A/N: This is the prequel/sequel to A Time To Remember. I say prequel/sequel because it is both. It is from Hector's POV, about before his meeting Andromache, but includes from after ATTR. So I have no clue what it is really. Just a short, sweet little ficlet. Please R&R!!

Before I Really Lived

Happy childhood? Ha. As if. Maybe it wasn't sad, perhaps, but it wasn't really happy. Yes, there were happy memories. Like standing sharply at attention at one of his father's many wedding's. The focus was often on him and his brother and sister, the so-called "royal" children. When it wasn't on his father and the new wife, that is.

Although the king had many wives, only Hector's mother was queen, and her children would inherit before the other children. Most importantly, one of them would inherit the throne.

Hector enjoyed the weddings, all that attention. But these memories were tainted, scarred forever with remembrance. His mother's tight smile at the wedding, and then, after, crying to herself in the empty bed. And himself, young, not understanding, rubbing her back, bring her his toys to comfort her. And at last, she would sit up, eyes red from weeping, and pull him into her lap. He would not resist, even though he generally considered himself much too big for such childish things as cuddling.

"You will be king one day, Hector. You will be king. Do not forget this, my prince. Do not let anyone ever tell you otherwise. You will be a great king and warrior, my son." Hector would look into his mother's face solemnly and nod, not completely understanding. All he knew was that she only said things like this when she cried, and she would only cry when King Priam got married again.

Once, Queen Hecuba told Hector something else just as memorable. "Chose one woman, Hector, to make your Queen. And do not dishonor her by taking another woman as your wife, but respect her, and love her, and keep her as the only one in your heart, soul and body." Hector had not quite understood that cryptic message, either, but simply remembered it.

And one day, not long after that, Hector had another brother, but it was not Hecuba who grew big. It was not a royal prince, but simply a prince, born to one of the princesses who Priam had married. Hector had many brothers this was, as well as a few sisters, but the only girl he ever truly had contact with was his full sister, the royal princess Cassandra, and she was still very young, only two and a half years old.

Then Hecuba's mouth began to smile more, and her gowns began to look like she had a gourd, a large one, under it. She would take Hector's hand, or Helenus's, or Cassandra's, and lay it on her round stomach.

"Can you feel your brother kicking? He'll be a prince, a real prince, just like you, Hector," she would tell the six year-old prince, the three year-old twins looking on eagerly. Hecuba never doubted it would be a boy; Priam fathered mainly sons.

Then the baby came. Hecuba had been right; it was a prince, and Troy rejoiced. But this memory too was marred, as the little prince called Alexander was born sickly and almost a week after he was born, the prince died.

Hecuba didn't cry then but continued her queenly duties dry-eyed. And her extra baby weight faded away quickly.

And then, once more, Hecuba was pregenant. She took to praying, two, sometimes three times a day, to Hera, goddess of marriage and childbirth, and her daughter, Eileithya, goddess of childbirth, burning fat and incense. And a new prince, a royal prince, was born, and born healthy. He too was named Alexander, in memory, but they called him Paris, so as to not bring misfortune upon his head.

Paris was always a pretty child, his dark hair and deep blue eyes charming everyone with eyes. He had a thousand mothers, as many as the women in Troy, who always picked him up and played with him, disregarding the guards. When he grew old enough to walk and talk, Paris took to following Hector around. Hector, almost ten years his senior, didn't mind most of the time. And when he really, truly wished to be alone, he would lead the way to one of Paris' many doting women, who would scoop him up and hold him, struggling wildly to be let down, and Hector would make his getaway.

Usually he went to the stables. Antinos, the head groomsman, didn't mind Hector's watching eyes. Hector's favorite horse to watch was Priam's grand warhorse, Victory. He was the largest stallion in the stables, and was all rippling muscle, flowing smoothly from one position to another. Only Antinos and Priam were allowed in his stall, by Antinos' stern command. Hector would climb into the hayloft and peer down on Victory's stall, watching carefully for Antinos. He was always found, though, and called down.

"Come down, Prince Hector. Your father would have me killed if you fell and hurt yourself. Come down here. You can help me." Hector would clamber down the ladder and help the wizened old man groom the horses. He didn't mind such a menial task. It kept him strong, and he wanted to be able to take care of any horse that he might own in the future.

Soon, he was helping Antinos almost everyday. One day, when Hector was almost 13 years old, he was told by Antinos to go to groom Victory. Hector raised his eyebrows, a trick taught to him by one of the market merchants. The old man watched with pride as Hector slowly entered the stall and groomed Victory to perfection. When Hector emerged, grimy but satisfied, Antinos smiled and clapped him on the back.

"Well done, my prince. There is nothing left for you to learn from me, now that you have learned patience and responsibility, how to be both gentle and firm at the same time, you must also learn the other arts suitable for a crown prince 13 summers old." Antinos told Hector to ask his father for a chance to see the way the court worked.

Hector did, and spent the nex t two years behind his father, watch, listening, and most importantly, learning. He went to council meetings and met men who easily told him to shush, he was just a boy, and what did he know? He watched his father make important decisions, and learned the thought process that went on behind his father's closed face, which he learned to emulate.

One afternoon, when he was 15 years old, King Priam summoned him to a private meeting.

"My son, my heir. As you know, it is the custom for men to marry when they are thirty, perhaps older. However, as you also know, I feel that we are on the brink of war. Certain kings may feel that we may have... monopolized certain trades." Hector nodded, somewhat bored. he knew all of this. Priam continued.

"Therefore, we feel it is time for you to take a wife." Hector's eyes widened almost imperceptibly, keeping his carefully schooled blank face on.

"My king-" he began. Priam cut him off briskly.

"We realize it may not be on your mind to marry. So we give you a choice. You may choose who you will marry." Priam pulled a scroll out from under his tunic, and handed it to his son, who took it reluctantly. "This is a list of girls whose fathers have offered them in marriage. Report back to me as soon as you have made your decision."

"Yes, my king. Thank you, my king." Hector left as soon as he could, with only the required respect due. He headed for his rooms. Laying down on his sleeping furs, he unrolled the hide. Sighing, he scanned over the numerous names written in the neat script of his father's personal scribe. Each name had the girl's name, their father's name, and their age, rank and home. Most, Hector noted, were princesses. Hector sighed again. To read all of this would take forever, and he didn't really want to call for a scribe to read it to him. So he opted for the simplest solution.

Grabbing his belt knife, he straightened the roll and poked the knife into the hide. Pulling it carefully out, he put his knife away as he examined the winning entry.

Andromache, daughter of Eetion, Princess of Thebe- ten years old

Hector tried to recall all he had heard about Thebe. Both the men and the women were skilled riders, which was important, especially to Hector. He wanted a wife that shared his intrests, didn't he? Since he had to get married, this girl from Thebe would do just fine.

Rolling up the scroll and onto his stomach, Hector stared at his large hands and thought more about Thebe. It was not too far from Troy. The girl would not miss her family, at any rate.

But all he knew about this girl was what was on the paper: Andromache, daughter of Eetion, Princess of Thebe- ten years old. Was she sweet? Stubborn? Meek? Fierce? Gentle? Exuberent? Shy? Loyal? Would she be a problem? Would she satisfy him?

Hector knew that if she didn't, it would be acceptable for him to find other bedmates, once he had produced a legitimate heir. His father had done so, and many of the serving women were more than willing. But his mother's long ago words still rung in Hector's head: to find and love only one woman.

Hector supposed he could try that, for a while at least. And there was still plenty of time. The girl was only ten, the marriage would not take place for three or four or possibly even five more years.

And what of Andromache? Would she love him? If not, could she come to love him? Or would she hate this man come to take her from her home? From the serving women's looks, Hector knew his looks were pleasing enough.

Hector yawned. All this thought was tiring. So he rolled over and went to sleep.

Hector smiled at the babe, lying peacefully in the cradle. It was Astyanax- his son. HIS son. His heir, his firstborn, the joy of his life- not counting his lovely Andromache.

"And things began to get better, my son. I met your mother-" Hector lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I was instantly smitten, you know. But headstrong woman that she is, I do not believe she felt quite the same. In fact, if I remember right, she downright disliked me." Hector laughed.

"Stop telling your son lies, prince of Troy. Come to bed," called the headstrong woman.

"And may you have a happy childhood, my little Trojan warrior." Smiling once more, Hector turned and joined his wife on the bed.

"What a sweet bedtime story," Andromache whispered in his ear as she drifted off to sleep.

"Goodnight my lovelies," he whispered as he joined her in the sleep god's realm.

Fin

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