Disclaimer: I do not own the movie Troy or any of its characters. However, I do own my OC characters and this story.

Author's note: First off, I feel like an ass for making you guys wait so long for that last chapter, but I really hope you guys liked it. I just can't believe how long it took me to finish it. Anyways, I won't put a huge author's note. I just want you guys to enjoy the chapter and I hope to get some feedback from you awesome, beautiful people soon!

[Chryseis's POV]

I wanted to tell the man who'd saved me how grateful I was. However, I was much too distraught to speak, and I doubt that words could truly explain how thankful I was for him. I was just as thankful to that Greek that had angered me so on our first meeting at the temple. He was willing to murder his king for the likes of me, a Trojan.

As I was carried onto the beach and towards the line of huts, I came to a sudden realization. From what I gathered from Agamemnon's booming shouts just moments ago, Patroclus was kin to the lion-like Greek. That would explain why they shared such similar features, but they gave complete opposite first impressions. Patroclus was kind, for a Greek. This man that walked by my carrier, he was fierce and merciless.

"Since when do you have a weakness for women?" The man carrying me muttered to the Greek.

"She's for my cousin, Odysseus." The fair-haired man scoffed back.

"Agamemnon could have had our heads for that stunt. If I'm going to die here, it will be in battle, not by Agamemnon's headsman!" This, Odysseus, reminded the other quickly. I listened to them carefully to keep my mind off the wound that still had the dagger's blade piercing through. I couldn't put an end to my tears, it seemed, but I did make an effort to keep quiet. Hopefully, they would remove this thing from my hand soon.

"Do you think that he would waste two of the best warriors in Greece over a spat like that?" Again, the Greek spoke all too casually and then quickened his pace so that he walked further ahead.

"I just hope that cousin of yours understands one thing: what I did was for her, not for his selfishness." Odysseus pledged with a hint of irritation towards Patroclus and his cousin.

"Of course, friend. Of course."

We reached the huts at last and entered the one that belonged to Patroclus, for there the young Greek was. He was sitting on the pile of furs, his anxious eyes darted to the three of us as soon as I was brought through the doorway. The boy leaped up from the ground and hurried to us.

"What happened? Tell me, cousin. What did he want with her?" Patroclus babbled uncontrollably as Odysseus walked further into the hut and set me down. I slowly lowered my body onto the ground, afraid that my weak legs would buckle if I tried to stand.

"She's a Princess of Troy. What do you think he wanted?" Odysseus murmured as he straightened his back. I could sense the aggravation in the man's voice.

The youngest Greek sat down at my side. His worried eyes looked over me the way a mother might have after seeing her child fall down. Upon seeing my bloody, blade pierced hand, Patroclus wrapped his arms around me and pulled me toward his chest. I had been surrounded by so many cruel men in such a short amount of time (with the exception of Patroclus, of course, Odysseus, and this Achilles I believe it was) that being comforted by this boy was the only thing that felt all right.

Of course, what I really wanted was to be at home. I wanted my father, my mother, my brothers, and my sisters. I wanted my lovely cousin, Briseis, there with us. I wanted to be far away from this beach.

"Did Agamemnon do this?" Patroclus demanded from the two men after a moment. "I'll go and kill him myse-"

"Do not start with your fits, Patroclus. She's fortunate, Agamemnon was going to do much worse." The older of the cousins grumbled as he knelt in front of us.

The warrior reached for my hand and began to look at it closely. Why? What was looking at it going to do, you stupid oaf? The blade has clearly pierced my hand. Ouch! He began gently pushing around the wound and I fought back the urge to cry. Curse you! Stop poking it and take it out! Finally, he began to pull on the dagger's handle. The blade was coming out easily enough, but oh, how it burned! It was cutting the sore, tender flesh as it slid against it. The blood increased as it dripped and ran down my arm.

"This girl of yours," Achilles was speaking to his cousin, but his sapphire eyes were on me. "She's stupid, very stupid. But she's brave."

I was briefly insulted, but then I was astounded. Me? Brave? The Greek took a cloth and wadded it up around my hand and began to gently squeeze. I groaned at the stinging sensation, wondering if I might be brave enough to slap the Greek for causing it. After his reaction to his own king, I decided that it was not a wise decision.

"If an animal was being treated the way I was, it would fight back. Would it not?" I quizzed, doubting that I was as brave as this man said.

"You spat in the face of Greece's king. That takes courage, child." Odysseus added in, he took his leave after that.

I lowered my head, feeling a bit of shame come over me. I was a princess, not a brute. Though I'd behaved as one, and ended up having it turned on me. I felt the pain in my hand receding underneath the soaked clothed at Achilles was holding tightly to my palm.

"I am deeply sorry, Princess." I turned my attention to Patroclus. His eyes showed real sincerity. I could sense his guilt by the way he hung his head remorsefully. My mind felt troubled. I was a Trojan, and he was a Greek. I was suppose to be his enemy.

"This was not your fault." I whispered softly to him.

"My Lord?" My eyes went to the entrance of the hut to find a familiar man with dark hair, his eyes as brilliant as the sky. He was the man who'd found me hiding in the temple. Upon seeing me, he stared. "Am I interrupting?" Timid was his voice.

"Come in, Eudorus." Achilles nodded.

The Myrmidon entered, but he didn't come further than a few steps from the door way. His eyes watched me, they held what looked to be wariness or some sort of fearful respect.

"I'd heard the princess had been taken to Agamemnon?"

"He's changed his mind." Achilles answered briskly.

I was anxious to know what would happen now, and if they would allow me to leave. Achilles began to unwrap the blood-soaked cloth from my hand that had ceased to ache. My throat tightened and my body became stiff. They would know the truth about me, and Patroclus would know that I'd lied. Once my hand was left bare, the three men went silent as my palm was smeared with blood, but unscathed. Eudorus' eyes widen with disbelief, I even noticed him take a step backward. Achilles didn't show fear like his comrade, but he had an expression of shock.

I found the courage to look to Patroclus, who's expression was unreadable. I couldn't decide if he was afraid or angry. There was no sign that he understood why I had lied to him, why I couldn't tell him the truth. A secret that even my father was unaware of, had just been revealed to men that I'd wished death upon the night before.

xXx

[third-person POV]

"What was she thinking?" Hector growled as he leaned against the table for support. He almost couldn't believe what his father was telling him.

Andromache hugged their child closer as the soldier threw his helmet to the stone floor. Paris flinched at the startling sound of clanking metal.

"Briseis. I watched her leave for the temple this morning. Chryseis must have gone after her." King Priam said with the burden of sorrow clear in his voice.

Hector knew his sister. He remembered how she use to cower from the sound of the wind at night in her younger years. Chryseis was not brave enough to charge down to the beach while the Greeks were so close to the shore.

"But I didn't see her. Not she, nor Briseis were inside the temple." Hector said, realizing a moment later how much worse it made him feel.

"Then, maybe they were not there when the Greeks came. If Chryseis made it to the beach, she and Briseis could have had time to run off. They could have. They . . ." Paris' voice finally broke.

As the younger of the princes sat at one of the dining hall chairs, Helen stood at his side and pressed her hands against his shoulders comfortingly.

"We must get her back." Hector decided.

King Priam, as well as the others, knew that by now more Greek soldiers had began to settle along the beach. If Chryseis and their cousin was still there, the chances of finding them without being slaughtered were not in good favor. And if the two girls that Priam loved as his own daughters had been killed, he didn't want to lose a son as well.

"My son, we must put our trust in the Gods. Only they can watch over them now." The King said with a desperate faithfulness.

"Maybe we can tell the wives and children of our dead soldiers the same thing." Hector grumbled.

"I will not lose another child today. I will not, Hector." Priam's voice was now breaking, the tears welling up in his blue eyes. The King turned and left the hall.

The eldest son turned to his brother who was still crying silently. He did not feel sorry for Paris. Their sister and their cousin both might have died today, and all he could do was cry like a child. He showed no guilt, no regret of starting this war. If they were dead, Hector held Paris and Helen responsible.