As the day grew on, the women around the fire were chosen by men. The noble women were taken one by one and most went on to live lives of servitude, but some would become concubines to the man that had taken them. They all shared one thing, however, and that was that they were all destined to die alone, alone with no one left to love or care for them.
There were still three royal women, however, sitting around the fire, but they were not left because they were unwanted. The few men who had been granted such a token of gratitude, by being offered one of the prized women, had still not chosen or taken their gifts.
As men had not come for them yet, the royal women were forced to remain around the fire, even though they had grown to hate the fire because the day had grown considerably hotter.
The women were so altered in appearance that they looked little better than slaves in a market. Their thin night robes were soaking with sweat and they didn't dare move because they couldn't bear to feel the wet cloth against their skin. Their hair had fallen from their intricate styles and now tumbled freely down their backs, and their feet, which had once been decorated with jewels, were now covered with dirt.
Hecuba looked worse than death and yet she still breathed. She felt sickened by the thought of someone other than Priam owning her, she couldn't bear the thought of becoming a slave or concubine to a Greek and she was determined to never become one.
Unlike her mother, Polyxena was not sickened by the thought of becoming a slave or even a concubine because she knew that she would become neither. She had seen what would happen to her in Achilles's eyes, she had even felt coldness begin to sweep across her when she saw Neoptolemus.
It was only Andromache who continued to remain silent while Polyxena and Hecuba spoke, and she had not spoken since seeing Helen. She felt so consumed with grief and hate that she was afraid to speak in case she allowed some of her emotions to escape, and she couldn't bear the thought of the Greeks seeing her pain.
However, it was not only the Greeks who Andromache hated, it was also the gods. She hated and cursed them both, hating both the gods and the Greeks passionately. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she could have done to result in being punished so cruelly by the gods, and so she damned them too.
At the sound of raised voices, Andromache suddenly raised her head. She had heard nothing but crying and laughter for hours, and so she was surprised to see any Greek angered when they had won such a victorious battle.
The voices were of Neoptolemus and Agamemnon's man, and Andromache looked at them curiously. She had seen Neoptolemus briefly, when he first arrived at the camps, but she didn't know who he was.
Feeling Andromache's eyes on his face, Neoptolemus suddenly turned his head slightly to look at her. He did not allow his eyes to wander across to Polyxena; instead he continued to look at Andromache for a moment.
"You must choose which woman you would like to have," persisted Agamemnon's man, who had begun pestering Neoptolemus as soon as he left Odysseus's tent, only a moment ago. "King Agamemnon will soon return to the ships and then we will be leaving these shores. You must choose!"
Neoptolemus nodded slowly, though he looked towards Andromache. He turned his head towards Agamemnon's man and nodded again. "Yes, you're right."
"You have chosen, then?" asked Agamemnon's man, eagerly.
"Yes," said Neoptolemus slowly. He pointed towards Andromache, although he did not look at her.
A smile widened across the face of Agamemnon's man and he turned to look at Neoptolemus once more after looking at Andromache. "You have made a wise choice, Neoptolemus. She is Princess Andromache, Hector's widow. She would have been Queen of Troy one day if Hector hadn't have died."
Neoptolemus slowly turned his head towards Andromache once more and was shocked to see her horrified expression. He assumed she had realised that he had chosen her to be his; it didn't even cross his mind that she had suddenly realised who he was.
"Take her to my tent," said Neoptolemus, his voice somewhat lower. "Make sure she is washed and dressed properly for the journey home."
Agamemnon's man nodded obediently. "Will you wish to spend time with the woman before we leave?"
Neoptolemus knew what the man implied, and even he knew he had the rights to bed Andromache if he pleased, but he shook his head. "No."
For a moment Agamemnon's man was silent as he was somewhat shocked at Neoptolemus's firm answer, but when he saw Neoptolemus turn to leave, he grew curious again. "Where are you going, my lord? King Agamemnon could return at any moment!"
"I'm going to my father's grave," Neoptolemus called back as he began to walk away from the man.
A stunned look continued to hover over Andromache's face as she watched Neoptolemus walk away. She could feel her breath quickening and almost felt faint at the knowledge of who Neoptolemus was.
She had watched Neoptolemus and Agamemnon's man speak together, although she had heard little of what they spoke of and could not understand what she had heard. She only knew that she had heard Neoptolemus addressed by his name, and it sickened her to think that she had seen the son of the man who had killed her husband.
After entering a tent for a few moments, Agamemnon's man now walked towards Andromache, followed by a woman who appeared to be the same age as Andromache. She had golden hair that flowed down her back like water and her features and attire suggested that she was not a Trojan.
"You have been chosen by Neoptolemus, Andromache," said the man and a small smile played across his lips as he spoke. "You will sail with him to Greece and he will be your master."
Hecuba and Polyxena suddenly raised their heads and glared towards Agamemnon's man before looking to Andromache.
"What nonsense is this?" snarled Hecuba, suddenly regaining her queenly manner. She even surprised herself that her queenly ways had not vanished along with her city.
Agamemnon's man looked down to Hecuba as if she were little better than a dog. He surveyed her filthy robe before speaking. "It looks like it has escaped you notice, Queen Hecuba, but you are now a slave, you all are."
He then turned towards Andromache once more. "This is Briseis," and he gestured towards the golden haired woman, "she will take you to Neoptolemus's tent and prepare you for the journey."
At the sound of the word 'journey', Andromache felt her heart stop. She had only briefly allowed the thought of leaving Troy to enter her mind, and now that she was forced to acknowledge that thought, she felt sick.
In her lifetime, Andromache had known no other places other than Thebe and Troy. They were the only places she had ever called home, the only places that held the ones she loved, and now both were destroyed. She couldn't even comprehend the thought of living anywhere else but Troy because, despite all that had happened, she still loved it more than she could even describe because it had been Hector's home too.
"You may say your goodbyes," said Agamemnon's man and he looked down upon Andromache's sudden pale face. He then turned to Briseis and quietly spoke with her before leaving and heading towards a tent guarded by men with Mycenae breastplates.
"There must be something we can do," said Hecuba sadly and she felt tears gather once more in her eyes. "We are royalty … we are not slaves!"
Briseis looked at Hecuba pitifully for a moment because she could understand how the woman felt. Like Hecuba, Briseis had also been taken from her homeland and forced to be with a man she did not love, a man who had killed her husband.
"There is nothing to be done," said Briseis, and she smiled kindly when Hecuba looked at her in surprise. "Even royal women must face the hardship when a city is sacked." She sighed and then knelt down in front of Hecuba. "Your daughter-in-law will not be harmed, Queen Hecuba."
Hecuba was surprised to be addressed by her old title and looked at Briseis curiously. "You were not born into slavery, were you?"
"No," said Briseis, and her smile faded. She rose to her feet and was silent for a moment while she thought over the life she had once had. "I was the Queen of Mynes. Achilles sacked my city and killed my husband, he then brought me here as his concubine."
At the sound of Achilles's name, Polyxena suddenly looked away from Andromache. She raised her eyes to look at Briseis curiously. "What has become of you now, now that Achilles is dead?"
Briseis looked at Polyxena for a moment without speaking. She knew who the woman was and of her involvement with Achilles, but felt no anger towards Polyxena.
"I am now a slave of Neoptolemus," she finally said, "although I shall not remain one for long. He has decided to grant me freedom and I will stay here, in a small town on Mount Ida." She noticed the curious glance of Andromache now and added: "I believe Neoptolemus had no desire for me to be his slave, I think he even hates the sight of me."
Silence followed Briseis's words until she turned towards Andromache and spoke once more. "You may have a few moments to say goodbye, and then I will take you to Neoptolemus's tent."
Hecuba, unable to rise to her feet as her ankles remained tied together with rope, leaned across to Andromache. She felt tears fall from her face when she kissed her daughter-in-law's cheek.
"I love you like a daughter," whispered Hecuba when she pulled away from Andromache. "I had never seen my son happier than when you came into his world, and for that I thank you." She inhaled deeply and then continued. "I am sorry, Andromache, for what has happened. I wish I could have saved Astyanax and Hector, I wish I could have stopped…"
"There is nothing you could have done," said Andromache, her voice even lower than Hecuba's. "I will never forget your kindness, nor will I forget your love." She paused for a moment and wiped away a tear that had tried to flee down her face. "Take care, Hecuba. My thoughts and prayers are with you."
After a few moments Hecuba turned away and dried her eyes while Andromache spoke with Polyxena.
"You have been a wonderful sister," said Andromache and she could feel her voice begin to waver, "and I could not have asked for a greater friend." She was silent for a moment, considering whether to continue or not, but she finally decided to go on. "Do not blame yourself for the Greeks winning, Polyxena. The Greeks would have won, regardless as to whether Achilles died or not, it was destined to be."
Polyxena nodded slightly. She could feel tears rush down her face but did not try to stop them, despite not wanting to show her grief, because she couldn't control them anymore. She quickly said her goodbyes to Andromache and then wiped away her tears.
Andromache slowly rose to her feet, her wrists still bound together. She looked at Hecuba and Polyxena one last time before following Briseis as she led the way to Neoptolemus's tent.
Only moments after Andromache had left and headed towards Neoptolemus's tent, Odysseus left his tent. His appearance was shocking, even to his men who had seen him in almost every possible situation. His eyes were bloodshot and redness surrounded them, giving the appearance that he had been crying.
No one mentioned Odysseus's state to him, although many gasped when they saw the state of their king. They silenced their whispers when Odysseus passed them, however, and returned to their duties.
Odysseus's guilt was beginning to take a hold of him, which was the reason for his startling appearance. It was not only the guilt of killing Astyanax that tormented him now, it was the guilt of every innocent person he had killed the night before.
Whenever Odysseus had begun to feel guilt for the lives he had taken, he would always be able to justify their deaths because he knew that if he hadn't taken them, then someone would take the lives of his people instead. Now, however, Odysseus knew that this method would not work for his guilt because he had no reason to kill innocent Trojans, other an oath he had sworn to years ago, and the fear of Agamemnon attacking his country if he refused to fight.
He weaved in between the Greeks who continued to load items onto the ships, and between the carts full of mainly women and children who would be taken across the sea to Greece and sold. He ignored these sights and stared straight ahead, straight across to a small fire that was almost out.
One of the men guarding Hecuba and Polyxena looked up when he saw Odysseus walk towards them. He paused in his conversation to one of his friends and placed his goblet down onto the sand and stood up.
"What brings you here, King Odysseus?" asked the man as he walked towards Odysseus. He tried to sound cheerful, but his voice betrayed how unnerved he was at seeing the state of Odysseus. "Is there anything I may do to help you?"
"No," said Odysseus quietly and he shook his head slightly. He looked down to the floor because he could feel the eyes of Polyxena, on his face. "I … have come for Polyxena; I am to take her to Neoptolemus."
"I thought Neoptolemus has already chosen Andromache, my lord," said the guard, a note of confusion in his voice. He looked back to Hecuba and Polyxena to make sure he was correct in his thoughts and then looked back to Odysseus.
Hecuba also looked at Odysseus now, she had heard his name but she had been absorbed in watching Andromache leave until now. She had heard why Odysseus had come and placed her hands over her daughter's.
"He has," answered Odysseus, finding it grueling to even speak because he could not escape the images that swirled through his mind, the images of those he had killed in the night. "But … but Neoptolemus," began Odysseus and then he paused for a moment and gathered the little strength he had left, "I have to take Polyxena to Neoptolemus, you have no right to question my actions."
"Of course not, my lord," said the guard, somewhat startled. "I am sorry, my king, I meant no offence. You may take Polyxena, if you wish." He then walked over to Polyxena and used his knife to cut the rope at her ankles.
"Where are you taking her?" asked Hecuba, her voice hoarse. She looked up to Polyxena and slowly shook her head when she saw the look in her daughter's eyes. She could almost hear Polyxena telling her she would be safe now, she would be with her father and brothers, and yet Polyxena's mouth did not move.
Odysseus said nothing and reached out to take Polyxena's arm when she suddenly stepped away from him. She looked at Odysseus firmly for a moment and then knelt down in front of her mother.
"Do you know what …," began Hecuba, but she could not finish her sentence because she felt tears begin to trickle down her face.
"I have known what is going to happen to me for a long time," said Polyxena and she gently wiped away her mother's tears, as best she could with her hands bound. "I could never have lived with the name "slave", you know that mother. I was born a princess, and I thank you for the wonderful life you allowed me to lead." She smiled for brief second but then her smile faded and she continued in a low whisper. "I allowed Achilles to believe I loved him, for that alone I should be sentenced to death."
"No!" said Hecuba firmly, although her voice was quiet, and she stared into her daughter's eyes sternly. "It was Achilles who deserved to be killed. You don't deserve death because he thought you loved him, that was his foolishness, not yours."
"If I live now, mother," said Polyxena and she felt her voice begin to waver, "then I will forever be plagued with guilt. I played a part in Achilles's death, and if I had married him then perhaps Troy would still be standing!" She had allowed her voice to rise as she finished her words and now paused, wishing to gain control of her emotions. "I cannot bear to live with the thought that I … that I could have prevented the destruction of our home."
"You could not have prevented the Greeks winning," insisted Hecuba. She then looked up to Odysseus and saw him staring at her; she then looked down to her daughter once more. "You could offer yourself to Odysseus; you are a princess and would be worth so much more than a slave in any household. You could live and perhaps be granted freedom someday."
Polyxena smiled sadly at her mother's words because she knew that Odysseus would never accept her and if he did, she would never be granted freedom from servitude because she was now a slave. She gently stroked her mother's hands and looked up to her mother.
"You will forever be in my heart, mother," she finally said, "even when I go into the next world." She then rose to her feet and kissed her mother's forehead and began to walk away with Odysseus.
"Polyxena!" cried Hecuba as she was left on the log by the fire. She smiled sadly when she saw her daughter look back at her and whispered: "I love you."
Polyxena smiled, reading her mother's lips. She then allowed Odysseus to take her arm once more and lead her towards Achilles's grave.
Hecuba collapsed into a fit of tears when she watched her daughter walk away and held her head in her hands. She had never felt more powerless than when she allowed her daughter to walk to her death.
On the grave of Achilles, where his and Patroclus's ashes had been mixed together in a golden urn before they would eventually be taken to the White Island, is where Polyxena was killed by Neoptolemus.
She was stabbed by Achilles's son, yet she neither showed nor expressed fear, which granted her the respect of the Greek warriors who saw her killed. She had expected death ever since she had seen it within Achilles's eyes, and had gradually begun to accept it until she no longer feared her destiny.
The Princess of Troy fell down onto the sand after Neoptolemus had delivered his first deadly cut, and then her blood flowed from her wound and onto the grave of Achilles which had yearned for her blood.
She was then left before Odysseus, who had watched the death of the brave princess, ordered his men to give her the proper funeral rites. He soon left his men to build a small pyre for her, and returned to his tent after speaking with one of his officials.
After being taken to the tent of Neoptolemus by Briseis, Andromache was washed and dressed by two other slaves who had come from neighboring lands, and Briseis left her. Her hair was plaited down her back and she was dressed in a thick robe that could face the harshness of the journey to Greece.
She was allowed to wash her own face, after she had requested to do so, and was able to see her reflection in the basin of water. She had never seen herself so altered in appearance, not even when she was pregnant with Astyanax and her face had swelled.
There was no longer any trace of happiness in her eyes, and the wild, determined spirit that had once occupied her fair eyes had now disappeared. She looked like a hollow shell, a shell that held no emotion or feeling.
As Andromache looked at her reflection before handing the basin to one of the girls near her, she saw that she looked like a typical slave. Her attire was made to last, instead of being made to make her look beautiful, like her old robes. And her face held the same blankness that she had seen other slaves wear.
The flaps of the tent suddenly opened and Neoptolemus entered. His head had been bowed until he had entered, but now he looked up and across to Andromache because he could feel her eyes glaring on his face.
Andromache looked at Neoptolemus, her eyes widening with fear when she saw the blood that was smeared across his breastplate. And she felt her heart begin to pound ferociously against her chest as she allowed her eyes to wander down to Neoptolemus's blood covered hands.
"Leave," ordered Neoptolemus, his voice somewhat hoarse. He glared at the slave girls and they quickly leapt from their feet, as did Andromache who assumed he meant for her to leave also, until he turned to look at her. "You can stay."
Andromache slowly sunk back down into her chair and watched as the slave girls left the tent. She was inwardly desperate to leave with them because she feared that Neoptolemus had wanted her to stay because he wanted to lay with her.
The thought of lying with a man other than Hector sickened and terrified Andromache. Not only did she consider it a betrayal of the love she and Hector had shared, but she also knew that after Hector, she could never love another man the way she had loved him and because of that she couldn't bear the thought of laying with anyone. She feared being forced to lay with a man she did not love, and she especially feared lying with a man she hated.
Neoptolemus walked over to a basin of water that sat on his chest. He quickly washed his bloody hands, and then his sweaty face before taking off his breastplate. He looked at Andromache once more before sitting down in a chair and pouring himself some wine.
The flaps to the tent opened once more and a soldier entered, he looked across to Andromache first and then looked to Neoptolemus. He slowly walked towards Neoptolemus and whispered: "King Odysseus has ordered for Polyxena's body to be burnt. Should we do something, my lord?"
Neoptolemus said nothing for a moment and looked to Andromache's sudden, pained expression. He then slowly turned his head to look back at the soldier and shook his head. "No, do nothing. Allow Odysseus to continue."
The soldier nodded and promptly left the tent, silently.
"Polyxena … Polyxena is dead?" stuttered Andromache, unwilling to think her friend could be dead when she had said goodbye to her not so long ago. She shook her head in denial and looked down to the floor so Neoptolemus would not see the tears that had begun to swim into her eyes.
"Yes," said Neoptolemus, and he deliberately avoided Andromache's eyes. He poured himself more wine and stood up; he placed his goblet down onto the chest and then walked towards the flaps of the tent. He was about to leave when Andromache spoke again:
"Did you kill Polyxena?" she asked, her voice shaking fervently because she dreaded the answer.
"Yes," said Neoptolemus. He did not move, instead he continued to face the flaps of the tent with his head bowed.
"Why?" cried Andromache and she felt a tear trickle down her face. She realised that it was not only the grief of hearing her sister-in-law was dead that now began to pour from her, it was the grief that she had bottled away since Hector had died.
"She made my father believe that she loved him," said Neoptolemus quietly because he was now too ashamed to proudly admit what he had done, "and she played a vital role in his death." He finally turned to look at Andromache and was so surprised to see tears gathering in his eyes that he could not speak for a moment.
"I will leave you to your grief," said Neoptolemus, unaware of what else to say as he was unnerved, and he turned to leave.
"My grief?" snarled Andromache and she walked towards Neoptolemus and stepped in front of him so he could see her eyes which were now rid of tears, but were instead glaring with anger. "My grief will never leave me! I will never be able to escape what has happened, especially not when I have to see you each day!"
Neoptolemus's eyes narrowed in anger when he heard Andromache's words towards him and he had a desire to slap her, but he clenched his fists at his side and left the tent, leaving Andromache.
Andromache inhaled deeply and clutched a hand to her chest. She slowly walked over to her chair and leaned on it as she quietly cried and admitted defeat to her overwhelming grief.
A/N: I've finished the story and will be putting up the last chapter in a few days, but for now here is this chapter. Also, thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter :)