A/N I don't own Troy, if I did I'd be making this into a movie, not a fan fiction.

This is based entirely on the movie. I've ordered the Iliad the book/story/epic so maybe then I'll write an actual Iliad based fiction, but until then this is what you get. Please give it chance?????? I'll be your best friend and to those handsome few out there, I'll be even more wink wink J/K

The festivities could still be heard and the aroma of feasts and pleasure reached me through my barred window. From the gossip passed between my guards, I could tell that Greece had apparently abandoned hope of capturing Troy. It seemed the citizens of Troy were taking this mysterious leave with a welcoming embrace, even the guards allowed themselves a bit of amusement, at the expense of my body.

Now I sat in the corner of the prison cell, my knees drawn up and my hands trying to cover my body since my tarred clothing could no longer fulfill the task. Thick rings were worn under my eyes from hours of crying and because of the orders given to the guards to prevent me from any sleep. My upper lip was swollen, my right eye barely open because of the hits that I received from the guards during their moment of lust.

The cuts on my face were various, some from battle, others from the hospitality of the prison. Thankfully the blood had dried and now only smudged my face and tangled my raven hair.

I raised my head bravely as I heard the door to my cell being unlocked. I would not let those men see me weak and withering. Rather die having them curse me for my stubbornness than mocking me for my feminine fear.

"Try to look your best," the solider entered, grinning disgustingly at me as he opened the door wide. If I had the spirit to escape, I would have just then, but my spirit had left me for the time being. I was shallow shell of what I was when first arriving to Troy.

The soldier stepped aside and a hooded figure entered the room. Immediately I could tell the visitor was female, she was tall and thin. I did not fear a beating from her, whoever she was, for she looked like she had been deprived from any physical strength all her life.

"Leave us," the woman turned to address the soldier. He frowned in disappointment. I didn't know what the wicked soldier had in mind, and I guessed I'd never find out. Once the soldier closed the door behind him, the visitor took off her hood. I inhaled as the light of the festivities above us lit the beautiful face of Helen.

"What are you doing here?" I struggled to get to my feet. I had too much pride to allow her to see withering in the corner of a prison cell. Throughout the Trojan War I had hated this woman, the woman who had started it all. I never knew why I grew to hate her, I had never met her in my life, but I guess it was easy to hate her since that day I smuggled myself into the Greek Army.

"I only wish to speak with you and apologize," Helen bowed her head respectfully. I laughed for some reason, I suppose I found it amusing. Finally in my life someone was bowing to me, despite my obvious gender and low status, and not just anyone was sounding me respect, but Helen of Sparta was. In a prison cell of all places.

"I'll take the apology, but you can keep your conversation," I snapped at her. If the guards were listening, I would be expecting a fine beating before the night ended.

"It seems Troy has come through this war successful," Helen continued, ignoring my previous decline. "What are your thoughts on this? Greece disappeared and all they left was a gift to the gods."

'The gods,' I thought bitterly. 'Achilles must have loved that.' I decided that Helen was not going to leave without a conversation. "What does it matter to me, Helen? I'm a prisoner, not a philosopher of war."

"You're a soldier."

"I'm a woman," I retorted. I found myself pacing the room now for some reason. Perhaps her piercing eyes bothered me, they looked almost as if they held some kind of truth that I cowered from.

"Yes you are, a woman disguised as a man to fight back the honor of her land," Helen smiled. I frowned in confusion, what was this woman thinking? "It was very brave of you."

"Very stupid of me," I corrected. "I'm to be executed at dawn. I've been raped countless of times, my body feels no more shame. If I return to the Greek army I'll be given the same treatment, maybe something even worse, considering Agamemnon."

"You are not stupid," Helen assured me. I laughed again. I did not wish to ear this praise from Helen, I wished to hear it from a victor of war. I wanted it from someone like Achilles. Wanted it from a man.

"If it was not stupidity that has brought me to this doomed position, then what was it?"

"The same thing that has brought me here," she told me. I paused in my pace and looked at her in silent disbelief. I was going to be killed at dawn, Helen would be watching from a balcony, and she was comparing my situation with hers? She saw us as equals? "I know what you are thinking," she said with a defensive tone, which made me believe she had. I continued with my pacing, allowing her to continue. "You may find it hard to believe, but you and I are very much a like in this world. You ran away from your life, the life you lived in the shadows of men. You took up the sword and walked side- by-side with warriors, not in their shadows. I too ran away from my shadowy existence in Sparta."

"Do you walk side-by-side with your men, Helen? Or do you watch from the shades of a balcony as the men shape the future for you?" I asked her, my eyebrow rose in question. The eyebrow was painful to rise, but I did not flinch or show my pain.

"I said we were alike, not the same," Helen responded. "In Sparta I was a man's possession, now I'm a man's love and he is mine. My whole life I have been deprived of living, but now that I'm in Troy I feel like I'm closer to leaving the shadows. No doubt you felt the same, coming here on those ships. Yet you knew you couldn't leave the shadows completely. You could never live in the light like the men, but you could lie to yourself that you could by disguising yourself as a man."

"So you came here to tell me that I've been living in a lie?" I laughed. I felt myself blush and I turned away, looking up at the passing shadows from outside.

"I came here to tell you that you are inspiration to me," Helen corrected. I turned my head sideways to look at her from the corner of my eye.

"You just called me a liar."

"I never said you were a liar," she went on. "You fought by the side of the great Achilles, and you could have continued fighting by his side if you hadn't given yourself up to the Trojans as an apology for Achilles disrespect to Hector. You tricked the men into thinking you were nothing more than a man, but truly you were greater than man. You gave up your life for the ethics you believe in, and we both know that men rarely have ethics these days of age." I was silent for a moment, touched by what this woman was saying. If I had the energy, perhaps I would have cried, but my body was too tired to waste energy on something so pointless as crying.

"Why do you come to me? Why tell me this the night before my execution?" I demanded, angry now. I didn't know why I was angry, I suppose it was because of the short time I had to reflect on her words. Her words would had been of great comfort twelve days ago, when I had first been tossed into this cell.

"Because I don't want you to die without the proper respect you deserve," she said calmly. I turned to face her again, to stare into her piercing eyes. "If I could I would save you, but as you said before, this is a doomed position. I still live in the shadows, dear sister," I was surprised that she would dare address me as that, but I made no reaction, "to speak for you would only create laughter and mockery on my part."

"Can't you convince Paris?" I asked quietly.

"I don't think you would allow yourself to be saved that way," Helen answered. I couldn't help but smirk at her surprising depth of wisdom and perception. If she had spoken to Paris I would refuse the offer of savior, because I knew what would await me on the other side of this cell, slavery, position, a life of shadows as Helen would put it. We both were silent for a moment, my smile still worn.

"And your apology? What were you going to apologize for?" I remembered her reasons for coming to me.

"I was going to apologize for starting the war," she looked me straight in the eyes. Perhaps she was looking for my hatred that I harbored for her. "Like so many who had fought in the war, I think you knew your doom awaited you on this land, or you were expecting it. You knew you would never be able to return to Greece after the war."

I think Helen had found my source of hatred for her. I lowered my eyes and thought about what she had said, everything, and I wasn't surprised to find that I held no bitterness against her any longer. "Why apologize? If what you say is true, about me leaving the shadows, then it was you who gave me the push I needed to come out of them. I should be thanking you."

"Thank me by telling me your heroic acts during the war," Helen stepped forward eagerly. "I tire of hearing the tales of men, I wish to hear the story of someone who raises above them in strength and honor. I wish to hear the story of Aretha {1}."

A/N Hello! This is my first Troy fiction and since this cozy little section of ff.net is relatively new, I decided to post my own original story before someone else could! Hahaha!

{1} I know nothing about the Greek Language, but when I searched Greek names on the internet, it said that Aretha was Greek, it meant excellence. It was either that or Andrea, which meant masculine, but Aretha sounds more Greek.

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