Because of You

Chapter 2

The Princess of Sparta

Agamemnon was in a rant again. 'Those damned Trojans, I swear before I leave this earth I will walk through Troy as ruler and King!' In which Hermione would silently reply, 'Then you would have done so by now'

Hermione stood at the back of the ship that her father had made his home while in Troy. Hermione had traveled with him, much to her dismay, and spent the last five years on this beach and in that five years Hermione had barely left the ship.

The night was clear and crisp, a little chilled, but very enjoyable. Hermione's thin blue tunic did nothing to prevent the Goosebumps that appeared on her arms. She sighed and looked out to sea. Sometimes she wished she could just jump in and swim and swim and swim, maybe back to Sparta. Or maybe to just swim until there wasn't anymore water, far away from Greece, and Troy.

After her mother left, Hermione's life had crashed. Though it wasn't grand before, things just worsened. Before the Princes of Troy visited, her mother and father were never compatible spouses. Her father acted as if they were completely in love, but when her father was gone, the story changed.

Her mother hated her life here, and though she loved hr daughter, even Hermione wasn't enough to help her. Her father never like Hermione, he was crude and disapproving. One day she asked her mother why her father resented her. After pleading for her mother to tell her, Helen finally did. He was upset that she could only bare him one child, and that child had to be a girl, not boy, as he wanted.

So Hermione was never felt love growing up. And when the Princes came to Sparta, for the first time her mother's interest was peaked. During dinner, she saw the looks that passed between her and the young handsome Prince Paris. But he always looked like he knew a secret.

Not Menelaus, or Hermione or even Helen knew that Paris was here to claim his prize, the most beautiful women in the world, given to him by Aphrodite for giving her the golden apple.

Hermione smiled to herself. Despite how much she hated the Trojans for taking her mother from her and leaving her to the wrath of her father, she had to give Paris credit, her mother had never looked happier the weeks before she left.

But those days were gone. After her mother left, Menelaus was furious, at Helen, at the Trojans, at himself, and even his daughter. Though logically there was no reason to blame her, her found a way. 'If you had been a boy, we all would have been happier, and she wouldn't have left!'

'Or maybe if you haven't bedded every Sparta maiden you could find, maybe then she would not have left.'

The whole situation made her angry every time she thought of it. She loved her mother, Zeus knows she did, but how could she leave her? For a younger lover no less. Menelaus had tried every option to leave his daughter, but in the end, he dragged her across the sea to a war that was way to personal for the younger thirteen-year-old.

At that time she was just turning into a young lady and she needed her mother more then anything. At that time her brunette hair been so long she could sit on it if it was unbound. Her big green eyes had that wide-eye innocent about them, framed by long lashes and her face was sparkled with freckles. She had her mother's smile, and her fair skin, and she had her father's dark hair. Yes, on any day Hermione could match her mother's beauty.

Which is why she never left the boat.

No one knew except a select few people (guards, the Kings) knew she was there. She bathed in the sea about three times a week but only in the dead of night when most of the camp slept.

Now five years later, her hair had been cut, now it reached about the middle of her back, and her freckles seemed to disappear. She had grown into her limbs and stood at a height of five foot five. Yes, Hermione of Sparta could rival her mother's beauty on any day.

Which is why she was absolutely not allowed to leave the ship unless necessary. Fifty thousands desperate Greek men and one of them was bound to try something stupid to get his hands on a young beautiful women.

At night she could sit out on the back deck but only in the darkest corner, and if none were available, then she couldn't leave her room. And when she bathed in the sea, always at night, she had to have an escort, her maid Anemone, how had come with her from Sparta.

Her days were the worst. Most days she stayed in her room reading her books over and over. Sometimes she was allowed up on the deck when no one was around, but if so much as one man came by she was sent to her room.

It seemed like Menelaus was trying to protect her daughter, but Hermione knew the truth. He just didn't want her to disgrace him anymore then she already did. If the men knew of her existence and something were to happen to her, he would have her head. 'Bad enough to have a daughter' he told her when they first got here. 'But I'll not tolerate an unpure one. Let's hope, for your sake, you're not your mother's daughter.'

She always ate in her, room never with her father. She only saw him maybe once a day, he was always at her Uncle's. And when she did see him, he didn't say anything when she would tell him 'good morning' or 'good evening' he would only grunt to acknowledge he heard her.

It was a lonely life, but she knew it could be worse. Her father could have just had her killed instead of bringing her, or sent her to live with other relatives.

But that didn't stop her heart from aching. She loved Anemone but she wished that she had some other people to talk with. On occasion she would see King Odysseus. He was always such a nice gentlemen, and always had a kind word for her. And sometimes he brought her gifts. Once a seashell and another time he brought her a metal headband, and on her birthday her once gave her a small dagger, with a detailed design laid into the handle. When she questioned the gift he gave her a warm smile and replied, 'Merely a precaution, incase your identify is ever known.' She kept it under her pillow every since he gave it to her.

Beside that, she rarely talked to anyone. She lowered her gaze to the ground. She sometimes wondered if this is all her life was meant for. Would she ever leave Troy? Would she ever meet anyone new? Would she ever marry? Bare children?

But mostly she wondered… Would she ever be loved?

At the moment the only answer to her prayers was no.

The morning after Clotho had visited Achilles, she told her sisters. Lachesis had been shocked, and Atropos had been furious.

"Fool! What is he woke? What if someone saw you?" She sister ranted.

Clotho shrugged, "I would have told them I was a Fate. If they believe me, and decided to tell anyone, no one would have believed them. If they didn't believe me, then they would have assumed I was just another random girl Achilles bedded. Atropos, I don't think I can allow him to die. He doesn't deserve too."

Her sister sighed. "Clotho…"

"I don't think he should die either." Lachesis spoke up and moved to stand beside her sister.

Atropos looked back and forth between them then looked at Lachesis. "Did you go too?"

She shook her head. "I didn't have to. I know what's happened to Achilles, I'm in charge of what was remember?"

Atropos shook her head. "If Achilles doesn't fall, then he will kept on killing more men."

Clotho disagreed. "No I have a new plan. We let Achilles decide his own destiny."

Atropos look appalled "Are you mad?"

"No, hold off on killing him. Give him a chance for love. We can destine for him to meet Hermione. Then they can take it from there. If they fall in love, he lives. If he meets her and forgets her," She sighed. "Then death it is."

Atropos was still skeptical. "It will never work. Menelaus doesn't let her out of the ship except for at night."

Clotho smiled. "Then as fate would have it, one night when she is bathing, Achilles will just happened to be walking along the beach."

Atropos thought it over. Then had one more question. "Why are you two so attached to him?"

Clotho and Lachesis smiled at each other. "He deserves it. His life has not been easy. You know our rule; every human has a chance to save his or her life. We never gave him a chance."

The eldest sister couldn't refuse the hopeful look on her sister's faces. She did like Achilles. He was a fine soldier and would be a great husband if he had the right woman. "Ok. We will see how this relationship unfolds. But, Eros and Psyche cannot shoot any golden arrows. He will only live if their love is true and pure. When they are ready, we'll have Eros shoot them with black arrows. If after they are hit they don't hate each other and continue to love, then he lives.

Clotho and Lachesis shrieked for joy and embraced each other then their older sister while muffled 'thank you' s were screamed. Atropos laughed, hoping all would work out for the best in the end.

"Ok sisters, tonight they meet."

That day Achilles practiced swordplay with his cousin. Patroclus attacked and Achilles easily blocked it and made a turn to his right and almost caught Patroclus in the side, but his cousin's speed seemed to finally improve someone as he clashed swords. Patroclus advance and met Achilles' blade four times before Achilles ducked the next swing and moved to the right.

Patroclus blocked his swing then swung against this time Achilles' head. Achilles' moved his way about a inch from his cousin's sword and with the reflexes of a cat, changed swords hands and stabbed Patroclus in the stomach.

Patroclus grunted and grabbed his stomach and dropped his sword. It the weapons had been made of steel and not dull wood, then that would have been a fatal blow. But all the training swords caused was a temporary lose of air. Achilles picked up the swords and offered Patroclus (who had sat on the ground) his hand. "You're improving."

Patroclus smiled and took the offered hand. "I almost had you cousin."

Achilles smiled back, he and Odysseus were the only ones who saw his smile. He knew that Patroclus had not even come close to besting him, but he was improving. "Maybe. You'll be a Myrmidon soon."

Patroclus beamed at the compliment. It was the highest honor among the Greeks to be chosen a Myrmidon. They walked back to Achilles' tent and put away the practice swords then set off to find food. Patroclus thought about what he had heard earlier in he day. "Have you heard the latest cousin?"

Achilles shook his head no truly interested in gossip, but talking to cousin always pleased him so he listened to the most idiotic ideas that ever passed the mouth of soldiers. "I haven't."

Patroclus nodded to a soldier in passing he knew. "Word around the camp is that one of the men actually saw what they claimed to be Menelaus' daughter Hermione."

Achilles scuffed. "That rumor has been around for years, Patroclus. If Menelaus did bring his daughter, why haven't more of us seen her."

"Maybe he doesn't want them to know she's here."

Still Achilles didn't even consider it. "No women could stand to stay on a ship all day and never leave it."

"Maybe. But they say her hair is long and brown chestnut in color, and that she is more beautiful then Helen was at her age."

"Where do they claim to see her?"

"On the deck at night."

Achilles thought about it, maybe… no, impossible. "And does anyone else believe this rumor?"

Patroclus shook his head, "About as much as they would believe him if he said he saw a god."

Achilles still didn't believe. "I would stake my life that Hermione of Sparta is exactly where she should be, Sparta."

The night fell and Hermione anxiously waited when the camp would be mostly asleep and she could sneak out to her little cove where she bathed. She grabbed a small bar of soap and a drying cloth. She dawned a massive cloak that successfully covered her so no one would suspect her to be anymore then an old man on his nightly walk. She waited until the guards gave them the ok that they could go.

Hermione stayed close to Anemone as they soundlessly tiptoe across the sand and down the rocky coast they found the small crack in the wall just big enough for the small women to fit. Once they passed the crack the spaced expanded a little and after walking about twenty feet they emerged the other side which revealed a small cove perfect for bathing. While one girl bathed the other on would be look out at the opening of the passage incase someone came by.

Hermione sighed, "At last. It's been so hot lately, and sticky."

Anemone nodded. "Yes it is about time for a bath."

For some reason Anemone had the sudden urge to explore the coast. "Hermione you go ahead. I'm going to go look around the other side of the cove, they might be an opening that someone could find us easily, I'm going to make sure it's safe. "

A little take aback from her friend curiosity, which was a welcomed changed from her usual cautious demeanor, Hermione nodded her head. "Ok, be careful though."

Anemone nodded and walked away disappearing around the corner.

Hermione thought it odd but shook it off, not even thinking that the fates might have set that up…

Achilles was restless this night, unable to sleep. He had too much on his mind. Agamemnon was planning a battle soon and as always before a battle his mind raced with the possibility of the fates deciding that it was the right time to strike. And always he was contemplating that possible way they were planning it.

He signed and rolled up off this mat. Thinking that maybe a walk would clear his mind he gathered his black robe that covered his waist but not his chest and dawned his sandals. As always he took a small sheathed dagger and tied it to his robe.

He walked along the beach. The night was so clear and cool, Nyx the goddess of night must have had a good day.

He crossed his arms over his chest and watched the ground as he walked along the beach and before he knew it he was at the edge where the rocks formed natural wall that jetted into the sea. He had decided to turn back, when he heard splashing. He went stiff and concentrated on the noise.

It wasn't the sound that waves make when they hit rocks, it was more the sound of someone pouring water over him or her. Then he heard the most beautiful thing that his ears had ever had the pleasure of hearing. It' was a light heavenly singing.

Achilles noticed the crack in the rocks then. He noted that if someone climbed through they could probably reach the other side of the beach. He wondered if she was perhaps a sea nymph, or a siren.

He walked curiously over to the crack and examined it to see if he would fit. He tired it; it as a tight squeeze but found the opening widened enough for him to walk though. He walked so silently he would surprise even a timid deer. As he neared the opening on the other side he saw the moonlight shining down on white sands. He crept to the opening and glanced out keeping himself mostly hidden.

'Oh by the gods…' he thought to himself.

The most glorious of bare feminine back was aimed towards him as the women faced the open sea. Her long silky hair half fell over one shoulder and half down her back. She was the most beautiful girl the warrior had ever seen and he hadn't even seen his face. He felt his groin tighten in response as she raised her cupped hands and poured water over her head. He suppressed a groan, which was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He stepped cautiously out of the tunnel, careful not to disturb her.

She was still singing that enchanting song.

How can you see into my eyes like open doors
leading you down into my core
where I've become so numb

Without a soul my spirit sleeping some
until you find it there and lead it back home where cold

He watched her bathed and she dipped her head down and disappeared under the water to wet her hair. When she reemerged she pulled her hair over her shoulder.

Wake me up inside
wake me up inside
call my name and save me from the dark
bid my blood to run
before I come undone
save me from the nothing I've become

He smiled and his hunger roared through his body. A beautiful naked woman completely wet, with a sultry voice that made him hard all over was a rare opportunity. But first things first.

"You must be very brave or very stupid to bath naked less then hundred yards from fifty thousand grown men."

The maiden jerked from her trance so quick he was surprised she didn't get whip flashed. Her beautiful face displayed a look of horror as she sunk down to cover herself. "Who are you?" She demanded.

Hermione was terrified. For the first time in five years a man had caught her, alone no less, and completely vulnerable. 'Oh why didn't I bring Odysseus's dagger?' she thought to herself.

The man before her she noticed was literally the most gorgeous specimen of a man she had ever seen. His shoulder length blonde was wavy and he had one lose braid bound with black leather thread. His eyes even in the dark night shown the clearest blue she had ever seen. He lifted one corner of his mouth, which might count as a smile, if it expanded a little. But even without smiling his face was devastatingly handsome

But nothing she had ever seen in books or from the little window of her room compared to the flat tawny goodness of his stomach. The rigid of muscles that covered his torso made her mouth water. And his long thick arms folded across his chest in a stance of power. Of absolute no mercy.

He was absolutely terrifying.

When he didn't answer her, she resorted to the only other excuse she had. She mustered as much courage as she could and realized that it wasn't much so she resorted to bluffing. "If you harm me I swear by the gods you will answer to my father!"

Actually her father wouldn't hurt him. If something were to happen to her, he would both blame her and beat her, or kill her, either choice made her cringe.

Achilles inclined his head. Something told him he had just unfolded a secret about as important as finding a way to penetrate Troy's walls. "Hermione of Sparta, Menelaus' daughter."

It wasn't a question, but a statement. Hermione was momentarily at a loss for words. So he knew who she was, no one was suppose to know she was here. But what was more, he didn't seem to care. Had someone seen her one night, had someone ratted her out?

But still she couldn't let him see her fear. "Yes. And you are?"

He seemed familiar to, maybe she had seen him threw the little window in her room walking on the beach. But his clean robe and well made sandals and by the supreme air of arrogance around him, she could tell he was someone of importance. A general? Maybe a King, Prince? She noticed he was shaved, that eliminated a regular soldier. But also he seemed defiant, like he answered to no one.

But what struck her more was his blonde hair. Not many Greeks had blonde hair. And especially very few nobles and royalty. She remembered a blonde haired warrior who her father was always complaining about, about how he fought for no country, no king. And that he was the best warrior in all of Greece, and knew it. No, it couldn't be…

"Achilles?" Unlike him, she did question his identity. Except it sounded more like she was begging for him to prove she was wrong.

Unfortunately he didn't. He nodded once and barely bowed. "Princess." He said sarcastically. He casually walked slowly to the water's edge. "Why are you here? This war is no place for a young woman."

It took a moment for her to answer. She finally spoke in a breaking voice. "Are you going to hurt me?"

Achilles raised his eyebrow and took a step into the water. "I can control myself, unlike my barbaric countrymen."

Finally seeing a little ray of hope, the thought of escape was becoming clearer. But first she needed her clothes. "Then will you please allow me to dress?"

The blonde warrior's smiled widen, not pleasantly, more menacing. "What kind of a man would I be if I allowed a beautiful young women to dress when I much prefer your clothes off?"

The little ray of hope vanished.

But instead it was replaced with a fluttery feeling in her stomach. He advanced closer to her, and Hermione, though she wanted to, couldn't move. "I thought you said we were going to hurt me."

When Achilles reach her, he stood less then two feet from her. He slid his hand lightly over her cheek, so softly she barely felt his touch.

He grasped her chin and lightly pulled her head up and as she rose her head, her body seemed to stand too, against her will.

Though true that nudity in public to the Greeks wasn't necessarily uncommon, but with this much raw tense between the two, it was hard for Hermione not to blush and look away.

Achilles jerked her head back to look at him. She gasped as she looked into the blue orbs of his eyes up close. They resembled the ocean so much she was surprised they didn't ripple or move like water. But what was more important was that he slid his right arm around her lower back ad jerked her against him. And that his face seemed to be even closer still to hers. His lips less then and inch from hers.

She smelled of heaven, Achilles thought. The smell of the scented soap she had used earlier drifted into his nostrils and peaked his hunger more. He wasn't thinking straight as he pulled her against him broad chest, but she felt so good as her hands came up to rest against him. 'Pull back you fool, she's trouble, she's Menelaus' daughter.' He tried to remind himself. 'She's a princess.'

But another voice, the voice he listened to the most whispered to him. 'She's in your arms, nude, a little taste can't hurt.'

He liked that voice.

And right before his lips met hers, he answered her. "I'll do nothing to you that you won't enjoy."

It has taken me most of the night to finish this, but I can't help it, this story is way too much fun for me. Even if it doesn't get read as much as I'd like, I'm gonna write this story for me.

Thank you to all my friends who listened to me and read it.

OK I know in actuality, Menelaus and Helen sail home into the sunset home to Sparta after Troy has fallen, for in context to this story, Helen is gonna come back for her daughter, and try to fight Menelaus for her.

And they fun will ensue from there.

Anywho, I'll probably update again in a day or so. There really wasn't much Greek history in this chapter, except for Eros and Psyche.

Eros, if you didn't get the arrow thing, in a more common name is cupid. And no, I refuse to portray him as a fat naked baby with a golden bow and arrows floating around Olympus. Besides, I'd doubt that be a turn on for his wife Psyche. Psyche is the Greek goddess of Beauty and the soul.

Now, if you wanna know more about them or the other guys I would completely suggest Edith Hamiltion's Mythology Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes. It's fantastic.

The golden apple reference. For those who only saw Troy for sweaty muscled shirtless men, I don't blame you, but there is a reason why Helen and Paris ended up together, it wasn't just accident that the Princes sailed to Troy.

Ok, the gods were having a banquet thing on Olympus, and Eris, he goddess of Discord, wasn't invited for obvious reason. But when from afar she stirred trouble. She threw a golden apple into Olympus and on it was printed, 'For the fairest'

So I came down to he most beautiful goddesses, Hera, Aphrodite, and Athena. They asked Zeus to decide and he wisely stayed out of it, but told them to ask young Paris. So they went to Paris, and asked him to decide. Hera promised to make him the Ruler of Asia, Athena that he would lead the Trojans to victory and leave the Greeks in ruins. Aphrodite however offered him the most beautiful women on the earth. Paris being a lover at heart, (or a sallow basturd, however you look at it, since he was at that time living with a sea nymph) chose Aphrodite, and she told him about Helen of Sparta.

Another little history lesson for the readers. And also I was having trouble with where Briseis fit into this lovely mix. So I decided the best course of action, to have Achilles never to have known her. So for future reference, the Greeks, at least in my story, never captured Briseis, she was hiding some where in the temple, and when they left she hurried back to Troy.

Also, in real life the Trojan War lasted for 10 years. In the movie it looks like a couple of months, but again, that is the movies.

And Patroclus you may have noticed wasn't dead. I don't think at this moment that I'm going to kill him off, or if he does it will be much later in the story.

Love y'all and all that jazz.