So I promised I would come back... and I spent a lot of time musing over how to do this story. If I do it the way I want to it'll take YEARS to finish, so I may have to do time-jumps and lots of flashbacks, since the Trojan war actually took about 7 years in the Iliad. But I promise lots of goodies will occur along the way, including treachery, villany, romance, adventure, sex, jealousy, sex, betrayal... You get the idea. :-)

Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed. You all rock my face off literally.

Disclaimier: I still own nothing. I don't even own my muse. Grrrr

Trojan Palace

Why does he do the things he does?
Why does he do these things?

Helen had known many men of power in her life; from her childhood in her father's halls to her ill-fated marriage to the Spartan king, she observed powerful princes and kings, and saw their treatment towards those they considered lesser than them. Nothing, however, prepared her for the men of Troy.

Despite the war she brought to their doorstep the men treated her as a new member of the family and not an intruder or harlot for leaving Menelaus. Hector took time from his grief over his sister to check on Helen and her treatment by the other nobles of the court, using his power in her favor and not to stab at her non-existent virtue. Paris remained the young, naïve but sweet boy of their courtship with his wide-eyed ideals and heart-felt adoration of her.

And Priam… She glanced at the shadowed figure hunched over the throne from her position on an adjacent balcony.

The poor man tried to give her attention as due to a daughter despite his heart aching over the loss of his own blood. She sat at Paris' side in honor for formality in the evening and spun or weaved with her sister-in-law Andromache by day, all which she suspected were from Priam's generosity.

But even a blind man could see Priam's grief.

Why does he march
Through that dream that he's in,
Covered with glory and rusty old tin?

She felt helpless, even more so than behind Menelaus' gates before all this came to be. The princess who welcomed her, despite all the trouble Helen brought, was dead.

These gloomy thoughts broke in their intensity when a groan reached the delicate former-Spartan queen's ears. Helen looked up to see Priam bent over as if ill, making her heart thud to a halt from worry. "My lord!" She ran to his side, holding his arms to help.

Priam's expression declared his surprise at the sudden assistance while she helped him to a sitting position and squeezed his hand as if to give her feeble strength to him. "Helen…?"

"Yes, my lord." Helen bowed her head in supplication.

A broad hand touched the crown of her cranium, stroking her hair. "You are a good girl. A fine wife for my son."

"No, my lord. I have brought grief upon you."

Why does he live in a world that can't be,
And what does he want of me...
What does he want of me?

Silence fell for a moment… then Priam sighed and patted her head. "No matter what you did, I would have lost my daughter. Perhaps the gods wished to send me one to take her place."

Tears stung Helen's eyes at the honor. "I do not deserve…"

"Petra would want it this way. This is the way of life, a passing on of power and position." A soft, pained chuckle escaped him at the same time as a tear. "And now she will not be forced into the position you were in at Sparta with Menelaus."

Helen thought of the head-strong girl she saw only a day ago and how she could fade into a pale, pale reflection of herself like Helen had. She fought a shudder.

"Grim, is it not?" The old blue eyes kept their vacant stare out at the sky. "But the gods know best, daughter."

At that, Helen's head rose with gratitude and a feeling of unworthy.

"I do not deserve all of you."

"Ah, but you are one of us now. And that will never ever change, my dear." He pulled her over, letting the delicate fair head rest on his knee while he stroked her hair absently.

Helen knew this pose must be an old one for Priam, from the practiced caresses of a father to a daughter. In her head, she made a solemn vow.

With the gods as my witnesses, I will not be a burden to this family. I swear upon my life I shall make them not regret my presence in their home and life.

As if he could hear her Priam kissed the top of her head.

I have a family now. I will make them never regret me.

Meanwhile

"Halt!" Achilles wiped a bead of sweat off his face from the hot overhead sun. The beach of Troy simply sweltered now with oppressing sunshine, sand and salt water.

Perhaps this is Apollo's revenge, to try and bake us alive.

The Myrmidons stopped at their leader's command and stood at attention, waiting for their next instructions. "My lord!"

"Get out of the sun and drink water," he ordered firmly. "Tomorrow we shall discover what the plans are for the battle. I want all of you to sleep well tonight in our new home." He added, "And enjoy. We have all earned a celebration tonight."

The firm yet fair instructions met a hearty roar of approval before the men noisily marched away.

However, Eudorus stayed behind for instructions while Achilles tried to brush the dust off his legs and unbuckle his armor from the practice. "My lord." He stood at attention, knowing for sure that Achilles would have some task for him that would warrant his immediate attention.

"My cousin has been protecting the girl, but I want a small escort for her. I need men that will not intimidate or provoke her."

"Yes, my lord," Eudorus only murmured. Any of his bewilderment was now hiding behind his stoicism. "I shall make a list of recommendations by nightfall."

"Thank you." To his captain's surprise, Achilles paused to smooth his hair back nervously, checking his reflection in the mirror of his shield with a frown. Despite his best efforts, his blonde mane still looked matted and tangled from the separation of a comb and a full bath. "I look wild, don't I?"

"You are an untamed lion, my lord. You pride yourself on that."

"My reputation proceeds me." The bitter tone did not escape Eudorus' notice, nor did the side glance towards the prince of Ptia's tent.

They both heard the sound of surprised male, then female laughter from Achilles' tent, making a jealous frown mar Achilles' chiseled features from his ominous thoughts.

Eudorus tried to hide his amusement. The great and ruthless Achilles worrying over losing a girl to his cousin!

"My cousin should mind his place with my consort." Instead of a fierce scowl or the cold stare that penetrated into the hearts of even the most courageous of men into running in the opposite direction, a sullen pout graced the most feared warrior of Greece. It took all of Eudorus' self-control to not laugh until his sides ached.

Instead he tried rationality. "I doubt the young lady would entertain ideas of romance with her enemy, sir, especially if she doesn't want to anger you. She seems to be intelligent."

That had the intended result, but not in the way Eudorus hoped. His general's pout changed into one of disappointment, even perhaps one of unintended shattered illusions.

"Forgive me, my lord." Eudorus added quickly, inwardly kicking himself.

"No, old friend. I appreciate your honesty." The words came out as if under a large burden, as Achilles leaned against a tent-pole and peered up at the sky to hide his emotions.

"Perhaps, sire," Eudorus spoke hesitantly, "you should give it time. You only recently met this girl, and she is… not like the other, uh, ladies you usually meet in war." He hoped to not receive a scowl for his attempt at delicacy.

Achilles did not scowl, but his face expressed frustration. "I have never needed to work for anything in my life!"

"Is that a terrible task, sire, a challenge?"

A reluctant chuckle rumbled from the Myrmidon leader's lips. "You are perhaps more wise than me, Eudorus. Odysseus would tell me that I am acting bull-headed."

"And that you are in deep over your head, my friend." Odysseus stepped forward from his hiding place in the shadow of a Myrmidon ship.

With a murmur of pardon, Eudorus left to fulfill Achilles' orders despite wanting to hide behind one of the tents and listen to what he knew would be one of the most interesting arguments between the two monarchs.

"How long were you listening?" Achilles growled with annoyance at the wily fox. The same mysterious red tint from earlier touched his cheeks.

"Long enough to see that you will make a grave mistake if you are not careful, my friend." Odysseus started walking down the beach, indicating that Achilles should join him.

For a moment the spoiled warrior considered ignoring the invitation. Then he followed with a muttered oath. "Stubborn, all-knowing…"

Odysseus only continued walking. "I know you consider it foolishness but I see the way you talk about this girl. It's the way I feel about my wife." He paused when they neared the water. "It's the look of a man about to be altered completely."

"She is a Trojan and our enemy."

"You don't believe in this war. She is not your enemy and if rumors are correct she is anything but a helpless woman of the court." He chuckled. "The perfect companion for you, actually."

Achilles kicked a pebble. "She is not a concubine. I will not touch her."

"If this was anyone but you I would think you want to marry the girl." Suddenly Odysseus looked concerned at his younger friend. "Please don't tell me you…"

"I care about her," Achilles grumbled. But a lump started to appear in his throat. If his mother's prophecy came true… If he did die… If Agamemnon knew she was more than a simple concubine to him… If he couldn't protect her…

"My friend," Odysseus tapped his arm firmly. "I won't let anything happen to her if you are gone."

"How-" Achilles still had not let anyone know his fate.

"Instead of planning for your future you plan for others. You were not going to take a woman for this trip. You must know something." Odysseus only hoped his suspicions were wrong, but Achilles' behavior towards everyone told him otherwise.

And it was confirmed by Achilles' nod. "My mother."

"Ah." Odysseus, along with many Greeks, knew of Thetis' reputation as a prophetess and how she predicted accurately. Never once had she proven herself wrong, to the point of being revered as a goddess.

The two friends stood in silence, the sun still high above them, while a small breeze from the ocean gently blew over them. The only sound they heard were the waves breaking on the shore, both of them quiet.

"I must see to the girl," Achilles finally broke the hush between them.

"Yes." Odysseus watched his friend head back to the Myrmidon camp before calling at the back to him, "Oh, and Achilles?" The warrior glanced over his shoulder. "Try to learn her name at least."

Scowling again, Achilles ignored the laughter floating behind him.

Achilles' Tent

"That was delicious." Petra wiped her fingers delicately on the edge of her robe. In her mind she scolded herself for eating strange food in the enemy camp. But Patroclus looked so honest, and acted completely without guile, so like Paris that she felt completely welcomed by his awkward sincerity and attempts to treat her well.

Patroclus wiped his face with his tunic boyishly. "Thank you, my lady." He smiled at her with complete innocence. Then he looked abashed. "I mean, uh…"

"You're welcome," she fought back a chuckle. She gave up on the "my lady" part now, knowing it was simple politeness for Patroclus.

Her ears pricked suddenly when she heard a sound outside.

"What is it?" Patroclus noticed her small twinge.

"I thought…" Nothing happened. "I guess I imagined a noise."

"Or you are simply to observant for enemy comfort." A deep voice answered her question, a voice that made her heart leap then pound faster. Both she and Patroclus looked behind her to see their visitor. "I only hope you don't consider me one. I have seen your skills with the blade."

"Cousin." Patroclus' amusement went flat from his body and voice. In fact, he looked absolutely bitter now.

In the small amount of time that she and Patroclus had been together, Petra gathered that Achilles was overprotective of his cousin, and that Patroclus loathed having to watch her despite the fun they actually had.

Petra sighed and rose to her feet to face her owner, trying to look every bit the slave. "My lo-"

Before she could turn a calloused tip touched her lips, Achilles' frame so close to hers from behind. "I have told you to call me Achilles," he corrected with a soft smile. Then his thumb ran over her chin.

This could be a domineering position, but there was a tender gentleness to his touch. She looked into the face of a lion and saw a cat.

"It isn't proper, my lord."

Neither of them noticed Patroclus' awkward fidgeting then final slip out the door-flap.

"Considering the position we are in, I think it is appropriate." And Achilles let go of her but stayed in close proximity to her as he helped her sit on a soft pellet of fur behind her. "I do think you should tell me your name."

Her eyes met his as she considered his words. Could she trust him?

Everything inside her reminded her of the legends of his prowess in battle and in bed, and the virgin in her blushed at them. But the warrior in her wanted the genuine and mutual respect he was offering. Perhaps he did not know her name, since she was a princess of Troy and not one of the heirs like Paris and Hector.

She finally took a deep breath and spoke quietly. "Petra. My name is Petra."

"Petra." Achilles nodded, smiling. "A beautiful name for a beautiful and strong girl." A comfortable silence fell until Achilles sighed. "I know I should have asked this already, but how old are you? Are you married?" He prayed the later to not be the case. If so, he would be obliged by honor to return her to her family.

But Petra almost laughed at his questions. "I am not married, my lord. I'm only eighteen." She did chuckle at his outrageously pleased look, feeling strangely at ease with him.

He also let out a rumble of mirth, standing and offering her a hand to rise with him. "Come."

"Where are we going?" she inquired while accepting the help.

"My men should be spending their time in their tents. We can take a walk on the beach if you desire." He hid a smirk of triumph at her happy look from his words. "I would like to show you some of the camp. Tomorrow I shall officially present you to my men."

Brushing sand off her garment, she nodded and stood at his side, her head lowering in the manner of a servant for her role.

"No, don't." His hand chucked her chin to make her look up. "Never lower yourself, Petra. You have proven yourself to never ever bow to anyone."

"Yes… Achilles."

And Still Meanwhile

"He treats her like his betrothed, my lord, not a concubine." The spy finished, bowing before Agamemnon's throne.

Stroking his chin, Agamemnon exchanged a look with his brother. "It looks like your former gift has more value than we first saw." He stared into the firepit in the center of the room contemplating. In a corner, Agamemnon's concubine Chrysies let her fingers run over the strings of a harp for background music to sooth his spirit.

But Menelaus looked sour-faced. "Brother, put that away. We need to talk, not listen to your harpy's supposed talents."

Chrysies glared at Menelaus as Agamemnon's eyes darkened.

"Take care, brother," he warned in a low voice.

Menelaus scowled and sat down with a sulk while the spy waited for dismissal, still crouched in front of the High King. The King of Mycenae waved a hand simply.

"I shall give you the same signal when I want more. Go."

With a silent bow the man tucked his cloak around himself before slinking back into the fading light of the afternoon.

"What a useful object," Agamemnon observed in a bored tone.

"Once we rid ourselves of Achilles, he will make a fine addition to your staff, Brother." Menelaus lounged more comfortably as his brother waved his concubine to their private chambers to wait for him.

That made the Aegean ruler laugh. "Oh, please… never trust a traitor, even one that you created. He will soon end his value to me."

A vicious smile curved over the Spartan king's face.

"So Achilles has finally found a weakness." Agamemnon stroked his beard. "We shall have to keep an eye on this Trojan blossom, find a way to possibly use her to our advantage."

"She is a survivor, and a whore. She will not refuse us."

Ignoring his brother's bitter tone, Agamemnon simply continued, "I need a way to make Achilles answer to me. Odysseus can only do so much. And if he wants to spare the girl's kinsmen, we will make him do so for fear of our corruption of his woman."

"And she will hate him. So either way we win."

Both plotters cackled with glee at their ideas.

Remains of Apollo's Temple

Hector grit his teeth together as he entered the back entrance to the now desecrated temple of Apollo, remembering the shining splendor that had existed there only a few days ago. Now it looked like a battleground, with blood stains on the floors and the stale stench of men's sweat and death still haunting the rooms.

Only days ago his cousin Briseis prayed and knelt at the altar here, and his sister would bring offerings along with worshippers.

Petra… Fighting back his emotions, Hector continued to walk through the halls towards the front, hoping that this cover would get him closer to the Greek camps undetected. If he was discovered, all would be lost.

But if he could at least find proof of Petra's fate, the risk would be worth it, and the peace of mind would be reward enough.

A shining object caught his eye near the destroyed altar of Apollo, which made him frown and kneel to pick it up. What he found, though, hit him hard in the gut with a force that surprised even him.

It was the shell necklace he had bought Petra in Sparta.

He clenched it, almost breaking more of the shells, while looking around desperately. "Petra? Pet?" Haunting memories of another search from years ago filled him, the same adrenaline and panic pumping through his veins as he tried to peer through the dark room.

The Greeks certainly had picked the room clean, he thought as he crawled through the wreckage. None of the valuable stones or gold plating was there anymore, nor were the ceremonial goblets that used to hold Apollo's wine for sacrifices. The statues had cracks and some parts hacked off from blunt swords, some even lying in crumbled heaps.

At least all the dead bodies were gone. From the distance Hector had seen the funeral pyre fires still burning in the fading twilight, an honor that had surprised him from the Greeks.

"Go home, Prince. Drink some wine, make love to your wife. Tomorrow we'll have our war."

His hands clenched into fists at the memory of Achilles… the barbarian who simply tsk'ed at Hector's accusations about the Pthian prince's heartless attitude towards battle and the men his Myrmidons had viciously slaughtered in their goal of conquering the beach of Troy.

Everything in him prayed that his sister was safe at least from the hands of that monster, and that she would never need to know that man's touch or cruelty.

"You must be very brave, or very stupid to come after me alone."

Hector fought a growl in his throat at the simple arrogance that statement had, remembering with humiliating clarity the interaction between him and Achilles before his prompt dismissal and then finding of Briseis.

"Perhaps your brother can comfort them. I hear he's good at charming other men's wives."

Perhaps, Hector thought as he sank down onto the ground in dismay, but you'll never know the pain of watching your brother wish himself dead because of the pain he has brought countless others, Greek. Just knowing that Paris prepared himself to face Menelaus and challenge him for his right to Helen lowered Hector's already lagging spirit.

He had failed to protect his loved ones, and now he would watch his brother sacrifice himself.

Meanwhile

The sun had started setting more than an hour ago, but Achilles hesitated to walk back to his tent. Petra improved almost immediately from the sunshine and fresh air, looking so happy that Achilles loathed ending their time here.

Petra now walked a few feet in front of him, pausing every once in a while to wade a little in the water up to her knees, not caring about soaking her clothes or getting dirty.

Achilles had to smile the last time she did that. She looked like a child with her pure happiness at the outdoors.

This simplistic yet natural air she possessed charmed him in a way no other woman had; other females had over-compensated their natural looks with expensive garments that men worried about dirtying or styled their hair into unnatural stiff braids that could poke a man's eye out if he wasn't careful.

Instead Petra looked like she spent the majority of her time running around and not caring about whether or not she looked every inch a lady of the courts. It attracted him.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he suddenly missed the wave that splashed next to him and soaked his entire side.

Letting out a surprised roar, he glared at the misfortunate current now trailing back down the sand before hearing laughter ahead of him. He looked up to see Petra's hand cupped over her mouth to hide giggles.

"Laugh at me, will you?" But he grinned back at her.

"I'm not the one that let a wave attack me," she retorted playfully.

She let out a surprised shriek when Achilles suddenly lunged after her, making her take off running down the wet sand with him close behind, nearly at her heels. Hiking her tunic almost up to her knees, she raced down the sands as she had done countless times since childhood.

But this time her breath quickened as she wondered what Achilles would do once he caught her- and she knew that no matter what she would enjoy it.

That last thought made her pause, enough for Achilles to suddenly grab her around the waist and tuck the other arm under her legs, picking her up and twirling her around. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Petra lost herself in the moment and let the fountain of laughter bubble out of her at the sheer joy of the moment.

Achilles felt a warmth spreading through his limbs, one that usually he only felt after a successful bout of lovemaking, but this so much more fulfilling than usual.

And as quickly as it came it was replaced with cold terror when he spotted movement in Apollo's temple, so close to their present location.

"My lord?" Petra noticed his body stilling to a halt and scrambled down, straightening herself and fighting a blush of embarrassment. She had acted so childlike! And with an enemy of her people!

His eyes suddenly met hers with cold blue precision. "Petra, go back to the tent." The words seemed an order, but there was something underlying them that made her spin on her heel and quickly walk back to the Myrmidon's part of the beach with her heart giving loud but slow thumps against her chest.

Reaching for the dagger at his belt Achilles cursed himself for leaving the camp without any other weapon before stealthily walking upwards to the desecrated place of worship.

Whoever was in there did not know the fury of the Lion of the Myrmidons, but would quickly learn it.

A/N: Song is What Does He Want of Me? from Man of LaMancha.