Authors note 1: When I watched the movie, I thought that there was something missing between Achilles and Briseis, unlike the passion between Hector and Andromache. So that's why I decided to mess a little bit with them...

Note 2: I do not own any of the characters of the movie, so please don't sue me.

Note 3: I am not from an English speaking country so I apologize for any grammatical errors. I haven't really written this type of fan fiction before, so I'll be very grateful if you take the time to read and review my story. Comments and constructive criticism is very welcome.

Chapter 1

It was one of those moments when Andromache could sense what a fortunate woman she truly was. A fresh breeze was streaming in from the balcony and the sun was shining brightly from outside. It was a lovely morning and a lovely day.

Dressed in a cool, white robe, Andromache was watching the two men in her life. Her husband, Hector, prince of Troy had returned safely to her and now he was sitting before her, on their bed with their baby boy, Astyanax in his arms. He was showing him a wooden lion that he had carved for him during his voyage to Sparta.

Hector's face was filled with the sheer, quiet happiness of watching his son smile up at him. He lifted his eyes to Andromache and gave her an affectionate grin, which she returned. Yes, she was indeed a fortunate woman.

She regarded her husband as he sat before her. He was shirtless and the strength of his torso was unmistakable, despite being ever so gentle and playful with his son. The muscles of his arms and his chest were bulging with power. He was the fiercest warrior in all of Troy, some would even say that his skills were unmatched at any place in this world. Andromache knew this very well, having watched him as he practised and as he fought many times.

However, her husband did not merely posses bodily strength. He was equally strong, if not stronger in his soul, his mind and his heart. He was the most noble and loyal man she had ever met. His devotion to his family and to his country was incomparable. He always put them before himself and his sense of duty sometimes astonished her. Added to all of this, he was also a warm-hearted and caring man, a good husband and father.

When he smiled to her, she couldn't help but think that she had a fine husband, also in terms of looks. Hector's warm brown eyes sparkled in the sunny light towards her. He had a strong jaw, covered with a light beard and soft brown curls fell down his cheeks. It was not a strange thing that his cousin Briseis had told her that the young maids of Troy had been running after him when he was still unmarried. Perhaps they were still chasing him? But Andromache knew that she had nothing to fear in that respect. Unlike many other married kings and princes, Hector had never taken any concubines, not even when she was pregnant with Astyanax. He was a faithful husband in every sense on the word.

Despite the fact that their marriage had been arranged, Andromache knew well that she could hardly have gotten herself a better husband. Her father, king Eetion had made a good choice on his daughter's behalf.

That was when a sound reached Andromache's ears and her sense informed her that despite the beauty and calmness of this day, everything wasn't as restful as she would wish.

Quickly, she turned towards the noise. The sound was loud, clanging and it came from the posts down the beach. She met Hector's eyes for a moment. Then he quickly rose from the bed, handed their son to her and went to look out through the porch.

He stood silent for a moment, listening as the strong sunshine made his hair look reddish. Then he abruptly turned and left the room with long, determined steps. With Astyanax in her arms, Andromache took her husband's place to look out over the city and down towards the sea.

She couldn't see anything unusual, but the look on her face was concerned. Although she and Hector had not spoken a word to each other, they both instinctively knew what was going on.

She shouldn't be surprised really. Ever since her husband had come back from Sparta, she had known that something was bound to happen. Hector had travelled to Sparta to secure peace between the two nations. King Menelaus, brother of Agamemnon had been a long time enemy of Troy and her father-in-law, king Priam had been working hard to achieve a friendly relation with the Greek state. He was a peace-loving man, her husband's father and realized the necessity of this agreement.

But even if there had been a chance for peace, Andromache knew very well that the fragile alliance was forever broken now. Her husband's younger brother, prince Paris had not found peace at Sparta, he had found love.

Hector had always been protective towards his little brother and Andromache was fond of him too, even if she sometimes found his way of living somewhat unworthy for a prince of Troy. Paris was a handsome young man and the women were just as attracted to him as they had been to her husband. But unlike Hector, Paris enjoyed the attention and took advantage of it. Andromache had sometimes found herself wondering how many women her brother-in-law had bedded over the years? He probably didn't even know himself. He would find a beautiful woman, seduce her and then go to the next. No one seemed to be able to resist his charming smile and striking features.

Paris was irresponsible, but perhaps it wasn't so strange. Being the younger son, he had never had to face the same amount of duties as her husband. His lived a life of ease and he was free to enjoy himself as he pleased. His father Priam had always adored his youngest son and spoiled him. Maybe that wasn't very strange either, since Hector and Paris were Priam's only surviving children. His other sons and daughters had all died at a delicate age and that had seemed to increase the king's love for his princes, Paris in particular. In the king's eyes his youngest son could do no wrong. Not even now when his actions threatened to throw his country into war.

Andromache frowned as she remembered the day Hector and Paris had returned from Sparta. At first she had been so eager to see her husband again and show him how their son had grown that she had barely even looked in Paris' direction. Still, she had been very surprised when she noticed that there was a woman by his side.

The woman was uncommonly beautiful with long golden hair and striking blue eyes. That sort of fair hair and her pale skin was rare in Troy and Andromache could only guess that she was a Greek. Paris had looked at her with a glimpse in his eyes that she had never seen in him before. She could tell that he was in love. She would have been happy for him, but she had been positively stunned when Paris introduced the woman to herself and Briseis as Helen of Troy.

Helen of Troy? Andromache had thought in confusion, but her eyes had grown wide when she realized who this woman was. Like everyone else, she had heard about the fair Helen. Helen of Sparta. The wife of King Menelaus, Agamemnon's brother.

Being a self-controlled woman, Andromache had managed to greet the young woman politely. She could immediately tell that her father-in-law had accepted her, but the questions spun in her head and she had glanced at her husband with worry. Hector had looked slightly uncomfortable, but he had not said anything.

When they were finally alone, she had the chance to ask him what was going on. Hector had reluctantly told her the truth; that Helen and Paris had started a passionate affair during the visit and that she had agreed to come with him back to Troy.

Hector had not found out until they were at sea. His first impulse had been to turn the boat around and sail back to Sparta, but Paris had insisted that he would go with her. Hector had known very well that it would be the death of his brother so he had no other choice but to set sail for Troy.

Andromache was quite shaken to hear the news. She had heard rumours that Menelaus of Sparta was a fierce man and his reaction to this insult would not be mild. And his brother was King Agamemnon, the most powerful man in Greece. Agamemnon had wanted to destroy the power of Troy for years and force them to swear allegiance to him. She knew very well that neither her husband nor her father-in-law would ever let that happen to their beloved country.

Andromache sighed to herself. She really couldn't blame Helen of Sparta for falling for the handsome young prince of Troy and escaping from her husband. Menelaus was much older than his wife and he was not said to be a kind man. Had she been unlucky, Andromache might have ended up in the same situation herself. Nor could she really blame Paris for wanting to save this lovely young woman from her unhappy life and take her with him to Troy. No, she couldn't judge any of them. Better than most people, she knew how easy it was to fall in love.

The problem was that she knew that it wouldn't be Paris who would have to fight to protect his country from the King Agamemnon and his brother.

It would be her son's father.

The day that had started so peacefully had soon turned out to be a day as dark as the kingdom of Hades. Instead of smiling down to his son or enjoying some private moments with his wife, Hector had spent it covered in sweat, blood and sand. With his apollonian guards, he had fought the invading Greeks for most of the day. But no matter how skilful the prince was, this task was too much even for a man like him.

The Greeks had sent the greatest fleet that anyone had ever seen before. Hector guessed it could be as many as a thousand ships. And he knew what they wanted. They might use the retrieval of the Spartan queen as an excuse, but this was all just about power and Agamemnon's greed. He wanted to seize control of Troy and use it to expand his already vast lands.

The beach of Troy was lost; there was no point in trying to deny it. The greatest part of the surviving Trojan soldiers had taken flight back to the city, behind the thick walls where they would be safe, at least for the time being.

Hector and his group of men were still by the beach. Hector suddenly recalled the temple of Apollo, the patron of Troy. He ordered his men to follow him there and they set out. As they approached, Hector could spot Greek soldiers outside the great temple. They had probably come to look for treasures.

Consummated by fury, Hector urged his horse to go faster. His longing to fight and kill the thieving Greeks burned in his blood. But as they came closer, Hector suddenly spotted a Greek, a tall, powerful, flaxen haired man, dressed in armour, who was standing at the temple porch. He reached out his hand and a smaller, dark man next to him handed him a spear that was even taller than himself. The man lifted the spear and with a strength and precision that Hector had never seen in any mortal man before, he threw the spear straight into the chest of one of Hector's men.

The men fell backwards off his horse and hit the ground like a stone. Instinctively Hector pulled the reins and stared in shock at the fallen man. He raised his eyes towards the Greek. Was he a man or a God?

Then Hector became angry with himself for having showed weakness. He drove his horse forward again and he and his men headed for the temple. As they approached, Hector raised his own spear and took aim for the Greek.

The golden-haired man didn't move, he simply stared in Hector's direction with his chilly, blue eyes. With a furious growl, Hector threw his spear, but the man moved out of its way as easily and lithely as if he had been a giant, powerful dancer. Then he followed the other man, who was obviously his subordinate into the temple.

Hector and his men drew their weapons and dismounted. They all stared in shock at the beheaded statue of Apollo outside the temple. Obviously, these men had no respect for the Sun god.

Followed by his apollonian guard, Hector cautiously entered the temple hall. He spotted something moving by the entrance to the great altar room and slowly moved forward. Then he suddenly heard the distinctive sound of arrows being fired. Several of his men were hit and fell to the ground, dead or screaming with agony.

The Greeks were all around them, they had walked into a trap. Hector fought bravely and put several of the Greeks to his sword. Then he moved towards the altar room and was shocked to see dead priests lying on the floor, covered with their own blood. Once again, he realized that these people had no respect for the Gods. Although Hector himself was not a very religious man, he found it sickening.

Burning with anger he moved forward, when he suddenly heard a loud, cold voice in his ear.

"You are very brave or very stupid to come after me alone."

Hector blinked and tried to make something out in the obscurity of the temple. Slowly, his eyes got used to the darkness and he could tell that there was the form of a man. A man with golden hair.

"You must be Hector."

"I have heard many things about you," Achilles could have added.

So this was the prince of Troy, he thought. Yes, he looked indeed in every inch as the reputable fighter he was. A tall man with the statue of a warrior. His face was almost entirely hidden under his helmet, but his fierce, dark eyes shone with a silent wrath.

Achilles looked closely at the man. He felt strange to see him in reality, as a human, not as the monster or demon that he had pictured him as.

"Why should I come?" he had answered when Odysseus wanted him to join forces with the other Greeks and head for Troy. "The Trojans never harmed me."

What a lie, his mind had told him. The Trojans had harmed him far worse than anyone else ever could. At least one of them.

"Prince Hector, is he as good a warrior as they say?" his eager young cousin, Patroclus had asked Odysseus. And of course Odysseus had answered that he was. "The best of all the Trojans. And some would even say that he is better than all the Greeks too."

Achilles had chuckled of course, at Odysseus blatant attempt to provoke him, but inside him, these words had waked up old feelings that had been buried alive in his soul. It all came back to him; the old grief, the bitterness and the regret from all those cold, empty nights when he had been lying alone in his bed, filled with hatred towards the man who was now standing before him. He had hated him, this unknown, unfamiliar prince, whose face he had never seen.

But even worse than his hatred had been his jealousy.

This feeling that had made him want to cut off all of his fingers, break all of the stones of his home in Laryssa into a thousand pieces, kill anyone who approached him and drown every inch of himself in blood. This feeling that ate his heart, mind and soul like a snake. This feeling that he had been forced to bury to stay alive and sane.

As he thought about this, Achilles' desire to immediately take the man's life rose inside him. He was going to kill him, that was all he knew. Spear him, cut his head off, and tear him into shreds, putting him through the same pain as he had been forced to suffer himself.

But something stopped him.

Instead, he chose to leave the shadows and step into the light were the prince could see him well. "Do you know who I am?" he asked calmly.

"These priests weren't armed!" Hector spat back, indicating the dead men in their robes that were spread across the floor.

Achilles reaction to this was absolute indifference, his eyes simply narrowed slightly.

Quickly, Hector pulled his sword and prepared to attack. Like a flash, Achilles swung himself onto the altar.

"Fight me!" Hector demanded, his sword raised.

Achilles looked down at him for a moment, thoughtful, with his dagger aimed at Hector's face. Then he abruptly pulled it back and stepped down.

"Why kill you now, prince of Troy?" he asked. "With no one here to see you fall?" Of course Hector wouldn't understand what he meant. No one would, except one person.

Slowly, Achilles walked through the temple's back gate and stepped out at the porch. Hector cautiously followed him with his sword ready. Achilles stared down towards the beach for a while, where his countrymen were reaching the shores. Then he turned back to the Trojan prince.

"Why did you come here?" Hector asked fiercely.

"They will be talking about this war for a thousand years," Achilles said simply.

"For a thousand years?" Hector repeated in disbelief. "In a thousand years, the dust from our bones will be gone."

"Yes, prince," Achilles agreed. "But our names will remain."

Achilles' second in command, Eudorus had come out from the temple now with the rest of Achilles' myrmidons. They were all armed to the teeth. The Trojan prince was surrounded; still he showed no signs of fear. Achilles felt a reluctant respect for the man. At least he wasn't a coward.

Achilles sighed and turned away from him. "Go home, prince," he said. Then after a short break, he added. "Drink some whine; make love to your wife. Tomorrow we will have our war."

Hector just shook his head. "You speak of this war as if it's a game. But how many wives waited Troy's gates for husbands that will never return?"

"Perhaps your brother can comfort them," Achilles answered wit a cool sense of humour. "I hear he is good at charming other men's wives."

Those words left the Trojan prince speechless. Achilles smiled lightly and gave him a sign to go. But as the prince turned to leave, Achilles suddenly spoke up again.

"And speaking of wives. Your own lady was king Eetion's daughter, wasn't she?"

Hector spun back to Achilles. "What of her?" he asked.

Achilles smiled nonchalantly. "Oh nothing at all. I thought you might be so kind as to give her... my greetings. Perhaps she will be in need of some comfort in the future..."

Hector's eyes had narrowed into slits as he watched the Greek's audacious grin. He was furious, you could tell and Achilles guessed that if he had been any other man, he would have finished him at once. No one insults my wife and lives, his eyes clearly said.

But the prince of Troy was more sensible than that. He knew that he wouldn't have a chance against all of Achilles' myrmidons. And his country needed him. So instead, he pulled a deep breath and left without a word.