(WARNING: OU. I considered marking this fic as an AU, and then I realized that it was the movie that was an AU from the original story. My fic actually goes back to the original story, so it differs from the movie. Therefore, I am clearly labeling it as an OU: Original Universe. You have been warned.)
Odysseus looked at the baby in his arms. Hektor's baby. The enemy. Odysseus shouldn't have any problem throwing him over the wall. The vast numbers of fallen Greek warriors slaughtered by Hektor cried out from the grave for revenge.
So what was stopping him?
It certainly wasn't the mother. Andromache's spirit had died with her husband, and all Odysseus had to do was shove her aside. Her cried were all but indistinguishable from the rest of the screams and pleas coming from the forsaken city, anyway.
Could it be guilt? Odysseus scoffed at the thought. Death would be a mercy to the brat. All his male relatives would be dead, and all of his female relatives either dead or slaves to Greek kings. He'd grow up miserable, bitter, and angry. He'd try to avenge his father, his city, and more would die.
The cycle of death had to be stopped. Tonight.
Could it be that he remembered his own son? He'd gone ten years trying to harden himself to memories, and that wench Helen had gone and ruined it last night.
"Odysseus...Odysseus, my love, where are you? Has the killing made you forget your love? Have you forgotten our son? Oh, Odysseus, he looks more like you every day..." Damn that wench's way with voices. She had sounded exactly like Penelope had, when he left her ten years ago.
Odysseus looked down again and saw Telemachus. He hugged his son fiercely to his chest, then remembered himself. This was Hektor's son, not his. With one last look, he flung the babe over the walls as though he could throw all of his grief along with him.
Now was the time for strength, not weakness.
Odysseus felt a brush of cloth on his shoulder, and realized just in time that it was fabric from Andromache's dress as she ran past him, lunging towards her son. Odysseus grabbed her before she fell over the side. They both watched the baby crash to the ground, and Andromache broke from him with a sob. In that instant, Odysseus didn't know what was worse, killing the baby or saving the mother.
May the gods curse them all.
Odysseus looked at the baby in his arms. Hektor's baby. The enemy. Odysseus shouldn't have any problem throwing him over the wall. The vast numbers of fallen Greek warriors slaughtered by Hektor cried out from the grave for revenge.
So what was stopping him?
It certainly wasn't the mother. Andromache's spirit had died with her husband, and all Odysseus had to do was shove her aside. Her cried were all but indistinguishable from the rest of the screams and pleas coming from the forsaken city, anyway.
Could it be guilt? Odysseus scoffed at the thought. Death would be a mercy to the brat. All his male relatives would be dead, and all of his female relatives either dead or slaves to Greek kings. He'd grow up miserable, bitter, and angry. He'd try to avenge his father, his city, and more would die.
The cycle of death had to be stopped. Tonight.
Could it be that he remembered his own son? He'd gone ten years trying to harden himself to memories, and that wench Helen had gone and ruined it last night.
"Odysseus...Odysseus, my love, where are you? Has the killing made you forget your love? Have you forgotten our son? Oh, Odysseus, he looks more like you every day..." Damn that wench's way with voices. She had sounded exactly like Penelope had, when he left her ten years ago.
Odysseus looked down again and saw Telemachus. He hugged his son fiercely to his chest, then remembered himself. This was Hektor's son, not his. With one last look, he flung the babe over the walls as though he could throw all of his grief along with him.
Now was the time for strength, not weakness.
Odysseus felt a brush of cloth on his shoulder, and realized just in time that it was fabric from Andromache's dress as she ran past him, lunging towards her son. Odysseus grabbed her before she fell over the side. They both watched the baby crash to the ground, and Andromache broke from him with a sob. In that instant, Odysseus didn't know what was worse, killing the baby or saving the mother.
May the gods curse them all.