Lady Hades: Ok, embarrassing confession. I am not really that familiar with the Iliad and I didn't have any idea that Achilles had killed Andromache's family. I spent some time thinking about it and finally decided that I'll keep writing as if it hadn't really happened, since the movie doesn't tell us anything about it. As for your speculations... Well, they may not be completely wrong, but I am planning to write this in a slightly different way than you might think, so I hope you'll enjoy it.

Chapter 2

After the incidents in the temple, Achilles headed back for the beach where all of the Greek ships had come to shore and where the men were busy making camp. After having exchanged some expressions of reverence with the giant Ajax, Achilles was relieved to see his young cousin, Patroclus who had protected his ship while he was fighting. He knew that the boy was burning with a desire to fight, but the time was not right yet.

Achilles was weary and moody and he showed no great enthusiasm when Eudorus declared that he had something to show him.

As they entered his tent, Achilles realized what Eudorus had been referring to. A girl, dressed in the characteristic robes of a temple maid was sitting at the back of the tent, tied to a peg. She refused to acknowledge the men's presence, only staring hard in front of herself.

She was a pretty thing with long chestnut brown curls and large brown eyes and usually, Achilles would have taken an interest. But right now, all he wanted was to be left alone. Besides, she looked a little too young for his taste, probably no more than seventeen or eighteen years old.

He turned back to Eudorus. "Not tonight."

"But my lord..." Eudorus started in surprise.

"I am tired from battle and I am in no mood for company right now," Achilles interrupted him sharply.

Eudorus nodded quickly, unwilling to upset is master. "I understand, my lord. So tell me, what do you want me to do with her?"

Achilles glanced at the girl and noticed that even if she tried to pretend that she wasn't listening, her body tensed. She was probably afraid that he would give her to the men for free disposal. However, that was not what Achilles had in mind.

"Take her to Patroclus," he decided after a moment's consideration. His cousin and the girl would be in about the same age and he knew that Patroclus would appreciate to have someone to vent his cruel fate of not being allowed to fight to. Besides, he knew very well that his cousin would never harm a girl.

Eudorus bowed and untied the girl. As he led her out of the tent, she glared defiantly at Achilles who smiled back faintly. The girl sure didn't seem very grateful for his idea. However, there was something haughty and proud in her eyes that caught Achilles' attention for a moment. He knew that she was a priestess, but there was something more than that about her. Something about her bearing was noble, almost royal...

Could that be right? Achilles asked himself. He had met quite a lot of royalties over the years and he was quite good at recognizing their ways. Still, it would be quite incredible if he had indeed a member of the Trojan royal house in his hands. But then Achilles shook it off. Whether the girl was a slave or a princess was of no interest to him. At least not right now.

After Eudorus had left with the girl, he pulled off his dirty, bloodstained armour and washed the sweat and blood from his body. He pulled a robe over his shoulders and poured himself a goblet of wine. He sank down in a corner of the dark tent, lost in dark broodings.

Over and over again, he brought to mind his encounter with the prince of Troy. He just couldn't believe that he hadn't killed the man! It had been the moment he had waited for all of these years. The prince was in front of him and at his mercy. All he had to do was to raise his sword and it would all be done. But he hadn't. Instead he had let him go. Why?

He sighed deeply. Maybe because it wasn't really the prince that he had wanted to kill, but his own pain. Pain was a weakness, an enemy and in Achilles mind, there was only one way of dealing with enemies. But pain could not be killed with swords. Nor with spears, bows or daggers. No... Deep inside, he knew very well that there was only one person who could kill his pain. And that was the person who had given it to him.

He closed his eyes as the memory; the painful memory came back to his mind.

"I want you to come with me," he told her, his voice firm. "Come with me back to Laryssa."

She sighed heavily. "I have already told you that it's not possible."

"Of course it is!" he said impatiently. "We'll just sneak out at dawn tomorrow and no one will notice anything."

She shook her head. "So I would just sail away, leaving everything behind me?"

"Yes!" he snapped, starting to feel more and more upset about her hesitations. "Why not? Why should we not be together? I want you and I know you want me."

Once again, she sighed. "It's not as simple as that. And this is not about what I want."

"Well, what is it about then?" he snapped.

She pulled a deep breath and fastened her eyes on him. "It's about the fact that I am a king's daughter," she said firmly. "And I have a duty towards my family."

"Your duty is to yourself," he objected.

"No it's not," she said harshly. Then her face softened. "I know you can't really understand this, Achilles. But the truth is that as my father's daughter, I must follow his plans for me. If I didn't I would lose all honour."

"This is ridiculous," he spat back. "Your father can't tell you who you are supposed to love!"

"No, he can't," she agreed. "But he can decide who I am going to marry. And that is why I am betrothed to prince Hector of Troy."

He snorted by the mention of the name. "Oh yes, a fancy prince of a great nation," he scowled. You are going to be married off to be that prince's breeder, just so your father can make a fine alliance!"

"Don't talk like that!" she said angrily.

"Why not, it's true!"

"No it's not," she said empathically. "And I will thank you not to insult my future husband in my presence." She was silent for a moment, before she shook her head. "Like I said, you cannot possibly understand this so it makes no difference if I try to explain or not. Go home to Laryssa tomorrow; it will be for the best." Although her words were a little throaty, her voice was firm.

He swallowed and moved close to her, lifting his hands to hold her face. "Please, don't do this," he whispered. "Don't make me go away on my own. I..." He swallowed again, trying to keep his voice steady. "I need you. What I feel for you... I have never felt that way about any woman before. Please, I can't live my life without you."

In that moment, he bared his soul to her. For the first time in his life, he took the risk of being vulnerable and exposing his true emotions to another human being. He laid his heart by her feet and offered it to her; he offered everything that he had to give.

For a moment, there was a glimpse in her eyes that made his hopes blossom. He watched her breathlessly, but the moment quickly passed and her eyes became cold and determined. Once again, she was turned back into the dutiful daughter. And he suddenly knew that no matter what he offered, it wouldn't make any difference, since she didn't want it.

"I am sorry," she said flatly. "But you must learn to. Because you will."

Achilles closed his eyes even tighter when he remembered her last words. Such a cold thing to say. And it had been the last thing they had said to each other. After their talk, he couldn't bear to stay a moment longer and he had sailed away without a word of farewell to anyone. He had gone back to Laryssa carrying hatred and bitterness in his luggage.

He cursed himself silently. He should have accepted Eudorus' gift. Bedding that girl might have stopped him from dwelling upon those damned memories. But then again, he had tried before. Oh, yes he had. They had been beautiful, ugly, tall, short, fat, thin. He had tried with dozens or hundreds of women and girls. Some of them had managed to sooth his pains, but none of them could ever make him forget. Not about her.

Still, he could easily see her before his eyes. Her long, dark hair and her beautiful hazel eyes, her tall and thin body, her elegant posture and her proud way of raising her head. In every inch, she was royalty. In his dreams, he would see her as she turned towards him, smiling and laughing. But the smile was not for him.

Achilles bowed his head and stared into his wine. Slowly, his lips formed her name. "Andromache." He said quietly.

Andromache had been extremely relieved when she heard that Hector had come back safe to the palace. Not caring that the entire court was watching, she ran to meet him and embraced him tightly. Hector jokingly said that her way of strangling him was far worse than anything the Greeks had tried against him.

Despite his light tone of voice, she could tell that he was concerned. Of course, she had already heard that the beaches of Troy were lost to the enemy, but at the moment, she was too relieved too see her husband alive to care much about the amounts of sand. But she knew,like everybody else, that this would bring the Greeks closer.

After her husband had assured his father and brother that he was unharmed, she decided to take him aside. He looked weary and he needed to be taken care of. She promised her father in law that Hector would give a report later.

She led Hector to their bedroom and helped him pull off his dirty armour. Then she had the servants fill a tub of water for him. Hector objected, saying all he needed was a washbowl, but Andromache refused to listen and forced him to sit down in the hot water. As she helped him wash his hair, he told her about what had happened during the day.

Apparently, the Greeks had an enormous fleet, perhaps as much as a thousand ships. Agamemnon had managed to gather every king in Greece or so it seemed. The first ships had reached the beaches before Hector had been able to line up his forces. They had been hopelessly outnumbered and many of them had been forced to retire back to the city.

Then Hector told her that he and the apollonian guard had headed for the temple of Troy's patron, which had been attacked by Greek warriors.

The temple! Suddenly Andromache sensed a wave of coldness in her stomach. "Briseis was in the temple this morning."

Hector flinched and turned to face her. "Are you certain? I thought she was still at the palace?" His eyes were filled with worry for his young cousin.

Vehemently, Andromache shook her head. "She was going to take part in some ceremony. She left early..." She swallowed. "Did you see her in the temple?"

He shook his head slowly. "No... There was a lot of dead people in there, but only priests."

"They killed priests?" Andromache asked incredulously.

Hector nodded grimly. "Yes they did. Unarmed priests at that. Hopefully, Briseis got away. If she didn't..." He found the eyes of his wife and they both knew what he meant. If Briseis hadn't got away, she would be a prisoner in the Greeks' camp. And next to that prospective, death would probably seem like a blessing from the gods.

Hector continued by telling her that his second in command, Tactor was dead. He had been speared to death by one of those men in the temple. Those black myrmidons.

Andromache flinched so fiercely she almost dropped the jar of water she held in her hands. "Myrmidons?" she whispered hoarsely.

Hector gave her a puzzled look. "Have you heard of them? They are some of the finest warriors in Greece."

"Yes...," Andromache mumbled, quickly regaining her composure. "I think my father might have mentioned them at some point.

"Oh I see," Hector said. He continued to look at her closely for a moment. Then he got up from the tub and wrapped himself in a towel. "Thank you for your attentions, my love, but I really think I should have a talk with my father now."

"Yes, of course, she mumbled back.

When Hector had left, Andromache's legs folded under her and she had to hold on to the wall to keep herself from falling.