Author's Note:

I am really excited about this, as it is my first fan-fiction. That said, criticize me, pick into my poem and find every crack, plot hole, grammar mistake, anything you can find. It is my hope to become an established author, and while I have written multitudes of short stories, I have never attempted a fan-fiction. I would like to take this moment to make a statement regarding certain liberties I have taken with the story that acts as the source of inspiration for this one. I am sure that most, if not all of you are familiar with the legend of Achilles. I love The Iliad with a passion, along with most Greek mythology. I have slightly altered this legend. Be aware that while the basic events remain the same, certain, un-necessary elements have been omitted. First off, Achilles never did anything to piss off Apollo before the events of the prologue. Second, my portrayal of the Greek gods may be slightly different from their mythological portrayal. Third, I'm throwing in one completely new part to the legend, and that is the weapons of Achilles (you'll see). Why I decided to combine Greek mythology with Naruto is somewhat beyond me, I just happen to love the idea of a demi-god version of Naruto. So I figured, hey, let's make Naruto a descendant of Achilles. From there other ideas popped in. Creation of a new group of Myrmidons, resurrection of the Yondaime (who will be considered Naruto's father in this story) as well as the greatest warrior to ever grace the Earth, Achilles himself. There will be some romance in this, pairings undecided. I WILL NOT DO YAOI. If you are not familiar with any references made to Greek mythology, let me know and I will try to help you understand, however the best source to go to is the myths themselves. Hope you enjoy my tale, Heirs of the Warrior.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Naruto or any of its characters. I do own anything that I came up with originally, namely characters, techniques, and fighting styles that I made up. Don't steal them.

Prologue:

The Death of the Warrior

The cries of a city being burned to the ground could be heard all around him. He ran through, frantically searching for her. Any soldier, Greek or Trojan that stood before him met with a swift end at the edge of his blades. Achilles was racing towards the upper levels of Troy, where nobility and religious members of the community resided if they were not in the palace or in the temple of Apollo. A group of soldiers stopped him, or tried to, with a hail of arrows and spears. What these men had yet to realize was that they were facing the greatest warrior of all time, a man, no a human god trained and empowered by the court of Mt. Olympus, by the Gods themselves.

"Fools! This city has fallen! And now you shall meet the boatman as well!" Achilles cried. The arrows simply burst away from him, and he charged forward, two magnificent blades drawn. He leaped forward and slashed at the point man's neck, a wound which promptly became a fountain of blood. He landed in the center of the formation, knocking over the three bowmen. He placed his hands on the ground, lifted his body up and thrust his legs out so that his feet would meet the skulls of the men to his left and right. He jumped up a good 4 meters and muttered a few, almost silent words. Winds that before had not existed engulfed the remaining soldiers, cutting deep into them, sending flecks of skin, blood, muscle, and armor flying in a deep red haze. Achilles armor, forged by Hephaestus (God of the Forge, craftsman of the gods) himself, along with his invincibility, a gift of the river Styx, protected him from the vicious technique. He rushed onward, leaving the corpses of men who were doomed anyway. He took no time to consider that these men would be waiting for him at the ferry dock, for with no coins to pay the boatman; they would never pass into the realm of Hades.

Achilles kept running deep into Troy until he reached the palace. He found the temple ransacked and burning, and prayed to the gods that Apollo kept his priestess safe.

Meanwhile, Paris, prince of Troy, was doing the same thing. Bresaius was his cousin, and he had to find her. He had to help her escape. While he could match no soldier with a sword, his skill with a bow was admirable, although still not quite battle-ready. As such, he had to avoid any confrontation, but his knowledge of his city served him well as he raced through side passages and alley ways.

It was Achilles who encountered her first. He had reached the courtyard of the palace, killing what seemed to be the entire Trojan royal guard before he found her. Blood and gore covered him, but that did not stop his lover from embracing him.

"Achilles what has happened?"

"I will explain later, for now you must flee! Find your cousin Paris and have him show you the way out of the city. I will stay with you until you reach him, but no further."

"I am frightened Achilles and I…I weep for Troy, for Hector, and for you. You know well that you will meet your death here. I beg of you, flee with me!" Bresaius said, sobbing uncontrollably. It is a burden that one should have to mourn the death of a lover, but to damn them to it is another burden entirely, one which few can bare stoically, and those that can are the worst kinds of monsters.

"You do not know that. Yet if I do, we will meet in the Underworld. The boatman will know our names Bresaius."

"How can you do this? It is not enough that I have lost one cousin, must I also love my lover?"

"Not even I can hope to win a battle with the sisters of Fate. If today is the day that my string shall be cut, then let the sister's draw their shears, for not even Zeus can prevent them from doing what must be done." Achilles was crying to know. He knew his fate, the only thing one can never change, as his mother revealed to him, was his death. His mentor Ares had warned him of his death, but Achilles believed that death was only in being forgotten. Now however, here was someone who would never forget him, someone who even in death would remember him. "Bresaius, I am sorry. Sorry that I must leave you, and sorry that I took Hector from you. But please, you must fly. I can promise only this, that though the sisters may wish to cut my string, I will fight the onset of death with every breath I have."

"ACHILLES PLEASE! WOULD YOU LEAVE YOUR CHILD A BASTARD!"

"Child?" Achilles felt fear grip him.

'No…please don't let this be true…'

"Ay Achilles," Bresaius said looking into his blue eyes, running her hand through his blood soaked blond hair, "you have given me a child in this womb of mine."

"I…I…" Achilles did not know what to do. He could not leave his lover and his unborn child alone in this world. However, he knew his fate was one he'd already chosen. "I need you to run Bresaius, you must leave. I will find you my love." With tears in his eyes, he lifted her up and knocked her out.

Paris had only just shown up to see a blood soaked man in the same armor as the one who killed his brother lift his cousin off the ground and knock her unconscious. Naturally, he was infuriated. He drew his bow and knocked an arrow, and aimed straight for Achilles heart, though it was already broken. He fired, but his arrow sunk. It buried itself in the place that would become so infamous; it would become a time-honored saying. A good third of the arrow was buried in the heel of the once invincible Achilles, but now he was undone. The magical invincibility came undone due to the severity of the wound, as the arrow shred veins, arteries and muscles.

Achilles fell over, and attempted to softly lay his lover on the ground. He knew this was the moment his mother and his mentor had told him of. The creation of his immortality no longer concerned him. It was the life of one priestess he was concerned for. With his last breaths, he saw the life of his lover and his unborn child assured by Paris, who had ran to his cousin and picked her up, intending to carry her to the passage his brother's wife had shown him.

"On your honor, prince of Troy, keep her safe, and please…tell her I loved her." Achilles called to the prince. He knew Paris hated him for what he did to Hector, and he could hardly blame him, but he hoped that the young man would acknowledge the request.

"What? Bresaius was your…? Oh gods…what have I done..."

"Please…waste no breath on apologies."

"You are the one who killed Hector. Give me your name. I may despise you for the death of my brother, but in a way that and the events around us are my fault. I acted for love and I will not deny another a wish based out of the same."

"Achilles….I have no surname to which I subscribe, but perhaps my descendants will make a worthy one. Please, bring my child to my soldiers in Greece one day. Let him visit my home and learn my techniques, my secrets, and let him know who his father was. Give him this armor, and my weapons. Care for him and your cousin prince of Troy."

"Aye you have my word. I shall do as you ask, and here," Paris laid two coins in Achilles' palm, "for the boatman. A greater warrior this world has never known."

"You have my thanks…"

And with that, Achilles died the tragic hero of the Trojan War.