Thanks to everyone who's reviewing! It's a great encouragement to me. Please, feel free to critique it or say what you'd like to read. Critiquing is the only way I'll improve, which means you'll get better stories. So it's a win-win situation. Anyways, here's the next chapter, enjoy!
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"Andromache." A deep voice called her out of her darkness. "Wake up."
Andromache stirred, slowly coming out of her unconsciousness.
"Open your eyes, love."
She obediently squinted them open and the concerned face of her husband swam into view.
"What-" she began, then the rush of memories flooded her mind and she felt dizzy again. "Is it true?" she whispered miserably.
Hector held her hands in one of his and he stroked her hair with the other. "I'm afraid so, my love. Andromache, I'm so sorry. We had no warning, I swear I would have acted."
Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her onto the pillow. "They're all dead? My family?"
Hector nodded, his eyes aching to see his wife in so much pain.
"Achilles? He slaughtered them?"
"Your brothers died honorably in combat, they died defending their city. But they could not overcome Achilles. Your father was killed by him when they took the city, and your mother was taken as captive."
A fresh surge of pain ripped through her heart and Andromache felt like dying. "She's their prisoner?"
Hector shook his head. "No, Artemis slew her before they touched her. They never harmed her, Andromache."
She sat up numbly and swung her feet over the side of the bed. Hector sat next to her, still holding her hand. "My dear, I'm so sorry."
Andromache nodded and wiped her eyes, standing up and going over to the mirror. She sat down and methodically began brushing her hair. Hector sighed and walked over to her.
"Would you like to talk about it?"
She shook her head wordlessly.
"It would help."
Again, she repeated the gesture. Hector opened his mouth to speak but a knock sounded at the door.
"I'm busy," he snapped, irritated. A hesitant voice replied that it was urgent, Priam needed to speak to him. He sighed, but obeyed the summons. His father would not interrupt him at this moment if it truly weren't urgent.
"We'll talk when I get back," he said, kissing his wife's head. She made no response, only continued brushing her hair.
She glanced outside and saw the sun was nearly behind the hills. She'd been unconscious for most of the day. A sudden memory flashed through her mind and she winced.
"Hurry, Andromache!" Euklides shouted to her. She forced her feet to run faster, knowing they were late for the feast. It started at sundown, and the sun was just barely visible over the hills. A surge of joy shot through her, she knew they were going to make it. The grand hall was just ahead, it's doors still open. Bursting through the doors, hot on her brother's heels, she smiled gleefully. "We're on time!" Euklides called out, oblivious to the hundreds of eyes on him. His father's smile was all the cared for.
"So you are," Eetion said gravely, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "Congratulations."
Ariana stood up, blushing, and herded the two of them out of the room to put on appropriate clothes. Only then did Andromache realize they were mud-stained and sweaty, in no condition to burst in on a room full of guests. She suddenly heard a roar of laughter come from the halls and glanced at her mother.
Ariana's face showed no signs of mirth, but when the two children had been handed over to their nurse and their mother was safely out of sight, she heard her mother succumb to the laughter that had been pent up for so long. Andromache knew she was laughing at them, but she didn't care. She smiled, listening to her mother's musical laughter floating down the hall after them.
That made everything all right.
Andromache's heart clenched within her, and she stood up quickly in a blind panic. Tears stung her eyes but she furiously blinked them back. She was nearly running and she realized her servants were staring at her oddly. "I'll be back soon," she choked out, willing her tears to wait until she was alone. Mercifully, they obeyed her, and she dashed towards the empty stable that had housed Elpis, many years ago.
She climbed into the loft, now used as an extra storage for the hay, and crawled into the back, surrounding herself by the mountains of it. She was out of sight and out of hearing, which was just what she wanted. By now the danger of tears were past, and she gazed around. Another memory hit her as though she'd been slapped.
She was a little girl, sobbing in the loft. No one could hear her, or so she thought. A soft voice called out her name, and she jumped.
"Andromache, why are you hiding?" Arimedes asked, crawling over to her.
"I tore my new dress," she sobbed. "I was supposed to wear it to the gathering tonight, but I ruined it. Mother will be furious."
Arimedes pulled her into his arms. "Let me see."
She showed him the tear, a tiny thing barely noticeable and easily fixed. "It was going to be my first party," she sniffed. She'd been five years old.
"You have a point," Arimedes said gravely. "You must always look good at your very first party."
She gave a mournful sigh and fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. "I so wanted to attend."
Arimedes pondered the situation. "You disobeyed Mother?"
Andromache nodded. "She told me not to wear the dress out to play."
"This is a serious problem," Arimedes agreed. "But I believe I have the solution."
Big, browns eyes filled with tears gazed up at him, a tiny spark of hope in them.
"I happen to know a very talented seamstress, who happens to be quite mute. Shall we see what she can do with it?"
Andromache nodded. "But I don't think she'll be able to fix it."
"Well, we'll see," Arimedes said, picking her up and carrying her through the mountain of hay that surrounded them. She clasped his neck gratefully, leaning against his shoulder. No matter the outcome, she felt safe in his arms, and that was all that mattered.
That had been the first of many times he'd found her hiding in the hay. It was at that moment that a sob finally escaped from her, followed by another. Which each new expression of grief her heart was equally pained and relieved at the same time. The storm of emotions that had been pent up inside of her was released, and there was no stopping it. Tears streamed out of her eyes and her hands were clenched into fists from the pain ripping at her very soul. Her cries could not be heard by anyone, for she was safe from prying eyes here, but the intensity of her grief made her oblivious to the world. She was wailing now, willing herself to deny it and pretend as though it had never happened. But deep down inside, she knew it had.
Arms slid around her then, arms that felt safe and comforting, as though she'd been a little girl being held by her brother. Hector pulled her close to him and she sobbed against his chest, her words coming in short gasps.
"I should've protected them," she cried, feeling as though she'd never be happy again.
"It wasn't your fault," Hector whispered. His heart was breaking to see his wife in so much suffering.
"I was married to protect them, they were counting on the added protection," she wailed. Guilt more powerful than anything she'd ever felt surged through her and a fresh storm of tears erupted.
"They didn't marry you off for that, they married you off to keep you safe. I swear to you, Andromache, your father told me that before I left you. I had to swear an oath to the gods that I'd keep you safe for him. They did not marry you off for personal gain, they gave you to me because they knew I'd let no harm come to you."
"They were my family," she sobbed. "And I let them down."
"You could never let them down as long as you were alive. Their joy was in knowing that you were alive and safe, well away from danger. You did not let them down, my love. Your mother's final joy was in knowing that those men would never have you."
"You don't know that," Andromache whispered, tears still streaming down her face.
"The man who brought the news of the attack heard it with his own ears. She whispered it to him and then shouted it to the whole camp, right before she died. She loved you from the moment you came into existence and she never stopped, not even for a moment."
Andromache gazed up at her husband's face, her sobs quieted but tears still falling. "Not even in death," she whispered.
His mouth turned up in a sad smile but the anguish still showed in his eyes. "She told you that?"
Andromache nodded, leaning against him as he gently rocked her in his arms. "I have loved you forever and I will never stop, not even in death," she quoted softly, so softly that Hector had to strain to hear the words.
Pain still ripped at her soul and grief still tugged at her very being, but the guilt had slowly abated. She realized Hector's words to be true, no matter what others said. They'd sent her away for her own safety, not their own. They were willing to part with her forever, just to know she was safe. They'd loved her even in their deaths.
A fresh burst of sobs burst from her then. The pain of her loss made her wish she could deaden the emotion, or pretend life was just as it was before. Her heart cried out at her lost and she sobbed from the very bottom of her soul, secure in her husband's arms. He held her, rocking her gently and speaking no words. Nothing he could say would comfort her, for some losses no amount of time can heal.
This would pain her for the rest of her life.