Everlasting (A Greek Tragedy)

Everlasting Ch VII

A/N: I apologize for such the late update as I've been busy with changing schools and other affairs. For those that are still reading this story, thank you! I know I'm not the best with updating, but I try to make the chapters intriguing at the least. Don't be afraid to leave a comment or critique. Those are highly appreciated. I'm also aware that this chapter is kinda short. To make up for it, I'll update chapter 8 by the end of this weekend.

  Also, as a respectful WARNING to all those who are reading this chapter, it contains sex. Yes sex. You do not have to read it however, it does not play a major role into the plot. But, it does explain why some actions are done in both the past and future of the story. If you have any questions, you may message me. Otherwise, enjoy. :)

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    Paris's room smelled just as the female warrior had imagined. A scent of metal and gold; same as the metallic taste that would linger on one's tongue if they were to lick blood from a blade. Yet it also smelled of the man's natural musk, a mixture of expensive soaps and perfumes. The same intoxication that wafted into her nose each time he passed her on the way to the council's room. And god, she couldn't forget the look that man would give her. That sly cut of his precious orbs, a mischievous smirk, an intentional accident of his arm brushing hers. He was handsome and he knew it. She knew it. He knew that she had thought it.

   But her blood still ran hot with resentment each time she saw him perched in his chair like a king. She hated the way he would sneer at her ideas like she was just some child bearing woman. The way that he always seemed to do the exact opposite of what she requested. If she asked for a certain amount of recruits, he'd give her less. If she questioned his logic, he inquired about hers. It seemed as if there was no way she could breakthrough his facade even though it was painfully obvious that he was devious. Too many times had the ruler of Troy played down her position as a general like she was a mere peasant. Too many times had her father's death been dismissed from the council's discussions nonchalantly. If that damned Achilles would not be killed by the order of the council themselves, she would have to see to it personally.

   However, simply slaying them herself would make her role too obvious. Paris would know that it was her and sentence her harshly for insubordination. He had made it vividly clear that he did not want them to die just yet. Not until they'd undergone a proper trial. Until then, they would be treated as prisoners.

   And that was her reason for breaking into Paris' room that evening. To retrieve the spare key issued to him after the captive's arrival. Her plan was to get the key and hurry down to the lower levels of the castle and anonymously aid Achilles' escape. Then the guards would have no choice but to kill them for "attempting to flee". With Paris down in the dining hall for dinner, she would have some time to do so.

   But the task proved itself to be easier said than done. Her eyes and hands wandered aimlessly over every shelf, drawer, chest, pot and lock there was. But to no avail did that shiny little key show itself to her. Genia began to wonder if Paris had carried it on him at all times. But that would be unlike him since he usually left his own sword on his bed. She cursed and bought her hand to her mouth to anxiously bite her knuckle. Time was ticking.

   Suddenly she felt as if he feet were swept from underneath her. A unknown force twisted her back around so quickly that she felt her spine pop. The clashing of her chest into the wall was so powerful that the pain caused her to shudder rather than wince. A cough forced it's way pass her lips, and so did little droplets of blood. Along with the fresh wave of pain did she feel warm breath pant down her neck. She shivered and relaxed into the tight restraint she was under when the familiar scent hit her.