Summary: Ellen, Achilles sister, was born and raised by her mother until the age of 14. By this time, Agamemnon had already began his quest to gain control of every Greek military force in the land and Sparta was working on early peace arrangements with Troy by sending ships of diplomats to their borders. To gather good graces with his best fighter, Achilles, King Agamemnon arranges for the young and intelligent Ellen to obtain a job in Sparta under his brother's rule for a generous pay. While in Sparta, she manages to strive as a possible diplomat with her peaceful, sweet manner and excellent problem solving skills. By the age of 16, she was on a ship with four fellow diplomats destined for Troy. While in Troy, she falls for the nephew of King Priam, Atalo. Not long after, King Priam arranges their marriage. By the age of 17, she takes permanent residence in Troy with her husband. (It continues on from here, where Paris and Hector leave for Sparta and return with Helen. You know the story.)

Note: Though I'm very familiar with Homer's 'Illiad', I haven't bothered to make this story overly accurate to his work. If anything, it's based more on the film. So, don't bother me about it. I did my research and I know for a fact that Ellen's situation is truthful and happened rather often (Not necessarily the marriage part, but anyway.) I hope you enjoy my story, and please don't flame me if you find it inaccurate– I've given you warning.

Shouts: Thanks to Brit for helping me start this darn story. Don't ever let anyone tell you it's easy to do! (Check out her story 'Avenging Achilles' by TryHonesty)

Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Achilles, or any other character you recognize. Ellen and Atalo are my own creations and I write this piece of fiction for my own amusement, and by doing so, I am making no money, or anything good like that.

Prologue:

The air was dry and humid as it often was in Phtia. Great gulps of hot of air sent sand into the sky, twirling it around and dropping it once again. Tents and small shacks layered a large area in the near distance; where people young and old wandered, talked, ate and laughed, living their lives peacefully.

Ellen could only watch them, dry emotion crawling around in her stomach. She sighed and straightened her shoulders, diverting her cerulean orbs to the soft sand she stood upon. Her nimble fingers dragged gently along her skirts, smoothing them out absently. Only when her brother spoke did she glance up and force a smile.

'Are you sure you want to do this?'

Achilles glanced at her, sinewy limbs crossed gently over his wiry chest. Sun-kissed hair dangled freely around his ears and into his strong, well- tanned features, which were softened for the occasion. A soft breeze ruffled the material his dark toga wrapping, and kicked sand into both their faces. They didn't mind, as they were both quite used to it.

Ellen nodded, her fingers intermingling at the low of her back. There was a soft squint against the sudden shift of the sun and she broke the silence with her sweet, soft voice.

'Yes, I am.'

She glanced over her shoulder at the pair of horses who threw their heads back in anticipation, stomped their hooves and nickered in unison. A young man clad in fine armour and leather slacks awaited on the chariot, the reigns held tightly in his hands. He had an impatient glow about him, but neither sibling offered him much attention.

'And you will write?'

She laughed. Her feet, clad in simple brown sandals, shifted in the sand. She approached her brother and gently reached out for his masculine fingers, taking them within her smaller ones.

'Yes, I promise. With the gods as my witness, I will write.'

She looked up at him and tilted her head, wisps of sandy auburn hair dangling around her young features. Though he tried to hide it, she knew he was concerned for her. It saddened her to know this, and so she tried to change the subject.

'Patriclus, our cousin, he arrives this afternoon does he not?'

Achilles gained a knowing expression and shook his head; he knew her intentions and chuckled faintly.

'Do not change the subject, young sister.'

He eyed the chariot suddenly, as if sizing up the structure, the soldier whom occupied it and the horses that sat anxiously in the harnesses. He sighed, speaking in an accusatory tone to everyone in general.

"Has that chariot been issued by Agamemnon? For if it has been sent by the 'gods', I will not let you ride in it.'

'For Athena's sake, Achilles!'

The voice was stern, yet soft. An older woman with long curls of chestnut and an old gown of seaside green with a darkened hem had approached unexpectedly from behind. She rested her hands on her hips and approached her eldest son and younger daughter.

'Let your sister be. She is in the care of King Agamemnon, and soon Menelaus. No harm will come to her. I have seen it. You on the other hand...'

The tone turned playful as she finished her words, glancing at Achilles with a teasing smile. She then shifted to face her daughter, Ellen, who quickly rushed to embrace her.

'Mother! I had hoped you would come...'

Achilles reclaimed his abandoned hand and folded it back against his chest, turning slightly to observe both his mother and sister. His dark eyes shifted over the two of them. He knew this would be the last time all three of them would be together, and a twinge of sadness sparked in his lion-like features. Nonetheless, he spoke.

'Just because you've seen something, it doesn't make it true. I for one, refuse to stand by and let my sister step into potentially dangerous chariots unless I can be assured that they are safe.'

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, glancing at the impatient chariot driver once again. His attention wandered for a moment, but was soon snatched back when his mother spoke.

'I am glad you care, Achilles, but you will not always be there. She must learn to take care of herself. Sparta will do her good, you will see.'

She gently brushed some hair from Ellen's face and reached out to pat her son on the shoulder. An unusual silence settled around the threesome, but didn't last long.

'Now – you must be going Ellen, I am sure that king Menelaus is expecting you. A priestess! I never thought I'd see the day.'

Ellen grinned. She was anxious to make her family proud, especially her brother. She glanced at the chariot and then into the direction they'd travel. A sigh was then released and she turned to her mother once again.

'I'll miss you so much...'

She held back her tears and gently wrapped her frail arms around her mother, embracing her tightly. When she pulled away, she sniffled curtly and brushed at her eyes. A kiss was exchanged and she stalked over to her stone-faced sibling.

'Are you angry with me?'

He kept his eyes diverted for a moment, then glanced at her. For a moment, he said nothing and simply watched her. Then he shook his head and smiled a bit, his arms unfolding from their place against his chest and reaching out for her.

Ellen simply stepped into his grasp and he pulled her into a tight clinch, smothering her against the stretch of his chest and resting his chin gently upon her head. For a moment, they remained that way. She would miss the time they often spent together, chasing down rabbits and duelling with swords. She would miss their humorous conversations and the word games they often played. Most of all, she'd miss having a sibling to grow up with. Her brother. He pulled away eventually, catching her hands within his own.

'I am not angry with you, simply annoyed at your choice in profession. I never expected you to be a priestess. However, it is your life, as mother as blatantly mentioned more then once.'

He glanced at his mother for a moment, then leaned down and placed a gentle kiss upon his sister's forehead, and she smiled. As she recoiled from her brother and took her place on the chariot, she glanced back at her family. She could see everything plainly; the soft flutter of her mother's hair, the sudden twitch of her brother's temple. She could see the people in their village shifting around, starting their day. There was a sigh, a smile and a gentle nod before she waved her nimble digits one last time and turned to watch her way to the boats.

When the chariot had disappeared from earshot, Achilles turned to his mother sharply and narrowed his dark cerulean orbs. His fists clenched and crept back up with his arms to which he folded over his chest.

'You know just as well as I that this is a plot. Agamemnon cares nothing of my sister, or our well being.'

He spat angrily, the frustration and hesitation he'd been confining inside was finally released. He glared after the chariot, obviously unhappy at the arrangement.

The aging woman simply bowed her head and remained neutral, shifting her feet softly in the sand.

'Everything will turn out for the best, Achilles. You must have faith.'