Chapter 9

It was an unusually grim night and the beach was completely exposed to the wind. The cold night breeze found its way beneath his robe and chilled his bones. But he hardly noticed. He felt completely blank inside. He sat silently on the damp sand and watched as the powerful waves hit the shore.

One hour might have passed, or maybe two, when he suddenly heard a soft movement behind him. Without a word, she settled down next to him and pulled her knees up to her chin. Achilles glanced carefully at her. She had put the cloak back on, but her hair was still unbound and flapped loosely around her shoulders as it was caught by the wind.

"I thought you'd be by your husband's bedside by now," he said bitingly.

She didn't answer. For a moment, he asked himself if she had heard his poisoned comment. When she finally spoke up, her eyes were still aimed at the great, dark ocean and her voice was distant, like she wasn't really talking to anyone in particular.

"I used to come down here sometimes. I used to look out towards the horizon. And always, I would tell myself that I wasn't really thinking about you. But I was. I kept wondering where you were, what you were doing..." She stopped momentarily to glance at him. "And if you were happy."

"Happy?" Achilles repeated with a hint of disbelief.

"I was hoping that you had been able to put the past behind you," she answered shrugging.

"Can you tell me how I was supposed to do that?" He asked her sharply. "When I knew that you were here and that you were with someone else?"

Once again, she didn't answer. She just sighed a little and looked down at her hands.

Achilles watched her closely. "You love him, don't you?" he asked her, his voice resigned.

"Yes," she answered.

He wanted to pull a face, but managed to choke it. Instead, he turned to her with a challenging look on his face. "Tell me this: Do you love him, because it's your duty, or because you really feel that way in your heart?"

Andromache thought for a moment. "Both," she answered simply. Achilles cringed and she continued: "He is a good man, you know. He is like me and we understand each other."

"And you have a child." Achilles said flatly.

She nodded. "Yes, we finally had one. But it took me six years, four miscarriages and one stillborn daughter to provide Hector with an heir." Her mouth was formed into a dry smile. "So I guess you were right; I may be considered a poor investment."

He looked somewhat embarrassed. "I suppose I should say that I am sorry," he said grudgingly.

She shrugged it off. "Don't bother. It makes no difference."

They were both silent for a while, looking out at the great, mystic water where Poseidon was said to rule.

"I could have made you happy, Andromache," Achilles said abruptly.

Immediately, she shook her head. "No, you couldn't," she said firmly.

"How do you know that?" he asked her fiercely. "If you had come with me you would have been free!"

"That might be true," she agreed. "But I would have been forced to sacrifice my roots, my family and my honour. And I didn't want freedom at that expense."

Achilles rolled his eyes. "I don't understand you." he said in weary frustration.

"I know you don't," she said flatly. "That is the difference between you and Hector."

Achilles almost flinched and he closed his fists tightly. Her words were like a spear through his heart. "You really are as cold as ice, my lady," he mumbled.

"I am just being truthful," Andromache said brutally. "And the truth is that I could never be yours. No more than you could ever really be mine."

Achilles grabbed a handful of sand and flung it into the dark water, consummated by anger and frustration. "I would have liked to fight him for your hand."

"Don't be stupid," Andromache snorted dismissively. "Besides, it wasn't your fight."

Achilles reddened. He hated being patronized. "Well, if you had at least given me a chance..."

She looked at him seriously. "I was honest with you from the start. I never lied. I told you that I was betrothed. You knew that I couldn't..."

Her words were enough to push him over the edge.

"But you made me believe that you would change your mind!" Achilles snarled with fury. "You made me believe that things would be different, that you would come with me, if I only did the right things!"

"I did not..." she began, somewhat shocked at his outburst.

"Yes, you did!" he roared "Don't you understand that has been the worst of it all! For eight years, you have forced me to spend my time thinking, wondering, asking myself what I did wrong; what I could have done in a different way!"

"There was nothing you could do!" Andromache said, her voice shivering.

"Then why did you have to make me believe that there was?" he spat and moved to his feet.

"I didn't!" she exclaimed and sprang up from her sitting position too.

"Yes you did!"

"NO!" The force behind her word shocked them both. Achilles silenced and stared at her in wonder. Andromache swallowed and tried to calm her fierce respiration. It wasn't until now that she realized that they had practically been screaming at each others' faces.

She pulled a deep breath and said, in the calm and controlled voice that distinguished the princess of Troy: "I never intended to, and if I still did, then I swear by my honour that I didn't mean it."

"Damn your honour...," he muttered harshly and turned away from her. "Damn you." When he turned his back on her, with his head hanging forward, Andromache felt a reluctant twinge of pity. She gently reached out her hand to place it on his shoulder.

But her hand had barely touched him before he spun back and grabbed her shoulders with a strength and force that made her gasp. "Damn you, do you hear!" His hands shook her savagely. Andromache hung limply, like a rag doll in his powerful grasp. His ice blue eyes pierced through her mind as he held her body close to his. Those eyes were filled with frustration, jealousy, confusion and an overwhelming hatred; feelings he had buried inside himself for eight years.

And then he suddenly broke. His hands released her shoulders and his head fell against her chest. His heavy body was too much for her and she was forced to kneel down again. She put her arms around him, carefully at first, then harder and more fiercely. She held him close to her body as he cried like a child in her embrace. His entire body was shaking with sobs and his muscular arms encircled her form so tightly that she found it difficult to breath.

As she heard him weep, this strong and powerful man, this unmoved and undefeated warrior, the realization of what pain she had put him through hit Andromache's mind like a ton of rocks. Compassion and guilt overflowed her heart and she almost couldn't keep her own tears back.

She held him for a long time, stroking his fair hair and mumbling soft words of comfort, like she would do when Astyanax was sad. His tears wet her cloak and his head was heavy against her bosom, but she didn't care.

Finally, his sobs silenced and his body seemed to relax a little. He lifted his head and looked at her face, his eyes still damp with tears. "Forgive me... please forgive me."

Andromache didn't know what to answer. She wanted to tell him that there was nothing to forgive, she wanted to ease his guilt and shame, but she couldn't find any words. She couldn't lie. "It's all right," she just said weakly.

He shook his head. "No, it's not." He mumbled throatily. "Ever since I first came here, I have done my best to hurt you."

Andromache smiled gently and caressed his wet cheek. "Yes, but no matter what you may have done, I think I have hurt you worse."

Tears started to fall from Achilles' eyes again. In shame, he hid his face in his hands. "Gods, sometimes I thought I would lose my mind!" he moaned in a choked voice. "Night and day for eight long years I have been dying to see your face again. I wanted to give it back to you. The pain. I wanted you to know what it was like. Being all alone... deserted..."

"I can't blame you," Andromache said carefully. She slowly found his chin and raised his head from behind his hand. "But you must believe me," she said gently. "I never wanted to cause you any pain. Never."

Achilles snatched his head back from her hand. "Well, you did," he stated flatly. "You love him now and I guess there was nothing I could do about it except trying to take him away from you. But it wouldn't matter. I could kill you both, but you would still love him."

"Hector was my fate, Achilles," Andromache said simply.

He shook his head vehemently. "A fate is something you create through your own actions, your own choices."

"And I choose him." Andromache answered sharply. Then her voice softened. "You may not want to hear this, but you might have a fate out there too. There are so many women who deserve to be loved if you will only open your eyes."

Andromache tried to tell herself that this was what she wanted, but the words were surprisingly difficult to form. She did want him to be happy. Still, there was something disturbing about the thought of him with another woman.

Achilles chuckled joylessly and shrugged. "My mother said something like that too. She told me that I would find a woman if I stayed in Laryssa." He slowly raised his head and his eyes found hers. "But I knew, as I do now that there is only one woman I want. And since I know that there is no one else like her, I have no wish to waste my time trying to find a substitute for her."

"Achilles..." Andromache started miserably, her cheeks red.

He continued like he hadn't heard her. "If you had only let me, I would have given you everything. I would have loved you more than any woman has ever been loved. But you didn't want me to love you and I couldn't stand that." Angrily, he shook the sand out of his robe. "I couldn't stand that you didn't want what I wanted."

"But I did," Andromache answered. He looked up at her in surprise and she continued. "I did," she repeated firmly and she couldn't help but smile at his astonished expression. "Sometimes I wanted it so much I thought I would burst. And knowing that we had to part almost broke me to pieces."

She paused and breathed deeply. The memory of the angst and pain she had felt was surprisingly strong and it made her heart sting. For eight years, she had done her best to forget about it.

"But it was not about what I wanted." She continued quietly. "You don't know what it's like to have a family and knowing that everything you do will also affect them. Being a princess means that you are a part of something greater than yourself. For ages, my fathers have formed a line, a tradition of greatness. That is what has bound us all together." She shrugged. "What did my own wishes mean next to that? Would I break my bond to my family? Renounce my own fathers? My country?" She shook her head. "No I would not. Can you not see why?"

Achilles was silent for some time before he nodded slowly. "Maybe I can. But that doesn't mean that I can understand it."

"I know." She said softly.

He cleared his throat. "But if you had been free..."

"I was not free, Achilles." She answered him immediately.

Achilles nodded impatiently. "I know that, but please, tell me this:" He swallowed and looked closely at her. "What if you had not been a princess, only a young woman from Thebe, a merchant's daughter or something? Would you have made a different choice then? If there were no traditions to consider?"

His question surprised her. It was something she had never reflected upon before. Finally, she shrugged. "I can't answer that," she said honestly. "And besides, it makes no difference now. I am what I am. Just like you are."

Achilles sighed, but he said nothing. They were both silent for some time again, until they heard a sound behind them. Then glanced around and found that the myrmidons had returned to the camp with the empty cart. Andromache silently thanked the gods. Hector had been brought home safe to the castle.

Achilles rose to his feet. Andromache looked up at him in surprise. Silently, he gave her his hand and helped her up. "You are trembling," he mumbled to himself and wrapped the cloak tighter around her form. Then he led her with him over to the myrmidons.

"Eudorus," he said and his second in command raised his head.

"Yes, my lord?"

Achilles glanced at Andromache before he spoke up. "I want you and the men to take the princess safe back to Troy at once."

Andromache flinched. "But...?" she began in surprise, but Achilles silenced her with a gesture from his hand.

"I understand, my lord," Eudorus answered politely. "Naturally, we will escort her."

The other myrmidons didn't look very delighted at the prospect of being forced to drag themselves all the way to Troy a second time, but they knew better than protesting.

"Good," Achilles answered authoritatively. "And remember, I want you to deliver her safe and unharmed to King Priam. Is that understood?"

Eudorus bowed.

"Very well, you have better leave right now," Achilles said and turned back to Andromache.

She looked at him with confusion painted across her face. "I don't understand... Why do you..."

"Because you are not a horse or a fine sword," he answered her simply.

"What? What are you..."

"There are people in Troy who are depending on you," Achilles interrupted her softly. "You must go back to them."

Distraught, she shook her head. "But how can I go back now... When you..."

Achilles cupped her face in his hands. "Andromache," he said throatily, almost desperately. "Leave now, or I will not be able to let you go."

He released her, but his eyes truly showed that he meant what he had said. Andromache wanted to protest. She had a thousand questions that she wanted to ask, but she forced herself to contain them. She realized that he was right.

Sighing, she left his side and climbed into the cart, next to the young myrmidon who was driving. The man took the reins and they drove forward, heading for Troy.

Andromache couldn't resist looking back. She knew that she shouldn't, but she couldn't control her longing.

Achilles was standing outside of his tent, his arms crossed. Their eyes met. For a moment, Andromache almost broke. She wanted to tell the driver to stop. She wanted to jump off the cart and run back, but she forced herself to stay in her seat.

Long after the cart had disappeared out of sight, Achilles stood outside his tent, his eyes aimed at the road. His stood there, unmoving for a long time. Then he turned towards his tent and went to finally get some sleep after the longest night in his life.

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