Khillea was shocked.
But to understand why, we need to go back ten minutes earlier.
“What are you going to do with me?” Briseis asked nervously, her voice trembling with uncertainty. Despite the kind words Khillea had spoken earlier, there was still an unsettled feeling in her chest. Why had she been brought here, if not to be part of the prize? Khillea had won the battle—what did she need with Briseis, a slave?
In truth, Briseis regretted following. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t help but feel some strange relief. The woman standing before her didn’t exude the savage brutality that her mind had conjured. Khillea, though infamous, wasn’t the beast she had feared. Still, confusion reigned over her thoughts.
Khillea stood up from the basin, water droplets clinging to her skin, cascading in delicate rivulets down her toned, elegant body. Her sharp, yet feminine features were softened by the way the water glistened on her, highlighting every line and curve. Droplets slipped down her neck, trailing between the firm mounds of her breasts, until some slid down to her hardened nipples before continuing over the gentle rise of her belly. The water traced the graceful curve of her hips and thighs, pooling slightly at the warm space between her legs, drawing Briseis’s attention to the perfection of her untouched femininity.
Without a word, Khillea took a towel draped over a nearby chair, wrapping it loosely around herself, then using another towel to quickly pat herself dry. She moved with the fluid grace of a warrior, every step measured, every movement intentional. As she stepped out of the basin and onto the cool marble floor, she smiled—a smile that spoke of secrets yet unshared.
“I want you to witness something,” Khillea said, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of significance.
“Witness what?” Briseis’s confusion deepened. The idea of being a passive observer, especially in this strange, intimate setting, made her uneasy. She had expected anything but this.
“You know I am a woman, Briseis,” Khillea continued, her voice soft yet steady. “And I want you to witness the end of my life.”
The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, echoing in Briseis’s mind. She blinked, unsure if she had heard correctly.
“The end… of your life?” she repeated, her heart pounding in her chest. “What do you mean? Why would you—” Her voice faltered.
Khillea’s gaze drifted towards the open window, where the evening sky was turning a dark shade of violet. “Patroclus knows,” she said quietly. “But I don’t want to burden him with this tonight. He’ll have to bear enough when it’s done.”
There was a somberness in her tone, and for the first time, Briseis saw something beyond the fierce warrior Khillea had always been known for—a vulnerability, a quiet acceptance of fate. It unsettled her even more.
“Okay,” Briseis whispered, though she barely understood what was being asked of her. It seemed Khillea didn’t need her to
do
anything, not physically, at least. The way she spoke, it was as though her presence, her mere witness, was enough.
In truth, Briseis thought Khillea simply wanted company—a female companion for what was likely a significant moment. And in a way, she had hit the mark. Khillea had spent years hiding her true self, cloaked in the guise of a man. To everyone around her, she had been Achilles, the greatest of warriors, unassailable and untouchable. She had lived surrounded by men, drinking with them, fighting alongside them, but never truly
one
of them. Any woman who approached her would only do so in pursuit of Achilles the legend, not Khillea the woman.
But now, in these final hours, she could break her self-imposed rule. Death was coming regardless—what harm could there be in revealing her truth now?
“Help me with my armor,” Khillea said, nodding toward the simple piece lying on a nearby stand.
It wasn’t the gilded, shining armor of Achilles that she wore in battle. No, this was a more modest, functional piece—just enough to keep her safe while she wandered the streets. Tonight, she would not march to war. She was going outside for something far more personal.
Briseis nodded, her hands moving to lift the armor as instructed. The weight of it surprised her, not just physically, but emotionally. Every piece of this woman’s life was heavy, layered with burdens she could barely comprehend.
As Briseis helped her don the armor, Khillea’s eyes flickered toward her, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Thank you,” Khillea murmured.
Briseis didn’t respond. She simply fastened the last strap, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the cool metal.
“Where are you going?” Briseis asked calmly, though inwardly her heart raced. Her voice was steady, but the growing unease inside her was hard to ignore. She didn’t want to be left alone in this place, surrounded by the Greek warriors who, at any moment, could burst in with their brutish desires. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Khillea smirked, a sharp expression pulling at her lips, as if the answer to the question were too obvious.
Briseis had just finished helping Khillea put on her armor, piece by piece, fastening the straps that hid nearly every inch of her skin. The polished bronze gleamed in the dim light, each segment carefully crafted to encase Khillea’s body. As the armor settled into place, it transformed her—where moments ago stood a woman with a soft, elegant beauty, now there was a figure that, with a hardened gaze and powerful stance, looked unmistakably like a strikingly handsome man.
It wasn’t strange at all, Briseis thought, as she stepped back to admire the transformation. After all, even the gods, like Apollo, were rumored to possess a beauty that bordered on the feminine. Born of the beautiful goddess Thetis, Khillea’s delicate features weren’t questioned by anyone. Her appearance was simply attributed to divine lineage, the favor of the gods. In the end, all she had to do was hide the curve of her breasts beneath the armor, and no one would suspect the truth.
“I’m going to find a good man to get me pregnant, of course,” Khillea said nonchalantly, sliding on her helmet with a practiced ease.
The words struck Briseis like a slap. “What?” she asked, stunned by the absurdity of the statement. To her, it sounded as though Khillea was planning to walk out into the night and pick the first man she saw to father her child. Was that really her plan? And yet, as Briseis looked into Khillea’s eyes, she realized she wasn’t joking. There was a fierce, unshakable seriousness in her tone.
Khillea—a virgin, as far as Briseis knew—was truly planning to give herself to a stranger this easily? It seemed unimaginable. After all these years of hiding, was she really going to cast aside her virginity in such a careless manner?
“You should wait,” Briseis said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. She spoke not out of selfishness, not because she wanted Khillea to stay, but from a place of concern. “There’s still time. Maybe someone worthy will come along?”
Her words hung in the air, unspoken thoughts swirling in Briseis’s mind. Perhaps she felt pity for Khillea, for the years she had spent concealed behind the mask of a man, never able to confide in anyone or build meaningful friendships—except, perhaps, with Patroclus, though even that bond had its limits. Khillea had no close female friends, no one to share her burdens or her dreams with.
But Khillea only shook her head. “No,” she said, her voice firm. “Today is the right day. I can’t let this opportunity slip by.”
Briseis understood what she meant now. There was no stopping her. Khillea had made up her mind, and nothing Briseis could say would change it. The warrior had lived her entire life under the shadow of her fate, and now, in the twilight of her existence, she had chosen to claim control over one final act: the creation of life.
“At least… think a bit before choosing,” Briseis sighed, her resistance weakening in the face of Khillea’s resolve. She didn’t want to imagine Khillea throwing herself at just anyone in desperation.
Khillea’s eyes softened as she turned to Briseis, a rare warmth slipping through the cracks of her usual stoicism. “I will,” she said with a small smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll be back with a man. Prepare my bed.”
Briseis nodded, her lips tight as she murmured, “Yes…”