One of the most deadly men ever to walk the earth strolled casually through the marbled doorway, his eyes on high alert. His hands gripped a celestial bronze sword so hard that his knuckles turned a pale shade of white. Turning on his heel, he strained his ears and listened hard.

His name was Achilles. He had raven-black hair, sea-green eyes, and a face envied by the entirety of the male population in Greece. The grip in which he handled his blade betrayed a vast degree of mastery in swordsmanship.

Despite this, though, he didn't let down his guard. One could never truly let down one's guard in a war.

This thought was torn almost forcefully from his mind as he heard a light cough. Swiveling, he turned his blade. And gasped.

Stretched out on a plush sofa lay the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Instantly, he knew who it was. Helen of Troy. Immediately, a block of hatred filled his mind.

"Do you have any idea," he growled. "How much damage you've caused?"

For her part, Helen had never met a more dangerous-looking man. She almost whimpered as she beheld his face- very attractive, but that somehow made his scowl even more pronounced.

"Don't do anything rash!" Helen snapped. Her plan, which mainly involved seducing the hero and distracting him for Paris to shoot him was clearly not an option now.

"I have gods on my side. There are forces in this very room that you do not know about, that could end you at this instant!"

Achilles narrowed his eyes, and Helen gasped and covered her mouth. She silently cursed as Achilles' eyes widened. Damn her big mouth!

"There is another person in this room."

"What would make you think that?"

Now Helen was well and truly panicking. Paris could not fight Achilles. He may have had some chance when he still held the advantage of surprise, but that was all but gone now.

There was only one thing she could possibly do now, one thing to give Troy a final hope.

"Never mind what I said…"

Using her powers as a daughter of Aphrodite, she pushed her charm speak upon him. "You will leave now and forg-"

Her words were cut off as Achilles sent a vicious backhand flying her way. She screamed as she was sent sprawling.

"Your charmspeak will not work on me, pretty one."

A scuffle and a scream suddenly rang through the air. Helen looked up to see Achilles holding Paris by the throat. The latter was quickly turning red from lack of oxygen.

"Try to sneak up on me, will you?" Achilles growled. He whirled his arm, slamming Paris into the wall. "You're lucky I'm not in the mood for murder today."

He slammed his blade into Paris' skull. The prince of Troy fell to the floor, unconscious.

Helen backed up against the wall. "Please! Please! I'll do anything! Perhaps-perhaps I can offer you a service."

Achilles smirked. "And what can you, a figurehead princess, do for me, a Lord of Greece?"

In one rapid motion, Helen stepped forward and slammed her lips into Achilles'. The warrior's eyes widened. He had clearly not been anticipating this. Helen found herself enjoying the kiss suddenly, and her mind blanked. "Please… please…"

She could see the muscles of his stomach writhing beneath it, muscles hardened and perfected from his life as a warrior. A strange sensation spread through her arms and legs and she deepened their kiss, raising one perfect leg and resting it on his hip. In the same movement, she raised a hand to buttons on Achilles' shirt, but found her wrist suddenly bound by an iron grip. "Naughty, are we?"

Achilles' eyes were taunting as he said the words. He scanned Helen's eyes and saw the lust for him in them.

Without warning, he turned and stabbed a knife straight into her abdomen. Helen fell to the floor. Blood pooled from the wound to the floor, forming a small puddle.

Achilles leaned in so that their faces were almost touching. He had no doubt that his expression was that of pure hatred as he whispered, "My friend and brother died because of you. You deserve this fate."

He waited by her, watching her eyes and locking them into his own so that the last thing she saw would be his furious face and the hatred etched in his eyes.

"You know, I lied." Achilles sneered. "I am in the mood for murder today."

xXxXxXxXx

When he stepped from the castle into the dark courtyard outside, it was nearly evening. The campfires of the Greeks dotted the hillside, illuminating the thousands of warriors milling about. Achilles could smell the acrid smoke behind him from the burning city of troy. He stretched a weary smile.

It was strangely satisfying to watch the city he'd fought for so long raze to the ground.

"It is beautiful, is it not?"

Achilles didn't reply. He merely watched and waited as the sound of hoofprints drew nearer and nearer. Mere seconds later, a figure and his stallion pulled up beside him.

Achilles looked up and could see King Agamemnon staring down upon him, his breath frosting in the cool air.

"Troy has finally burned. All the death, bloodshed… finally worth it."

The immortal warrior said nothing, but a trained physician would be able to discern his tensed muscles and tightened jaw. Achilles was deliberately holding himself back.

"I must disagree, my lord."

He tried to keep his tone respectful. "The deaths of thousands is never justified, especially not because of some conceited woman."

Agamemnon frowned and turned a curious gaze on his most prized warrior. "What has gotten into you lately, Achilles? Is not the bloodshed invigorating? Refreshing?"

Achilles fought back the urge to punch the king in the face. "With all due respect, milord," he growled. "My brother died before my very eyes. Every person I killed, every person I maimed had a family. And with one stroke, I'd have taken someone special from a father. A son. A daughter."

Achilles took a deep breath. "From today onwards, I shall never kill another without clear reason ever again. I swear it on my honor."

Thunder boomed overhead, marking his remark.

"What are you saying, Achilles?!" Agamemnon screeched. "You are our most prized warrior! I cannot afford- gah!"

The king was red in the face and seemed to be struggling to formulate sentences. He turned away and clenched his fists.

"Is something wrong milord?"

"No. Nothing is wrong…"

Agamemnon internally composed himself before turning back to Achilles. He put on a plastic smile. "Why don't you head off to bed, soldier? It is late."

Achilles raised an eyebrow and sauntered away.

Agamemnon watched him go with hawk's eyes. Internally, he was fuming. How dare Achilles make such a vow? How dare he! The King could feel his face heating up in rage. Achilles' vow was an effective resignation from unjustified murder- and that meant a resignation from war altogether.

"I beg you reconsider your vow, Achilles!" Agamemnon called after the turned back of the warrior. "Our kingdoms need you. Your warriors need you. Are you so selfish as to abandon our troops because you've gotten queasy from spilling blood?!"

The words tumbled out before he knew what he was saying. "You're a fool, Achilles. A fool!"

The warrior turned, and, for a split second, their gazes met. Even from a distance, the King could see Achilles' eyes- filled with not rage but a deep, profound sadness. Then he turned back once more and began a quick sprint. Soon, he was lost in the dark-green pastures in the distance.

Agamemnon turned his horse around and whipped it into a quick gallop. This recent development demanded discussion with the council.

xXxXxXxXx

"You have called us to the council, brother?" A deep and melodious voice inquired. "Evidently." Agamemnon replied dryly. "I take it you are all here?"

His eyes swept the room and focused on the 2 people situated on chairs of varying degrees of comfort.

"I have a surprising announcement to make. Achilles has decided to effectively resign his life as a warrior."

The outroar was incredible. No doubt their voices could be heard from far outside the tent, so loud was the magnitude of their voices. Agamemnon pounded his hand against the oakwood desk for silence.

"I have called you all here to decide his fate." He sure to make eye contact with all of the figures at the table.

Silence.

"What do you mean, decide his fate?" Agamemnon turned to the furthermost figure at the table, a muscled man with intelligent, sea-green eyes.

"You know what I mean, Theseus." Agamemnon replied. "Achilles is now a liability. His loyalty is no longer to us and the cries of war."

"What are you implying, O King?" Theseus growled. Here Agamemnon had to word his words very carefully. He was aware that the intelligent demigod was particularly fond of Achilles. Treading carefully would be wise.

"I mean," Agamemnon said slowly. "None of us would like to see Achilles deported, to live a docile life of a working-class husband. Are we in agreement?"

Nods around the table.

"Perhaps, then, we should convince him to reconsider his decision."

Theseus perked up. "What did he swear his oath on? The Styx?"

"No. His honor."

Odysseus narrowed his eyes. He'd been listening closely to this conversation the entire time, and one could tell by his body language that he disapproved of Agamemnon's words.

"You will do no such thing. Achilles' decision are his and his alone to make."

Agamemnon's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Look here, Odysseus! I am a king. You do not speak to kings in such harsh and commanding tone."

Odysseus glared daggers at the King, but he refrained from speaking. His eyes were enough to transfer his tacit message, though, hurt my friend and there shall be h*ll to pay.

Agamemnon ignored this.

"Whatever you do, be wise. Achilles does not react well to any type of persuasion, especially forced." Theseus pointed out.

Agamemnon ignored this also.

"What I am asking is for your approval to…" he cleared his throat nervously. "soften him up."

"And what do you mean by that?" Odysseus barked. "Harass him until he agrees to your terms?"

This Odysseus is far too smart for his own good. Agamemnon realized. Externally, he said, "I am not saying that. I am merely saying that perhaps he could… reconsider.. under some pressure." Seeing the two heroes' indignant faces, he elaborated. "Say, perhaps, put him in a situation where he will be compelled to react."

"No." Theseus said. His voice was flat and emotionless. "Achilles swore on his honor. To violate this is to violate what he values most. Secondly, what do you mean by that? Are you implying that you will place him or his loved one in mortal danger simply to have him fight again?"

Agamemnon was silent. He suddenly found great interest in staring at his shoes.

Theseus was taken aback instantly. "You sick b*stard!" he shrieked. He rose to his feet. One hand was on his sword when Agamemnon suddenly snapped up.

"You do not speak to a King in such a way! Guards!"

Odysseus's face paled. "This entire time…" he growled. "You purposefully played us into our anger to have an excuse to capture us, didn't you?!"

Agamemnon's face was impassive as three muscled warriors barged in the tent door. "Partially. I'd have hoped you'd have been a little more accepting of my plan. It's too bad, really."

Theseus snarled. "I hope you remember what happened to Aeropos II when he tried to eliminate his counsel and assume total control."

"Ah, yes. He died, didn't he? A tragic death, I'm told, by the hands of the friends of his senate." His eyes bored into those of Theseus' and Odysseus'. "Are you insinuating that you or your family shall kill me?"

To his guards, he said only, "Round them up. They have committed treason against their King. Oh, and also, make sure to murder their families. They, as far as I'm concerned, are guilty by association."

If Theseus and Odysseus had been prepared for the assault, they probably would've been able to fend their captors off. As it were, they were completely unprepared for the twin fist-strikes to the backs of their heads that knocked both of them unconscious instantly.