Bound

Chapter 5

                                     ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"Everyone dies, whether today or fifty years from now."

-

Anastasia remains as quiet and calm as she can for the next few days, after the previous night's events, she tries to come across as reserved as possible. Eating when told to, responding when spoken to. She remains in the one corner of Achilles' tent, staring at the wall and allowing herself to escape from her current situation in her mind, where she envisions her home, strolling through the gardens of Troy, painting, spending time with her baby nephew, all of the things that bring her peace and comfort, smiling softly to herself as she imagines Astyanax cooing up at her.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Achilles' voice, "Stay here. Don't move." He says as he picks up his shield to prepare to leave for battle. She ignores him, but makes no indication that she will be moving anywhere. Achilles rolls his eyes at her hostility, quickly storming out of the tent flap and joining his men as they march into battle. Achilles surges forward, his muscles coiling with lethal intent, each step echoing the thunder of his rage. The battlefield dances with the chaos of war, the clash of metal, and the cries of the fallen. His armor gleams under the scorching sun, a beacon of defiance amidst the turmoil. With each swing of his sword, he carves through the enemy ranks like a tempest unleashed, his movements fluid yet precise, guided by an unyielding determination. The scent of blood and sweat mingles in the air, fuelling his strength as he presses on, a relentless force of nature against the tide of Troy. In his eyes burn the fire of vengeance, consuming all thoughts save for the annihilation of his foes. Every strike bears the weight of his wrath, a symphony of destruction orchestrated by the mightiest of warriors. And amidst the chaos, Achilles stands as a titan, indomitable and unforgiving, a harbinger of doom to all who dare stand in his path.

As Achilles continues to fight, his mind is torn between the battlefield and thoughts of Anastasia back at his tent. Amidst the clash of swords and the screams of the dying, her image flickers in his mind. But with each passing moment, the memory of her seems to fade, replaced by the relentless urgency of the fight before him. He pushes back the distractions, focusing on the task at hand, but a part of him longs for her, and he does not understand why. She is a slave, a Trojan, a captive, yet he feels an inkling of tenderness towards her. However, he abandons any thoughts of her as duty calls, and he channels his longing into his strikes, each blow fueled by determination. And so, amidst the chaos of battle, Achilles fights on.

-

Hours later, he returns to the Greek camp. Many men have fallen, many are injured, but nonetheless it was a successful day of war. He discards his armour, wipes himself down and sits down to eat, all the while casting his eyes over at a sleeping Anastasia in the corner. Her back is turned to him, her curly hair splayed out on her straw pillow as she breathes slowly. He curses himself for staring too long, looking back down at his meal. She seems to sense another presence in the tent as she slowly wakes up, her eyes opening as she begins to sit up. She turns to look at him, giving him a small, shy smile as she rests her back against the wall. They exchange no words, only glances. Anastasia can't help but feel a small spark of attraction course through her as she sees him sat there on the edge of the bed, shirtless and eating grapes. She watches the way his facial muscles move as he chews, the strength of his jaw and the ruggedness of his face drawing her in. He is rather beautiful, but she will not allow herself to succumb to these thoughts, clearing her throat and leaning her head back against the wall.

"So, how many men was it today? Thirty? Forty? Fifty?" She says in an indignant and unimpressed tone, "Or do the lives of men mean so little to you that you are unable to keep count?" She says in a sarcastic tone, glaring up at him. He ignores her, continuing to eat.