Haunted by Bliss
Summary: Andromache looks back on her life as a slave in Greece, five years after the Trojan War ended.
Rating: PG13
A/N: I started this story years ago, and have since improved my writing, thankfully. I'll be going back and editing as I add more.
This is all from Andromache's point of view, and it's her telling her story from Greece, as a slave. Her story will span through most of her life, focusing on her time in Troy. The first chapter is basically introduction, it picks up during the second.
Okay, on with the show, enjoy!
Chapter One: Slave to Sadness
I am surprised you ask after me, stranger. I do not recognize you from my former life, and you do not seem to know me either. Forgive me for being guarded, but no one has inquired after me in five years. Surely you understand my wariness when being asked to relate my tale.
You must suspect something of my origins, or you would not ask. You are young enough that maybe you were raised on tales of my home. But then you must also know that there is nothing left of that. There is no one alive who envies my fate, or the fate of my people. There are some that show me pity, and some that still gloat over the destruction of my home. To me it does not matter. It is gone now.
You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I once had the appearance of royalty. Hector even went so far as to call me beautiful. My hair is limp now, but it once sparkled with diadems and jewels. My skin is too pale to be called lovely, and my eyes are too dark, but they used to hold a certain light to them. My looks befit my station; in a way, they still do.
I will not lie or try to hide what I've become. I am a slave and a concubine. I've grown accustomed to Neoptolemus' orders and demands. It was difficult at first, but I have been blessed with a master that is fond of me. He does not give me tasks that are too difficult. The only chore I truly hate is fetching water from the local spring. I cannot help but weep, for it is just as Hector foresaw. It is the time I feel the strongest rush of grief at his death, at the loss of the one man who could have kept me free.
But destiny, I have learned, always prevails, and neither love nor longing can change it. It is foolish to try. The gods may grant you bliss only to snatch it away in an instant.
You have not lost interest yet, stranger. If you truly wish to hear my tale, I will tell you, but I warn you it is not a happy one. There were moments, yes, but in the end, my fate drove me to a faraway shore, away from everything I loved. Bear with me now, and you shall hear the tale of Andromache, daughter of a broken city, wife to a dead husband, mother of a dead son. And you will understand why no one envies my fate.