Disclaimer: Technically I don't own any of the characters. They really belong to Warner Brothers and Homer, I just changed there names and that stuff. The song is The Greatest Story Ever told, which was sung by Oliver James in What a girl wants. It seemed kind of appropriate for this.

 Author's note: Second chapter! Woot! Writer's block is gone!! Crap….i think I just jinxed myself. Oh, well. It helps that I saw Troy again yesterday. Anyway onto the fic. I may change the rating to R later. I've decided to start each chappy with a quote or poem I love, so enjoy.

       To love at all is to be vulnerable— C.S. Lewis

Paul Troies lay awake the whole night. He didn't sleep, first because of the person who was now slumbering next to him in bed, and second, because he was afraid to. Every time he would she would be gone. Back to him! That bastard, who didn't even know how lucky he was to have such a woman. Paul reached out his hand and stroked her golden hair, thinking of the first time he had met her.

Three weeks earlier:

The party was definitely starting to pick up. Two guys were throwing punches at each other over, what else, a girl. Contestant number two suddenly shoved number one onto the glass table; it shattered.

"Holy shit!" One of Paul's friends laughed. Paul should have laughed too, but he couldn't. He was too pissed off at his older brother, Hector. Mr. Perfect. If he was such a great son why was he trying to convince dad to get out of the family biz? Paul clenched his jaw remembering the talk they had had earlier that morning.

"Paul, I'm serious!" His brother glared at him.

"I kinda got that, bro," he smiled. He couldn't help it. Hector mad was always hilarious, mostly because he hardly ever lost his cool. "You really need to calm down. The cops are taken care of, so what's the deal?"

"The deal?!" Hector punched up his fist. The smile on Paul's face dissolved. If Hector decided to use violence, Paul was done for. Sure, he was pretty well muscled, not an ounce of flab on him, but he was no match for his brother in a fight. Hector worked out and jogged for Christ sake! Not to mention he was a freaking Robin Hood with a gun. "The deal is that we don't want to have to take care of the cops! Dad's getting out! Don't you understand that?"

"Yea," Paul answered softly. "But it's stupid."

"Stupid? What are you, Paul? Six? You need to learn to take some fucking responsibility! You're 24 years old! You can't keep running to me and dad with all your problems!" Hector paused, breathing heavy from all the shouting. He looked like he was about to say more, but Paul didn't let him.

"I'm out of here. Don't worry, I won't come running to you anymore!"

"Dude, Paul! Are you even paying attention!"

It seemed the fight had moved out onto the pool deck. Paul looked around the giant living room. Half the people had run out onto the deck to watch the rest of the fight. The radio was still playing.

Thank you for this moment
I got to say how beautiful you are
Of all the hope and dreams I could pray for
There you are

He looked at the few people left in the room….and his breath stopped. He actually stopped breathing! Like in some cheesy chick-flick movie or something.

She was standing in front of the fireplace, which wasn't lit, it being summer and all. She tan, with sky blue eyes, and a blond. Paul had never really had a big thing for blonds. But she wasn't just any blond. She was thin, fragile, like she could break if you even spoke to her.

If I could have one dance forever
I would take you by the hand
Tonight is you and I together I'm so glad
I'm your man

She was looking around the room also. Her gazed stopped at him. There eyes held for a moment. His brown, hers blue.

And if I live a thousand year I never could explain
The way I lost my heart to you that day
But If destiny decided I should look the other way
Then the world would never know
The greatest story ever told
Did I tell you that I love you tonight

Those beautiful sapphires, they seemed bored…no broken. But then people began to crowd back into the room, the fight over probably. The woman turned her eyes from his and bolted out of the room. One of Paul's friends came up to him.

"Dude, you missed it! I can't believe you—" Paul stopped his nonsense by grabbing the guy's collar.

"You was she?!" he asked.

"Man, what are you high or something? Who was who?"

Paul quickly described her. His friend couldn't help but laugh. Paul was definitely infatuated. He was making the girl sound like a Greek goddess.

 "Dude, chill!! I think you're talking about Helen Mycenae…she used to be a New York model, but— " Paul didn't let him finish, he ran out after her. "Dude! She's married!"

He her out in the green house, who the hell had a green house? Who the hells house was this again? But that didn't matter. She was what mattered. Paul had made fun of Hector so many times for acting like a fool over his wife, Audrey. But now he understood. It wasn't stupid, it wasn't weak, feeling this way. Hell, it made him feel stronger! His adrenaline was pumping. He stopped at the semi-open door of the green house. This was bad. This was happening too fast! He was comparing this girl, this stranger, and him, to his brother and his wife. He might not even have the right name for this girl! How could he compare the love and devotion of Hector's seven year marriage to such a brief moment?

He looked at his hand, hanging out to pull the door open. It was shaking. It felt a strange sense of déjà vu. My Helen, oh my Helen! Don't cry, don't…I love you…I told you I did.

He shook his head. What the hell was that? You need some more sleep, Paul old buddy, he thought. Suddenly the green house door banged open and the blond came smacking into his chest. She let out a small shriek, sob. She stopped when she saw who it was. Paul could see that she had been crying. Her mascara was messed and her eyes and nose were red. She looked even more beautiful this way, Paul thought.

"I'm…I'm sorry," she spoke softly, casting her eyes down. She was still pushed close against him. She knew she should pull away, but somehow, being this close to this man, it made her feel safe. Safer than she had in a long, long time.

"It's okay," he lifted her chin so she could see him smiling at her. Helen felt like she might faint.

Who is that there?

Why, Prince Hector, my Queen. Come to speak with your husband.

No, the other, the clean-shaven one.

His brother, young Prince Paris. Said to be quiet the lady-killer, your majesty.

Paris…Paris…

Helen squeezed her eyes shut. What was happening?

"Are you sick?" he asked.

Paris…Oh, Paris... But she didn't know anyone named Paris! Unless you counted that stupid Hilton tart! But no men named Paris. That was such an unusually name for a man. She opened her eyes.

"No…no…I'm fine. Just….I can't party as I used to," she smiled, and Paul felt his insides twist. That smile was going to kill him.

Your smile is my doom my love. he said stroking her cheek.

And yours mine, she replied.

Damnit! What was happening?! He pulled away from her, realizing just how close they were now. All he would have had to do was bend his head a fraction of an inch and he could have kissed her. He turned from her. Turned his back. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at the stars.

"I'm Paul, by the way. Paul Troies," he turned his head back and smiled. Helen's mind click. Troies! Her brother-in-law Adam Mycenae hated Peter Troies, he would go to war with him, if the other families hadn't made it clear that such bloodshed was useless. The Troies were one of the oldest and most powerful families in New York. True, Adam did have control over most of the other families now, but he needed a valid reason to send them all to war with the Troies; not just stupid greed.

"I'm Helen Mycenae."

And that had been it. They went out, got some coffee and talked all night, or what was left of the night. Helen told him right off that she was married to Matthew Mycenae, Adam Mycenae's younger brother. She had been married to him for two years, since she was twenty.

"I was stupid. Young. He was rich…not really handsome, but, you know masculine looking. I knew I only had five or six years of modeling left. He was nice to me, bought me things….Things none of the other guys could even fathom. So I said yes," she paused, tears welled up in her eyes. "I sold my soul to be his stupid trophy wife! For what? I don't care about the money or the things anymore. I'm just a ghost….walking, eating, dancing." She wiped some of the tears away. "I dream…I dream of the people that he's killed, the death wishes that have been carried out on his word. He's killing me too. Just slower."

Paul cupped her face in his hands. She, likewise, put her hand to his cheek.

"You must think I'm so stupid. Crying about this shit," she sobbed. He shook his head.

"No! No, you….to think you….To think you're anything but beautiful and kind and truthful, would be impossible." And with that he bent over and kissed her. The kiss was gentle and soft, like a school girl's first kiss. It made Helen cry even harder. It wasn't fair!

She pulled away, "You don't even know me."

"Do you honestly believe that?" She looked back at him. "I'm not religious like my sister and cousin are, I don't really even think about death or rebirth or that stuff. But….something's been happening to me….When I look at you, when I hear your voice..." He wrapped his arms around her.

"I feel it too," Helen sighed. He took her back to his apartment and they made love for the first time. Yet afterwards, neither of them said what they were both thinking. It was not truly the first time. Nor the second. They had been together many times before this. And they both feared that those times had caused a great ripple. A ripple that spoke of the doom that happened a lifetime ago, and that was, uncontrollably, happening again.

Paul couldn't stand it. Her husband would be back in less than 24 hours and he might never see her again. Matthew had become suspicious. He was taking her out of the country, saying it wasn't safe in the city. What bull!

"Helen," he gently touched her. "Helen, sweet, wake up."

She opened her eyes. "It's not morning yet…?"

He smiled. "No, it's not. I want you to come with me." The petite blond turned over and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Where to, darling?"

"My father's house. I want to marry you!" He clasped her face in his hands. Helen had been smiling, but after hearing his answer she frowned and pulled away. She sat up and pulled on her silk bathrobe.

"I have a husband, remember?"

"You can file divorce papers, tonight! My father's lawyer is incredible! We can call him, he won't mind. Then we just need the permit— "

Helen cut him off, "A divorce!! Divorce Matthew Mycenae! You're crazy. He'd kill us both."

"Not if we go to my father's house! My father is ten times more powerful than Mycenae," Paul said turning her to him.

For a minute she felt hope, but it was then crushed by reason. "He'll go to his brother. Adam will call on all the families in New York. He's wanted to crush your father for years," she shook her head. "Besides, your father want to get out. He wants to live the rest of his life in peace, not fighting and plotting. We can't ask him to give up that chance for us."

"Do you love me?" he suddenly asked. She was shocked. How could he even ask?

"You know I do!"

"Then marry me! I'll take you to my father, as a guest. As my new wife. Then we'll leave. I'll get my passport and we can leave the country. Go anywhere you want!"

Helen stroked Paul's hair. "You are so young. Matthew will not rest until he kills us, or at least me. We must face facts, love, it has to end."

"No!" Paul shot up, fists bunched. He started pacing. "It's not fair! Why does it have to be this way?! All I want….I'll I've ever really wanted was you! Why can't I have this one thing?! Why does it have to be so messed up?!"

Helen put her face in her hands, weeping again. This was how it always ended each night for the past three weeks. He would storm and rage, she would whimper and want to die. But, she had always had the hope. The hope of the next night. Of lying in his arms, and listening to his voice. But if this was the last night….no more hope. She would have nothing to live for. She would worse than before. Before she was a ghost. Now she would be just a memory. A memory that should die but could not.

Men will hunt us, the gods will curse us, but until the day they burn my body I will love you.

The words echoed from far away.

"I'll go with you."

Paul stopped his ranting, dumbstruck. "What did you say?"

"I'll go, I'll marry you and meet your family, and follow you anywhere, anywhere you want," she said this with two bright tears in her eyes. Not tears of sadness but tears of hope. There is always hope.

It was eighteen hours later, and Matthew Mycenae had been home for a little under an hour. He was fuming. The servants hid in the kitchen, knowing they would be blamed for what another had done. Even Matt's personal assistant had fled.

"Where the hell is she?!!" he bellowed. The girl who had been Helen Mycenae's chambermaid covered her face with her hands. Suddenly a phone rang. Matthew took his cell from his pocket.

"What?!!"

"Whoa, calm down, Matt, buddy." It was his lawyer, Justin Harper.

"What is it? I didn't need to talk to you!"

"Oh, but I need to talk to you," he laughed. If he was there right now Matt would gut him like a fish.

"I don't have time for this—!"

"It's about Helen…" That shut Matt up. "She filed for divorce, buddy."

"WHAT!!!?"

Justin pulled the phone away from his head. That could've made him deaf. If that pissed Matt off, he knew the next thing would give him an aneurism.

"Not only that, Matt, she also just filed for a marriage permit."

End of chapter 2…..

A/N: Don't worry all you Achilles fans out there! The boy is coming up next chapter!