So here's the disclaimer: I own nothing except for a guitar, and that is really all that I can call my own, so it would pretty much be useless to sue me, even if Troy really belongs to Hollywood. I actually think it belongs to everyone since it's a legend that everyone studies or has heard or read about, but I am writing this fiction based on the movie – just because. So just remember that I don't own any of it, and please enjoy. Helpful criticism is welcome.

Summary: What if Hector's marriage to Andromache had been arranged rather than love? What if he had loved someone else long before? What would their story be? Well, here is my take on it (okay, so that was cheesy, but aren't these things supposed to be?).

Her eyes opened suddenly, her heart beating rapidly within her breast. She hadn't dreamt about that particular day for so long. It had been so terrible. She could see his sorrowful face as he turned toward her one last time, and she had run away. She could not bear to see him pledge his life and love to another, even if Andromache would be a worthy wife to him. Him. Her only love. Hector, Prince of Troy.

Hector awakened to the stirring next to him. He smiled upon his wife and infant son. They looked peaceful in the moonlight that streamed through the window. Andromache was a noble woman, gentle and loving and good. Great affection welled up inside him, and he kissed her cheek tenderly. He left the comforts of his bed and walked to his balcony and into the night. A sudden shudder passed through his body as though the warm night had suddenly become bitterly cold. Unbidden, thoughts of her entered his mind.

A thousand recollections seemed to jump out at him, but Hector's mind raced back to a memory he thought he had buried. It had been a warm summer's day, long ago:

"I've never heard that name before."

Melpomene lifted her chin defiantly. "I was named for the muse of tragedy."

Hector laughed. "Is your life to be a tragic story then?" He immediately regretted his words.

A look of pain entered her eyes as she remembered the loving father she had lost long ago. She and her ailing mother now lived in a small house near the marketplace, where they sold woven baskets.

Hector reached out to her. "I'm sorry. My father says you must excuse the unkindness and impudence of a boy who has only seen twenty winters."

Melpomene smiled at him. "Your father wrongs you with his words. You are neither unkind nor impudent, my prince."

He managed to grasp her hand. "I have caused you pain. Is that not some unkindness?"

"You mend the wound with the touch of your hand," she whispered, her dark eyes meeting his.

They both seemed to be waiting for something, unconsciously drawing closer to each other. Hector held her hands to his heart.

"And your hands," he smiled at her, "make my heart quiver as though it has discovered life only now."

He bent to touch his lips to hers, but the great horns of the city interrupted their quiet reverie, announcing the king's return from some distant land he had conquered.

Melpomene smiled once more and turned away from Hector. "You must welcome your father, my prince."

Hector shook himself from the memory at a cry from his son. He had not seen Melpomene since his marriage seven years ago. She had stopped coming to the palace and had managed to avoid him all that time. He wondered, now, if she was married. Surely he would have heard of it before now. Did she have a family? Had he helped make her life the tragic story that had started many years ago? His heart wrenched painfully at the thought of being the cause of her grief. He realized now why Paris had brought Helen of Sparta with him. He loved her with the passion that Hector once had known. Even now, after all these years, he still ached for her. His love still burned for Melpomene. Hector wished more than anything that it had been Melpomene to bear his son. He smiled as his son tossed again. Although he had given much of his heart away to Melpomene when he was twenty years old, there was some left, and all of it belonged to Andromache – and their son.

"Here it is," Melpomene muttered under her breath. "The place I see in my dreams must be before me in waking also."

She stood before the great palace of the King Priam and his two sons, Hector and Paris. She knew that the festivities of Paris' and Helen's wedding would not be over yet. There was still feasting and merry-making going on, even as Hector prepared for war. Melpomene could picture his face; she knew it so well. She could see the anger at Paris but also the unfailing loyalty and love. She could see the resignation creep onto his noble face. He knew war was coming. It was inevitable. Then the determination would enter, and he would concentrate on the battle as though nothing else mattered. And then sorrow would cross his mind as his thoughts shifted to his beautiful wife and child. Melpomene shook herself. This place always brought it back to her.

It was the large square where the spring festival always took place. It was the place where she had seen him and lost her heart forever:

The petals of flowers seemed to rain on the subjects as they drank wine and stuffed their mouths with delightful foods. There was dancing and rejoicing and laughing all around. The young men would chase the young women until both were quite out of breath and collapsed. A hundred kisses were stolen while fathers' eyes were turned away. The old women laughed together as the old men joined in with the young, wrestling and fighting as though they were not a day older than sixteen. It was an exciting, breathless time. And it was here, under this olive tree, that Melpomene had first laid her eyes upon him.

There was no doubt at all who he was. He had the look of his royal family, but that was not what she thought of.

Their eyes had met as he stumbled away from the sword-fight he had been playing at with his friends. He was twenty, and she was five years younger, but it didn't matter. Hector had looked at her as though he had never seen a girl before, and she had become lost in the alluring pools of darkness that were his eyes. Such eyes she had never seen before.

He approached her slowly, as though scared she were some vision or dream. He moved his fingers to her hair and gently removed a petal from her curly locks.

"My lady," he whispered.

"My lord," she answered, her voice tremulous with emotion.

Hector cleared his throat. "Please forgive me, but my eyes have been opened for the first time, and I feel I cannot drink it in fast enough."

Her heart seemed to beat so loudly that Melpomene feared he would hear it. "Then there is much to see."

They walked around the city, hand in hand, ignoring the crowds around them. The world seemed new and bright and wonderful, and it seemed that nothing could penetrate their happiness.

Melpomene brought herself back to the moment with a sigh. She touched the trunk of the olive tree affectionately. Her world had been bright and wonderful for a short time. All this pain was worth the four years of happiness she had known with him. Melpomene smiled to herself. They had been wonderful years, and she wouldn't even trade them for a place among the gods.

I really hope you all liked this! Let me know what you think with reviews! Reviews are wonderful things!