"How about you come with me?" I asked, my voice quiet but firm.
The question hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I didn't know what answer I expected, or if I even expected one at all. But as Khillea's eyes met mine, her expression softened, and I could see the flicker of surprise—and perhaps something more—in her gaze.
But then, as if a shadow passed over her thoughts, her gaze turned reluctant, the softness replaced by something guarded.
"After the war, you can just come with me," I said, trying to bridge the silence that had grown between us.
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stared past me, her lips pressed tightly together, as if weighing words she wasn't yet ready to share.
I tilted my head back, frustration creeping into my voice. "I feel like you're hiding something from me, Khillea. Something important, something I should know."
Her eyes snapped back to mine, her brows furrowing. "And I know you're hiding things from me too, Nathan," she shot back, her tone defensive but not unkind.
"Then maybe it won't work between us," I said bluntly. "With so many secrets between us, don't you think it's doomed from the start?"
"I'm not asking it to work," she countered, her voice quieter now, almost wistful. "I just asked you to stay with me… until the end. Until the war ends."
There it was again—the cryptic way she spoke, as though her words carried layers I couldn't unravel.
"What are you talking about, Khillea?" I asked, my frustration slipping into my tone. "Can't you just speak plainly?"
But I already knew my answer, even if her words left me confused. "I'm sorry, but I can't," I said firmly.
My place was in Troy, not here among the Greeks. The very thought of staying in these camps, surrounded by their savagery, made my stomach churn. Achilles' tent was likely the only sanctuary in this chaotic cesspool, but even that wasn't enough to convince me.
Khillea turned her gaze away from me after saying that.
Trying to ease the tension, I attempted a joke. "I don't want to anger Achilles. He's probably sharpening his spear now that I've impregnated his sister."
A faint smile tugged at her lips, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You don't even know him," she replied, her voice softer now.
"Well, I know he's odd enough to leave his sister and Briseis for me to fuck in his absence," I said with mock incredulity.
The moment Briseis's name left my lips, Khillea's expression darkened. A shadow fell over her features, and her body seemed to tense.
Of course, I'd heard the rumors—what Agamemnon had done. That filthy, arrogant piece of shit.
Briseis had always struck me as a kind woman, her beauty matched by a quiet dignity. She didn't deserve what had happened to her, especially at the hands of someone like Agamemnon. A fleeting memory of her surfaced in my mind—her grace, her gentle and shy demeanor. If I'd known what would befall her, I might have taken her with me when I left along Astynome.
The weight of those regrets sat heavily on me, but I pushed them aside. There was no changing the past, no undoing what had already been done.
Wait—maybe it wasn't too late.
The thought struck me like lightning. I could still take Briseis away when I left for Troy tonight. The idea widened my eyes, a plan forming as another way to ruin Agamemnon's day popped into my head.
"She was my only friend, and that trash king took her away," Khillea muttered, her fists clenched tightly.
Her words made me pause. Only friend? I hadn't known they were that close. Seeing the hurt etched into her face, I instinctively reached out and grasped her hand. She didn't pull away. Instead, her fingers tightened around mine, her touch both desperate and resolute.
"Why didn't Achilles stop him?" I asked, unable to hide the irritation in my voice.
Khillea's silence was answer enough. My mind raced. Achilles could have stopped it—should have stopped it. He wasn't the type to bow to anyone, let alone someone like Agamemnon. Even in the myths, he gave Briseis to Agamemnon, but I couldn't recall if it was this effortless. Could there have been a reason? At this moment, none of it made sense.
"If it were me," I muttered, "I'd have told Agamemnon to go to hell."
"You are speaking boldly for serving under Agamemnon's brother." Khillea's lips twitched with something akin to amusement, but it quickly faded. "Whatever the reason, it's too late now," she said, though her voice carried a hint of regret.
"Is she in Agamemnon's tent?" I pressed.
I could imagine her state right now, it's been a few weeks since he had taken her after all. She might be broken.
But Khillea's answer denied it.
"I heard he hasn't touched her yet. He's keeping her for the 'best,' preparing her." She spat the words as if they left a bitter taste in her mouth.
"Preparing her?" I echoed, though I already dreaded the answer.
"He's… breaking her," Khillea said, her voice trembling with anger. "He's forcing her to watch while he abuses other women—prisoners, helpless and broken. He's doing it to drain her, to make her despair. When he finally takes her, he wants to savor her submission, her broken spirit."
What a perverted sadism...
I did similar before but doing on women who had done nothing to you, innocent women and raping other "innocent women" to break an "innocent woman
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