Hehe, yes this baby is Astyanax. I have the script of Troy and in it, it says that he's nearly one year old when we're introduced to him. So! We finally have him coming into existence. Congrats to everyone who did the math. And I'm glad you like the head flicking, SectorLutter. I've noticed how many authors forget the little quirks or habits that make people unique. Because each person has at least one, and often in stories people seem to be without them. I guess it's because one person is trying to write many different personalities, so it can get difficult to do. So I've always liked giving my characters little "things" that they do when they're happy, nervous, etc. Anyways, here's the next chapter, it jumps around through her pregnancy, enjoy!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The yearly festival of Apollo was celebrated a few months later. Andromache's stomach had swelled visibly by this time, and she gazed proudly at herself in the mirror. Hector came in and gently kissed her, then went to don a nice outfit for the feast. Andromache added the final touches to her appearance, and reached for her laurel crown. She set it on her head, smiling to herself, and waited patiently for her husband.
Hector walked out a few minutes later, looking wonderful in an outfit of dark green. "You look wonderful," he said, giving her another kiss. His eyes were drawn to the crown on her head. "You've been wearing it everyday," he observed. "Why this sudden change?"
She smiled at him. "I've nothing to be ashamed of."
He looked tenderly at her. "You never did, Andromache."
"In your eyes," she pointed out. "In others' I was condemned."
"For not bearing children?"
She nodded. Hector shook his head. "They've no right to condemn you."
"It is no matter, I have no reserves of wearing it now," she said.
He smiled. "It becomes you."
"Thank you."
They celebrated the feast and Andormache enjoyed herself immensely, even though Hector hovered over her anxiously nearly the entire time. She enjoyed watching Briseis lead the dance, with Polyxena and Laodice now following her lead. This was Laodice's first time attending the festival, though Polyxena had been attending for quite some time. Andromache watched her proudly as she skillfully and gracefully threaded through the young men, turning and skipping correctly. Hecuba had been too tired to teach her the steps, so Andromache had gladly offered and Laodice had accepted. She was a wonderful dancer, and Andromache could see her catching a few eyes while she danced.
She smiled at this, though Hector watched with some protectiveness. They did not stay long, however, for Andromache quickly grew tired and Hector readily escorted her home.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
That night, Andromache woke up, flushed and ill. She silently slipped from the bed, careful not to awake her husband, and went out on the balcony. She leaned against the railing, taking a few deep, calming breaths. The nausea in her stomach slowly abated and the refreshing breeze quickly cooled her.
"Andromache," Hector said softly, stealing out and draping a shawl over her shoulders. "You shouldn't be out in this cool wind."
"I needed a breath of fresh air," she protested softly, leaning against him.
"Illness?"
She nodded. "I had hoped it would not be so for this pregnancy, but blessings come at a price, it seems."
He rubbed her back, his arm moving in gentle, circular motions. "Are you better now?"
She nodded, and he escorted her back to bed. "I'm sorry to have awoken you," she apologized.
"Please, inform me when you're not feeling well," he said, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She frowned. "The husbands aren't supposed to see the side effects of pregnancy. It isn't seemly- or romantic," she added as an afterthought.
"Since when is marriage all about romance?" he asked pointedly, gently kissing her lips. "Goodnight."
She smiled and snuggled up close to him, and he happily wrapped her arm around her, pulling her close to him.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Four months later- at seven months pregnant- Andromache was feeling a little less happy about her pregnancy than she had a few months ago. "What if I don't get my figure back?" she asked, studying herself in the mirror.
"I think you look wonderful," Hector announced, glancing up at her. "You look healthy and happy."
She turned to him, frowning.
"Except now," he agreed, eliciting a smile from her. "There, that's better."
"Yes, but how would you like having a wife that can barely fit through the door?" she asked pointedly, coming to sit beside him.
"Considering I have ample servants to enlarge them, I don't see that being a problem," he teased, kissing her nose.
"You're impossible," she complained grumpily, going back over to the mirror and studying herself. "I think I'm abnormally large."
Hector frowned warningly. "Don't you dare. You already are barely eating enough as it is."
She was still looking at herself. "But I think I've gained too much weight as it is."
"Andromache, you are one of the smallest pregnant women I've seen," he said exasperatedly.
"And how many have you seen?" she asked pointedly, turning to him and raising an eyebrow. "You shouldn't have seen many, unless there's something I don't know about," she finished warningly.
He grinned. "A fair hit," he acknowledged. "Ask my mother."
Andromache frowned and shook her head. "She's been tired, as of late."
"She's been tired for the past year," Hector pointed out.
"No, I mean tired as though she were unwell."
Hector sighed. "I've noticed. Her health is failing."
Andromache sighed and stood up. "I'm sorry, love."
Hector shook his head. "It's in the gods hands."
She went over and kissed him, resting her chin in his head. "Still, I'm sorry all the same."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
One month later, Hector closed his eyes and patiently counted to ten.
Then twenty.
Then thirty, just for good measure. He opened one eye; his wife was still staring at him defiantly. "You must eat something," he said patiently, forcefully reminding himself of that last time they'd quarreled about food. And you don't want that happening again.
"I don't feel like meat," she snapped irritably, taking a sip of her water.
"Then what would you like?" he asked, gritting his teeth.
"Grapes," she answered, then narrowed her eyes. "Without the skin."
"Grapes cannot be found this time of year, my love," Hector said, praying to the gods that this night would end peacefully.
"Well, I want them," Andromache said, pointedly leaning back in her chair.
Hector glared at her, ignoring the impulse to wring her neck. Remember, it's not easy carrying around an extra thirty pounds, he reminded himself, hoping his anger would abate a little. Thankfully, it did, and he was able to think of a solution.
"A compromise then, my love," he said, knowing that for all her faults, Andromache played fair.
She gazed at him suspiciously. "What?"
"I will try my absolute hardest to procure some grapes for you, but if I fail, then you must eat what's on your plate instead," he suggested, perfectly ready to shove her food down her throat if she refused.
"I'll eat the fruit," she challenged, raising her chin. "Not the meat."
"Then you must eat all that's on your plate, in addition to a little more. Fair?" he asked.
She nodded. "Fair."
Hector smiled, although it was a bit forced. He very purposefully walked out of the quarters, and slowly shut the door. "Marcadius!" he shouted, as soon as he was out of her hearing range. "I'm going to the market, see that my wife does not move from that room."
"Yes, my lord," he dutifully answered. "Anything else?"
"Not unless you can work miracles," Hector snorted, gesturing with his head towards the closed door.
Marcadius smiled. "A bit of advice, my lord?"
"Please," Hector said, wearily running his hand over his face.
"It's one of the gods mysteries, how a woman thinks, and it's one of their curses, how a pregnant woman thinks. Best to humor her."
Hector laughed out loud. "Thank you. Best advice I've had in a long time."
Marcadius bowed. "Happy to be of service, my prince."
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Two weeks later, Hector and Andromache were in the middle of another argument.
"Andromache!" Hector expostulated. "You are with child, you must rest!"
"I'm fine!" she snapped back, raising her voice slightly. "Sitting around only makes me feel more miserable."
"The women can easily do the weaving, why don't you take an easy stroll in the gardens," Hector suggested, glaring at his wife who was sitting behind the loom.
"I've taken strolls in the gardens," Andromache snapped.
Hector closed his eyes, praying to the gods that the woman who was his wife would reappear. "Then please, for me, my love. Leave the weaving to the women, and go visit with Briseis or my sisters."
"Briseis is studying to be a priestess, she's learning the rituals today. And your sisters are out with Paris."
Hector opened his mouth to speak when a knock on the door interrupted them. "My prince?" Marcadius' voice was heard on the other side.
"Open," Hector said, praising the gods for the break.
Marcadius stepped into the room and bowed to the princess. "My lord, your father has sent for you and the princess. It seems the queen has taken ill during the night, and he requests your presence."
"Taken ill?" Andromache broke in, a concerned look on her face. "What's wrong?"
Marcadius shook his head. "He didn't say."
Andromache glanced at Hector, who looked back at her, returning her gaze. Then, he quickly grabbed her wrist as the two of them set off at a brisk walk for the royal quarters.
"Father," Hector called out as soon as they entered. "What news?"
"The physician is in with her now," Priam said. Andromache was struck by how old he appeared then, as though he'd aged ten years. "I haven't told anyone, yet."
Andromache gasped suddenly and the two men looked at her, concerned. She shook her head. "He just kicked," she explained. Just then the physician came out.
"An inflammation of the lungs has set in," he said gravely. "Her health is failing and her body has not the strength to repel it."
Andromache moved to enter but Hector stopped her. "Is it contagious?"
The physician shook his head. "No, your wife and child are safe." Hector nodded and released her arm, and Andromache went quickly into the room.
Hecuba looked tired, but smiled at her. "Andromache," she said warmly, taking her hand. "How are you feeling?"
"A bit tired," Andromache admitted. "It's not easy carrying around this extra weight, but never mind. How is your health?"
Hecuba coughed and Andromache could hear that each breath was accompanying a slight wheeze. "I'm sure you've been told, Andromache."
"I don't believe it," Andromache said stoutly.
Hecuba smiled tiredly. "Just because you choose not to believe something, doesn't mean it isn't true."
A smile came onto her face then, though a shaky one. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Hecuba shook her head. "Cheer up, my time has not yet come. I'll last for awhile, yet. But there's no fighting the gods ill, my dear."
Andromache stayed with her awhile, then Hector took her back to their room. Their walk back was a quiet one, and neither of them spoke much. Their earlier argument was forgotten as they spent the rest of the day in relative silence, each one lost in their thoughts.