A/N: Hektor's always been my favorite character from The Iliad, so this just sort of came to me.

Disclaimer:I don't own anything except for the plot.

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Prince of the Trojans

By: eugene-the-artichoke

I see him now, pacing anxiously in the lower gardens, fingering his sword nervously. I know how much he loves that sword; I'm the one who sees him polish it faithfully after battle.

I picture him out on the battlefield, the air full of battle cries, bloody armor and corpses littering the ground. None of it seems to faze him in the slightest. He moves swiftly, maneuvering his spear and sword together as one. His enemies see a flash of gold and bronze, and then they are no more.

Hektor, Prince of Troy. He is the firstborn of Priam, King of Troy. He is a warrior, son, husband and father. However, what nobody sees him as is Hektor, friend. Nevertheless, that is what he is, a friend, and when put in perspective, my only friend.

When I came to Troy from Sparta, I thought I was going to live a life fit for the gods. What I didn't know was that Alexandros only saw me as a lover, and no more. Hektor, great among men, saw me for what I truly am, just a lonely woman in need of a friend. Hektor provided me with that. Whenever, he was finished with his gatherings, he would invite me to the outdoor gardens, where we would sit and converse for hours.

When we speak, I always look forward to see his smooth, taut face crinkle into a laugh. His dark, wavy hair moving as he shakes his head. The gold threads, woven finely into his hair by his servants, catch the light and start to glimmer. However, it's not his hair that is important. It is his eyes that truly captivate me. They are an impossibly intense blue-grey, almost always calculating and pensive. When he laughs, you can see his eyes change. It's almost frightening, the difference between them. They move from serious and stern to open-minded and amused.

I look back out the window. There he is again, now sitting on the grass. His wrist and anklets glow because they have gold adorning them. He is wearing fine clothes, made by his sister, the most talented seamstress in the kingdom. His bronzed face is covered by a steely mask, which shows no emotion, but I know better. He is in utter agony inside.

I make a hasty decision and descend the steps of my room, out to where he resides. Once I reach him, I take a seat next to him on the ground. He doesn't look up from his steady gaze on the beautiful flowers, but he acknowledges me.

"Helen, fairest among all mortals, declared so by Aphrodite herself, I can see you are troubled."

I murmur, "Hektor", but I remain silent after that. We stare at the flowers, laurels and other plants that are in full bloom in the garden. We remain that way for awhile. I can hear his breathing, even and steady, just like the blow of his sword. After awhile, his breathing hitches, and I can hear him getting ready to speak. The next thing that he says comes as a great shock to me.

"Helen?" he says, resting his eyes on me.

"Yes, Hektor," I respond easily.

"Do you…" he breaks off, hesitating.

Now I'm curious. Hektor never stumbles. Not when nervous, not on the battlefield, not ever. That is what he is known for. Handsome, bold, courageous and brilliant Hektor, the most powerful mortal on the Earth.

He has resumed his activity of staring at the grass. I realize he won't say anything unless I give him some encouragement.

"Hektor," I say softly. He looks at me, and I am shocked to see how much fatigue and pain is in his eyes. He takes a breath and says,

"Do you know that when I first saw you, I thought you were Aphrodite herself?"

I blush at the compliment, and open my mouth to thank him, when he abruptly starts speaking again.

"I thought you were so beautiful, but I hated you with a passion."

I am shocked; I don't say anything at all. Even in my first days at Troy, Hektor was nothing but cordial. Before I can point this out to him however, he continues speaking.

"I knew that there were going to be repercussions of great magnitude after your arrival. Troy and Sparta had finally come to a truce. I was correct in my prediction. The war that we are in now, is the greatest that Greece has ever seen. When the war began, I blamed it on you. Menelaus was furious because you left. He went to Agamémnon to get you back. You were the reason for this war."

Tears sting my eyes. All the guilt and insecurity I had felt and tried to put behind me came crashing down fully upon me. I adore Hektor and his opinion meant too much for me to ignore this direct statement. My heart was broken brutally. However, it seemed Hektor wasn't finished.

"Previously I thought you were the sole and only cause of this great war. I thought you were a threat and the ultimate ruin of Troy. I see now that I was terribly wrong."

My head immediately jerks up and I feel a spark of hope. Maybe this entire catastrophe isn't my fault. Waiting for what he is going to say next is heart-wrenching. After a pause, he continues.

"Lust and greed are the cause of this war. The real threat to Troy is Alexandros. He will be the one that holds greatest responsibility if Troy falls. I will be the next to take accountability for all that has happened, because"-I open my mouth to object, when he gives me a look that silences me-"I am his brother, and he was placed under my instruction. His failures are my failures. You, Helen were never a threat and never will be. You are Helen, Queen of Sparta, and Princess of Troy. You are the greatest asset of Troy."

I am left completely speechless after Hektor is finished speaking. All my insecurity and guilt is melting away, and I am once again filled with admiration for him.

He kisses me softly on the cheek, before rising up from his position on the grass. He begins to walk away. His swagger is tall and proud, just like him. When he reaches the entrance of the House of Priam, he stops, turns around and says,

"Beautiful Helen, Queen of Sparta. That is your title, but, the most important title yet, is Helen, friend of Hektor, Prince of Troy."

He smiles and I return the gesture. Then he turns around and disappears behind the pillars of his father's house. As he walks away, I murmur,

"Beautiful Hektor. It is unfortunate that you are not aware of this: You may be the Prince of Trojans but you truly are the King of all Hearts."

With those words, I leave for my own quarters, always remembering that one beautiful conversation in the garden with the man who stole my heart.