achilles stood stoically, his arms crossed and his face a mask of indifference.

"Alright," I agreed, knowing that it was important to respect her wishes. But Achilles immediately refused.

"I'm not leaving you alone with her," he stated firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"It's okay," I reassured him, offering a small smile. "She won't hurt me. And besides, she's tied up." I gestured towards the ropes that bound Briseis to the bed, hoping to ease Achilles' concerns.

Achilles was clearly reluctant, but after a moment of consideration, he reluctantly agreed. With one final glance in my direction, he exited the room, leaving me alone with Briseis.

The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly tense, thick with an uncomfortable silence as Briseis and I locked eyes, both unsure of how to proceed.

"So?" she spoke, her voice laced with a hint of petulance. "Talk."

I struggled to find the right words, my mind racing to make a connection with this woman who seemed so guarded and resentful. "I'm...Patroklos," I finally managed to say, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Her response was swift and cutting. "I don't care," she retorted, dismissing my introduction with a cold indifference.

Frustration welled up within me, and I felt compelled to make her understand. "I-I... I'm not your enemy!" I exclaimed, my voice tinged with exasperation. "I want to help!"

Her eyes narrowed, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "And how will you do that?" she challenged, her voice laced with bitterness. "Will you release me and send me home safely? Will you also release all of the other people you've taken captive? Will you leave my country and let us be in peace? No? I didn't think so!" Her words were filled with a mix of anger and despair, expressing the deep pain and resentment she held towards our actions.

A fervent yearning surged within me, compelling me to earn her trust. The inexplicable depth of this desire consumed my thoughts, urging me to take action. In a surge of raw emotion, I unsheathed my gleaming spear, its polished surface catching the glimmering light, and with a swift, decisive motion, I sliced through the coarse rope that bound her delicate hands to the bed.

Her countenance displayed a mixture of bewilderment and disbelief as she gingerly massaged the crimson imprints encircling her wrists.

"You must be either incredibly naive or foolish," she declared, her voice tinged with skepticism.

"Perhaps a bit of both," I quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. A subtle tilt of her lips betrayed a hint of a smile, a small but significant sign that she was gradually embracing my presence.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, her demeanor softened slightly as she regarded me with a mix of curiosity and scepticism.

"So, what is it that you want?" she inquired, her voice laced with a hint of weariness.

"I want to help," I replied earnestly, my voice tinged with conviction. "I want to alleviate the suffering caused by this war, especially for your people. I've witnessed the atrocities committed by the Spartans against them, and it's not right."

"How do you plan on doing that?" she questioned, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"With your assistance," I responded, my voice unwavering. "I've offered aid in tending to their wounds, and I've even offered them food, but they refused my help."

A glimmer of frustration flickered in her eyes as she spoke, "My people are stubborn like that. They would rather die than accept aid from Greek scum."

I winced at the harshness of her words, feeling the weight of shame and embarrassment for the actions of my people.

"But you're not like them," she said, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and intrigue. "You're...different. Weird, but different."

A genuine smile spread across my face, my eyes sparkling with excitement as she acknowledged my desire to assist her people.

"So, you'll help me then?" I asked, my voice filled with hope and anticipation.

"First," she began, her tone shifting to a more serious note. "I need to ensure the safety of my cousin, Chryseis, and then my Uncle."

"Alright," I responded, my mind racing with a plan. "The captives are nearby. I suggest we search for your uncle first, and then we can check on your cousin."

Briseis studied me for a moment, her gaze lingering as if contemplating her decision. Uncertainty clouded my thoughts, unsure if she would change her mind about assisting me. However, after a brief pause, she finally spoke.

"Fine, let's go," she declared, determination etching her voice. And so, with a shared purpose, we embarked towards the nearby jail pens.

The jail pens were grim, metallic enclosures that confined a pitiful gathering of captives. Squeezed together like sardines, the cages were only spacious enough to accommodate six or seven individuals, resulting in a desperate and cramped atmosphere.

The scorching sun bore down relentlessly upon the Trojan citizens, as there was no ceiling to shield them from its punishing rays. Their skin had become a fiery shade of red, their lips cracked and parched, and their bodies weakened by the harsh conditions.

My companion, Briseis, and I surveyed the scene with a mixture of horror and disbelief. The expression etched on her face spoke volumes, reflecting the profound anguish that had taken hold of her. This formidable woman, who had fearlessly confronted every danger so far, now teetered on the edge of tears

As Briseis made eye contact with some of the captive souls, their desperate pleas for assistance reached her ears. She engaged in conversation with them, offering solace and companionship in their dire circumstances, while also inquiring about the whereabouts of her uncle.

Amidst the sea of desperate faces, one man's voice pierced through the cacophony, drawing Briseis's attention. In a gesture of solidarity, she clasped his hand tightly, lending him a glimmer of hope in the midst of their shared despair.

"Briseis!" the man's voice cracked with relief and gratitude. "Thank the Gods you're safe."

Her voice trembled as she asked, her tone gentle yet filled with anguish, "Where is my uncle?"

A profound sorrow swept over the man's face, his eyes welling up with unshed tears. "He... he didn't survive the torture," he choked out, his voice heavy with grief. It was as if his tears had been exhausted, leaving him with a hollow shell of emotions.

For a moment, she stood there, frozen in place, as if struggling to process the enormity of her loss.

Before Briseis, and I could even begin to process the shocking news, a figure emerged in a hurry. It was Eurypylus, his breath labored as he sprinted towards us.

"Patroklos!" he gasped, his voice filled with urgency. "Lord Agamemnon is urgently summoning all troops to assemble at the shield!"

Briseis, her voice laced with authority, wasted no time in demanding information. "Is Chryseis with him?" she demanded, her tone brooking no argument. The forcefulness of her inquiry caused Eurypylus to instinctively take a step back, his eyes widening in surprise.

Sensing the boy's unease, I offered a reassuring presence. "It's alright," I said, my voice calm and soothing. "You can answer her."

Reluctantly, the boy nodded in response, his apprehension palpable in the air.

Without a moment's hesitation, Briseis began striding towards the city gates, her movements purposeful and determined. Meanwhile, I placed a firm hand on Eurypylus' shoulder, my grip tight and unyielding.

"Stay here at camp," I instructed him, my tone brooking no argument. "If anything happens, seek refuge in the temple. Do you understand?"

The boy opened his mouth to protest, but I cut him off before he could utter a single word. "That's an order," I declared, my voice firm and commanding. With that, I turned on my heel and began walking briskly after Briseis, my steps quick and determined. I knew I couldn't afford to let her get too far ahead of me, not with all that emotion consuming her.

As the chaos of the soldiers engulfed us, Briseis vanished from sight. I frantically scanned the tumultuous scene, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but she was nowhere to be found.

My attention was drawn to the front, where Achilles stood, leading our Myrmidons. Behind him, the mass of soldiers surged forward, their determination palpable. In front of them, the two Kings stood with an air of authority. Agamemnon, holding Chryseis tightly in his arms, raised his voice, his words piercing through the clamor and reaching the heavens as I approached Achilles.

Confused and anxious, I turned to Achilles, seeking answers. "What's happening?" I implored, my voice tinged with worry.

Achilles sighed, his frustration evident in his grumble. "Hopefully nothing..." he muttered, his gaze fixed on the King. "...that shield is mine to take down."

Agamemnon's voice reverberated through the air, carrying his words to the heavens. "Apollo! Mighty sun God!" he bellowed, his voice commanding attention. "I hold your dear chosen priestess in my arms! I wish to give her to you in exchange for the city of Troy!"

The stillness of the surroundings was palpable, as if time had come to a standstill. Not a single sound could be heard, as if even the wind held its breath in anticipation.

Agamemnon's voice, now laced with impatience and frustration, pierced through the stillness, reverberating into the vast expanse. "Answer me, sun God!" he demanded, his words echoing off the surrounding walls.

Yet, the silence persisted, unyielding and unbroken. The absence of any divine intervention left us suspended in a state of uncertainty, our hearts pounding with trepidation. Would the mighty Apollo heed Agamemnon's plea, or would he remain aloof to the mortal king's entreaties?

Agamemnon's frustration boiled over, his voice rising to a thunderous roar. "Fine!" he bellowed, his anger palpable. "I have shown you honor, but you have chosen to ignore me! If the gods will not intervene, then as her master, I shall assert my dominance over her!"

In the midst of the lingering silence, a sudden disruption shattered the stillness. The piercing caw of a crow sliced through the air, its shrill cry reverberating through the surrounding landscape. We instinctively turned our heads, scanning the horizon in search of the source of this unexpected intrusion. And then, against the backdrop of the sun's radiant glow, a small silhouette emerged, gradually growing larger as it drew nearer.

As the bird approached, its presence became more imposing, its cawing growing louder with each passing moment. The sound resonated through the land, echoing off the hills and valleys, as if the very earth itself was responding to the crow's call.

The crow, a creature of immense proportions, soared above us, its colossal wingspan erupting flames that caused us all to instinctively duck in response. Its feathers, as pale as freshly fallen snow, stood out against the vibrant sky, a stark contrast to its dark, beady eyes that seemed to hold a mysterious wisdom. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the same enigmatic crow that I had once glimpsed perched atop the temple window, its presence imbued with an otherworldly aura.

As the crow descended, its wings beating with a rhythmic grace, a dazzling transformation unfolded before our eyes. In a burst of radiant sparks, the bird dissolved into nothingness, leaving in its wake the ethereal form of a God.

Before us stood a figure of unparalleled beauty, his divine presence illuminating the surrounding landscape. His skin, kissed by the sun's golden rays, glowed with a celestial radiance, while his hair shimmered like strands of flaming gold. Every feature of his face was sculpted with perfection, exuding an ageless youthfulness that seemed to defy mortal limitations.

But it was his eyes that held me captive, their brilliance piercing through the very depths of my soul. They gleamed with an otherworldly luminescence, a radiant white that seemed to emanate a power beyond mortal comprehension. In their depths, one could glimpse the wisdom of ages, the secrets of the universe, and the boundless authority of a God.

We stood there, awestruck and humbled, as the divine presence took hold of our senses. Agamemnon, the mighty king, stood frozen in place, his mouth agape, unable to utter a single word in the face of such divine magnificence.

The God approached him with an air of superiority, his every step resonating with an earth-shaking force that seemed to command the very ground beneath him. As he drew nearer, his presence grew in intensity, emanating an aura of authority that enveloped the mortal king in a suffocating grip.

His voice, a deep and resonant rumble, reverberated through the air, carrying with it a sense of both menace and command. "You are nothing but mere bones," he growled, his words laced with a divine power that sent tremors through Agamemnon's very being. "I could scorch you with just one glance, and yet you dare humiliate me."

Agamemnon, once a proud and boastful king, now found himself reduced to a mere puppet in the presence of the divine. His voice, once filled with arrogance and bravado, was now reduced to a mere whisper, barely audible in the face of such overwhelming authority. He stood there, his mouth agape, his body frozen in place, as the weight of the God's words bore down upon him.

"This woman, and this city, is under my protection," the God continued, his voice carrying an unyielding conviction. "So don't dare threaten me again, mortal, or I'll make it your last breath."

Apollo stretched his arm towards Chryseis, his palm open, awaiting for hers to hold his. With a smile from the radiant God, a beam of light surrounded them, blinding in its brilliance. In an instant, they disappeared, leaving Agamemnon standing alone, his heart heavy with regret and the realization of his own insignificance in the face of divine power

As the chaos unfolded before me, Briseis, fueled by a burning rage, charged towards Agamemnon with a stolen soldier's sword clutched tightly in her hands. Her eyes blazed with a fierce determination as she sought to exact her revenge upon the man who had taken everything from her.

With an animalistic scream, she lunged at Agamemnon, her sword poised to strike. But before she could reach him, King Menelaus, swift and decisive, intercepted her attack. With a powerful blow to her face, Briseis crumpled to the ground, her body wracked with pain. Two soldiers swiftly pinned her down, their grip unyielding.

Menelaus winced, a grimace of pain etched upon his face as blood trickled down his arm from the cut inflicted by Briseis. Despite the injury, he managed to muster a dry quip, his voice laced with a mix of annoyance and resignation. "Ugh...Great. Another scar to add to the collection."

Agamemnon, finally regaining his voice after his encounter with Apollo, sneered at Briseis, his anger seething through his words. "You dare attack me, slave!? I am your master!" His hand rose, ready to deliver a punishing blow, but before it could descend, Achilles, swift and protective, seized Agamemnon's hand, halting its trajectory mid-thrust.

"I am her master," Achilles declared, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "You do not have permission to touch my slave."

The look on Agamemnon's face was a twisted mask of fury, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and annoyance.

Agamemnon's face contorted with rage as he bellowed, his voice laced with a mix of fury and desperation. "She nearly brought about my demise! I implore you, as recompense for your failure to control her, return her to my possession!" Agamemnon's eyes burned with accusation, his words dripping with disdain for the Prince. "Your incompetence has left me questioning your value, Prince. Thus far, your contributions have amounted to nothing more than a few feeble sparks and a lackluster display of airborne prowess. I find myself doubting if you are truly deserving of being your father's son."

"You dare mock me, King?" The intensity in his voice was palpable, a reflection of the smoldering rage surging within him.

Agamemnon smirked, his eyes narrowing with a hint of malicious amusement. "Surely, I cannot be mistaken in my assessment, can I? Unless, of course, you possess the ability to present evidence to the contrary?" His taunting tone hung in the air, a challenge laced with arrogance.

Achilles stood tall, his voice steady and resolute, as he shot back with unwavering confidence. "You are wrong." Achilles stated confidently.

Agamemnon's face twisted with a mix of frustration and disbelief, his voice laced with a demanding tone. "Then prove it! Remove that shield this instant!"

Achilles, undeterred by Agamemnon's challenge, stood with unwavering resolve. His eyes locked onto Agamemnon's, a fierce determination burning within them. With a steady voice, he issued his defiant response. "No."

Agamemnon's brows furrowed in a mixture of astonishment and confusion, his voice betraying his disbelief. "What did you just say?" The words tumbled out, a mix of incredulity and uncertainty, as he struggled to comprehend Achilles' refusal.

"You insulted me. You can keep the airships and my troops as your pact with my father still stands. You can also have the girl as an apology, but I refuse to fight for you any longer."

My voice caught in my throat as I called out to Achilles, a sense of surprise and disbelief coursing through me. How could he simply give up Briseis? And what about the shield, the very purpose for us both being here? Was could he abandon that too just like that?

Achilles spun around sharply, his expression unreadable, as he began to stride away, heedless of my calls for him.