Disclaimer: You know I don't own these characters.
Before the Rising of the Sun
Andromache followed Hector down the stairs. She looked around. "Where are you taking me? She asked.
Hector did not answer until he stopped at a door. He turned at his wife. "Do you remember how to get here?"
Andromache was confused. Why did she have to remember the way down here? But she did remember. "Yes," she answered.
Hector opened the door and behind it was a long tunnel. Hector went inside. "The next time you come her, follow the tunnel," he turned to face her. "There are no turns, so you can't get lost. Just keep walking. When you get to the end, you'll be by the river. Follow the river until you get to Mount Ida."
There was something in his voice and his eyes that Andromache did not like. She refused to understand the meaning of his words. "Why are you telling me this?" She asked.
Hector stepped out of the tunnel, never taking his eyes from hers. "If I die…"
"No." Hector could not die. He could not. She refused to believe it. She could not live without him. He was her reason to breath, the reason of her existence. She could not picture her life without him.
"…I don't know how long the city will stand. If the Greeks get inside the walls, it's over. They'll kill all the men, throw the babies from the city walls."
"Please," Andromache whispered. She did not want to hear anymore.
"The women, they'll take as slaves. That, for you, will be worse than dying," Hector said.
"Why are you saying such things?"
Hector came closer to her. "Because I want you to be ready," he told her. "I want you to get our boy, and I want you to bring him here. You save as many people as you can, but you get here. And you run."
She nodded. She hoped with all her heart that she would never have to run through the tunnel. She wished to live in Troy for many happy years with Hector and Astyanax. She wished they would one day have a little sister for Astyanax. But she would do as Hector asked.
"I killed a boy today," Hector said. "And he was young. He was much too young." Hector looked down. He hated to kill, but in battle it was impossible not to. It was easier to accept that he had killed a man, one who had every intention of killing him and his men, but to kill a boy… then it did not matter if he was an enemy, or that the boy had tried to kill him… he was still just a boy. Too young to know what waited in battle, and too young to know what was worth dying for.
Andromache gently touched his cheek and he pulled her into his arms. By the gods how he loved this woman! There was no woman more beautiful than her. There would never be a woman more beautiful than her. People said Helen was the most beautiful woman on earth, but to Hector there was only one woman. His Andromache was the most beautiful woman. She was beautiful in appearance, and her thoughts and actions, her heart and inner beauty made her the most beautiful woman in the world. No one could compete with her. And Hector was proud to call her his wife.
Their lips met a passionate kiss. Andromache put a hand on his neck, pulling him even closer to her, afraid that if she let him go he would disappear. Hector put his arms protectively around her, not breaking the kiss. How long they stood like this they did not know, but eventually Hector pulled his lips away from hers, but he still held her in his arms. He kissed her throat and made a trail of kisses up to her ear. "Come," he whispered.
Still holding his hand tightly, Andromache followed Hector to their chambers. The last night they shared was filled with love and passion. Nothing mattered except the two of them. For during the long hours of the night, no one existed except Hector and his Andromache.
The short hour before the rising of the sun, Andromache slept peacefully. Hector was awake, watching her, watching their son that was lying in his cradle at the end of their bed. He loved them more than life itself. All he wanted was one more day to love them. He would not ask for more. Just one day. But he knew the gods did not hear him. This was his last morning. His end was near. When he walked out of the gates of Troy, it would be the last time he walked through them.