No One But You

Chapter Two : Hopelessly Devoted

A/N : Daddy Achilles is so fine

My head is saying, 'fool forget him', my heart is saying, 'Don't let go'.

Hopelessly Devoted to You – Olivia Newton-John

Briseis suddenly became aware of light and noise around her. She looked up to see the walls of Troy ahead, the great gates slowly opening to admit them. Torches lit the city as they entered, and Briseis suddenly felt a desperate wish to return to the darkness outside the city walls, for she felt exposed and unsafe in the bright light. She bowed her head as Priam drove the chariot into the city, letting her hair fall down like a curtain, shielding her face, but she could not be insensible to the stares of those around her.

There was Paris, she could see him from the corner of her eye, and beside him stood Hecuba, the King's wife. Suddenly she caught sight of the grieving Andromache, rushing forwards to her husband's body. Seeing the tall slender woman, who had been such a good friend, sent fresh stabs of guilt to Briseis' heart. It was her fault that Andomache was grieving: she could have saved Hector's life, but instead she had discarded any thought for her virtue, and gone to the bed of a killer.

"Briseis?" she heard Paris' shocked voice, and raised her weary head to look at him. His face split into a grin. "Briseis! It is you!" he said, his voice full of relief and joy.

But Briseis turned away from him, dismounting from the chariot. Paris moved towards her opening his arms to embrace her and welcome her home, and Briseis shied away from him.

"Don't touch me!" she snapped at him, stumbling backwards.

Paris' face initially betrayed hurt, but this emotion quickly dissolved into something far worse: a fierce hatred burned in his eyes, scaring Briseis, until she realised it was not directed at her. She had never before seen such a raw and powerful emotion on the gentle Paris' face, and it scared her, knowing that this was for her.

Paris, who had, at first, felt nothing but joy that his cousin had been returned, found this feeling quickly slipping away as she shrunk back from his touch. Looking at her now, Paris felt a hatred towards the Greeks that was greater than anything he had ever felt before. That they could do this to the sweet, gentle priestess that he had known was too much for him to bear. He could see cuts on her face, and bruises on her wrists, but far worse than any physical pain, he saw the pain and grief haunting her eyes.

"Paris!" Priam called him. "Help me with your brother's body."

Paris immediately turned away from Briseis to go and carry the body of brave Hector to the rooms where it would be prepared for the pyre. Briseis was, momentarily, left alone, and she welcomed the solitude, shrinking away from the lights and into the shadows, where she could hide from the inquisitive glances of her family.

"Briseis," a soft voice came from behind her, making her start. She spun around to see Hecuba standing there, making no move to touch her, for which Briseis was grateful, but simply being a reassuring presence. "Come to your rooms. The men will deal with Hector," Hecuba told her.

In that moment, Briseis loved Hecuba more than she thought humanely possible. The old woman understood enough to know that all Briseis wanted now was peace and privacy. Briseis nodded, and followed the Queen through the torch-lit streets and into the palace. Hecuba did not try to question Briseis, or even to talk to her, and Briseis was thankful for this, for she was not sure if she could manage to phrase words coherently.

Hecuba opened the door to Briseis' rooms, and the trembling girl passed inside. "Do you want some hot water to wash?" Hecuba asked, and Briseis nodded and she sunk down onto her old bed.

She sat, perfectly still, gazing around the room that she had inhabited what seemed like a lifetime ago. Everything was as how she had left it the morning that she had gone to the temple. It was like returning to another world, to another life. Briseis shivered involuntarily as Hecuba organised buckets of steaming water to be carried into the room, and poured into the bath.

"Do you want help washing?" Hecuba asked Briseis when the bath was finally ready.

Briseis shook her head quickly, and Hecuba nodded, retiring to the passage and closing the doors behind her. Once alone and safe in her room she made no move, but to turn to gaze numbly at the bath. It seemed like an age since she had been clean. Since Achilles had laid his hands on her.

Briseis suddenly realised that she was still clutching the necklace of seashells that Achilles had given her. Slowly, she uncurled her hands to reveal fresh blood from where the shells had cut into her hands because she had been holding them so tightly. She gazed dully at them, but suddenly she stood, raising her head, her eyes burning, and flung the necklace across the room with all her strength, as if trying to rid herself of the memory of Achilles along with the necklace.

A shiver raced down her spine, and, stung into action, she ripped her torn and dirtied dress off and moved quickly into the water, scarcely noticing as it scalded her, so desperate was she to remove any traces of Achilles from her skin. She sat in the bath until long after the water had cooled, scrubbing furiously at her skin until it was raw and red. And still she felt his hands on her.

Briseis suddenly realised that it was almost dawn. The night had passed while she had scoured away the traces of her life in Achilles' tent, and now a new day was dawning: a day when she was free. And yet...and yet she was still shackled by the memory of a lover who had once said he would leave the war and take her back to his home.

Briseis rose from the bath and wrapped herself in a soft blanket. In the long hours when the bitter darkness of the night had almost taken hold of her, she had realised something. She realised that Priam was wrong: Achilles may have never loved her, she may only have been a war prize to him, but he had been kind to her, and for that, if nothing else, Briseis could not hate him.

Suddenly everything made far more sense to Briseis than it had in a long time. She knew why it was that she could not hate her cousin's murderer: it was because he had shown her kindness, when all she expected was cruelty. She felt relief wash through her weary body: she had been so scared that she loved him, and now she knew she didn't. Gratitude...yes, it was gratitude and not love that she felt for him. And so Briseis fell asleep, oblivious as to how much she was deluding herself, for her feelings for the golden-haired killer went far deeper than she dared to admit.

A/N : Once Again ,
THIS IS NOT MY WORK IF YOU WANT TO READ THE ORIGINAL STORY ON THE ORIGINAL SITE BY THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR THEN USE THIS LINK DOWN BELOW ⬇️⬇️⬇️
https://m.fanfiction.net/s/2808500/2/
AND ALSO SUPPORT THE AUTHOR LadyOfThieves SHE IS EXTREMELY GOOD