Meanwhile, the battle raged on, and despite their initial setbacks, the Greek forces eventually emerged victorious. The Persian army retreated in disarray, their leader, King Xerxes, fleeing back to Persia.
As the dust settled, the victorious Greek soldiers discovered the lifeless bodies of Themistocles and Artemisia lying side by side on the ship's deck. Blood stained the deck red, and the sounds of battle had subsided to a haunting silence.
The Greek soldiers, exhausted and covered in blood, approached the gruesome scene. They gasped in shock at the sight of their fallen general and the woman who had challenged him. Some covered their mouths in disgust, while others muttered curses under their breath.
When they examined their bodies, they found out that Artemisia was still alive, barely. "Let's take her alive," one soldier spoke up, his voice laced with hatred. "She deserves a slow and painful death for what she's done."
The surviving members of their crew rushed over to carry Artemisia's limp body, dragging her back to their camp. There, she was chained up and left to languish in her blood-soaked clothes. Her wounds were tended to, but she remained unconscious, her breathing shallow and labored.
When she finally regained consciousness, she opened her eyes slowly, blinking several times to adjust to the dim light. She surveyed her surroundings, feeling the cold metal of her chains digging into her wrists and ankles. Panic surged through her, but she forced herself to stay calm.
"Where am I?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from the battle.
A Greek soldier approached her, his eyes filled with hate. "You're in our camp, whore," he spat, his voice filled with contempt. "And you'll be tortured, then killed for your crimes."
Artemisia smirked, her eyes filled with defiance. "And what of Themistocles?" she asked, her voice filled with venom. "Did he not die as well?"
The soldier's eyes widened in shock, and he glanced at the other soldiers. "What did you say?" he asked, his voice shaking with anger.
Artemisia chuckled, her eyes filled with mischief. "Oh I remember it well now, I killed him."
The soldiers exchanged glances, their faces filled with shock and disbelief. They hadn't expected this kind of behaviour from her.
"You'll not escape your fate, Artemisia," the soldier growled, his voice filled with rage. "We'll make you wish for death before we grant it."
Artemisia smirked, her eyes locked on his. "I doubt that," she replied, her voice filled with defiance. "You'll have to try much harder than that."
The soldiers exchanged glances, their eyes filled with anger and hatred. They decided to teach her a lesson, to make her suffer before they killed her.
One of them approached her, his eyes filled with lust. "You'll be sorry for your insolence," he growled, his hands reaching for her clothing.
Artemisia spat in his face, her eyes filled with defiance. "Do your worst," she taunted, her voice filled with hatred.
The soldier recoiled, his face twisted in anger. He backhanded her, the blow landing on her already bruised cheek. She grunted in pain, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of a tear.
He tore off her remaining clothing, revealing her battered body. She winced in pain, her muscles tightening with each movement. The other soldiers watched, their eyes filled with lust and hatred.
The soldier approached her, his erection straining against his clothing. He grabbed her roughly, forcing her legs apart.
Artemisia gritted her teeth, her body trembling with fear and hatred. She felt the weight of his body on hers, his rough hands groping her body.
"You'll never escape us, Artemisia," he growled, his voice filled with anger and lust. "We'll break you, and then we'll kill you."
Artemisia closed her eyes, her body tense with pain and hatred. She felt his rough hands on her, tearing her apart, her body shaking with anger and fear.
The other soldiers watched, their eyes locked on her, their bodies aroused by her suffering. They knew they had the upper hand, and they intended to use it.
One by one, they approached her, their eyes filled with lust and anger. They tore at her body, their hands rough and cruel. Artemisia screamed in pain and fear, her body twisting and turning in their grasp.
Their words filled her ears, their hatred and anger palpable. "You'll pay for what you've done," they growled, their voices filled with rage.
Artemisia continued to endure the brutal assault, her body covered in blood and sweat. Each new assailant brought fresh agony, but she refused to break. She bit down hard on her lip, her eyes filled with hatred and defiance.
One of the soldiers, a particularly sadistic one, grabbed a whip from nearby and began to whip her mercilessly. The blows landed on her tender flesh, causing fresh streams of blood to flow. Artemisia screamed in pain, but she refused to yield.
Another soldier knelt between her legs, his mouth descending onto her most private parts, his tongue probing deeply. Another followed suit, their tongues dancing in a twisted dance of violence and lust. Artemisia's body shook with each thrust, her moans turning into strangled cries of discomfort.
Meanwhile, another soldier positioned himself behind her, his hardened member rubbing against her most sensitive spot. Without warning, he thrust into her tight hole. Artemisia screamed, her body convulsing in pain and humiliation.
The rest of the soldiers surrounded her, their hands groping her body, their cocks slapping against her skin. They took turns violating her, their rough handling leaving bruises and marks on her battered body.
In the midst of this chaos, Artemisia felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned her head slightly, her eyes widening in shock as she recognized Themistocles's dead eyes staring back at her. A sickening smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. "Even in death, I still have control over you," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
As the soldiers continued their brutal assault, the Greek officials gathered around a makeshift table, their faces somber. They had convened to discuss the punishment for Artemisia, the woman who had dared to defy them.
"We must make an example of her," one of them growled, his voice filled with rage. "She must pay for her treachery."
"She must die, of course," said a general, his voice filled with anger and loss. "But how should we execute her?"
Another general spoke up, his voice filled with hate. "We should make her suffer first. Let her burn alive, so all can witness her agony."
"A fitting end for her," agreed another.
"Agreed," said the general, nodding. "She shall be tied to a stake and set ablaze, her screams echoing across the battlefield as a warning to others who dare to defy us."
The other officials nodded, their faces filled with satisfaction. They had always despised Artemisia, and this was their chance to make her pay.