ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
"I've fought many wars in my time. Some I've fought for land, some for power, some for glory. I suppose fighting for love makes more sense than all the rest."
-
Achilles holds Anastasia extra tight that night. His body is still exhausted from the hours long session of pure passion they'd been through earlier, but her body feels so good against his own. He is holding her as tightly as he can, she fits so perfectly in his arms, his strength makes him feel like she could never escape from his grasp. He closes his eyes and lets his hands roam across her soft body, tracing the curves and lines of it as he tries to feel and memorize every inch. He stares at her body for a moment as he continues to caress it, he can't quite understand how something this beautiful could be his, he's still feeling the immense desire that was aroused earlier as long as he has her in his arms. His body is still exhausted yet he feels like he could never be more awake or more aware of his own desires. His one desire is to have her in his arms and never let the sun rise so that she will stay like this indefinitely.
The two of them sleep in each other's embrace through the entirety of the night, they move closer to each other as they sleep, their limbs are completely intertwined with each other. It's a complete embrace, body to body, skin on skin. He is completely possessive and he won't let any amount of fatigue take him away from her. She is his now, even in sleep he will not let her go.
The sun slowly rises as the night comes to an end, its warm glow fills the tent but he continues to keep her in his grasp. His grasp grows tighter and he pulls her even closer as he tries to keep the heat he felt during the night within his body. Her warmth is starting to fade, but he can't let her go, he can't let the day break and steal her away from him. His eyes open now as the sun rises, he stares at her as she lies in his arms, her body is so perfect. She is still very much asleep, but something feels right about this moment. The light from the sun is casting down on her skin and he is completely mesmerized by her beauty. He gently kisses her cheek and presses his body against hers slightly tighter, she feels like his and he can't let her go.
He doesn't want to get up to go to battle, he wants to stay here with her and never leave. Yet, despite wanting to stay with her and never let her go, he knows he has his duties and that he has to go and fight in the morning. The pain of knowing he has to pull himself away from her is almost too much for him and he wishes that he could just stay in this moment forever, even if it means leaving his duties behind and being labeled a traitor. But he is a soldier, he has a responsibility. And although he wants to abandon it all for this woman he has just met, he can't. He sits up and begins to get dressed, he doesn't even try to be quiet as he starts to get dressed, he just wants to make a quick exit and prepare for the morning battle. He doesn't want her to wake up and see him going to fight, he doesn't see any reason for her to witness it.
He's almost finished getting all of his armor on, he's just about to wrap his legs with the metal greaves when he stops and he realizes that she has not woken up at all. His movements haven't woken her up, he could have done almost anything and she wouldn't have woken up, which is both a comforting and an incredibly unnerving thought. He sits back down on the bed and stares at her naked body, he's conflicted about what to do. He could wake her and talk to her before he left, this would certainly be the gentlemanly thing to do. However, he feels like he just wants to sneak out now, he wants to get away before she wakes up because he can't bear the thought of her watching him leave for battle. He struggles with which one he wants to do more, he is genuinely unsure what to do. He sits in silence and continues to stare at her body, he wants to hold her one more time and never let go, but he also wants to leave before she wakes up and he has to face her. He's truly conflicted between doing the right thing and doing the thing that he wants to do, and he just stays there looking down at her with no resolve.
He lets out a deep breath, he can't bring himself to wake her up for one final embrace. He just wants to leave without being seen by her, the idea of saying one final goodbye seems too hard for him right now because of all of the emotions going through his body. He can't imagine the kind of sadness and heartache he might feel if he did have one last moment with her. He slowly reaches over and pushes the tent flap to the side and peeks his head out, he makes sure the coast is completely clear before he starts to walk out.
-
On the blood-soaked fields of Troy, Achilles fights with a ferocity unmatched by any other man. The clash of swords and the screams of the dying reverberate through the air as he leads his men into battle, his presence a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of war. With each swing of his sword, he cleaves through the enemy ranks like a force of nature unleashed, his movements fluid and precise, guided by a lethal combination of skill and instinct honed through years of combat.
The brutality of the war weighs heavily upon him, the sight of fallen comrades and the stench of death a constant reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of glory. And yet, amidst the carnage, Achilles remains steadfast, his resolve unyielding as he fights to protect those under his command.
His men look to him with a mixture of awe and reverence, their loyalty unwavering in the face of adversity. They follow him into the heart of battle without hesitation, knowing that he will lead them to victory or die trying. For Achilles is more than just their leader; he is their champion, a warrior without equal whose prowess on the battlefield inspires fear in the hearts of their enemies and courage in the hearts of his comrades.
And so, amidst the brutality of war, Achilles fights on, his spirit unbroken, his determination unwavering. For he knows that the fate of his men, and perhaps even the outcome of the war itself, rests upon his shoulders. And he will not rest until victory is theirs, or until he draws his final breath on the battlefield.
When he returns to camp, he is completely drained, his body is covered in cuts, bruises, scrapes and every inch of his body is aching. If it wasn't for his armor protecting him, his body would not have come out of the battle so unharmed. He moves slowly, his body is completely exhausted and he wants nothing more than to lay down and find some rest. He makes his way towards his tent and pushes open the flap. His mind is still hazy from the amount of battle he went through during the day, but there is one thing he is very clear on: she's gone. He glances around and can't see her and then the reality of it hits him. He stares at the empty bed, he doesn't even care that he needs a bath and rest because he is now completely heartbroken. He walks out of the tent and starts to scan the entire area, he hopes that maybe he overlooked something and that he will see that she's still nearby.
"Achilles?" His younger cousin Patroclus says as he walks over.
His brain is still in a state of shock over realizing she's gone, and for a moment he can't even react to his cousin's voice. He snaps out of it and looks at him, he still can't believe she's gone so his response isn't what he would normally say. "Yes?" he says bluntly.
"It's Anastasia..." he says.
The moment he hears her name his heart skips a beat, his brain is flooded with emotions and thoughts. "What about her?" he asks.
"Agamemnon...he took her, brother." He says.
His heart sinks and his hand instantly balls into a fist, his mind is filled with a blinding rage, he can't believe she has been taken by that bastard Agamemnon. "Where?" he asks through clenched teeth. Patroclus seems hesitant to respond, almost nervous to tell the man he looks to as his older brother what happened while he was gone. "Where, Patroclus!?" Achilles snaps.
"His tent..." He says.
His blood boils and he feels like he is about to explode with rage, he is filled with so many different emotions that it's making his mind fog with an impenetrable haze. He is ready to march to Agamemnon himself and rip his heart out for this atrocity, nothing will stop him now. "I need to go get her."
"You can't." Patroclus says. "Why not?" he asks, every part of his body is screaming at him to go save her right now.
"The generals have called a meeting and they are coming here. You need to be present for it." Patroclus says.
He stares at him blankly and then his mouth curls into a snarl, his mind instantly goes to anger once his cousin mentions the generals. "What the hell do I care about the generals when she is currently with Agamemnon?" he says, his fists are so tightly clenched that he is hurting his joints.
"They have important things to discuss." Patroclus says, he doesn't want to say anything else because he can see his cousin's rage and he doesn't want to anger him even further.
"I don't care about the generals, I care only about one thing right now... her." he says with his voice laced with anger and determination. His heart is pounding inside his chest with the amount of emotions he's feeling right then, but one thing is for certain: he will not rest until he has rescued her.
YOU ARE READING
Bound
Historical Fiction'You gave me peace in a lifetime of war.' Achilles, Son of Peleus, was born to kill. Born to fight. Born to be the greatest warrior Greece has ever seen, it is all he has known. Destined to fight in the great Trojan War, he is faced with hideous blo...