Bound

Chapter 1

                                   ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"How many battles have we won off the edge of his sword? This will be the greatest war the world has ever seen. We need the greatest warrior..."

-

In the sun-kissed lands of Ancient Greece, amidst the rumblings of impending war, there strides a figure of legendary prowess and unrivaled valor: Achilles, the mightiest of warriors, destined for glory and immortality.

Born of the sea nymph Thetis and the mortal king Peleus, Achilles is blessed with divine lineage and unparalleled strength from birth.
But it is not merely his strength that sets Achilles apart—it is his indomitable spirit, his unwavering resolve, his insatiable thirst for glory that drives him ever forward. From his earliest days, he was marked for greatness, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching shadows of war.

As the drums of conflict echo across the land, Achilles is summoned to the battlefield, his presence a harbinger of victory to those who fight alongside him. For he is more than just a warrior—he is a symbol of hope, a champion of justice, a force to be reckoned with. It took great effort from Odysseus to convince Achilles to partake in this war. He knows of the predicament he would face among his decision, if he is to stay in Larissa, he will live a long and happy life, but his name will be washed away like the sand, if he chooses to fight in Troy, the name Achilles will be spoken of and remembered throughout the ages- he will be immortalised...

-

Achilles travels to Troy with his trusted Myrmidons, men who feel great honour fighting alongside him. He feels no fear, no doubt, no worry, he knows of his success before the battle has even commenced, confident in his abilities as a warrior. Achilles has shut himself off from emotion, disallowing himself to feel anything that may weaken him, disallowing himself to feel anything at all. He knows of his inevitable demise, but he faces the battle with a sense of calmness, confidence coursing through his veins and igniting his strength, no matter what happens, he will be legendary. He stands at the front of his ship, his eyes casting over the Trojan beach, the salty wind whips through his hair, penetrating the gaps of his armour and making him feel an odd sense of tranquility and acceptance moments before battle, before the bloodshed and violence.

"Myrmidons! My brothers of the sword! I would rather fight beside you than any army of thousands! Let no man forget how menacing we are, we are lions! Do you know what's waiting beyond that beach? Immortality! Take it! It's yours!" Achilles exclaims, resulting in an obvious boost in morale and determination from his men as they cheer up to him with rage, strength and conviction swimming in their eyes. The boat shifts its way onto the Trojan sands, and the Myrmidons depart, yielding their swords and shields against them as they charge along the beach towards Troy. Men fall, becoming victim to the expertly shot arrows of the Trojan army, but this does not deter Achilles, he steadily pushes forward. The skill in which he is able to block arrows is something his fellow men respect with every fibre of their being, they only wish that one day they could be as competent in battle as the great Achilles. After successfully conjoining their shields together in order to continue to push as far back as they can without suffering too many casualties, they eventually defeat the first fleet of Trojan soldiers and steadily make their way to the Temple of Apollo.

Achilles makes his way inside, it is eerily quiet. He observes the bodies of slain priests laid on the ground, a small flash of disapproval jolts through his stomach, before he hastily pushes it away, attempting to remain as stoic and emotionless as he can. He takes in his surroundings, calmly walking around the temple, he has barely broken a sweat after the initial battle. Just as he is about to exit the temple to reconvene with his men, he hears a small clatter, as though something has been dropped. Achilles halts, turning his head to the side as he senses a presence behind him, he unsheathes his sword and darts towards the noise, quickly manoeuvring himself to the back wall behind one of the large pillars. Just as he is about to pierce his weapon into the enemy, he halts, a young woman stands there, with fear and an undeniable inkling of hatred in her eyes. Her light brown, curly hair cascades around her face, drawing attention to her emerald eyes and soft, tanned skin. She wears a dress which indicates a level of status, an abundance of soft, white material elegantly drowning her body, hugging her delicate figure, with the thin sleeves hanging off of her shoulders and delicately laying across her arms. For a split second, he is entranced by her beauty, before he is brought back to the present moment, reminding himself of his place as a ruthless and powerful warrior. Before she can react he grabs her by the shoulder and pulls her behind the statue looking at her directly in her eyes. She notices a cold glare in his eyes, his lips curls in an amused smirk. She clenches her jaw as she glares up at him with a clear sense of loathing bubbling in her mind for the ruthless Greek in front of her. "Why are you here?" She says in a low voice, the slight tremble in her question does not go unnoticed, when she receives no response from the man in front of her, only being met with his cold stare and iron grip on her arm, she feels an abundance of uneasiness and fear bubble away in her stomach like acid,

"Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone I saw you." She says as her voice breaks, her clear eyes staring up into his as she silently begs him to spare her, she clenches her jaw again and closes her eyes as she turns her head towards the floor.

"And what makes you think I would let you go?" he says in cold icy tone as he uses his free hand to grab her chin and turn her face towards him. She lets out a small noise of discomfort at the man's sudden roughness, as she continues to glare up at him with slightly glossy eyes, trying her darnest to not show weakness in front of him. He leans his head down and whispers in her ear, his breath warm on her neck.

"I said what makes you think I would let you go?" he says as his voice is deep and husky from the close proximity of his face to hers. "You don't seem like the type to hurt a woman." She says shakily, yet determinedly.

His eyes narrow and his face looks irritated as he stares at her.

"You're a smart one." His eyes dart around her face before he leans in a bit more and whispers again in her ear,

"But you know nothing about me."

The woman is suddenly startled by the sudden presence of more soldiers as they enter the temple, circling around the pair and eyeing her with amusement.

"What is this you've found Achilles?"Agamemnon says with a smirk as he enters the room. The sound of the bastard's voice causes Achilles to clench his jaw in sheer hatred of the king of kings. Achilles glares at Agamemnon with such fierce loathing that even Agamemnon is amazed and taken aback at his fiery rage, but he hides it with a smirk. He turns to the young woman that still stands there looking at them both. He clears his throat and says in as polite manner he could muster up.

"This is no one of importance Agamemnon, you can leave now." Achilles says in a low tone.

"No, I don't think I will." Agamemnon smirks, "Seize her!" He orders his men, resulting in two Greek soldiers instantly making their way to the girl. Achilles' jaw clenches as he watches the soldiers step near her, he was now more furious than ever.

At the last moment he grabs her arm and pulls her behind him using his body to shield her from the soldiers. His hands were clenched into fists as the veins were raised on his hands from rage. Agamemnon stares at him in sheer disbelief, "You are protecting this woman, this Trojan!?" Agamemnon snaps, Achilles' eyes narrowed and his fists clenched harder as his rage boiled inside him, but he was determined not to lose his composure in front of Agamemnon.

"She is innocent." he replied in a deep and harsh tone, making it clear that he wouldn't tolerate any more talk about her.

"Give her to me, or I shall send Patroclus to the Charybdis." Agamemnon threatens coolly, knowing he doesn't really have such authority, but is attempting to emphasise the severity of his demand.

The grip on Achilles' fists tighten even more as his rage boils over and his expression becomes even more intense as he snarls out "Don't test me king of kings, I will tear this entire city down to the ground just to protect Patroclus." He says to the king with an unamused scoff.

"I suggest you hand her over then, and he shall not be touched." Agamemnon says with a smirk.

He is filled with such fierce and intense rage at the thought of Patroclus that he cannot think logically, he wants to tear this place apart with his bare hands.

"How do I know you won't touch him, even if I hand her over?" his tone is still the same cold and harsh tone he had throughout the conversation.

"I give you my word, Achilles." Agamemnon says, looking at him with faux compassion and conviction in his eyes.

Achilles goes silent as he thinks about the king's offer for a minute, his grip on his fists still tight and his body tense.

But after a moment he takes a deep breath and his body relaxes and he lets go of his fists as they loosen. His eyes still glare at the king as he speaks, "Very well, I take your word." and he pushes the young woman towards Agamemnon's men.

She lets out a small whimper as she's manhandled and roughly held onto by the Greek soldiers, she lets out more sounds of panic and discomfort as a gag is tied around her mouth and her hands are bound behind her back, her eyes look at Achilles with a sense of pleading in them, a look of disbelief and hate towards the man who gave her away as though she were nothing. His anger and rage boils inside him as he sees how rough they are with her, he does not want her to suffer their harsh grips, he clenches his jaw as he cannot do anything but watch her be dragged away to the Greek camp.