Something I forgot earlier, but really wanted to do, is to thank the reviewers who made comments about my writing. English is a foreign language for me, so I know my writing is far from excellent, but usually the reviewers are too lazy to say something about it. Some of you are not, so thank you! But I wouldn't count on much improvemnt though, I only wish I could.

4)

Paris had been hiding all day to minimize the chances of getting caught by the Greeks. But now it was dark, he came out of his hiding spot. He had to go, find the remains of the Trojan army, but he had no idea where to look. Paris had not much military expertise, he had no idea where the Trojan soldiers would hide, if they were hiding at all. He had no idea how many soldiers had survived the destructive battle. If it were only a few, they might have left to go back home to their farms, or if they had lived in the city itself, to their family in the country. If this was the case, Paris was on his own. But he would go back, he couldn't leave Helen.

Paris decided he should go check on the city, to see what was happening. Paris looked at the stars for direction and ran in what he thought was the direction of Troy, hiding behind trees and bushes as much as possible.

It wasn't hard to locate the city. The Greeks had made fires around Troy, Paris assumed both for guarding and celebration. It was impossible to get closer than he was now without being spotted by the Greeks.

Now what? He certainly could not go to Troy now, it was impossible. This meant he had to stay out here, he should hide in the hills. Paris only didn't know how; the only possessions he had were his clothes, and those certainly had not been made for a life in the wilderness.

He chose to walk to the hills, he should be able to reach those tonight. He walked slowly so he wouldn't make noise that could alert the Greek guards, and also to make sure he would trip over something. If he would get hurt now, it could all be over.

Suddenly he was smashed into the sand. Paris didn't get it, he didn't think he tumbled over something. Only slowly he began to realize he hadn't, because tree roots wouldn't hit him at the back of his head or pull him back up.

'What's your name?'

It had been spoken in the Trojan dialect, but this alone didn't mean anything. It was still possible they were Greeks questioning their prisoners in their own language. Paris wished he could see something, but the men were behind him.

'Maybe he doesn't speak Trojan,' someone suggested, again in Trojan. 'Does anyone speak Greek?'

Paris realized they did not only speak Trojan, they also didn't have an accent. They had to be Trojans. And even if they were not, he had nothing to lose because he was their prisoner. And he probably wouldn't be able to escape soon, he had already heard four men but there could be more of them.

'I am Paris,' he told them.

'Paris? Like the Prince?'

Now was the moment of truth, he would find out whether they were friends or enemies. 'I am the Prince.'

The men burst out laughing. 'You're kiddin' us, right?'

'No,' Paris said calmer than he really felt. But his attitude made some impression, the men were puzzled and unsure what to do.

'Let's take him to the camp,' someone suggested. 'If he is really the Prince someone will recognize him.'

The walk was long, longer than Paris had thought. And they didn't handle him nicely; they had tied his hands behind his back and pushed him forward. He wondered what they had been doing out there, far away from their camp, and who the men really were. They were definitely Trojans, but this didn't mean they were good men. They could be bandits too.

Suddenly he was surrounded by many men. He assumed this was the camp, although he didn't see fires.

'Who is this?'

Paris assumed the man asking this was the leader. So he introduced himself: 'I am Prince Paris of Troy.'

Some men laughed, but most were silent. Paris could see their armor and weapons reflect in the moonlight. They were Trojan soldiers.

'Make some light,' their leader ordered. In seconds there was a small fire. Now Paris could see them, and was surprised by their number. It were many Trojan soldiers, Paris estimated there were at least five hundred men.

They now also could see him. They looked as his expensive clothes and at his face.

'He looks somewhat like Hector,' one said. Paris was glad he looked like his brother a lot.

'But is it really him?' someone questioned.

'It is really Paris,' another spoke. 'I've been a guard at the palace.'

'Prince Paris,' a young man spoke. Paris recognized the voice as belonging to the man he had thought to be the leader. 'The Trojan…………..what is left of the Trojan Army, is at your service.'

Achilles entered the throne room and looked around. He could summarize the feast in three words: food, alcohol and women. The women could be separated in two groups; the whores and the Trojan royalty. The latter sat apart, trying not to be involved in any of it. But Achilles knew there was not much chance they would succeed; under the influence of alcohol the kings would almost certainly want "to take" a woman of Trojan royalty.

Achilles took a goblet of red whine and slowly made his way towards the royal women, greeting many acquaintances on his way and ignoring the other women looking at him. The females were interested in a muscular Greek hero, but he wasn't interested in them.

At least not today. He wanted to meet the girl who had been brave enough to challenge Agamemnon, and he was also interested into the woman who had conquered Hector's heart. He positioned himself close to them against a wall, pretending to be drinking alone, so he could take a good look at them without being to obvious.

Princess Andromache had long dark hair. And that was about the only thing he could see of her. She had buried her face in her hands and didn't seem to be aware of her surroundings. The girl had put her arms around her in comfort.

The girl had a pretty face and had also dark hair, although hers were curling a bit more. Only now Achilles noticed she was wearing the white clothes and symbols of a priestess of Apollo. But the fact she was here in the palace showed she was not just an ordinary priestess. And she absolutely had an air over her. He suspected she was royalty.

'What are you looking at!'

The girl had unexpectedly stood up and looked at him accusingly. She didn't appear to be afraid, and she absolutely wasn't impressed of his stature like the other girls around here. She behaved like nothing had changed since the fall of Troy, like she had still as much power as she had before. Her behavior was slightly naïve, but brave nevertheless.

'You,' he answered bluntly.

She was silenced for a while, she probably hadn't expected such a direct answer. 'Go look at girls that are interested in a brute.'

Ouch! She was really something, a challenge. And he liked challenges. Of course he preferred the challenge of battle, but since the war was already fought….

'Who are you?' he asked, intentionally ignoring the fact she rather wanted him to leave.

She venomously looked at him. 'Not introducing himself properly, and then demanding a name?'

'My name is Achilles,' he spoke evenly.

To his surprise it was Andromache who responded to his name. 'Achilles.' His name was spoken with sadness in her voice, and the same emotion was visible in her eyes. 'The mighty warrior who only fights for himself.' The look in her eyes changed from sadness into anger and even hatred. 'For glory,' she spat at him. 'Well, now you have killed my husband and conquered our city, are you happy now? Was it worth it? Do you feel glorious!'

'As far as I can see Troy is not destroyed, and I haven't killed your husband.' Achilles was painfully aware of the fact he was defending himself. He had never needed to defend his actions, and certainly not to a woman.

'Troy is taken by Greeks!' the girl said full of anger. 'The buildings still stand, but the city itself is lost!'

'You speak like the Greeks are demons,' Achilles noted.

'You certainly don't prove otherwise.'

He had to laugh about that. 'Well girl, you have a rather radical opinion.'

'Don't call me girl,' she objected.

He smiled, she had fallen for his little trap. 'You refused to tell me your name.'

She was clearly furious, but refused to let him win by shutting up. 'Briseis,' she revealed reluctantly.

'Well, Briseis,' he spoke continuing where they had left their "conversation". 'What makes you think all Greeks are bad?'

'You're claiming you're a good man?' she countered unbelieving.

'Oh No, I am sure I don't fit your description of a good man.' She was taken aback by the fact he admitted it. 'But most soldiers are just men, fighting because it's their duty. Just like the men of Troy. Now tell me what is evil about that?'

She was silenced. 'A brute with brains,' he heard her mumble. She was beaten, and she knew it.

'Achilles!'

He found himself angry for being interrupted. But if Patrocles was looking for him it had to be important, so he turned to his cousin. 'What?'

'Agamemnon requests a meeting of all kings.'

Requests? Yeah right!

Achilles turned to go check it out, but then changed his mind. He smiled at Briseis, who stared back with the most hateful look he had ever seen. He smiled inwardly, he hadn't expected her to react otherwise.