Author's note: Jesus, this story turned out to be so much longer than I had expected! Five chapters at most was what I had planned, but the story sort of developed itself. Let me just say that I have enjoyed writing this (despite the occasional writer's block) and it has been great to read your opinions and reviews about the story. I am very, very grateful!

Anyway, here is the last chapter and I wish you a happy reading! I would love to hear your thoughts about the ending. Was it what you had expected?

Chapter 10

Agamemnon bolted up from his throne, like he had been fired from a bow. "WHAT?" he exclaimed, like he couldn't believe his ears.

Odysseus sighed as he was standing before the king with old Nestor by his side. "Like I said, my lord, I found it an unwise thing to do right from the start, but..."

"Unwise?" Agamemnon repeated in disbelief. With two strides, he approached the king of Ithaca. "You are telling me that Achilles neglected to kill prince Hector; that he dragged him behind his carriage to the camp without informing me, that he had the nerve to release him, still without informing me and without even getting something advantageous back from the Trojans, and you call that unwise? Unwise!?"

"Yes I do," Odysseus answered and begged the gods to give him the gift of patience. "However, it hardly matters now. It is done and let us leave it at that."

"I will not leave it at that!" Agamemnon snapped back. "If Achilles for one misbegotten moment thinks that he can do whatever he wishes simply to vex me, he has better think again..."

"I am quite sure he hasn't done any of this to cause you anger, my lord," Odysseus said politely.

"Agamemnon raised his eyebrow. "Oh? What other reason could there be?"

Odysseus hesitated. Although he was quite certain that Hector's wife had played a considerable part in her husband's release, he was unwilling to let anyone know about it. And he definitely didn't wish to betray Achilles in front of a man he loathed and despised. "Achilles has been devastated over the loss of his cousin." He answered simply. "His actions may not be completely rational at the moment."

"I have no place for madmen among my lines," Agamemnon answered contemptuously.

"Achilles has nothing to prove in battle," Odysseus said coldly. "He has always given everything he has for the Greeks."

Agamemnon scowled. "Oh, you think so? With prince Hector gone, we would have had a golden opportunity to beat the Trojans, but now thanks to your friend, he is back with them!"

"But he is wounded, my lord," Nestor interjected. "It isn't very likely that he will be able to bear his armour anytime soon."

"The man's mere presence will be enough to empower the Trojans, even if he is as weak as a newborn babe!" Agamemnon snorted back. He was silent for a moment and then he furiously shook his head. "It doesn't matter! I will not let that fool of a man Achilles destroy my plans. We will attack Troy! This time, I shall force them down to their knees if it's the last thing I do!"

"But we still have no way to breach their walls," The sensible Nestor pointed out.

"I will smash their walls to the ground," Agamemnon answered coldly. With the glance of a fanatic in his eyes, he lifted his hands to the sky. "Hear me, Zeus!"

Odysseus and Nestor glanced wearily at each other. Odysseus sighed. He realized that he had better think of something soon. Or else this would probably end in dishonour and humility as well as a Grecian blood bath.

----

Later that night, Odysseus sat by the campfire, brooding on how he would master his problems – the opposing Trojans as well as the pride and foolish king of Mycenae.

He knew better than expecting any help or support from Achilles. He had not seen the man for days; he had shut himself up inside his tent and refused to step into the light of day. Visiting him would probably not be a very clever thing to do, unless of course you had the particular wish of losing your head, which Odysseus didn't.

Although Odysseus had no idea what had happened between his friend and the Trojan princess, he had been told that Achilles had let her go back to the city unharmed. Odysseus was relieved; it showed that Achilles still possessed some sense at least. Only the gods could tell what the infuriated Agamemnon would have done had he discovered that Priam's daughter-in-law was present in the camp.

Odysseus sighed and looked mutely into the flames. It wasn't easy to be a king as you were also a warrior. He was walking a fine line and the smallest misstep could cost him very dear.

Casually, his eyes drifted to one of his soldiers, who sat next to him. The man was carving something out of a piece of wood. Odysseus first thought that it mostly resembled a fat little pig, but as he looked closer at the long neck, he realized that it was supposed to be a horse.

"That is good," he told the man, smiling slightly.

The man smiled back lightly. "For my son, back home," he said and continued his work. There was a deep longing in his voice and Odysseus couldn't keep the thoughts of his own son, Telemachus out of his head.

Then, an idea suddenly started to take form inside his mind. Slowly, his eyes returned to the fire, but this time, his thoughts were not concentrated on the deep flames.

----

The men were working hard on the beach under the inspection of Odysseus. Heavy boards were dragged and formed to fit their part. The rhythmic beating from dozens of hammers was echoing across the camp.

Achilles stood by the opening to his tent, shielded by the flap. He watched the men's work flatly. He knew what Odysseus meant to do. It was a bold plan, obviously, but it had a good chance of working. Everyone knew Priam's weakness; his blind trust in his gods. He might very well fall for the trick.

Especially since his son is indisposed.

Achilles sighed to himself. His fight was over, both professionally and privately. He knew that he ought to go home. But he still had a reason to stay in Troy.

He looked at the men's work. He thought about Agamemnon and how he and his followers would treat the people of Troy if they managed to conquer the city. They would probably kill anything that moved. She was still in there; inside Agamemnon's main target: the castle of Troy. And thanks to Achilles' actions, the man who was supposed to protect her had been crippled by a wound.

Achilles shook his head. Why did he even waste his time brooding? He had already made up his mind. He knew what he had to do. That would probably be the only glorious act he committed during this war.

He glanced grimly at Odysseus. He knew that his friend would be surprised to hear that Achilles had decided to join them in their last fight, but of course he would also be relieved and delighted.

But before he talked to Odysseus, Achilles went to give Eudorus his last orders.

----

"The plague," the high priest said firmly. "They desecrated the temple of Apollo, and Apollo desecrated their flesh."

Priam, Paris and Glaucus listened to the clerk with slight disbelief. The beach was deserted; there was not a single Greek ship in sight, only a few dead men, scattered in the sand. General Glaucus came to the conclusion that the Greeks had fled, out of fear for the deadly infection.

"What is this?" Priam asked.

Before them, a giant wooden object was towering. It looked like a huge horse.

"An offering to Poseidon," the confident priest continued. "The Greeks are praying for a safe return home. We should take it to his temple."

Paris was not as certain. "I think we should burn it," he said fiercely. He didn't want to defile his city, nor the temple of Poseidon with an object that had been made by Greek hands. "Father, burn it," he told Priam firmly.

Priam glanced up at the horse's enormous head for a moment, before turning back to his son. "Take it to the temple," he said shortly and turned away.

----

Andromache knew nothing of what happened at the beach. As a matter of fact, she didn't know of anything that took place outside the palace. For several days, she had been working furiously to bring her husband back to health again.

Hector's injuries had not been fatal, despite his great loss of blood. The healers had used herbs to mend his wound, but it had been inflamed and the prince had been struck by a high fever.

Andromache had been with him the whole time. Day as well as night, she had been sitting untiringly at his bedside; bathing his hot forehead, helping him to drink some water, changing his bandages or just holding his hand tightly. Hector had barely even recognized her. He had been raving and thrashing savagely on his bed. Sometimes, the fever seemed to have driven him out of his mind.

But Andromache refused to give up. She would stay with him; guard him from the jaws of death. She would not let him go; she would tell herself sternly when she felt like her weariness was catching up with her.

When twelve days had gone by, Hector suddenly opened his eyes and Andromache could tell that he knew who she was. He was still ghostly pale, but there was a reasonable look on his face again.

"Andromache?"

Andromache had been standing by the washbasin, but now she dropped her rag into the water and hurried to her husband's side. She sat down next to him on the bed and took his hand. "Yes, It's me," she said gently and squeezed his hand.

"I thought you were a goddess at first," Hector mumbled weakly.

"How are you feeling?" Andromache asked.

"How I am feeling?" Hector managed a smile. "I feel like I have been bent in two actually."

Andromache chuckled and shook her head. "You will be fine," she said firmly and pulled the hair out of his pale face.

"Will I?" Hector asked. "That's hard to believe. For some time I really thought it was all over."

"No," Andromache said confidently. "I would never have permitted that. Never in my life."

Hector nodded slowly and rested his eyes on her face. Andromache knew what he was thinking about. She pulled a deep breath and prepared for it. She had known that the moment would come sooner or later. Briseis had been surprised when Andromache had been brought back to the castle, but she had loyally refrained from asking her any questions and she had not told anyone about what she knew. Priam and Paris had only been relieved to see her back safe and they had not seemed to suspect anything.

But Hector was her husband and he knew her better than anyone else. His brown eyes looked closely at her, but he didn't say anything. Finally, Andromache found herself forced to break the silence.

"Hector..." she started uncomfortably.

"Don't say anything," Hector answered.

"But...?"

"Please...." Hector leaned back against his pillows. "Just don't."

Andromache nodded slowly. Suddenly, she realized that there was no need for explanations or excuses. Hector knew. He probably wouldn't say anything, but he knew everything. Like so many times before, he had sensed it just by looking into her eyes.

She mildly pressed his hand. "I am here," she said softly.

There was pain in his eyes, but no accusation or revolt. Her husband understood, but he neither judged nor despised her for her actions.

----

It was the first truly calm night in Troy for many days. The celebrations in honour of the Trojan victory had been going on for most of the day and everyone had been almost drunk with joy and pride. People had been laughing, dancing, singing and cheering all over the city. More than anything else, they had saluted their brave and wise king and his two courageous sons.

When their energy finally drained, people had returned to their homes and fallen asleep in their beds, finally at peace. They had nothing to fear anymore. Their beloved city was safe again and the intruders had been scared off.

The town was almost deserted now and everyone was at ease. Not even the guards outside the palace seemed to take their tasks very seriously at the moment. The streets were empty; the town was resting.

Outside the temple of Poseidon, the giant horse had been placed. It had been the centre of attention for most of the celebrating, but now it was left alone, with only a few torches for company.

Suddenly, there was a small, creaking sound heard in the silence. Low, hushed voices were talking to each other from somewhere. Suddenly, a piece of the wooden horse started moving. A door was opened and a human face became visible.

Quick, trained feet reached the ground. The soldiers were effective. They moved for the gate, quickly destroying any resistance they came across. A signal was sent to the others who were waiting anxiously outside. They had been invited to join the party inside Troy; the city that could not be conquered.

----

Andromache didn't know why she had waked up; maybe it was a basic instinct. She felt cold as she was sitting in an uncomfortable chair next to her husband's bed. Driven by an unfamiliar, unpleasant feeling, she moved to the window and looked out over the dark city.

She heard sounds; someone was screaming. Something was going on. She sharpened her ears and heard other noises. The sound of wildly neighing horses, more screaming. People were running; some of them were chasing, others were being chased. The sounds were close.

Suddenly, a yellow shining lit up the dark sky. Andromache's eyes widened when she spotted the huge, bright flames. Houses in Troy were being fired. People fled in panic. They were running from enemies they had thought were defeated.

"What is going on?" Andromache heard Hector's voice behind her. Despite his weakness, he sat up in his bed, staring at her. His eyes showed that he was guessing what was happening, but hoping desperately that he was wrong.

Andromache swallowed. "We have to go," she told him simply.

----

Chaos had ensued in Troy. Through deception and cunning, the enemy had managed to get inside the walls. The city was in their hands now and the people were left at their mercy.

The air was thick with the smoke from hundreds of burning houses. The Greeks set fire to the buildings as soon as they had gotten their hands on any treasures inside them. Men were cold-bloodedly murdered when they tried to protect themselves and their families. Women were violated in the streets. Children cried for their parents. The city was being pillaged, raped and ruined.

The smell of death rested inside Achilles' nose as he made his way to the palace. He did his best to ignore it; the smell and what was going on around him. He only knew what he had to do. He ran quickly and with determined steps with only one objective on his mind.

Lithely, he climbed up the high walls of the castle. When he reached the top, he was immediately spotted by two soldiers. Achilles dealt with them swiftly. At sword point, he asked one of them where she was. But the soldier swore he didn't know.

"Please," the man grated. "I have a son..."

"Then get him out of Troy," Achilles said grimly and hurried off.

He glimpsed a group of people fleeing in panic through the castle but he couldn't make out any familiar form. "Andromache!" he called in frustration and continued to make his way deeper into the infernal palace.

----

Hector and Andromache were making their way through an abandoned corridor in the palace. All the servants and the guards had escaped. They realized that they had to tell as many people as they could that they knew a way out, but they also knew that they didn't have much time.

Andromache held Astyanax in her arms. He was safe inside the warm bundles of her cloak next to her heart. She hoped that he couldn't hear the alarm that echoed from somewhere in the palace and if he really did, she hoped that he wouldn't understand what it was. Hector was walking next to her, with his hand on her shoulder for support. He used his legs with great effort, but he clinched his teeth tightly together, since he knew that he didn't have any other choice.

He had told Andromache to go; to leave him behind and save herself and Astyanax, but naturally she wouldn't listen to such talk. She had forced him to rise and come with them, despite the fact that he was slowing their escape. Hector cursed his own uselessness, but he knew that it was not the right moment to feel sorry for himself. Andromache had a will of iron and she would probably carry him if he wouldn't walk.

Naturally, they had made their way past Paris' and Helen's chamber to inform them that they had to get out. Briseis had not been in her room and no one seemed to know where she was. Paris had been anxious to save his father, so he and Helen had ran ahead to find him before they left. They had all agreed to meet down the cellar.

Hector and Andromache moved in a slower speed, for obvious reasons. Andromache was starting to feel very stressed. They were making their way down the stairs, but the palace was great and it was a long way to go. Would they make it in time?

As they were preparing to take a short cut through one of the great reception halls, Hector suddenly stopped abruptly. At first, Andromache looked at him with confusion, but then she heard the sound. The distinct sound of quick, human feet could be heard from somewhere inside the hall.

Andromache glanced at her husband. She knew well that he was in no condition to fight. She swallowed and realized that it would be up to her to protect her family. Quickly, she handed Astyanax over to Hector. Then she slowly pulled her husband's sword out of the sheath. Hector's eyes were filled with angst, but he didn't object. He knew that this was a matter of life. Slowly, he stepped back with the sleeping baby in his arms.

Andromache snuck into the hall and hid from view behind a great pillar. The steps were rapidly approaching. She closed her eyes and squeezed the sword tightly in her hand.

"Gods, give me strength," she prayed silently.

She pulled a deep breath and listened as the steps were getting closer. She let the man pass, before she stepped out of the shadows and pressed the point of her sword against the back of his neck.

"Stand still," she whispered harshly. "Unless you prefer death."

The man didn't move an inch, but his back became stiff. "Actually, I think I do," he finally said.

In absolute amazement, Andromache lowered the sword. Suddenly, her senses recognized the fair hair, the powerful form, the black armour. And above all, she recognized the voice. She didn't object when he slowly turned around.

Achilles' looked at her with a slightly amused smile on his lips. "You still remember how to use that?" he asked her and nodded at her sword.

Andromache was still shocked to see him, but she couldn't help but smile faintly at his words. "You taught me well," she said simply.

Achilles raised his eyebrows. "So it seems," he said coolly. "And apparently you have finally learned not to move like a stomping horse as well."

Andromache could just shake her head. "What are you doing here?" she asked him.

He didn't have time to manage. They heard a sound behind them and Achilles quickly turned around, with his hand on the shaft of his sword. But it was just Hector, who was leaning against the doorframe with Astyanax pressed against his chest.

Achilles watched the little boy for a moment, before raising his eyes to his father. The two men looked flatly at each other for a moment.

"Andromache?" Hector finally asked.

His voice was perfectly neutral, but Andromache knew very well that the question could prove life altering. Hector was asking her which path she was taking, and with who.

She looked at the two men who were standing in front of her. They were both brilliant in their own ways, despite being so different both in terms of appearance and character. She let her eyes rest on the blonde, Greek warrior in his armour and his fierce, determined expression. Then she looked at the man who was standing in the doorway, crippled by a wound and with a baby in his arms. His eyes were sympathetic.

And Andromache realized that there was no decision to be made. She had chosen her path a long time ago and she knew who she had chosen to walk it with.

Quickly, she turned to Hector. "Go on," she told him, adding; "I'll catch up with you."

Hector showed no reaction; he only nodded shortly and left with Astyanax. Once they were alone, Andromache turned back to Achilles. His eyes showed no grief or disappointment, there was only a small glimpse of sadness in his eyes.

"I came to make sure that you were all right," he said honestly. "I didn't want to see you fall into Agamemnon's hands."

"How did you get inside?" she asked him.

He smiled slightly. "I climbed over the castle wall." Seeing her astonished expression, he continued simply: "I would have climbed a thousand walls to get to you, Andromache."

"I know," she answered weakly.

"I would have taken you out of this city if I had to," he continued, shrugging. Then he sighed and added: "But there is no need to, is it?" He nodded toward the doorway where Hector had disappeared.

Andromache shook her head slowly. "No." For a moment, she considered asking him to come with them. But then she deserted the idea. She knew that he wouldn't want to.

"I see," Achilles said quietly. Then he raised his head to look into her face. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Andromache frowned. "For me?"

"Yes," he answered quietly. "Anything? If I cannot save your life, there might be something else? Or maybe someone else?

Andromache could see an almost desperate wish in his eyes. "Please," they said. "Please give me an opportunity to pay back at least something of all the pain I have caused your family, your country and yourself."

Andromache hesitated, but she realized that there was something. "Briseis wasn't in her room," she told him in a low voice. "If you could..."

"I'll find her," he answered immediately.

Andromache nodded. Slowly, she reached out and took his hand, squeezing it lightly. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

He nodded back, even though he didn't seem to think that he deserved any gratitude. He looked like he was about to open his mouth to say something, but then he abruptly said good bye and turned on his heel.

Andromache stood behind and watched him go. She knew that she ought to go after Hector and Astyanax right away. But she couldn't.

"Achilles."

In surprise, he turned around. Quickly, Andromache ran up to him. Gently, she placed her hands on his broad shoulders. Her fierce breath hit his face. She cleared her throat and managed to find her voice.

"If I had been free to make my decision eight years ago," she started, quickly, as if she knew that she had to say this before she lost her courage. "Then I would have boarded your ship, sailed with you to Laryssa and I would have spent the rest of my life by your side."

He stared at her with wide eyes. Then he sadly shook his head. "You would never have been happy."

Andromache smiled. "Love and happiness are two different things." She caressed his cheek gently. Then she glanced towards the doorway. "I must go," she said quietly.

"Andromache..."

She took one step forward, he pulled her close. Their lips met hard and quick and then she was gone. She ran to catch up with her husband and her son with the heavy sword in her hands. He stood silent for a moment, watching the doorway, where she had left.

Then he turned around and went to do what she had asked him.

----

When Andromache, Hector and Astyanax finally reached the secret passageway, they were met by a frantic Helen. They had not found Priam, she told them and Paris doubted that he would ever leave his city behind.

"He told me to wait for you here and that we should go without him," she continued with angst. "He said that he was going to find Briseis and catch up with us later."

Andromache froze. Paris had gone to find Briseis. For a moment, her muscles tensed and she felt a wild urge to run back. But one look at her exhausted husband told her that she couldn't. She had made her choice.

"Well," she said firmly. "Then we have to trust him to stay true to his word." When Helen shook her head, she added: "We must leave now."

Finally, Helen nodded. "You are right," she whispered quietly.

Lead by Hector, Andromache and Helen, a few Trojan citizens started their long journey through the dark tunnels.

----

Many long and strenuous hours later, the small group finally saw the light again as they reached the end of the tunnel at Mount Ida. Carefully, they stepped out, blinking dizzy at the sharp light.

Helen was carrying Astyanax, as Andromache was supporting Hector with his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. He was so weak that she almost had to drag him. Still, she knew that he would make it; they would all make it somehow.

Paris and Briseis had not yet cached up with them and all they could do was to pray that they had got out of the palace safely.

As Andromache lifted her eyes past the mountain, she could look back towards the ruins of the city of Troy. Hector turned away from it; he didn't want to see.

But Andromache's eyes fell upon something that reached from Troy towards the sky. It was the high, thin pillar of smoke that would come from a funeral stake. Someone had fallen; a brave and strong warrior and the Greeks were showing him their respect by giving his body and soul to the gods.

"You deserve the glory," Andromache whispered silently to herself.

Then she continued forward, leading her husband with her. She didn't have any idea of what the future had in store for her, but she knew that she didn't regret anything. Her fate had been decided from the day she was born. Still, she knew that no matter how old she got, she would always carry her memories inside her heart.

The end