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Hector rested his palms on the stone railing of his balcony and hung his head as he was once again consumed with guilt, grief and pain. He had given into his foolish brother and condemned Troy to war and death to hundreds of his fellow countrymen.

Hector lifted his head and watched the pinks and oranges of the rising sun dance across the land outside the magnificent gates of Troy. Soon this land would be covered with the bodies of countless Trojans who would be forced to defend a princess not their own all because a silly woman and boy fell in love and disgraced a poor excuse for a King, and he let it all happen.

What would his precious Andromache say? How he longed to have her next to him now. She would wrap him in her long, slender arms and hold him while telling him everything a man needs to hear.

Reminiscing about his lost wife moved Hector to walk over to his son's crib and gaze down at the precious boy she had died giving him, her last gift. It was still only a year ago that she left and yet it was as if it happened yesterday. His heart was healing yes, but it still yearned for her touch, her love and her smile.

Picking up his sleeping son, Hector drew comfort knowing he was holding a part of her as he began to rock the precious bundle softly; he had missed his son while away.

Running the back of a finger down a soft cubby cheek, he thought of the fate of his son. What would happen to him? Had he not promised Andromache that he would protect him? What had he just done by allowing a foolish brother his trophy? Hector stood frozen at the harshness of reality and clenched his eyes shut trying to control the emotions flooding his body.

"My son how are you?" An ever calm, collected voice said from behind him.

Hector's eyes snapped open and he turned to his father. "I am fine father." He moved back to the crib and placed his son delicately down on the soft bedding, tucking him in and placing a loving kiss on his forehead.

King Priam smiled at his grandson and cupped his small head as Hector moved. "Such a beautiful child," he said adoringly.

Hector smiled as a proud father should and nodded in agreement.

"You are taking too much responsibility for this Hector," the King said still not looking at his son but at his first grandson, another generation of Kings. How blessed he was to witness the birth off another generation.

Hector sighed and walked back out on the balcony not wanting to disturb his sleeping babe. "We have willingly brought war to Troy by allowing her to come here and I cannot live with the images of our dying people, my son…" His voice trailed off not able to let the words leave his mouth.

King Priam stood next to Hector and shook his head 'no'. He watched the emotions play on his eldest son's face and smiled proudly. Hector was his pride and joy; he was every father's dream of what a son should be. Of course he loved Paris, but Paris also cared more about himself and his feelings often neglecting to think about the consequences of his actions; the said situation being the prime example. It did not mean he loved his son less, only differently.

"Greece has wanted to take Troy for years," King Prima finally said turning his head to look out over the land he had ruled with all his love. "Agamemnon cares not for Helen or Menelaus but for his conquests. He will come yes, but not for Helen," he said wisely.

Hector sighed casting his eyes downward. He knew that, but he still couldn't help but wonder if war could have been prevented if he had not let the love he had for his brother rule his heart.

King Priam turned and cupped his son's cheeks, kissing each one with fatherly passion. "Agamemnon would have come eventually, that you know." He paused and stared deep into his son's eyes. "We will face him as we have countless other enemies and with you at my side, Troy will not fall my son." His voice held such conviction that Hector couldn't help but smile.

Hector leaned into his father's hand and nodded. They would fight and they would win. He would not let Troy fall for the silly mistakes of his brother. He still believed Paris and Helen were the cause of this inevitable war and he vowed not to let his people pay for the selfish mistakes of others.

Father and son stood in silence watching their land when they saw the first dot appear on the horizon followed shortly by many, many more. The war they expected and feared had come.

Paris couldn't bring himself to face the reality that was right outside his large, oak doors. He couldn't deal with the fact that they were here for Helen, for him. So he continued to stand at the edge of his balcony and watched as his brother led their armies out to war.

He had been in the same spot since sunrise, void of all thought and emotion as he spotted the first ship with many more following it, the numbers endless. He had watched when the lead ship with solid black sails landed on the beach. The Greeks had landed on his beach and now Hector was going to fight his war.

He had knowingly brought this war. He had asked his brother not to fight his wars and where was he now? Ridding off to fight not for Helen, a woman he hardly cared for, but for him. Hector was fighting his war for him and he was letting him. The sad reality was he expected him to.

Paris clenched his eyes shut when he knew that his brother had engaged the Greeks. He had used Hectors endless, loyal love for him to get what he wanted. He always did. He couldn't help but feel that he had gone too far this time. He had brought potential death to his family, to Hector. Hector always protected him, always stood up for him, and was always there for him in whatever way Paris needed. If Troy lost Hector, if he lost Hector, he knew that there would be no hope for him or Troy. Hector was just too important and Paris had completely disregarded that when he chose his love for Helen over his brother's life, his countrymen's lives.

Paris hung his head in despair; he was unworthy of his brother's love.

Unable to take his minds torture, Paris turned around, leaned against the railing and gazed at the form of the goddess lying peacefully in his bed. Just looking at her and knowing he had been blessed with her love, holding her in his arms and warming his bed at night washed away all his guilt. If he had to do it again, he would. He loved her so much it hurt. He had known the moment he gazed at her beauty he would not leave her with Menelaus. She was his life.

Sighing deeply, Paris turned back around and spread his arms wide, his palms holding his weight as he leaned on the stone railing and prayed to the Gods for his brother's safe return.

Barley a moment later, small, delicate hands encircled Paris' exposed waist from behind, fingering his abdominal muscles while soft, warm kisses trailed down his spine.

Paris felt his body shudder and goose bumps formed on his arms as Helen continued her gentle kisses. "My love," he whispered huskily trying to control his body's growing reaction to her touch. Now was certainly not the time.

Helen smiled at the effect she had on him and leaned her forehead against his back, holding him tightly to her. She couldn't get enough of him. She needed him to hold her, touch her and kiss her as much as possible. It was as if he had become her very soul.

Paris turned slightly in her embrace and wrapped an arm around her slender frame bringing her to his chest and kissing the top of her head softly. He knew that she was going to react badly when she saw what was going on.

Helen buried her head in his chest and let out a sigh of content as they stood in comfortable silence. She could not believe how blessed she was to be encircled in his arms.

Turning her head slightly, the content smile that was on Helen's delicate face immediately vanished as she saw that her worst fears had reached Troy.

Unable to form words, Helen pushed out of Paris' embrace and felt the blood rush from her head. Placing a quivering hand on the stone ledge, she brought other hand to her face in shock as silent tears trickled down her cheeks while she tried to count the endless Greek ships that littered Troy's shores.

Paris' face frowned in worry. Helen had gone fearfully pale and was just standing there, tears running down her perfect cheeks watching in silence. She was too pure to have to witness death.

"Love?" he asked softly as he stepped in her line of sight and wiped at her tears with the pads of his soft thumbs.

Helen looked up into his eyes, his dark, brown eyes that were looking down at her with nothing but love and concern. "Oh Paris," she whispered as she leaned into his arms and immediately started to sob. "This is all my fault."

Paris held her tight as she clung to him and rubbed her back soothingly while kissing her hair. "No darling, it is not. You know Agamemnon has desired Troy for years. We knew this war was going to happen eventually."

Helen shook her head and pushed against his chest, her eyes swollen and red as she looked out towards the battle on the beach from over his shoulder. "How can you say that? How can you just accept war?" she asked trying to gasp for breath. She was on borderline hysterics. She did know this was coming, she was not stupid, but she didn't think it was going to happen so quickly.

Paris cupped her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. "Because it is the truth Helen," he said softly yet sternly.

"I want to give myself back," she hastily blurted out, immediately clutching her eyes shut in order to block out the pain that consumed Paris' face.

"W…What?" he asked in disbelief, his hands limply dropping to his sides. He did not ever think he would hear those words leave her mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Helen tried to compose herself. "Menelaus came for me, it's me he wants. I cannot sit here knowing men are dieing because of me. I will go back to him and he will leave Troy. There will be no war." She tried to sound confident but Paris could see right through her. She was petrified.

Paris again took her face in his hands, her small ones coming up to cover his, as he stared deep into her eyes. "Listen to me Helen." He paused for a moment before continuing. "Menelaus would take you back, kill you and then continue on to Troy to kill me. Menelaus is just a pawn in Agamemnon's game. He cares neither for his brother nor you." His words stung her, but she knew he was right.

"I will never be free from him," she sighed shakily. Just the thought of seeing Menelaus' face again brought shivers to her body as it leaned into Paris' warm embrace. "He will burn Troy to the ground to find me, to find us," she said, her voice barley above a whisper.

Paris didn't think he could hold her any tighter to him. "No!" he said firmly, resting his head on top of hers. "Troy will not burn nor will it fall."

Paris pulled her back slightly and gazed into her eyes. "As long as there is breath in my body, I will never allow Menelaus to touch you." He lowered his lips to her quivering ones and captured them in a passionate kiss, crashing her body to his as he deepened their kiss with all the love he possessed.

When the need for air was too great, Helen pulled away and molded herself into Paris' body wishing his embrace would shield her from the world.

As she gazed over Paris' shoulder, Helen's eyes were wide and lifeless as she watched the battle on the beach unfolded. She was glad she could not see clearly what was happening but she knew, she knew people were dying. Trojans and Greeks were dieing because of her and she prayed to the Gods for their forgiveness for what she had done.

Achilla sat at the bow of their ship as it approached the beaches of Troy. The days on end aboard a ship were something she could handle, but the growing feeling in her gut as they got closer and closer to their destination was something she could not. This war was folly to her. She did not want to fight the Trojans, they were good people. Countless men were going to die and for what? For a woman who didn't mean anything more than a jewel to a selfish and proud King? No! This was for domination and sentencing these men to death for another's plunder was not something she wanted to do.

Looking back at the men who were rowing the boat, she flashed them a warm smile as she watched them take her closer to their deaths. These were her people. They would follow her and Achilles across the world, into any battle without question. They were the best in all of Greece and had earned their titles with the cost of their blood. Did they deserve to die in Troy? Certainly not!

Smiling when one solider winked at her, Achilla returned her attention to the sea and tried to ignore her anxious nerves. The sun was just starting to rise; they would be reaching Troy very soon. She was already in her armour, her sword strapped to her back and her shield at her feet ready and waiting to protect her.

Achilla unsheathed her sword, a complete duplicate to Achilles only lighter and narrower for her small size, and ran her finger over the cold metal. Never had she felt such a conflict as she thought of the innocent blood that would soon stain the flawless steal. She was always ready and willing to go to war against those who were a threat to her people or those she loved, they deserved to die in her opinion. But now, this war, she just couldn't seem to find any plausible reasons.

Why couldn't one be satisfied with what they had? She hated Agamemnon for this. Why she hadn't killed him herself was beyond her. If he was dead she wouldn't be here, her cousin of all people wouldn't be here and her brother would be safe at home. She knew what his mother had said awaited him should he fight in Troy. She had been livid and deeply hurt when he chose to still fight despite the warning. If fate thought she was going to allow her brother to die, think again. She would ensure Achilles returned to Phtia even if it meant giving her own life in order to do so.

Achilla didn't care for her brother's obsessive desire to have his name remembered throughout history. A name whispered throughout lands and time as a man who fought in the most historic battle. That didn't matter to her for she felt glory was more than something one earned from fighting a war; but, it mattered to her brother and he mattered to her. That was why she was now here willing and waiting to fight for him: for his glory, his life and his place in history.

Achilles strapped his armour tighter as he yelled for his men to row harder. He would get there first and take the beach and show Agamemnon and Troy who they were, who he was. Yes, this would be the greatest battle and his name was going to be forged into history.

Achilles stopped his inspection of his armour when he caught sight of his sister. He recalled the arguments they had about coming and knew the only reason she sat ready for battle was because of him and their men. He had held her as she cried silent tears when he told her what his mother had said. Whatever possessed him to tell her such a thing still plagued him. He had not expected her to react the way she did. Though something had changed in her since the words left his mouth and they got closer and closer to Troy. He saw something in her eyes that unnerved him. He got the distinct feeling she was planning on sacrificing herself if it meant he would live. He would never forgive himself if such a thing happened. Achilla was young and strong. She could easily survive without him, but he could not without her.

Achilles' thoughts were gratefully disturbed when Eudorus came up and stood next to him, a smile instantly forming on the lieutenant's lips as he gazed at the sight of his warrior Queen. "Should we wait for the others?" he asked his King, his eyes still focused on Achilla.

Achilles turned his head to look at the countless ships that were behind him. The distance between them only confirmed the Myrmidons would arrive first, far before the others, and giving him all the time he needed to achieve his victory.

Achilles lips curled in delight. "They brought us here for war didn't they? Why wait?" he asked as he returned to watch his sister.

"But Agamemnon said…"

Achilles snapped his head to face his lieutenant. "Do you fight for me, Eudorus? Or Agamemnon?" His voice had risen slightly in challenge.

Eudorus looked at Achilles like it was painfully obvious. "For you and for her," he said proudly nodding to Achilla.

Achilles gave him a satisfied nod and smile. "Then fight for me, fight for Achilla. Let the servants of Agamemnon fight for him." He returned his gaze and straightened as the beach was vastly approaching. He could see the warriors readying themselves for his arrival and felt his body tingle with anxious anticipation.

Hearing the sheathing of a sword, Achilles looked back to Patroclus who was also readying himself for battle. He knew the boy was going to hate him for what he was about to do but he couldn't afford the further distraction and neither could Achilla.

He followed Patroclus with his eyes until his cousin was standing next to him, spear and shield in hand. "What are you doing?" he asked as if he had no idea what was going on.

Patroclus looked at Achilles like he had grown an extra head. "Going to fight the Trojans," he replied as if it was most obvious. He didn't like the look on Achilles face and it made his hands start to sweat as they gripped his shield and spear tighter.

Achilles just shook his head 'no' and took the spear that was clutched tightly in Patroclus' hand. "You're not ready," he said gently, yet firmly. Taking the beach and running into open fire of the Trojan arrows would take lives and he didn't want to risk Patroclus'.

Patroclus stood stunned for a moment in disbelief, his face then turning to a look of rage. "I am ready!" he protested. "I have been taught by the best." He pointed to Achilles then Achilla who was now watching them with confusion.

Achilla frowned as she heard her cousin yell and approached him and her brother. "What is going on?" she asked, her eyes darting between the two for an explanation.

Patroclus snapped his head to Achilla. "He won't let me fight," he whined pointing angrily to Achilles.

Achilla looked at Achilles confused. He was the one who argued with her about bring their cousin, the sheltered boy who had never seen battle. Now he was telling Patroclus to stay behind? It would have been better to leave him at home then to let him come with the assumption of participating in battle only then to tell him 'no' at the last moment. She could sympathize with Patroclus' anger.

Achilles gripped the back of his cousin's neck forcing Patroclus to look at him. "You are a good student," he said calmly. "But you are no Myrmidon worrier yet," he replied as he straightened and flashed a look to his sister. It was time for her to take over.

Achilla, reading her brother's look, moved to stand in front of Patroclus. "My dear cousin," she said softly. "You have never fought in battle before; it is very different than our simple sparring matches."

"But—,"

Achilla shook her head, cutting him off and turned him to face the men who were read and waiting for battle. "Look at these soldiers." She waved her hand out over her men. "These are the fiercest and finest soldiers in all of Greece. Each of them has bled for us and us them." She paused and let Patroclus scan the hard faces of their warriors.

Achilla turned back to face Patroclus. "Achilles and I have been fighting since we were children, your time will come but not today," she said firmly. "We cannot take the beach if we are worrying for you cousin." She knew she had gotten through to him as he leaned his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes to control his frustration.

Achilles' heart swelled in pride. The looks on all the men's faces mirrored his as they heard her words. She had easily defused a normally explosive situation with little effort. Achilles had no doubt she could talk her way out of a war if she was given the opportunity to.

Noticing they would reach the beach in a matter of moments, Achilles slapped Patroclus' shoulder. "You will guard the ship," he ordered.

Achilla frowned. He had to open his mouth.

Patroclus snapped his head up and flashed cold, angry eyes at Achilles and flung his shield aside as he angrily stomped off.

Achilla growled in frustration and pocked her finger in her brother's unprotected shoulder. "You had to get the last word in, didn't you?" She continued pocking him as she said each word.

Achilles chuckled with a half shrug and wrapped his arm around his little sister brining her close. "Stay safe sister," he whispered in her ear while secretively rubbing the aching muscle where she had pocked him.

Achilla wrapped her arms around her brother's waist and nodded, instantly forgetting her frustration. "You too brother," she said leaning her head back to rest her chin on his chest and look into his eyes. The glare she gave him told him things she didn't need to say. If he died, she would never forgive him. She would travel all the way down to Hades herself to bring him back so she could in turn kill him for leaving her.

Achilles kept his arms around his sister and turned to watch the Trojan beach. It was almost upon them and the Trojan men were anxiously waiting for him as they continued to form their ranks.

"Myrmidons!" Achilles yelled catching his men's attention and turning to face them with a dry smile. "We are brothers, and sister…," he nodded to Achilla who grinned, "of the sword. I'd rather fight alongside you than any army of thousands." His smile widened as his warriors and sister cheered.

Removing himself from his sister's embrace, Achilles walked to the bow of the ship. "Let no man or woman forget who we are." He narrowed his gaze and clenched his fist, "We are Myrmidons, we are menacing, and we are lions!" His strong voice was lost among the cheers.

Extending his arm out to towards the beach, Achilles continued. "Do you know what's beyond that beach?" He paused and scanned their faces, "Immortality! Take it, it's yours!" he yelled locking eyes with his sister as she stood calm and collected while their men cheered. Both siblings knew what the other was thinking and both knew the other would be there to stop whatever cards fate had dealt them should it mean ones death.

Achilla ignored the last part and pushed her helmet on her head. It was identical to Achilles, less the head decoration, but was pure silver signifying who she was among the men's normal black. She used the reflection it gave off from the sun to blind her enemies, a tactic that had saved her life countless times.

Running her hands over her black armour that moulded perfectly to her body, Achilla looked at Achilles and nodded she was ready. They braced themselves as the boat docked, clashed shields and leapt from the ship.

Achilla landed gracefully, her shield held protectively in front of her as the first rain of arrows descended upon them. She could hear the screams of her men falling behind her and forced all feelings aside as she focused on the task at hand.

As more arrows rained upon them, Achilla crouched down and held her shield in front of her. "Formation!" she ordered as the sounds of arrows thudding in her shield hit her ears.

Within seconds, Achilles was next to her along with all the Myrmidons as they grouped their shields together to form a protective dome from the rain of arrows.

Slowly, they made their way towards the Trojan archers who were desperately trying to find an opening in the alarming black barracked, it opening and closing quickly to allow the Myrmidon archers to fire their own arrows.

When they were close enough to the archers, Achilles looked to Achilla. "Wait for my command to take the archers. I will take the temple," he ordered.

Achilla nodded to her brother and continued up the beach, waiting for her orders to break off.

Moments later, Achilles' order rang out and the solid black barracked broke apart as sister and brother split their men each letting out their own distinctive war cry as they charged.

Achilla had reached the archers before her men. Her sword gleamed in the light as her blade sliced easily into her attackers while her shield captured every arrow that was aimed to kill. Within seconds she had forced the archers to abandon their bows and draw swords.

Thrusting her shield in a man's face, Achilla ducked under his feeble swing for her neck and slashed her sword down his back, the sharp steal cutting through his armour like parchment, while kicking the legs out of another as he attempted to charge her and swinging the sharp curve of her shield around slicing his throat.

Achilla's men soon joined her and as locust, they swarmed the beach; her now stained sword cutting through Trojans like butter. Her speed and skill left no room for the Trojans to get a strike in and were often dead before they could even parry her blows.

Soon, Achilla had taken her end of the beach and immediately scanned around pleased to see the majority of her men were still standing.

Achilla then turned her gaze to the temple when her brother's name began to echo over the water as it was chanted by the Greeks still at sea. She could see her brother standing at the entrance no doubt soaking in the scene before him with Eudorus standing proudly behind him.

Achilla then watched with a disapproving frown as her brother sliced the head off Apollo's statue; no doubt he was mocking Eudorus. She and Achilles had little to no faith in the Gods, but their men did. Where Achilles challenged the Gods, like he did to anyone who dared to tell him what to do, she remained impartial and respected others beliefs in them. Quite often the faith that her men and other's had in the Gods was the only thing that kept them going, perhaps even saving their lives.

Achilla's attention turned to her men as they surrounded her. "Shall we pursue my lady?" A soldier gasped trying to catch his breath while pointing his sword to a few retreating Trojans.

Achilla shook her head and clapped the man on the back. "No. Regain your energy for them," she said nodding her head in the direction where a cloud of dust formed behind a large army of horsemen galloping towards them.

Achilla sighed, of course more would come, and ran closer to where her brother was. When they locked eyes, she raised her sword and pointed to the approaching Trojans, they were not finished yet.

Hector caught sight of the beach and gasp in horror. Hundreds of Trojan men lined the beaches, their blood soaking in the sand as they lay breathless.

Hector urged his mount to go faster when he caught sight of the army waiting for them, their all black armour signifying who they were: Myrmidons. He found his eyes squinting as they were drawn to a smaller figure with a shinny helmet standing in lead among them. He could see the other Greek ships had not yet landed and he was stunned the Myrmidon army had taken the beach alone.

Achilles watched as the horsemen approached. Glancing down at the spear at his feet he looked to his sister as she held her men in line. He grinned, kicked up the spear and hurled it into a man to the left of the obvious leader. He nodded mockingly at the shocked look on the Trojan leaders face and turned to his sister grinning.

Achilla rolled her eyes and held out her hand, "Spear if you please." A soldier placed a spear in her hand and all watched as she leapt and hurled the spear with as much force as Achilles. The man to the right of the leader fell off his horse with a cry that rendered the army speechless as they all turned and looked at her. Achilla turned to her brother and bowed her head mockingly.

Hector could not believe what he had just witnessed. No person could throw a spear at that range. Yet here were two who had just proven him wrong. He instantly knew who the two were.

Shaking his head to push away the worry, Hector looked to his men behind him and nodded to a general. "Take half the men and engage them," he pointed to where Achilla and her men stood waiting.

The man nodded and let out an order as half the horsemen broke off from Hector while he led the rest to take the temple.

Achilles continued to watch the army approach, half breaking off and already engaging his sister. He could see the leader clearly; it had to be Hector and heading straight for him. He smirked as the legend of Troy took his own spear and hurled it at him. Keeping eye contact with the Trojan, he tilted his head to the side lazily as the spear soared past him. He gave Hector a satisfied smile before turning and walking slowly into the temple.

Achilles grinned as his men disappeared behind pillars and tables, waiting to ambush the Trojans. "Be ready men. They are here," he said quietly and continued his walk to the altar.

"Spearmen, Archers!" Achilla barked as the horsemen galloped towards them. It was defiantly an advantage the Trojans had being on horses, but Achilla knew how to handle the situation.

A group of men all stood in front of Achilla and held out long spears while archers lined and fired from behind them. Should the horsemen be stupid enough to charge her, they would risk killing their horses or being throne; therefore, they would be forced to dismount and engage them on foot. Achilla hated this approach, she liked horses, but the action was necessary.

As Achilla's archers fired arrows, some of the horsemen urged their mounts to charge her spears. Scowling in rage over the disrespect for their steeds, Achilla felt a wave of relief when the horses were smart enough to realize the danger and reared throwing their riders to the ground.

Since most of the Trojans were now dismounting, Achilla raised her sword in the air for her line of men to attack and led the charge, her cry of war filling the air.

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