Later, Angela stood still and quiet by the basin and pitcher, her gaze on the floor in a respectful way, but her thoughts leagues away when the Prince entered his chambers.
"Working on a story?" He asked quietly, crossing the room silently in his leather sandals.
"Yes, your highness." Angela answered promptly, glancing up with a smile. She'd opened her mouth to tell him about it, but seeing how tired he looked and how tense his 6'5 frame was, she immediately shut it, recognizing something had angered him. Pouring some water into the basin, Angela dipped the cloth in, wrung it out and without a word, picked up his left hand and began tenderly wiping the sea salt from his tanned skin. As her hands gently held him, moving further up Hector's muscled arm, built from years of sword welding, Angela could feel his eyes on her, but she forced herself not to look up. Turning and redipping the cloth, she felt more than heard him move away, and the sigh he gave as he sprawled on a low couch sent an arrow of worry through her heart. Angela went and knelt before the leather couch, at eye level with the prince and noticing that his blue tunic was wet in spots form either sea water or sweat before she took his chin in her hand and began to carefully wipe his face. He could see she was avoiding direct eye contact as was deemed proper for Trojan slaves and it irritated Hector further, causing him to drop his news suddenly just to shock her.
"The Achaians will be here in a matter of weeks to kill us all"
To his slight satisfaction, Angela's hand froze on his forehead and her blue eyes flew to meet his brown eyed gaze, struggling to hide her fear. The sight of it made Hector immediately repentant and he laid a gentle hand on the side of her face, brushing a battle calloused thumb over her cheek bone and ivory skin.
"You'll be safe within the walls of Troy." He assured her with a slight smile on his attractive lips.
"But you will not be, sire! Why do they come?" Angela whispered, wide eyed and unable to keep the question back. Hector's handsome face became immediately thunderous, but knowing it wasn't aimed at her, Angela didn't look away.
"My brother is a hot headed fool!" He announced, not for the first time, but with anger this time as he pulled free of her ministrations and rose with raging energy to pace the floor of his rooms. Sitting back on her heels, Angela watched his fluid, unconscious grace with a patient expression, knowing he would elaborate when he was ready to. Finally spinning to face her, Hector raked a hand through his shoulder length dark hair, scowling when his fingers were caught in the tiny braids a servant had put at his temples for his appearance before his father, King Priam. Smiling indulgently, Angela rose and went to his side, reaching up and unbraiding his hair, then combing the tangle out carefully with her fingers.
"Thank you." Hector stated gruffly before continuing as Angela curtseyed briefly.
"He took Helen of Arogos! I found out the she-devil was aboard when we were halfway home! I have never been so...infuriated with Paris before. Of all the juvenile, self-centered"
"He kidnapped the Queen of Sparta!" Angela interrupted as she processed the words tumbling out of the Prince's mouth. Shaking his head, Hector put his hands on his hips and smiled dryly.
"Not kidnapped. They fell in love and he convinced her to run off with him"
"Oh no..." Angela whispered, her eyes wide, knowing of Paris' life long obsession whit finding true love from first hand experience.
"He didn't consider the consequences." She stated with sad certainty.
"He still hasn't! I don't know what he expects, but he's prancing around with that woman like life is perfect when both Father and I know that Menelaus won't let his slight to his honor slide and the Greeks will be crawling all over the beach any day now for war"
Smiling sadly, Angela could hear the agitation and the worry for his people in his tone, but she spoke up hesitantly because she knew her words could be construed as cruelty or an insult that is punishable.
"Will the king consider sending Helen back...with Paris"
"To be killed for Menelaus' honor?" Hector asked, knowing the honor code even better than she. Nodding slightly, Angela fought the urge to smooth the worry lines from his face as Hector stared at a spot on the floor, weighing his words.
"I told my father that we had to do so...For the innocents of Troy." He admitted, surprising Angela and she made a sound of sympathy, unconsciously laying a consoling hand on his arm.
"And right now he believes, as he told me, that I've never been in love so apparently I don't understand what my brother's going through." He replied bitterly. Angela was closer to him than anyone and his confidante, but Hector was still surprised when her eyes flashed angrily and she flipped her long auburn hair, bound every few inches, over her shoulder before her hands went to her hips.
"That's a load of crock if you'll forgive me, your highness! Being in love does not excuse stupidity, self centeredness or recklessness! Especially in a prince"
"You sound as though you know." Hector teased with a smile, though slight, the first genuine one he'd had in weeks. The smile disappeared as Angela's anger faded and she turned away with a hesitant nod.
"I, of all people, know you can't pick who you fall in love with, but everyone controls how they act and what they do"
"And what did you do?" Hector asked quietly, his heart in his throat and feeling as if it would choke the breath from him while he watched Angela go back to the basin and hang the cloth on the bowl's lip. After a moment of silence, Angela spoke softly.
"I knew...know I could never be with...him the way I want to. Between the beliefs of my people and his position"
Shrugging her shoulders, Angela turned to face Hector and smoothed her white gown self consciously, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she managed a weak smile.
"So I did what I could. I promised his gods that I would never kiss or...lay with him if they kept him safe from harm"
"Angela..." Hector began, at a loss of what to say of the obvious sacrifice she'd made for this man.
"It's for the best." She stated, straightening her shoulders with a show inner strength he'd always admired.
"His family needs him...Especially baby, Demetrios." She added under her breath, bending to pick up the dark blue cloak Hector had discarded when he first entered and unaware that he'd moved close enough behind her to overhear it.
"You return my feelings..." Hector said huskily, both hoping and disbelieving that she'd spoken his newborn, only child's name. Paling as she spun around, Angela swallowed hard and backed up as Hector approached, until she bumped into one of the room's oak doors, hindering her movement. He stood close, causing her breath to quicken as he looked down at her and brushed his index finger along her hairline, over her jaw and traced the shape of her lips seductively.
"Are you in love with me?" He asked, unconscious of the slight command to answer in his tone.
Caught up in the intensity of his eyes, Angela leaned into the touch of his hand as she answered.
"Yes, my lord." She whispered softly as a tear of surrender slid down her cheek and onto the thumb he used to tease the corner of her mouth. Hector's eyes darkened to black with desire and as he lowered his mouth to hers, Angela's breath caught in her throat in anticipation. His left hand cupped the back of her neck, tipping her head back gently as he pulled her to him with the other and his mouth took possession of hers in a way that was both an assault to her senses as he filled her being and at the same time so loving and tender that she wanted to cry at the feeling of joy it gave her. Lost in her closeness to him and the feel of his touch, Angela forgot about why she'd avoided this until warnings began screaming in the recesses of her mind and she became aware of a door opening somewhere with approaching footsteps. Hector immediately tensed, always alert, and when he broke the kiss at the sound of a discreet and embarrassed cough, he hid Angela behind him as he turned to face the new comer.
"Andromache." He stated guardedly, the stiff bearing of his shoulders daring the raven haired woman he'd been forced to marry to say anything. Nodding with respect as she was required, Andromache didn't mention what she'd come in on, fond of Angela and with no romantic feelings for the man she'd married.
"The King requires us at banquet and I thought you'd like to see Demetrios beforehand...I'll just tell the nurse to let you see him later." She finished with a slight smile, her brown eyes briefly going to Angela, who's head was down while her fair skin was bright red with an embarrassed blush and her thought raced a mile a minute. Hector glanced back at her as well to see Angela lift her fingers slowly to her lips. Looking up and meeting his eyes, tears flooded her own and she unconsciously spoke in her native language as they spilled over her cheeks.
"What have I done"
Though neither Hector nor Andromache understood her, they did recognize the heart wrenching pain in her tone as she slid to the floor and began to cry into her hands, her knees drawn up to her chest.
Sitting straight up in bed, Angel Collins panted to catch her breath and realized tears were streaming down her face. Wiping them off with the back of her hands, she sought to control her breathing and glanced at the digital clock beside her Queen sized bed.
'Four-thirty in the morning...Nice.' She thought sarcastically, swinging her legs over the bed's side and patting the head of her black Great Dane, Apollo, who sat up in surprise when Angel's feet touched his back.
"How can a dream make my hear throb with pain like this? And why did I name you after Hector's protector?" She added with a teasing smile as Apollo laid his head on her knee as if understanding his mistress' words and seeking to comfort her. Apollo's sister was the classic tan Dane and she came rushing into the room at the sound of Angel's voice.
"Hallo, Artemis." Angel greeted with a chuckle as the female pushed her brother out aside for her share of attention. Scratching both dogs behind the ears, Angel sighed and got up, deciding to go work out before heading to her job at the museum.
Rubbing her eyes tiredly, Angel walked briskly through the history museum, ignoring how her heels clacked with a loud rhythm on the marble floor. About to pass from Ancient World History into British and European, she stopped dead in her tracks and then went back two display cases to a loaned suit of Greek armor. From the twelfth century BC, it's tag had the breastplate and helmet rumored to be from the Trojan war, but Angel didn't notice it. Staring at the glass case, she frowned when what seemed like memories flooded her mind.
In the royal box that looked out over the walls of Troy to where the Achaean army had been camping for years, Angela stood in the back of the beautifully furnished room and fumed while trying not to burst into tears. She watched the two tiny figures down on the ground below intently, trying to ignore the dread that sat in her stomach like a sickening cancer and attempting to bite her tongue in Paris and Priam's presence. The Achaeans were here because of Paris and Hector stood below, about to battle Achilles one on one thanks to King Priam.
'I don't know who I hate more at this moment.' She thought, shifting slightly for a better view. Achilles was invincible, some said thanks to his mother, Thetis, who dipped him in the river Styx and while Hector was the greatest warrior in Troy.
'How does he defeat someone you can't kill!'
"Angela." Paris stated, interrupting her musings. Stepping forward and bowing, she knew that her bearing held no sign of respect, but she didn't care that the prince knew as she waited, tight lipped for Paris to speak. He was the same age as Angela, seven years Hector's junior and considered by most to be more handsome with the perfect features that Achaeans were so fond of in their statures. His hair was dark and curly and as he turned his brown eyes to her, Angela fought the urge to yank that hair from his head while her face remained blank.
"You show no emotion, but the fury radiating from you feels as if it will blow the back of my skull off." Paris mused, a questioning look in his eyes.
"My lord." Angela stated, not batting an eyelash as she refused to comfort his unease with an explanation or a lie that denied she felt that way.
"I pursued you with no encouragement or interest on your part." He murmured so the beautiful blonde on his right wouldn't overhear, "What are you angry about? Do you regret it now"
He looked so sure and cocky that Angela began to laugh, unaware that it rang out with a tinge of bitterness that caused Hector to glance up the city walls before turning his attention back to putting on his shield. Paris' eyes narrowed irritably and Angela unconsciously straightened so he had to look up to her face.
"May I speak freely, my lord?"
"You always do." The Prince answered, arching an eyebrow.
"Because of...Prince Hector. I want no later repercussions from this on your end." Angela explained stubbornly, her hands fisted at her sides.
"Alright, alright!" Paris agreed impatiently, waving his hands in acquiescence. Stiffening regally, Angela glared at down at Paris with flashing blue eyes and ignored Helen's curious glance at the pair.
"I think, my lord, that you are the most immature, selfish, foolish person I've ever met and if I had any say, you'd have been thrown to the Achaeans with that...woman of yours years ago"
Temper lit Paris' eyes and he opened his mouth to speak, but Angela rushed on while she still had momentum.
"Lives of human beings have been lost because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself and respect Menelaus, at least as a husband, if not as a king and ruler of one of Troy's allies! Now, your own flesh and blood is down there, about to fight that Achaean for you and he doesn't even believe you're right in this"
Tears pricked Angela's eyes and she felt one slip down her cheek, but she battled on as Paris and Helen both paled.
"I wish now that the King had given you back to Menelaus for whatever his honor commanded because...because"
Swallowing hard, Angela's next words came out as a whisper.
"Hector will lose this day thanks to my folly and a love for him that I kept hidden until the day she arrived! One kiss is all we've ever shared and now his life will end over it. I hate you, Paris of Troy, and God will let Hector and I find one another someday, but you...You and Helen will only ever have these years before you're lost to each other in eternity"
She knew the enormity of her words because her people believed so strongly in verbal blessings and curses and she felt the urge to flee, but at that moment there was a clash of steel from below and a roar from the watching armies that made Angela's heart drop to her toes. Ignoring the royal family, she rushed to the wall and looked over the side to see the fight between Achilles the Greek and Hector of Troy begin their battle to the death.
The scene seemed to go in slow motion; dust flinging from the heels of both men's sandals as they parried and thrust, the sun shining in a blinding glare from the blades of their swords and the only sound the grunts and ragged breathing of each man as he swung or darted away. An arc of red suddenly filled the space between Hector and Achilles in an almost beautiful rainbow, but Angela was jolted from her wonder at the site when a slight groan of pain rose from Hector, echoing in her ears at the same moment that a primal scream of agony and loss filled the air, sending shivers down the spines of the thousands of men camped below. Their eyes lifted to where the lone woman stood at the wall, her auburn hair hanging freely over her shoulders to catch the tears that dripped from her face. Hector dropped to his knees in the dirt as his eyes rose to where Angela cried for him and Achilles watched the Prince smile slightly, almost in apology and goodbye, before he slid to the ground and died.
"Angel! Angel, please, you're scaring the hell out of me!" A voice pleaded as someone clutched her arm, shaking her desperately. Slowly opening her eyes, Angel felt the cold marble of the floor in her bones and realized she lay sprawled on the Museum floor. Her best friend and coworker, Linda Castile kneeled beside her, holding a white cloth to her head and as Angel tried to sit up, she felt a bit dizzy and noticed the first aid kit next to the Mexican-American woman.
"W-What"
"I came I to see you stop to look at that Greek armor. Next I know, you freakin' pass out and hit the corner of the case on the way to the floor"
Patting Linda's hand comfortingly with an absent frown, Angel took the gauze from her forehead to find she'd been bleeding rather profusely.
"I was just"
"Just what!" Linda demanded, impatient with relief. "You'd better be okay! I don't want to lecture that tour for the soldiers on my own"
"Of course I'm fine." Angel answered dismissively, climbing awkwardly to her feet as she tried to keep the gauze on her cut and balance in heels. Her gaze landed on the armor again and she looked away, hiding a shudder as the memory of Hector's blood and death flashed in her mind.
'Memory! God, what's happening to me? It's like a dream has gone rogue and...the weirdest thing is that it feels so real and if that...that curse was real, I want it to be true so I'd find Hector...' "This is crazy." She muttered, shaking her head to try and clear her mind of the thoughts. Linda watched her friend, her brown eyes wide with concern and Angel managed a smile, tugging one of her friends wild black curls.
"I'll be fine. I think I just need something to eat. Really"
Linda still looked doubtful, but gathered up the first aid kit and followed as Angel headed to the Museum employee break room.
Cradling a mug of hot tea between her hands, Angel inhaled the sweet fragrance as she entered the small lecture auditorium. Catcalls and whistles greeted her and Linda from the five men sprawled casually in the front row theatre seats and Angel gave her friend a reassuring smile as Linda unconsciously moved shyly closer to her. Walking over to the podium, Angel sipped her tea and set her cup on the table next to it, frowning.
"Weren't there supposed to be six of ya'll"
Four of the men hid smiles or laughter and Angel's eyes narrowed with the threat of temper as a lean, green eyed blonde sat back in his chair and spoke up.
"Hoot said he knows more about Turkey than some teachers who've never been and he had other shit to do. He's outside smoking a cigarette"
"Is he?" Angel asked coolly, finding this made her incredibly angry, though normally she'd brush the person off and do the lecture. Removing her suit jacket, Angel ignored further whistles as she spoke quietly to Linda.
"I'll be right back. Start your bit on Islam if you want or just wait 'til I return"
Dropping her jacket on a chair, she glared at the guy on the end of the aisle and knocked his feet of the arms of the chair next to him, earning teasing noises of fear from the men before she walked briskly from the auditorium, ignoring them completely.