Title: Because of You

Pairing: Achilles and Hermione, daugher of Helen and Menelaus

Summary: The fates decide that instead of killing Achilles, they will give him what he needs the most, the love from the daughter of the women who's face launched a thousand ships.

Chapter One

A Change of Fate

The sun shoned down on the white beaches of Troy, making the calm waters sparkle in the light, a magical sight. Poseidon had blessed the morning, and Apollo had blessed the day. For never was a more beautiful sight then Troy bathed in sun. And today would have been exceptionally beautiful, had not the stench of burned flesh hung in the air.

The bodies of the dead had been burned the night before, and their ashes still smoking in the morning. Achilles sat just outside his hut, not once had his eyes roamed from the huge fire that consumed his follow soldiers. People worked all around him, some were rebuilding weapons, making arrows, some tending to the wounded. Achillies should have been resting, the battle yesturday was long and trying, and he had not sleep since the day before last. He couldn't, he was haunted.

By them.

His enemies, the ones he killed, disturbed his dreams. As he had told Patroclus before. 'At night I sometimes see them. The faces of the men I killed. They're waiting for me on the far bank of the Styx. They say, Welcome, brother.'

Atropos (the fate who decided what was to be) was either having trouble planning the death of the greatest warrior to ever live, or she were toying with him. Either of the choices left him unsteady.

But it mattered none to Achilles, he knew he was to die, and at this point in his life, he didn't care. He wasn't afraid of dying, he wasn't afraid of his fate. He wasn't afraid of what Hades had instore for him when the fates cut his thread that would end his life.

He just wanted Atropos to think of something, Clothos to spin the thread, have them cut it and be done with it.

Achilles was numb, all over. Physically and somewhat mentally. He didn't care what the next day would bring and he didn't care what happend to him. The only things he felt was love for his cousin Patroclus, a fondness for his friend Odysseus, and annoyed that he was alive still. Besides that, everyone else could fuck off in his book.

He glanced at the sky, and silently prayed for it all to be over.


But the Fates were not ready to give up on Achilles yet.

They were before, long before he left for Troy the Fates had planned out Achilles demise. He was to have been shot by an arrow through the heel by Paris, seeing as how that was the only way for the Greek to die. But as the war progressed the Fates sat on Mt. Olympus and would spend the day watching Achilles fight. Seeing as how the fates were three women, the prospect of a handsome, powerful man was too much for them to pass up. Soon the war was their own personal form of entertainment.

And as they watched they grew a fondess for the strong blonde greek. His skills were smooth and talented, well thought out and coordinated. He fought beautifully, the perfect warrior.

But still two of the sisters, Atropos and Lachesis, knew the fate of the man and though regretable, it was still to be. But Clotho, knew somewhere deep in her heart, that this man was suffering, and whenever she thought of seeing his eyes lifeless and imagining his soul lost in the underworld forever, it made her cringe. She couldn't allow it.

One night, when her sisters were resting, Clotho went down to the beaches of Troy and into Achilles hut. Clotho gasp silently at the absolute beauty of this man. Seeing him in the little lake where the sisters watched the earth from Olympus and seeing him in real life was a totally different image. His beauty was even more stunning up close. In the lake, she saw him fighting always with a unmerciful scowl on his face, but when he slept the frown was gone and he looked peaceful, kind, gentle even. No, this man couldnt die, the potential was too strong.

She knelt to the man and took out a little vile she had borrowed from Mnimi, the goddess of memory. The vile contained a substance that if used correctly could allow her to see Achilles memory. She also had alittle vile of powder that she lightly sprinkled over Achilles' forehead. The powder was given to her by Hypnos, the god of sleep awhile back when she would have trouble sleeping as a girl. It allowed a deep sleep, knowing that Achilles was a light sleeper, it wouldn't do her good for him to wake up.

Clotho, noting his naked chest, fiqured the rest of him was naked as well. She glanced at the thin sheet that barely covered his waist. She raised and eyebrow, and glanced around. She slowly lifted the sheet a tiny bit and peeked underneath. Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened. Gods bless the sea nymph, Thetis that birthed this man. She lowered the sheet and shook her head, trying to remember her purpose.

She opened the memory vile and place one of her hands over Achilles' heart, and downed the contents. She quickly placed her other hand over his head before the potion took effect. After a second, she felt dizzy as Achilles memories slowly started to consume her, she fell over his chest as she dreamt of his memories.

She was in a long hallway made of complete white marble walls, ceiling, and floor. At the end of the hall was a mirror. She walked over and watched her reflection, wondering what it was doing here. She reached out slowly and lightly skimmed the surface, it was like water, and it ripped around her finger. Slowly the image changed.

She saw a small boy with bright blonde hair no more then five years old. He was pretend fighting with another young boy with sticks as swords. It was obvious they were having fun at first, until the little blonde boy took control of the fight. He was stronger and more skilled then the other little boy and he fought with much more strength and skill then any five year old should know.

The little boys face turned from one of happiness to one of sternness. He overpowered the boy and took a shot at the kid's arm with enough force to draw blood. The little boy fell with a cry and clutched his arm, staring at the blonde boy with fear and loathing. The boy, obviously shocked at his actions, dropped the stick and tried to help the hurt boy. "Im so sorry. Let me help you."

As the little Achilles reached his hand out to help, the boy screamed and hastily ran away from him crying. Clotho felt the hurt from the little Achilles. He bowed his head and dropped to his knees. and she barely heard the whispered words escape his mouth. "I only wanted to help. I didnt mean it."

The image changed from a child to a handsome young man of about sixteen. Clotho smiled, as she saw at even that age he was muscled and tan and gorgous. He was walking along the beach looking out to sea, enjoying the morning.

He looked startled as if jerked out of his trance and he look down the beach to see a fiqure of a boy screaming his name. The boy was being beatened by to other much bigger men. Without thinking twice the teenage Achilles sprinted down the beach faster then any mortal man could run. As he drew closer he saw that the booy being beatened was his little cousin Patroclus, who was no more then twelve. A new rage consumed Achilles as he neared the men. One of them noticed him and nudged his friend. They looked frightened.

Achilles reconized them, they were two boys a little older then him who had a particular hatred for Achilles, more so then the rest of the boys he knew. The one who reconized him was said to be the best archer in the village. He drew his bow and arrow and aimed at Achilles' heart. The arrow flew and hit him square in the chest. He felt the pain, but he pushed it back. Now Patroclus was lying motionless in the sand. All he thought of was reaching his cousin.

He slowed slightly feeling the arrow and lost of breath was effecting his body. He stopped about ten feet from the two boys who seemed to be frozen in fear. Achilles' eyes had turned from deep blue to almost black with the rage he felt. His hands shook and his face displayed a look of such pure hatred that would make Hades seem like a puppy. When his spoke his voice was barely over a whisper, "Your hate belongs with me, not my cousin."

The one with the bow dropped it and scowled back. "He would have been unharmed if you had kept your hands off my Lantha."

Achilles smirked and his eyes narrowed, feeling the need to kill overcome him. "Despite her best attempts, I never bedded your women."

"I believe her over her you, you filthy son of a whore."

Despite the anger he felt at the insult to his lovely mother, Achilles diplayed no signs that he had even heard him. "I'm going to save Atropos the trouble of cutting one more thread today. I'm going to snapped your necks instead."

With those deadly words Achilles broke the arrow off still in his chest. It hurt but he wouldn't die. He charged the boys and began fighting them. He punched one of them in the face and as he stagged back he snatched he other and just as he said he would, he snapped his neck with one twist of his hands and in less the a second later he turned and caught the other boy and snaped his as well. He didnt even watch the body fall. He turned back and went to help his cousin.

He knelt by the boy and check his breathing. He was alive, just knocked out. Achilles gathered him in his arms and walked along to the waters to find his mother for help.

Clotho stared at the mirror in shock. She had never seen him kill with his bare hands. He killed even faster then with his weapons. The image changed again and another young Achilles about eighteen.

The young soldier had just joined the army. He was on his way to war with the greeks. At this time Achilles was untrusting and bitter to everyone except Patroclus and his mother. Growing up, every since he was little, the other boys had been afraid of him, that he would hurt them, so they stayed away. When he got older the same boys who feared him, got cocky and would challenge him. Most the time he would refuse, untill they pushed him. Then he fought, mostly leaving them with serious injuries, broken limbs and sometimes death.

He caught the attention of an army general, who thought he was the perfect soldier material. The general visited him several times asking him to join the army. Achilles always agreed but his mother was firm that he wouldn't join until he was at least eighteen.

On his eighteen birthday, the general came by and once again asked Achilles to join. Achilles argeed. The next week, he left for war. Now that he was there he was like a freak show. King Agamemnon was amused and surprised such a young man could fight so well. When soldier would challenge him, trying to prove they were better then him, Agamemnon would watch with interest like it was a game. And Achilles killed, in every fight. Agamemnon didnt mind, he had plenty of soldiers, and it was amusing to him.

For the first year he was challenged everyday, and he was exhausted, he never fought in the war, he was used more as practice or training for other soldiers. He was barely fed, he had no fat on him, just muscled he built from fighting. But he was also starving. His armor was poor, and he was treated horribly.

One day while sitting at the edge of the woods eating a scrap of bread someone had throw to him, he was approached by a tall handsome brown hair man. He was a few years older then Achilles and had a small goatee. He didnt smile but his face wasn't cruel. "Soldier, is your name Achilles?"

Achilles eyed the stranger untrustingly. He was clean shavened, with rich armor and bye he looks of him, he was definatly someone with power. "I've already fought today. If you wish to fight me, find me tomorrow."

The stranger smiled at the younger man and sat down beside him. "I'm not here to fight you. I wanted to see the man they say cannot be defeated."

Achilles stared at him. "Who are you?"

"Odysseus King of Ithaca."

While other soldiers would have ben kissing ass to the King, Achilles only slightly nodded his head. "My lord."

The King held out his hand and after a moment Achilles shook it, not used to kindess. The King looked down at the pitiful little strap of moldy bread clutched in the soldier's hands. "What are they feeding you?"

He picked off alittle piece of mold. "Nothing. This is trash no one wanted, so they gave it to me."

The King looked diguested "So what do you eat?"

Achilles shrugged, not sure why he felt alittle at ease talking to this man. "Whatever is around, berries from the woods, thrown away bread."

The King didn't understand why they treated such a great soldier slightly higher then a slave. "What do you think of Agamemnon?"

Achilles scowled. "One day I will look down on his corpse and smile."

That brought a smile to the King's face, not liking the King of Kings himself. He looked at the young boy and could tell he was meant for greatness and he wasn't going to get there from where he was now. "How would you like to fight for me?"

Most soldiers would jump at the oppurtunity. "On what terms?"

The King shrugged. "I take you away from this camp, and take you to mine. You fight for me, protect my ass, and I'll give you lands, and food and armor, and you will never have to be Agamemnon's whipping boy again."

Achilles looked at the King skeptically. "Why?"

The King placed his arms on his knees. "I've heard of your skills, I wasn't lying before. They tell me your are the greatest warrior ever born. They say that Ares couldn't best you in battle. And since Agamemnon wont let you fight, I will."

The warrior thought for a time and finally asked. "Would Agamemnon be angry?"

The King nodded. "He would be pissed."

For the first time in a while Achilles smiled to himself. "I accept. But one on more condition."

The King raise one eyebrow, "And that would be?"

Achilles chucked the bread down into the camp, it hit the a soldier on the head who looked around dazed. "I won't call you 'My Lord' "

The King laughed. "Good, it makes me sound old. Call me Odysseus."

"Are you this lenient with all your soldiers?"

"No," The King stood and held out this hand to the younger man. "None of my soldiers address me by my first name. Only the ones who deserve to."

"How many is that?"


The image faded and Clotho smiled. She spend hours looking through his memories, sometimes laughing and sometimes crying. And when she felt herself being pulled away, she woke up still in Achilles hut, it was still night out, and she had to return to Mt. Olympus. She look down at the sleeping male, feeling that she knew so much more now and decided. She couldn't let him die. In all his memories as an adult and some as a child he was missing one important thing, love. In the morning she would talk to Atropos, who ultimately decided whether Achilles died or not.

On her way back she racked her brain thinking of possible females in the world who would make a good match for the warrier. He needed someone strong and beautiful, one who could hold her own. Someone loving and caring, who could heal his heart and filled the void in him.

She was laying down when she thought of Hermione of Sparta, daughter of Helen and Menelaus. She was young, around the age of nineteen or twenty, and her beauty could rival Helen's anyday. She was from a broken family and had her share of drama in her life. Clotho had always had a soft spot for the young woman. She smiled. Hermione and Achilles. Yes, that could work well, very well infact. Clotho smiled, she couldnt wait for the morning. But right now, the the potion was tugging at he again for sleep. She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Ok, first off, alittle bit of ancient history for those who were thrown through a loop. The fates are three women who decide what's what. They are three sisters, Atropos, Clotho, and Lachesis. Lachesis sings about what was, Clotho: about what is and Atropos: about what is to be.

It is said that the fates were told by Zeus who dies and what-not, but others (like me) think that even Zeus can't control them, making them the most powerful beings on Mount Olympus, (i refuse to believe that Zeus, and arrogant man who cheats on his wife countless times rules the heavens.)

Also they cut the threads of life, Clotho spins the thread, Lachesis measures it on her rod, and Atropos cuts it. When the string is cut, guess what? Who's ever string that was just died.

P.S. Atropos can also be spelt Atropus.

And all that stuff about Achilles, total fiction. None of that really happened to him, but it worked in the story and since i didnt have alot of info about his childhood i improvised.

Hermione of Sparta is NOT an orignal character. She was actually the daughter of Helen, who was left behind when Helen went to Troy.

By the way In real life, Paris died.

Oh it gets better, when Troy was falling that night they let the huge horse in, dont be fooled by the movie, Helen went back to Menelaus and i quote from Edith Hamilton's Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes "He recieved her gladly, and as he sailed for Greece she was with him."


Anyway, more ficiton and history lessons coming up in a few days.