Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OC and parts of the storyline. All rights go to Wolfgang Peterson, the wonderful director of Troy.

A/N: Hello to all my new favs/followers: Littledot, darkdestiny13, teenytinytwilighter, and Skittles98. Just wanted to make an announcement that there will probably only be a chapter or two after this one as this story is nearing its end. Thank you all for your support!


Ch. 23

"Make the best use of what is in your power, and take the rest as it happens."

~Epictetus

"Those who intend on becoming great should love neither themselves nor their own things, but only what is just, whether it happens to be done by themselves or others."


Achilles rode into camp emptyhanded, his pride stung by his defeat from Panthea. The Greek soldiers all stared at him in disbelief. The Myrmidon Prince had fallen low on account of a woman, Agamemnon's niece to be specific. Odysseus stands among the men, internally grateful that Panthea had knocked some sense into his friend. Meanwhile, Achilles glares fiercely at the soldiers, all of them backing away from Achilles in fear. Though he was still one of them, he was entirely different being than a regular Greek soldier.

Achilles shuffled into his tent, sore at his loss while Achilles followed behind. Achilles plopped himself on his bed while Odysseus stood in the arch way of the tent. "Don't you dare say anything," Achilles gritted through his teeth angrily. Odysseus scoffed at Achilles, not afraid of the golden warrior.

"You assumed she would not defend him after all he has done for her," Odysseus murmured. "You made a mistake."

"What about all I have done for her?" Achilles spoke angrily. "I'm the one who gave her back to the Trojans for her protection."

"Stop acting like a spoiled child. It does not become you," Odysseus replied. "You're the leader of the Myrmidons, not some common soldier."

Achilles gifted Odysseus with a furious look, his eyes piercing him like a sword it's victim. "You dare talk to me in such a way? I could kill you right now."

Odysseus chuckled at his words, watching as Achilles' anger took over him. "Then you would be all alone. Agamemnon would not stop heckling you. You need me." He clapped his hand on Achilles' soldier. "Get some rest. You need it after all that fighting."

Odysseus left Achilles to ponder his thoughts while Odysseus sought the refuge of his tent. Walking through the camp, he saw many soldiers enjoying their evening meal by the fire. One of them whittled a piece of wood with a sharp knife, Odysseus watching curiously. The soldier noticed his presence, stopping his work from a moment. "A horse for my boy back home, my lord," the soldier muttered before returning to his work. Odysseus eyes lit up, a plan forming behind his eyes and he rushed towards Agamemnon's camp.


Panthea had practically carried Hector to the gates of Troy, his breathing becoming more raspy and shallower as they neared the city. Panthea's face was white from fear, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she prayed to the gods. Hector could not die. He was her protector, her husband, and she had grown to love him. She could not lose him, just as she could not lose Achilles.

As the gates opened to the city, several soldiers came to her aid and lifted Hector onto their soldiers to transport him back to the palace. They placed him in a chariot, Andromache and Panthea following behind in a separate chariot. Priam also followed; his usually kingly demeanor having been overcome by the feelings of a father. Hector was taken to his rooms, a physician called to remove the spear from his chest.

Panthea refused to leave his side, watching as the spear left his chest. Hector let out a deep choking sound as he felt the weapon leave his body. He had never experienced something so painful, not having been wounded greatly in battle. It felt as if his soul had been shattered, though it hadn't left his body yet. As he stared up at the ceiling, he could only focus on the rush of pain emitted from his chest.

Panthea remained by his side, encouraging him to stay awake as the physician worked on him. Blood oozed from his wound, but she did not flinch at the sight. She would not believe that he could die from his wound. She knew he would survive. He was Hector of Troy after all, tamer of horses and heir to the throne of Troy. But as he looked up at her, she could see his life fading from his eyes and she prayed to the gods she would not lose him.

It was hours before the bleeding stopped, Hector's body wrapped with cloth as he lay there silently. The physician and his aids left the room, Hector and Panthea alone for seconds before Priam and Andromache entered the room. Andromache immediately ran to her husband's side, Hector sparing her a weak smile. Priam stood at the end of the bed; his eyes filled with relief at the sight of his son alive.

"My son," Priam spoke with his usual calm tone, though his eyes betrayed a sense of fatherly love.

"Forgive me…father," Hector said from his raspy throat. "I have failed you."

"No. You fought valiantly. I am so proud of you my son." Priam approached Hector, Panthea moving to the side so a father could press a kiss to his son's forehead. "But, your time has not come as you thought it would." Priam turned to Panthea, giving her a grateful look. "You have something special, my son. You should be lucky to have obtained it." He reached for Panthea's hand, squeezing it in affection. "We shall have a celebration when you have recovered."

Panthea had a thoughtful look on her face, Andromache noticing immediately. "What are you thinking, dear Panthea?"

"Perhaps we should have a funeral, not a celebration." Priam lifted his eyes in confusion, Hector letting out a weak chuckle.

"She wants me dead already, father," Hector jested.

Panthea shook her head at Hector's words, giving him a glare as she tried not to smile at his joke. "If we have a funeral, the Greeks will draw away from our shores for a time. They will not break tradition. It would give you time, whether that time be used for planning or for a surprise attack, but time enough to win the war."

"We may yet have a champion, though it would be the first time a woman shall have won a war," Priam remarked. Panthea blushed from the attention but was glad her talents as a warrior were recognized by the king of Troy.

"Do it," Hector spoke. "It will be a chance, no matter how slim, but it would save Troy."


Agamemnon paced in the confines of his tent, frustrated with the situation that had presented itself. A Trojan ambassador had been sent to the camp, asking for the 12 days of funeral rites that was demanded by tradition. Agamemnon was confused at the announcement, that is until the Trojan explained that Prince Hector of Troy had died from his wounds. Agamemnon was thrilled at the prince's death, but then scowled at the request. Odysseus accepted before Agamemnon could answer and now the two kings were at each other's throats.

"How dare you act without my authority!" Agamemnon exclaimed at Odysseus. "We have them on the run. Why should we give them 12 days of peace? Their leader is dead! We should attack now before they reorganize their forces!"

"You would break tradition for your war?" Odysseus questioned. "The gods would loom down upon you in anger, not in favor."

"That would be most unwise, brother," Menelaus added.

"The gods support my claims! They support my war!"

"Even if Hector is dead how are we to breach their walls? Their city has never been conquered. They would have us wait decades before we even make a dent in that wall," Nestor remarked.

"I do not care how long it takes me! I will burn their city to the ground. If it costs me forty-thousand Greek soldiers, I will do it. By Zeus I will!" Agamemnon exclaimed. Nestor and Odysseus exchanged troubled glances, worried that Agamemnon's pride would be his undoing.

"Then you will fail in vain. I'm leaving," Menelaus spoke. "And I'm taking my men with me."

"You would betray me, your own brother?" Agamemnon questioned.

"No. I would not turn my back on his brother, but his greed," Menelaus said. "My men and I will be gone by the morning." He exited Agamemnon's tent, leaving his brother angrier than before.

"We don't need him. I have much worthier men than him. He will regret the day he turned his back one me!" Agamemnon exclaimed.

"I have an idea," Odysseus spoke, Agamemnon's cold glance turning on Odysseus.

"What?" Agamemnon questioned.

"It involves a horse."


The sentries that stood guard at the gates of Troy squinted at the morning sun came over the horizon, the fog lifting from the surface to reveal Menelaus and his men nearing the city of Troy. They made the signal for the archers to shoot until they spotted the white flag of surrender. Glaucus made the decision to exit the city with a handful of guards, the archers still in position as he neared Menelaus and his men.

"I wish to make an alliance between the city of Troy and myself once again. I am tired of my brother's antics. I wish for peace between our countries," Menelaus spoke.

"And you think I would believe you when a Prince of Troy has your wife?" Glaucus questioned.

"I see her as my wife no longer," Menelaus voiced. "I wish to speak to Priam about an alliance."

"Your realize I cannot let your men in the city," Glaucus said.

"But you will let me inside, alone?"

Glaucus thought about the prospect for a second, realizing Menelaus was no threat if he came alone. He knew Priam would want to speak to him and if he turned him away from Troy, the chance for an alliance would disappear. "Alone then. Remove your weapons." Menelaus narrowed his eyes at the request but did as he asked so as not to present a threat.

Glaucus and Menelaus rode side-by-side on their horses towards the palace. Many Trojans watched as the Greek leader was escorted through their city, curiosity mixing with suspicion at the sight of the brother of Agamemnon. Once they made their way to the palace steps, they dismounted their steeds and ascended the stairs towards the throne room of Priam. All eyes were glued to the pair as they passed and once the entered the throne room, all became silent at the sight of Menelaus.

Priam's eyes lit up at the sight of his rival, beckoning Glaucus forward with the wave of his hand. "My lord," Glaucus spoke, kneeling before Priam. "Menelaus of Sparta wishes to speak to you of an alliance."

"An alliance you say?" Priam asked aloud, his eyes falling on Menelaus.

Menelaus stepped forward, presenting his case. "This war has gone on for too long Priam. We were allies once, before I let my honor get in the way. I care not for Helen anymore. Your son can keep her. I renounce all claim on her in exchange for an alliance between our two countries. My men and I will join you in arms against my brother, whose greed is controlling his senses."

"And I shall accept this pact between us." Menelaus nodded at Priam's words, his connecting with Priam's wise blue ones. "Perhaps a marriage can be arranged between one of my daughters and yourself."

"A marriage?"

"Yes, for the indiscretion my son caused. I think it only fit to give you a new wife," Priam answered.

"Then as part of our arrangement, I agree," Menelaus said. The two men had sealed an alliance between their nations, unknown to Agamemnon who believed his brother only loyal to him. With the addition of Menelaus' men to the Trojan side, would there be a change in the outcome of the war, or would numbers decide victory?

After his conversation with Priam, the Greek soldiers were allowed into the city of Troy. However, the Trojans exercised on the side of caution and were wary of their new allies, though Menelaus' men knew not to question the decision of their leader.

Menelaus was led through the corridor of the Trojan Palace towards the rooms of his daughter, his heart gladdened at the prospect of reuniting with his daughter. Priam had joined him, knowing that the sight of Menelaus would cause strife with his younger son. They came to Panthea's room, hearing the sounds of a child playing. The doors were opened, revealing Panthea sitting on her bed with her children in her arms. Andromache was by her side, Astyanax playing with a wooden lion in his lap. Hector lay resting in the bed, a defensive expression on his face as he tried to sit up when he saw Menelaus. Meanwhile, Paris stepped protectively in front of Helen who was resting on a chaise in the room.

"There is no need for caution, my sons. Menelaus has voiced to me his desires and we have granted them. Troy and Sparta are enemies no longer. And Helen is recognized as the wife of Paris," Priam spoke, calming his sons' fears.

Hector became more relaxed at his father's declaration, sinking back into the pillows of the bed. However, Paris' body remained tense, though he returned to his seat next to Helen. Helen eyed Menelaus carefully, her blue eyes sizing him up. Menelaus paid her no attention, his focus slowly on Panthea.

Menelaus stepped forward into the room, his eyes glued on the children before Panthea as well as Hector. "You're alive?" he said to Hector, a quizzical expression on his face.

"It was my decision, father. If uncle thought Hector was dead, it would give us time."

"A wise decision on your part," Menelaus replied. "The Greeks are in a frenzy now that you are supposedly dead. It shall work in your favor."

Panthea smiled at her father, noticing in the pride in his voice at her strategical decision. Cradling the children in her arms, she approached her father. They had both fallen asleep in her arms, their midday exhaustion catching up with them. She placed them both in his arms, beaming at the sight. "These are your grandchildren, Alexius and Lyra." Menelaus stared in amazement at the precious children before him, noticing their differences in appearances. Alexius had his golden, Greek curls while Lyra took after the Trojan's darker looks.

"The gods work in mysterious ways, my friend," Priam spoke. "I too had the same expression on my face when the children were born. It seems the god chose for her to bear a child for the greatest warrior on both sides."

"It appears that way," Menelaus said. Peace had been made between Troy and Sparta as was reflected in that moment of family. Menelaus would protect his grandchildren with his life, knowing that his brother still coveted Troy. It did not matter that he no longer had Helen. All that mattered was that his family was safe from the clutches of his brother.


The Greeks watched as a billow of black smoke rose from the city of Troy. Apparently, Prince Hector had died from his wounds, an unimaginable feat in itself. Their Achilles appeared the victor once more, though Achilles had a nagging feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach. They heard no sounds from the city, only silence as the ships were loaded and left the shores of Troy. However, they were not leaving Troy, but relocating to another part of the country where they were not under the watchful gazes of the Trojan army. They thought to convince Troy that they were gone, that they had given up conquering the city of Troy. And to further their scheme, they had left a wooden structure, a horse as an offering to Poseidon.

Sentries had spotted it after the performance of the funeral rites, though all in Troy knew Hector was still alive. They merely followed orders from Priam to remain in their homes and be silent for 12 days to convince the Greeks they were mourning for their prince. And on the 13th day, sentries observed an abandoned beach, only the wooden horse present on the sands of Troy.

Priam, Panthea, Paris, Menelaus, Glaucus, Archeptolemus, and Velior all rode from the city of Troy to view the wooden horse, surrounded by guards as they inspected the structure. They were still on edge, watching the horizon for any sort of threat. Just because the ships were not in sight did not mean an ambush could not be planned. Panthea wouldn't put is past the Greeks to do such a thing nor did Hector who remained in Troy as his injury had not fully healed.

The structure stood fifty feet high, made entirely out of wood from Greek ships. The beach is deserted, only the remains of campfires, burnt ships, and dead soldiers left behind. "Plague," Priam remarked, spotting the black marks on the dead men's' bodies.

"Don't get too close, my king," Glaucus spoke, eyeing the bodies with disgust. Panthea felt sick to her stomach. None had seen these men fit for burial though they had sailed across the seas to fight for Agamemnon.

"This is the will of the gods. They desecrated the temple of Apollo and Apollo desecrated their flesh," Archeptolemus said.

"No man deserves to be left behind," Menelaus voiced. "They should have been buried.

"They thought they'd come here and sack our city in a day. Now look at them, fleeing across the Aegean," Glaucus chuckled.

"You forget that I am Greek." Menelaus gave Glaucus a sharp look, but the general ignored it.

"What is this?" Priam questioned, cutting off the argument between the two warriors.

"An offering to Poseidon. The Greeks are praying for a safe return home," Archeptolemus replied.

"I hope the Sea God spits on their offering and lets them all drown at the bottom of the sea," Glaucus muttered under his breath. Menelaus ignored the comment.

"This is a gift. We should bring it to the temple of Poseidon," Archeptolemus continued.

"It is hollow, is it not?" Panthea questioned as she began to pace around the structure. She narrowed her eyes as she studied the patterns in the wood.

"I think we should burn it," Paris spoke through gritted teeth.

"Burn it? My prince, it's a gift to the gods," Velior declared.

"The prince is right," Glaucus agreed. "It does not sit right with me to bring something into the city that they built."

"I warn you good men, be careful what you insult," Archeptolemus spoke.

"Father, burn it," Paris pleaded with Priam.

Inside, the dozen Greek soldiers who had volunteered to be inside the structure waited for a decision from their leaders, Odysseus and Achilles. They could break from the structure now and escape or hope they would be lucky, that Priam would bring the horse into the city. They were deathly silent, not making any noise as to alert the Trojans of their presence.

As Achilles watched Panthea, he wasn't so sure their plan would work. She was circling around the structure. He knew she could see what the men could not. A smirk was displayed on her face as she stared up at the horse.

"Should we burn it, Paris? Or should we open it?" Achilles rolled his eyes at his love. She was baiting him now. She knew he was inside the horse. Meanwhile, Odysseus sent him a tense look, wondering if they should break out now and run to the woods to hide. They still had their fleet hidden off the shore of Troy, but with only 12 of them, they were unlikely to all survive against the Trojan soldiers.

"Open it?" Paris looked at her as if she had gone mad. It wasn't that he didn't trust Panthea. She was his brother's wife as well as his step-daughter in a way and she was a warrior. He just doubted the other men would agree with her because she was a woman. As he looked at the Trojan priests, he noticed their deep frowns and mistrust.

"You wish to destroy the offering to Poseidon?" Velior questioned.

"It's not an offering," Panthea spoke boldly. "It's a trap."

"A trap, my child?" Priam asked.

"There's a trap door at the bottom of the structure," Panthea said aloud, the men inside the structure cursing her. The Trojan soldiers gripped their spears as they cast their glances at the wooden horse. They looked to Glaucus who also had reached for his sword.

"Step back, my king!" Glaucus exclaimed. He began to yell out orders to his men as they circled the wooden structure and the men inside readied for battle.

"Do not rush to attack," Odysseus said rushed whisper. "Defend yourselves. Stay in a group." The men nodded at his words, always obedient to their master. Odysseus could not say the same for Achilles who never listened to anyone but himself.

"Greeks!" Glaucus declared, "I suggest you descend from this structure or we shall burn it with you inside." Odysseus nodded to his men, opening the trap door and climbing down the horse first. The others followed, Achilles last as he jumped from the wooden structure and onto the sand. He held his sword threateningly in his hand, the Trojans taking a few steps back at the sight of him. He connected eyes with Panthea, raising his eyebrows at her as she studied him. She blushed under his scrutiny, stepping next to Priam who reached for her hand and squeezed it in a comforting manner.

"I could have you killed, but there has been too much bloodshed between our countries," Priam spoke wisely. "I give you this chance to go freely back to your countries and never return." The men stared at Priam in shock, not expecting him to say such a thing.

Odysseus stepped forward, addressing Priam. "We will take your offer, King Priam. My men and I shall retreat back to our ships. I thank you for your hospitality." He nodded to his men who warily stared back at the Trojan soldiers. He went retreat down the beach, his men following. However, he noticed Achilles lingering behind, his eyes never leaving Panthea. He knew the man had made his decision; Achilles having sent his men home after the Greeks had retreated down the coast. He continued without the golden warrior, worried for his men. He knew Achilles could take care of himself.

Achilles stood alone, all the Trojans watching him now as they waited for him to make a move. Instead, he threw his sword on the ground before Priam and Panthea. The soldiers gasped at his surrender, wondering what he was doing. "I'm tired of fighting for this tyrant. I pledge my allegiance to you know, King Priam."

"You and I both know you are your own man. You have no allegiance to anyone, but yourself," Priam spoke. His gaze softened at the Greek warrior, knowing he was of the same breed as his son. "You would have killed my son if you could have."

"Your son took something precious from me," Achilles stated.

"From my understanding, you gave her up willingly," Priam spoke, referring to Panthea. "Your cousin is the one that was taken. And he is recovering from his wounds just as my son is from the ones you inflicted on him."

"I wish to see him," Achilles stated, referring to his cousin. "And you shall…once you remove all of your weapons." Achilles considered his offer before sliding his shield from his shoulders and his other weapons from his sides. He remained in his armor. Though he trusted Priam, he would not trust a vengeful Trojan.

"Now then, let us go into Troy." Priam turned back to his chariot, Panthea on his arm as she aided him into the chariot. She then went to mount Apollis but was surprised when she felt hands on her hips as she was lifted into the saddle. She looked down to see Achilles next to her, the warrior looking up at her with an indescribable emotion. Again, Panthea blushed under his gaze and her blush only worsened when he climbed into the saddle behind her.

Gathering the reins in his hands, Achilles spurred the horse into action and followed the others into the city of Troy. Panthea could feel his breath on the back of her neck and she shivered as he edged himself further in the saddle towards her. He was doing it intentionally, a wicked smirk on his face when Panthea tried to pull away from him.

"Stop," Panthea spoke under her breath, trying to get some distance between herself and Achilles.

"Why?" Achilles questioned. "I've been closer than this to you. In fact, I've been inside of you while you've had nothing covering your body. This should be nothing to you." Panthea's face became bright red at his words and she swatted his hands away when he tried to lay them on her thighs. He chuckled at her reaction, using his thighs to steer Apollis through the city to the steps of the palace.

When they reached their destination Panthea was quick to dismount, Achilles' no longer trying to put his hands on her now that her feet were planted on the ground. She stared up at him, the sun making a halo around his head which only added to his legendary status. He gave her a cheeky look before dismounting and tried to reach for her, but she remained out of his grasp as she went to aid Priam once more. Menelaus noticed his daughter's behavior and chuckled, coming up behind Achilles and clapping him on the back.

"She has a reputation to live up to Achilles. After all, she is married to Hector," Menelaus spoke.

"She may be married, but I still love her," Achilles replied.

"And she loves you. But, once again, she has a reputation to keep intact within these palace walls." Menelaus' hand tightened around Achilles' shoulder, catching the warrior's attention. "Don't ruin it for her," he threatened. He walked up the palace steps behind his daughter, leaving the warrior to follow behind.


"Patroclus." The sound of his name attracted the young boy's attention and Patroclus turned his head to see Achilles walking into his chambers. Patroclus was well enough to be moved to his own rooms but had not been given the liberty to walk freely in the palace quite yet. His face was one of shock when he saw Achilles, rising to his feet though he winced in pain.

Achilles stepped forward, embracing his cousin and letting out a relieved sigh. Patroclus chuckled at his cousin's reaction, pulling away to hold him at arm's length. "What are you doing here?"

"A man can tire of fighting, Patroclus," Achilles stated.

"You? Tired of fighting?" Patroclus asked, dumbfounded at his cousin's response.

"Tired of fighting for the wrong man." Achilles walked towards the balcony of Patroclus' chambers, looking out over the city of Troy. Patroclus joined him as they watched the simplicity of the townspeople below. "I have a son, Patroclus. I have to protect him now, not just myself and my men."

"I have seen him, your son. He looks just like you," Patroclus voiced. Achilles smiled at his cousin's words. "And just as loud." Both men chuckled.

"That is good news," Achilles spoke, once again looking out on the city. "I have yet to meet him." Patroclus gave him a confused look. "I may be fighting for the Trojans now, but I am still treated as enemy. There are guards outside, waiting to see if I'll make a move, see if I'll strike."

"You've been denied the right to see your son?" Patroclus questioned.

"I have to earn the right it seems," Achilles spoke. Patroclus shook his head.

"A father should not have to earn the right to see his son," Patroclus said.

"If you were me, dear cousin, you would understand," Achilles remarked. "I am to live the life of a warrior, given glory and fame, but I am to be cursed. My mother said so before I came here. She said I was to die in battle, but that my memory would live on forever."

"You will not die cousin," Patroclus declared.

"Won't I? My mother told me that was my fate…and she is a goddess, isn't she?" Achilles walked back into Patroclus' chambers.

"You have had the opportunity to change your fate. I think your mother is wrong. You can win this war, cousin. You can be a father. I cannot believe you will die on the sands of Troy," Patroclus said in a determined voice.

"I appreciate your thoughts, dear cousin," Achilles replied. Patroclus nodded his head at his cousin's words. Both their heads turned when the door opened, revealing Panthea with a bundle in her arms. Achilles immediately knew what it was, his eyes widening as Panthea approached him. Patroclus stayed behind on the balcony, giving his cousin some privacy. Achilles was extremely nervous as she neared him, having not been around her for so long. There was also the main reason: He was meeting his child, his son, for the first time.

Achilles eyes searched Panthea for any sign of emotion as she walked towards him, but her face remained blank. She did not know how to act about him, having been separated from him for a year. The only times she had seen him briefly were when she was pregnant and when he almost killed Hector. She was there for her son, not for him. She would deal with him later, but right now, all that mattered was that Achilles would meet his son.

Panthea stepped forward, Achilles looking down to stare at his son. Alexius looked up at his father, Panthea' eyes staring back at him widely. He had Achilles' golden hair and his facial features, but he had his mother's beautiful eyes. He studied his father, his eyes roving all across Achilles' face before his mouth broke out in a toothless smile. He cooed at Achilles, his little hand reaching up from the blankets towards his father.

Panthea grinned at her son's reaction, lifting him up to press a kiss on his forehead. She then held her hands out, offering her son to Achilles. Achilles gave her an unsure look while Panthea gave him an encouraging smile. He took his son from her, holding him as if he would break. "Cradle his head in your arm," she spoke, positioning his arm for him. He let her guide him, thinking he would drop his son if she didn't show him how to hold him.

"What did you name him?" Achilles questioned, enamored with his son as he watched him.

"Alexius," Panthea responded, holding her pointer finger out as Alexius reached out to hold it. He cooed at his mother, gurgling happily as his parents conversed.

"Defender," Achilles spoke, reflecting on the meaning of the name. "It is a strong name."

"He is your son. I made sure he had a strong name," Panthea stated. She would not have given the son of Achilles a weak name. It wouldn't do him justice, her son or Achilles.

Achilles lifted his eyes to watch Panthea, admiring her as she looked over their son. She could feel his gaze on her and tried to ignore it but could not. She blushed as her light blue-green eyes connected with his dark blue ones. Achilles reached his free arm around, placing it on the small of Panthea's back and pulling her towards him. Panthea gasped at the movement but did not protest as Achilles pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling more than she should have. He leaned his face forward, brushing his nose against Panthea's before capturing her lips in a kiss. Panthea did not resist him, one of her hands reaching for his face while the other held onto his upper arm. Achilles felt like a family in that moment. He had been fighting for so long, his warrior lifestyle always in control. And now, he had something else to live for other than glory.


A/N: Comments?