Author's Note: I am obsessed with the mythology of the Trojan War to an unhealthy degree, and my obsession with Achilles is even worse than that. I love the movie Troy, but the Achilles/Briseis angle really, really irritates me. I have my own theories about Achilles' character arch throughout The Iliad, and can quite happily argue my point for hours. In my opinion, the character that was most important to Achilles' growth as a character was not Patroclus, and was definitely not Briseis, but was rather Queen Penthesilea of the Amazons. Most people just gloss over the relationship and make frightening references to necrophilia, and I've never found a good Achilles/Penthesilea fanfic. So I decided to write one.
Six months and two versions of the story later because I'm a perfectionist and keep finding ways to improve what I wrote, I decided to write a third version that gleefully strays from the myth at points, and post it here. I'm hoping to someday make this story into a movie, so I guess I'll just keep writing it until I'm accepting the Oscar for Best Movie. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own Achilles and Penthesilea. Yep. Stole them from the Greeks.
Actual Disclaimer: No, I don't own Achilles and Penthesilea! That's silly. Anything you recognize, I don't own. Unless you care to make the argument that the characters of mythology belong to the world, in which case, I like you and will support that viewpoint. I don't even own the character of Griffarius; he belongs to my friend Rob (to whom this story is dedicated). I just used him because Griff is all that is man. Period.
Another Disclaimer: The stuff in italics down there was taken verbatim except for one little addition from the beginning and ending of Troy. I really liked the Odysseus voiceover lines, so I plopped 'em in this story. Because I can. It's not plagiarism, it's fan fiction, please don't sue me!
Men are haunted by the vastness of eternity. And so we ask ourselves: will our actions echo across the centuries? Will strangers hear our names long after we are gone, and wonder who we were, how bravely we fought, how fiercely we loved?
Men rise and fall like the winter wheat, but these names will never die. When they burn my body, let them say I walked with giants. Let them say I lived in the time of Hector, tamer of horses; of Penthesilea, queen of mares. Let them say I lived in the time of Achilles.
Ten years it had been since the Greeks came, but the Trojan War showed no signs of stopping. For ten long years, Trojan and Greek alike had suffered for the elopement of Helen, Queen of Sparta, with Paris, Prince of Troy. For ten years, Hector, Crown Prince of Troy, had marshaled his forces against Agamemnon, Spartan King of Kings, and his brother Menelaus, whom Helen had left.
But, unseen by mortals, the tide had begun to turn. Prince Achilles, chief of the Myrmidons, hero of the Greeks, had withdrawn from battle after the Spartan King stole his prize of war, refusing to fight for a man without honor. Prince Hector was dead, slain in battle by Achilles after Hector killed Achilles' beloved cousin Patroclus. After killing Hector, Achilles had once again retreated to the shade of his ship with the Myrmidons and his cousin Ajax, to drown his sorrow in tears and wine.
The Trojans had not a hope; the Greeks fared little better.
It was in this atmosphere that began the last, tragic weeks of the Trojan War. Destinies would be fulfilled, heroes would step forth, and the meeting of two warriors would pass into legend.