Sorry about the long wait, but things have been busy this summer. I've been working almost non-stop, and I'm moving out of my parents' house and into an apartment, so my mind hasn't really been on this story. I hope you are still interested in what happens!
The full moon was out, and Melpomene could not sleep. She sighed heavily. Would sleep ever come easily again? She could not remember an undisturbed night since she had sent Hector away. She spotted the large basin full of water and reeds in the corner. They had been soaking for two days and should be ready now. Melpomene sat on the floor and began weaving, as she did every night. She loved the night. In the dark, she didn't have to paint on brave smiles and force encouraging words to leave her lips. At night, she didn't have to pretend that Troy would win the war. At night, she didn't have to pretend that all was well. A sudden shadow fell across her floor. Melpomene glanced up to see a dark figure silhouetted against the moonlight. She felt that fear should seize her heart, but it did not. She waited quietly for the stranger to speak.
"He still thinks of you," the figure whispered.
Melpomene gasped. "Andromache?"
Andromache pulled the hood down. "You know it, don't you?"
"Yes," Melpomene admitted.
"I should despise you," Andromache went on. "I should hate you with glad passion. Why is it that I cannot?"
Melpomene shook her head. "I have often wished that I could dislike you. Although he may think of me, it is you he goes to when the day is done."
The two women looked at each other strangely. Each had the feeling that, had the circumstances been different, they could have been great friends and sisters.
Melpomene held her hands out to Andromache. "I'm so sorry."
Andromache took the proffered hands and squeezed them gently. "He needs you now."
"What has happened?"
Andromache looked down. "He is grieved. A young man fought him today in the guise of the great Achilles. His manner was such that Hector had no doubt who it was. The boy lies slain, and Achilles wants revenge for the death of his cousin."
Melpomene's horror was evident upon her face. "No – no," she murmured.
"The prince is beside himself," Andromache continued. "And he knows that the morning brings a challenge from Achilles. Oh, Melpomene! He goes to his death!"
The two women wept together, their arms about each other. The two who should have been enemies found comfort and strength together. They knew what the dawn would herald, and their very souls seemed to scream with the torture.
"Go to him, Melpomene," Andromache urged. "He needs you tonight."
Melpomene's eyes searched Andromache's face. There was certainty there.
Andromache nodded. "I shall be by his side tomorrow, but tonight, he needs you! Go!"
Andromache watched the slender woman leave and disappear down the street. She wished so much that they could change places just for a moment. For one moment, Andromache wanted to be the woman Hector loved. Just for one moment.
Melpomene did not need further urging. She abandoned her darkened dwelling and wended her way through the silent streets. She knew that no woman in the city was asleep this night, for every man would do battle tomorrow. What kind of world could this be? Where the men would go to fight and the women stayed helpless behind stone walls.
"If only I were a man!" Melpomene moaned into the night. "If only I were a man to go too!"
Melpomene slipped past the guards unnoticed and found her way quickly to the prince's bedchambers. She opened the door and saw him standing on the balcony, still as one of the statues in the garden.
"You have been gone long, Andromache," Hector said without turning around. "I was worried."
"She sent for me," Melpomene answered quietly.
Hector whirled so fast that Melpomene felt he must fall from the force of it, but he remained steady.
"Melpomene?" he uttered incredulously.
She stepped forward to take his hand. "I am here."
Hector stared at her hungrily for a moment, as if wanting to drink in her presence, her very soul. Suddenly he pulled her into a crushing embrace. He rained kisses upon her hair, her face, and her neck. His arms held her close, refusing to let her go, as if afraid she would disappear. She responded to his affections gladly and without reserve.
Hector began to lead her toward the bed, but she protested. "No, my love," she whispered tenderly. "Your wife has let me come here to spend a few hours with you. I will not betray her trust."
"Just lie there with me," he pleaded. "Just lie with me and let me hold you. Let me hold you until the morning. I will do nothing to impeach your honor. I just want to be near you one last time."
They lay together, and he stroked her hair occasionally. Melpomene could hear him breathing in her scent. She shivered under his touch. So this was what it was like to share a man's bed. She had never known a man, and Melpomene knew she never would, but this was enough. It was enough to lie here in the arms of one she had loved so long. For the first time in seven years, Melpomene rested peacefully. For the first time in seven years, Melpomene slept through the night.
Hector stayed awake for a long while. How Andromache found it in her heart to let him have this he would never know. He looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms, and his heart was at peace. Hector knew that when the sun rose, he would be able to face it without fear. And when the moment came for his death, he knew that this would be the moment he thought of.
"Good night, my love," he whispered gently to the sleeping maiden. "Good night."
Just so you all know, this story is very close to me because the guy I've been in love with for almost four years just married my best friend. So I can sort of identify with the characters. I just thought you all should know why I chose to write the story this way.