Ok, hey everyone, this is my first Troy fic, and I thought I'd write it after watching thedvd cause Hector and Andromache are so sweet and I just had to write it... anyways, I hope you like it!

Summary: Hector/Andromache. After the Greeks take the beach at Troy, Achilles tells Hector to go home and make love to his wife, so he does (maintains rating!), and in each other they find peace in a terrible time of war. fluffy! Movie verse.

Rating: PG-13 (maintained throughout!)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.... boo hoo.....

Dedication: to all my family and friends, cause I love you all!

A/N: I've never read The Iliad, I just loved the movie, so if anything I've written is wrong, please don't flame me, I know not what I do! Now on with the show...

"I met Achilles today." Hector sighed and didn't meet his wife's eyes. "He- he is the most powerful warrior I have ever seen. And he is strong. Maybe too strong." He allowed Andromache to meet his gaze, and the love in her eyes filled his heart with a desperate hope. He pressed his forehead to hers and ran the backs of his fingers over her cheeks. "I fear for Troy."

Andromache pressed a kiss to his lips and when she pulled back, a single tear began the path along her cheek. "You need not fear anything. Troy will never fall, not with you to lead her." She kissed him again, desperately trying to rid him of his doubts. When they broke apart, he smiled and kissed her forehead, but his eyes did not deceive her.

"Hector-"

"I love you Andromache," he said, brushing a lose strand of hair behind her ear. He took her hand and lead her across to their balcony. A red sun was setting, shattering the coming darkness with crimson and orange. The black Aegean roared with unheeding compassion, and far in the distance Hector could see smoke - the fires of the Greeks.

"They ferrymaster will be busy tonight," he whispered, wrapping his arms around his wife. "And for many nights to come."

Andromache followed his gaze to the horizon, and beyond. "Tell me what you're thinking about," she said, drawing his gaze back to her.

He smiled at her and kissed her softly. "Right now, I'm thinking about what I did to deserve such a beautiful wife." She returned his smile despite heself, and leaned into his chest. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across it in circles. "What about you?"

She remained silent for a moment before meeting his dark eyes. "I'm thinking about life and love, and how they are connected so strongly to death and despair. I'm thinking about Troy, and you, and our son. I'm thinking about this war, and that if I lose you tomorrow, it will be my last day also." She leaned back slightly and touched his bearded cheek with a shaky hand. "I love you Hector," she told him as he took her hand in his own. "If you fight and do not return, I will not survive." Salty tears fell from her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss them all away. "Please, don't go." She was pleading with him and it broke his heart. "Please."

She kissed him desperately, as if tomorrow really was his last day, her tongue meeting his with the love and passion that filled her beautiful soul. Hector returned her kiss, holding her tighter because, at that moment, he never wanted to let her go.

When they broke apart, the look in her eyes made him want her in the most intimate of ways, and he kissed her fiercely, leading her slowly back into their room. Their son was asleep in his cot by the foot of their bed, such an image of perfection that Hector felt suddenly like crying.

"What is it?" Andromache asked quietly, trying to control her breathing after being kissed so powerfully.

She looked on her son and saw just then how like his father he was, and what a brave king he would become. "Andromache?"

She tore her gaze away and looked at her husband, his handsome features marking him out as a true son of Troy. "Yes?" She breathed.

"Thank you." He kissed the corner of her mouth before burying his head in her hair. She clung to him like the lifeline that he was, and before she knew it, she was shaking, sobbing uncontrollably.

"H-Hector," she wept as he rocked her gently. "Hector, I l-love you so-so much. You- you will never k-know h-how I feel a-about you-" She took a huge shuddering breath and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, desperately trying to stop the tears that poured down her cheeks.

Hector couldn't bear to see his beautiful wife so upset. He pulled back and lifted her chin so he was looking straight into her dark eyes. "Andromache, my sweet, darling wife." He pressed a lingering kiss to her salty lips, tears pricking his own eyes. "Andromache, I love you with all of my heart." She looked at him then like a frightened child, so innocent, so alone, and he wanted to take her into his arms and love her until all her hurt went away.

"Don't cry, love, don't cry. It's going to be alright, I promise." He kissed each of the tears that fell from her eyes, until no more came, and then he kissed her lips with all the love in his heart. Her hands went to his dark tresses, clinging onto them like they were the only thing keeping her alive.

"Hector," she breathed, but he put a finger on her lips to silence her.

"Don't speak of what is to come. This is now, and now is only for us." He slowly reached out and undid the clasps that held her dress, they gaze never leaving each other's.

"Oh Hector," she whispered as he pulled her down onto the bed, kissing her neck and shoulders. "I need you," she moaned softly as he ascended back to her lips, "with all that I am."

"Then let me take you to a place where there is no war or grief." He traced her perfect lips with his thumb, before meeting them once again in a gentle but passionate kiss.

Andromache's hands undid the ties of his shirt with practised ease and she traced the hard muscles of his chest, leaving a trail of fire as she went. Time seemed to freeze then, the silence broken only by the couple's heavy breathing. They were mesmirised, lost in each other's eyes, their touch, taste, smell.

A sudden rush of undeniable love for his wife prompted Hector to lean forwards and steal her lips in a drowning kiss. As they fell back onto the bed, all thought of the coming war and the innocent lives that would be lost were forgotten. In each other, Hector and his beautiful Andromache had found complete peace, and whatever happened, nothing, not even the will of the gods, could take that away from them.

When Hector opened his eyes it was dark except for the moonlight that shone through the window. He smiled when he saw the beautiful face of his wife two inches from his own, and memories of their love making flashed through his mind.

She made him so happy, she could never imagine. Whatever was coming, he knew he could get through it with her by his side. She was his strength and his weakness, and every moment apart from her grieved his soul. She was close enough for him to brush his lips against hers; so sweet he wanted to taste her every second of every day.

As she stirred from sleep, she smiled and reached out to kiss her husband again. When she opened her eyes, he cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb across it tenderly. "By the gods, you are beautiful," he whispered, his warm breath so close it tickled her cheek. His hand descended to her neck and he pulled her head forwards to meet his lips in a fiery kiss.

A shiver ran down Andromache's spine and her shoulders tensed as she leaned into this wonderful man and his wonderful kisses. "Hector," she began when they broke apart, but he kissed her again to stop the words. A few minutes later they pulled back and smiled at each other, breathing heavily.

"Andromache," Hector said quietly, losing himself in her dark eyes. "All my life I have lived by three rules. The first is to honour the gods, and the last to defend my country. But it is the second I have always believed to be the most important." He took her hand and kissed it gently. "I love you Andromache, I always will. Whatever happens, you must never forget that."

She smiled, fighting back tears. "You're going to make me cry again," she laughed shakily, closing her eyes to gather herself. When she looked again, Hector was staring at her with such an intense love that she found herself blushing.

"Nothing will happen," she whispered, realising that it was not only her afraid of losing the one she loved. If Hector was lost to her, whether by the will of the gods or not, he would spend an eternity wandering the next life without the one he loved by his side, and she knew that would break him far more easily than any sword or spear.

"Nothing will happen," Hector repeated. "As lond as I can reach out and touch you, I will never die." He rested his hand on her bare chest, feeling the strong beat of her heart beneath the soft skin. Just the simple rhythm did something to him, strangled him, until he had to act or be suffocated by it.

Andromache, sensing his emotions, took his hand from her chest and kissed the palm, her fingers shaking with the knowledge of just how powerful a thing love could be. "Kiss me," she breathed, moving closer to him and pressing her body against his. "Please. Kiss me and love me, and make it all go away."

He didn't need asking twice. His mouth enveloped hers, his tongue telling her secrets ages old. As passion grew like a kindled flame, Andromache's hands gripped his arms, her nails digging into his hot skin. She moaned into his open mouth as he rolled over on top of her, giving his hands free reign of her body.

"Andromache..." Her name clung to the air like autumn to the last of summer's warm breath, as Hector, Prince of Troy, became a father, a husband, a lover, and a beggar, laying his heart into the hands of the woman he loved and hoping she would spare him something in return.

And it was this that determing his destiny as King of Troy. He was not greedy or power-hungry, spiteful or selfish - he was simply one man who wanted only to help others and expected nothing in return. He was Hector, son of Priam, and he was the bravest, kindest, and most loving man you could ever wish to meet.

"You know you said you 'met' Achilles today?" Andromache looked up at her husband and received a kiss for her trouble.

"Yes?" Hector tightened his grip around her, toying with a lock of her silken hair.

"How is it that you did not fight him?"

Hector stumbled on her question - he had not been expecting it at all. "I- He said tomorrow would be a day for fighting." He kissed the crown of her head softly and pulled the coverlet around them. "He told me to come home, drink some wine, and make love to you."

Andromache smiled, before covering her mouth in a delicate yawn. "Wise words," she murmured snuggling into her husband's chest, the steady beat of his heart threatening to lure her straight to sleep. "I think this Achilles may be more that just the warrior the gossips make him out to be. I think- " She cut off as another yawn escaped her lips, closing her eyes. "I think maybe he has a heart after all."

Hector nodded, his mind too weary to think properly about what she was saying. He closed his eyes after a final kiss from his wife. "Goodnight, Andromache."

"Night, Hector." There was a pause. "Hector?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Goodnight."

And as Hector and his beautiful Andromache slipped together into the world of dreams, Achilles, son of Peleus, looked upon the Prince's cousin, Breseis, infront of him.

She was beautiful, and although Achilles didn't know it at the time, she would steal his heart and give him peace in a lifetime of war. He struggled to find sleep, thinking about Hector and envying him one thing. Love. Achilles knew about war and grief, but he knew nothing of love.

Breseis moaned softly in her sleep, and he closed his eyes.

Perhaps one day he would find love. Perhaps he just had.

End.