How long had it been? There was no telling. He had been lying in the utter darkness for what seemed an eternity.
Perhaps if there was something for him to do, anything to distract him from the memories that had flooded his mind since he had been captured. But there was nothing. He could not move, he could not see, he could barely even breathe, and his captors hadn't had the mercy to let him starve to death so that he could die and all of it would be done with-or even so that he could concentrate on the hollowness of his belly instead of the guilt that plagued his soul. 'Oh, My Love' He thought. 'If only I had known, if only I had known it would be this way, I never would have-' "Get up!" Someone barked as they delivered a hostile kick to his side. 'Ah, sweet pain.' He thought. For a brief moment he could concentrate on the soreness, wince at the hate that he felt seething into him through his captor's boot-clad foot. But the physical pain died away quickly, and the mental anguish returned. Prince Paris of Troy's eyes squinted shut as his dark world was filled with blinding brightness...
Helen had tried to keep Paris from going back into the burning city, but he had gone back, to find briseis and his father, knowing that he would not leave his beloved city. Knowing that if his brother had still been alive, it would have been his course of action, and thus his responsibility as the surviving Prince of Troy. He had stumbled upon Briseis being held be King Agamemnon and had immediately aimed an arrow at his neck. The shot would have been a fatal one, but at the last moment a guard had stepped into it's path, both saving the king and alerting him to Paris' position. The army had thrown themselves upon him then, and he did not have enough arrows to protect himself. He could hear Briseis' crying over Agamemnon's order not to kill him and thought at that moment that he had failed her. Failed her and his father and all of Troy. The soldier's had found coarse rope to tie him up with, and Agamemnon had looked down on him, laughing.
"I will never forget your amusing display on the battlefield as you-dare I say-fought my brother. If it hadn't been for yours, he would have cut of your pretty head, do you know that?" Paris bit back a smart retort. Now was not the time, not when he had briseis. "I was just telling your cousin what I planned on doing with her, and now I have two royal Trojans as prisoners instead of one. Isn't that lucky for me? I think that I will keep you both, along with the riches of the city that was once your father's, as a reminder of my victory.
"YOUR victory?" demanded another, deeper and more powerful voice. Paris could not see, but he knew it was Achilles. Achilles who was said to be a Demi-God, Achilles who had slain his brother. Paris felt a wave of hatred pass over him. "I don't remember you fighting any battalions, or engaging in any combats."
"Achilles," said Agamemnon "My champion, why are we fighting now? We have won."
"If we have one, then say so." Achilles said. Paris could see him now, staring at Briseis. If that bastard laid one finger on her... Agamemnon's mood was not to be dampered.
"What is it you want, Achilles?"
"The girl." He said shortly.
"Keep your hands of my cousin you brute!" Paris spat. Agamemnon kicked him but Achilles did not even glance his way.
"Let us go home to Greece. We will celebrate and then decide what is to be done with the girl."
"No. Giver her to me-"
"Careful now, don't forget that her neck is in my hands and I could snap it if you came too close to me." Agamemnon smirked, and the site of it made both Paris and Achilles want to throw up. "I want your word. Swear that you will agree to this and I will not harm her."
"Agreed." Achilles said after a moment. And so Paris was dragged to the boats, thrown below deck and taken to Greece...
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