Author's Note: Hi everyone! I hope you and your families are well and are keeping your chins up. This chapter is quite a short one I am afraid. Mainly just a bit of filler to carry the story on, although I did add something significant to it. Again, I haven't checked it a crazy amount, I have read it four times today and my eyes have gone square. Anyway, enjoy and review to keep me motivated! :o)
Life at the palace was good. I very soon settled into a comfortable routine.
My days were spent not much differently as I did before – visiting the Records Room to read, attending the Gynaeceum to sew, a nap after lunch and a walk or a seat for quiet reflection in the South Courtyard in the early evening. I was seldom alone for dinner in my quarters though, I usually shared this meal with my mother, Thais or on the few occasions Korina would visit me. Sometimes even the four of us would dine together. Now and then, Hector also joined me for dinner, especially if he was spending the night with me. I looked forward to the Symposiums, they were always a lot of fun. Hector and I would flirt terribly, tease each other mercilessly and play drinking games. Sometimes even Thais and Polites would join us (when he could resist Thais' dirty talk and he did not make them leave early, of course). Palace banquets were much more congenial too. Thais and I now always sat away from the other Hetaerae, usually under the tapestry of my father. During the banquet that occurred a month after my fight with Acantha, I remember Jasper noticed the two of us doing 'as we pleased', like he said. From his seat at the table full of army men, his eyes caught mine and he raised his goblet as if to toast us, smiled and winked – he really was a strange one. A few months later, Hector's brother Polydamas took Hetaerae of his own – identical twins called Menodora and Metrodora – and I felt very privileged they chose to sit with Thais and I, rather than the other Hetaerae during the banquets and at the Gynaecium. They were very young, meek and quiet sorts of girls, constantly whispering to each other, their lifetime bond very apparent. They mainly just listened to us and giggled but I was sure, over time, Thais and I would coax them from their shells.
I spent time with Hector perhaps every other day. I never minded sharing him – how I fitted in around Hector's marriage was always very clear to me. You would think he shared an apartment with his wife but he did not: Hector and Andromache had their own separate rooms. However, he seldom spent a night in his own quarters – he either stayed with his wife or me. I had visited there once or twice and it was surprisingly sparse and plain for a Prince but Hector did not really value material things. Although it had the usual items inside like a bed, a dining table, bath and closet, his room was really just storage for his armour, helmet, sword (which rested on a wooden mannequin) and a place for him to sort through political correspondence from the large desk placed under the window. The only decoration to speak of was an urn, apparently given to Hector as a gift to celebrate one of his victories. He did not keep it out of arrogance, more out of absurdity as he found it hilarious how his likeness was depicted on the piece – the artist had made his ears and nose look much smaller than in real life, his calves impossibly thick and his waist incredibly tiny. It made him really laugh. Hector was quite self-depreciating sometimes and was aware of his faults, something I had not expected in a royal. His sense of humour was also quite something, it was easy to make him laugh and equally, he made me laugh just as much. Despite being witness to some of the life's most terrible things (like death and destruction), Hector still managed to find joy in the world around him. He also had a very mischievous streak, which I think I have already given fine examples of in this tale.
Sometimes we met in the early mornings at the stable, where he would give me riding lessons (real ones) and, honouring his other promise that he would teach me how to protect myself, he had generously commissioned a bow to be made for me so he could teach me archery. He also showed me the basics of fist fighting and how to properly use a dagger, another generous gift from him. I became quite proficient with my bow, so much so I was almost better than Hector. With targets set up in the training arena beside the stable, we would compete and whoever beat the other got to take the loser as a spoil of war - which often meant we ended up in the hayloft, the victor taking their pleasure from the underdog. I am sure that my 'training' was amusing to the Palace inhabitants although I was never aware of Hector and I being mocked for it. Acantha certainly did not even acknowledge my presence after our run in, let alone dare gossip about me.
When I became a more confident rider, Hector presented me with my own pony, a black mare like I had imagined, which I named 'Midnight'. She was very good natured and easy of temperament – a joy to ride. Hector and I would sometimes ride together in the mornings, through the town and down to the beach. On our way, if Hector hankered for Gladioli's special breakfast buns, I accompanied him to the kitchens and made him ask nicely. Glad, a very straight-talking and strong sort of lady, appreciated that and it earnt me more of her baked goods than Hector, much to his chagrin.
We would always stop to visit Korina and her family on our trips out too. The Bunch of Grapes tavern they owned and ran, although situated in the Lower Town, was lovely inside – clean and ordered and the family's living quarters above were no different. Korina definitely ran a tight ship. I liked her husband Markos very much, he was amiable and cheerful. His straight dark hair was often messy and his broad nose was a little squashed to his face (he apparently used to compete in boxing matches in his youth) but his eyes were always smiling. He was a good father to his boys too, he was active in their games and always took the time to listen to them. Whilst we visited, Korina and I would chat over a cup of warm milk and a breakfast bun at the kitchen table whilst the men entertained the children. Hector was very good with the boys, a natural. Once, as he gently held the baby for Korina whilst she got on with some light chores and I watched him dote on the little boy, I felt quite sad for him - that he had not yet been blessed with his own.
I learned things about Hector as a person. Like my father, despite being a warrior, he was also very much a pacifist. He absolutely detested the violence of war and how it stole lives – that it took husbands, sons and fathers away from families. He would rather discuss terms than pick up his sword but unfortunately for him, a lot of other nation's leaders did not feel the same way. However, Hector's love for Troy and his countrymen was fierce so there was no question he would fight to protect them when it came to it.
Although Hector was not a naturally sociable in personality, he still took time to learn about and interact with people around him. He was interested in what was going on at the Palace and he knew all the names of his servants and treated them well. He was loyal and attentive to his family and was a devoted husband to his wife.
I often found him to be quite the introvert. A busy man with so many responsibilities, pressures and expectations thrust on him, I recognised he needed to disappear into his own head for a while. If he was quiet in my presence, I never badgered him to share with me his emotions, I waited for him to volunteer that information himself. When he did, I was always glad that Hector trusted me with his most private thoughts and feelings, things that I did (and still do) keep undisclosed to anyone out of devotion to him. Hector really valued the rare moments he got to spend alone I believe, it seemed re-charge his clever mind. I was never upset if I had not seen him for a while, sometimes he needed to isolate himself for his own sanity. I think he that he appreciated that I understood this of him.
As my lover, Hector always put my pleasure before his and he was gentle and respectful. He taught me that the gods had gifted us mere mortal humans with the pleasure of love making and to that end, I should not be afraid of my body or his. It was good advice. We made love in all kinds of ways and he never made me feel uncomfortable or exploited. I cherished our intimacy and to be naked with him felt like the most natural thing in the world to me.
Occasionally, in the evenings, Hector would come to my quarters where I would help him with his work - after a long day, his eyes became tired so he would have me read to him. I recall one particular night, he was sat at my table, frowning and listening intently as I read him some trading and tax disputes. Even in the warm lamplight his skin seemed pale, his eyes weary and a little red – sure signs Hector was exhausted. I was sat cross-legged on my bed, a pile of parchment in my lap, much brighter than him but then again, I got to nap in the afternoon whereas he rarely got that opportunity.
"So, the trading council of the Hittites are complaining here that the last three batches of grain we sent them were substandard and they require a full refund of the gold they traded for it." I told him, as a summary of the document in front of me.
His frown deepened and he put a hand to his mouth as he thought furiously "What would you do?" Hector asked me seriously.
I took the fact that he asked for my opinion as a real compliment: "Have you ever had this issue before?" I questioned.
"No." He answered certainly: "our grain has always been of the best quality".
I thought for a moment before I gave him my opinion: "So then, we need to make sure they are not being deceitful, trying to get our goods for free. I would get the Hittites to return the so-called 'substandard' grain back to us, they should not have used it if it was as bad as they say. Then - and only then - we will refund them their gold."
Hector visibly relaxed and looked over at me affectionately:
"I know I have said this before but you should have been born male." He had already told me that, usually when I was practicing my archery. "I mean, I am very glad you were not, obviously!" He roguishly grinned and I immediately knew he referenced my womanly body which he enjoyed very much: "But if you were, you would have been a credit to my army and my council."
I smiled, honoured by his complement. Hector groaned and extended his strong arms upwards for a stretch, trying to shake his exhaustion away. As he did so, blood began to seep through his robe on his chest by his shoulder on his right side. As he finished his stretch, he looked casually to me, unaware that anything was wrong, until he saw the alarm on my face and his eyes followed to where I was staring.
He cursed under his breath: "Bleeding again." Hector mumbled.
When I came to my senses, I quickly got up from the bed and went to him. He sat patiently and let me peek under his robe to check the wound. I removed the crude dressing Hector had obviously hastily patched himself with and saw a fairly deep but small cut, crusted with dried blood and now oozing fresh.
"What happened here?" I exclaimed as I simply could not imagine how he would sustain such an injury like that in his day-to-day routine.
"Sword training." Hector admitted glumly, as if I were a mother about to scold her child: "It got a bit heated and Jas nicked me."
I sighed heavily at just the mention of that man's name: "This will need a couple of stitches." I told him as I went to my closet to fetch my medical kit.
I had put it together myself, with guidance of what I had read about healing in the Records Room. It contained clean cotton swabs and bandages, a few small bottles of simple remedies I had managed to make from recipes I had copied and a needle and thread for mending such a wound.
"You call this man your friend? How on Earth did it get that heated?" I asked him as I crossed the room again back to my bed, setting the bag that contained my medical kit on it. I patted the covers, gesturing for him to come sit there.
"Let me just say I possess the most beautiful jewel which I think he covets for himself. However, he will never have it, not whilst I still draw breath at least." He said, smiling knowingly to himself at his ambiguity whilst he got up from his chair slowly and shuffled over to me. He really was that tired.
I rolled my eyes as my hands were busy in the medical kit - I did not always appreciate when he spoke in riddles: "I am not going to ask you to elaborate, I know what you will say: You have to let a man have his mysteries, sometimes." I told him, deepening my voice as I mimicked his tone and cadence of speaking.
Hector watched as I held the tip of the needle under the flame of the small oil lamp on my bedside table to sterilise it properly. I had the end wrapped in a cotton swab so my fingers would not burn.
"Do I say it that frequently?" He asked, laughing at my impression of him.
"The first time was very sweet." I admitted: "but the after a dozen times, it does start to wear." I said, bending slightly to kiss his forehead to show my appreciation of his little idiosyncrasies before I carefully threaded the needle.
Before I started to mend him, I took a cotton swab and decanted a little diluted vinegar from one of my little bottles on to it, to properly clean his wound. As I dabbed it onto the cut, he flinched a little and drew in a little sharp breath as it stung. Hector was tense but composed when I started to stitch, I guess he was more than used to that.
"When did you learn how to do all this?" He asked, astounded as he watched me put three small, neat stitches into his skin, pulling the cut together. I was thankfully better at stitching his flesh than I was at embroidery.
"You have to let a woman have her mysteries, sometimes." I teased with a knowing smile as I cleaned the wound again and started to properly dress it.
Hector gently pinched my bottom as affectionate punishment to my mocking of him.
"There is a lot more to learn in the Records Room than myths and legends, you know." I told him as I put away the medical kit and sat next to him on the bed: "I taught myself from the writings there." I admitted.
"Well, it is a good job you are young and beautiful." He told me, with fondness in those dark eyes.
I knew exactly what he was referencing: "Why? Because if I were an old crone, people would think me to be a witch?" I laughed.
Hector shifted himself so he was laid on his back on the bed, his head resting in my seated lap. His heavy-lidded eyes closed as he enjoyed the comfort.
"You have certainly bewitched me." He told me wistfully as I put my fingers into his hair, toying with the curls.
"That was cheesy, even for you!" I joked and with eyes still closed, he smiled, realising it really was.
We stayed like that for a short while and for a moment, I thought he was falling asleep.
"You liked doing that as a small girl, putting your fingers in my hair." he half whispered dreamily, as if he had not realized he was saying it at all.
When I thought about it, his hair had always reminded me of hazy pictures in my mind: of being so high yet feeling no fear, my fingers in a seemingly endless mane, so much like his curls.
"You were very young. You will not remember." He explained, his eyes opening to look up at mine. "When you came to the palace with your father, when he was decorated with the medal ... I was but a boy too, only fourteen years or so and a very awkward, surly teen indeed. However, this fearless little girl made a beeline for me and would not leave my side." He said, as he bought a hand up to cup my face for a moment to demonstrate he meant me. "She somehow bought me out of myself, for a while at least. Our fathers were rather charmed by our apparent connection, you know."
I was stunned. I searched deep inside my mind - but the memory was so indistinct I had always assumed he was a dream. I remembered laughing whilst being softly plucked from the floor in between two giant hands and riding on stout, warm shoulders - discovering a world so much more exciting from that lofty view. I was taken on adventures: I could grab the leaves on the tallest trees and when I tired of that I was permitted to ride the back of a beast that roared like a lion yet was as gentle as a lamb (which also tickled me if I dug my heels in too hard). I must have fallen asleep at some point that day because one moment, I was cradled in an arm, my own wrapped around a thick neck, the next I was in my bed at home. I had cried so hard when I realized he was gone.
"YOU were my Lion Man?" I exclaimed, absolutely astonished. I could never have imagined in a million years that the playful beast to three-year-old me was Hector himself - yet somehow, on a subconscious level, it made perfect sense they were the same person.
"Yes. That was it. That is what you would call me." Hector smiled broadly, vindicated by my amazed affirmation. "So you did not forget me, after all."
I had never truly forgotten him. I had loved him then and I loved him now.