A/N: Wow! I never really expected to get the response that I did. True, it was only ten reviews, but I didn't expect that many at all, especially since they were all nice! Thank you all so much, though I ask for your continued support through this; I'm still not entirely sure if this story was ready to be posted when I posted it.

On another note, There are some parts of this chapter that get a little tedious, and I'm sorry for it. But it establishes things that may come up at a later time, and help to explain why Andromache is the way she is.

Oh! And I forgot the name to the first chapter: The First Meeting

Chapter Two
The Soul of Thebe

o0o

The next morning found Andromache by a small pond in the extensive gardens of her father's palace, tossing bits of old, dry bread into the water for the fish to eat. Many of them simply floated at the top of the water, which caused them to bloat grotesquely, but every so often a fish would slip up and snag the morsel from the surface, causing the princess to smile.

At that moment her third-oldest and closest brother, Erastus, walked over and caught a bit of bread before it fell into the water. She frowned up at him, opening her mouth to scold him for interrupting her fun, but he placed a hand over her mouth.

"Was it you, dear sister," he asked, a bit of warning in his tone, "that took my son away from his nursemaid last night?"

Her throat tightened as the fear crossed her that she'd been spotting speaking with a man with no escort outside a two-year-old boy. But her face remained calm as he removed his hand. "Yes, I did," she admitted. "I didn't want to go to the festivities after missing so much of them, and I wanted to play with my nephew. Is this troublesome?" she asked archly, her brows raising.

Her brother rolled his eyes and flicked her head; she, in turn, threw a bit of bread at him with a serene expression. He chuckled and sat beside her, stealing a bit of her bread and tossing it into the pond. "Of course not," he said. "You simply provided the opportunity for provocation."

"Which you are notorious for taking advantage of."

"Indeed." They fell silent as Erastus turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. Andromache, however, did not look at him except for out of the corner of her eye, keeping her eyes focused on the pond as she continued tossing bread pieces. "You never met the Trojan princes."

"No loss to either of us, I'm sure," she replied smoothly; indeed, she truly felt that it hardly mattered if Hector and Paris of Troy knew who she was. At her brother's silence, she gave him a flat look. "I'm betrothed to Prince Corydon, Erastus. There's nothing for it."

He glowered. "That man does not deserve you," he said fiercely, glaring out at the world. "Cursed thing has as many male lovers as female."

Andromache's mouth fell open and she hit his arm. "Erastus!" she cried, thoroughly shocked. "Don't say such things!"

"Even if they reek of truth?"

"I don't care what they reek of," she snapped. "Don't say it."

Erastus sighed heavily. "I believe I loathe him, Andromache."

"Do you really?" she asked sarcastically.

"Don't be angry," he said. "Come now, back to my subject. The Trojan princes."

Andromache shrugged. "As I said, I see no reason why I should be required to meet either of them. None of us would ever feel the loss."

"On the contrary, I think you would like the older prince," Erastus remarked.

She gave him a pointed look. "Is it proper for me to like him?" She chose not to mention that she'd rather liked the man she's spoken to the night before. But then, she doubted that he'd even truly known the Trojan princes, given his vagueness in his answer to her question of whether he was with the Trojans or not.

"So long as you have a chaperone, I can foresee no problem."

"With our family," she pointed out. "What of the Mytilenians?"

Erastus sighed. "You had to point them out?"

Andromache laughed at the real disappointment she heard in his voice. "Please, make no attempt to play matchmaker!" she teased.

"You taught my son the game of mark," he retorted, as if the two were on equal planes.

"Andreas and I play it without whips, unlike you brutes who flog each other during the game." Andromache eyed him, an irritated look on her face. "I have seen the way you beasts play that game. Not one of you ever escapes without open wounds!"

"The purpose of that game is training, not entertainment. That is why whips are used."

Andromache stood, delicately dusting off her gown and tossing the rest of the bread crumbs carelessly into the water. She looked to her brother and said simply, "Barbarians."

He stared at her for a moment as she turned regally and began walking back into the palace. Then he laughed, and he did it so richly that she had to struggle not to laugh herself as she made her toward the courtyard in the front of the palace.

o0o

The courtyard before the palace, known to the Theban's as the Shrine of the Queens and to the rest of the world as the Theban Court, was renowned throughout the known world as one of the most beautiful places to ever see. The courtyard itself was gigantic circle of stone, it's many shades forming a starburst pattern. Around the perimeter of the paved circle were beautifully carved statues of the royal women of Thebe, standing upon pillars, both of which were hewn from the purest white stone. Between each of the statues was a small, thin pillar, made from the same gloriously-white stone, that held a basin of oil in it, which was kept lit at all times. Surrounding the courtyard was a glorious, though small, garden, the beautiful white blossoms in full bloom.

The name Shrine of the Queens was slightly inappropriate, however, in that there were not only statures to the queens of Thebe, but to the princesses as well, few though they were - the royal family of Thebe ran high to boys.

Gazing around the courtyard, Andromache sighed. She would be leaving soon; within the next month. Leaving this, beauty which was known throughout the world, for a man she had never met and had never heard anything good about. She was resigned, of course - she had a duty to Thebe. True, Corydon was not an older prince, therefore making their bond of less political importance, but her country could use the added protection. Thebe had always been more of a center for the arts than military might, and Mytilene had just barely enough of that military might to help protect Thebe.

She slowly walked over to the likeness of a tall but very slender woman. Queen Ophelia had been her great-great-grandmother, and a legend in her own time. She bore only two children, but her son grew to be one of the greatest kings Thebe had ever seen, her daughter grew to fight against conformity and tradition and married a man she loved, creating a strong ally of a neighboring city which had once been at war with Thebe.

Ophelia herself had reformed the role of queen in Thebe, and given the Theban people a new respect for the female race. She was a physically weak woman, much like Andromache herself; she had many failed pregnancies, and only had the strength to bear two. She feel ill easily, bruised easily, and many of her joints were weak. Mentally, however, she was stronger than many, many men. During her rule, her husband, King Obelix, had been forced to declare war and, in a horrible turn for the worse, found himself leaving his home, wife, and two young children in order to lead the army personally.

The war was terrible. Ophelia took up the rule of Thebe when the steward fell in a direct attack of the city; many felt that the city-state was doomed as soon as she touched the throne. But, rather, Ophelia rose up to the call and, appearing stronger than any soldier, despite her physical weakness, she did more for Thebe than any man ever had done, and commanded the city guard herself more than once during attacks on the city, doing so with skill equal to the finest of generals. When her husband Obelix returned, he returned to find a city whose walls were battered, but the people within thriving more than ever before.

Obelix commended his wife greatly, even going so far as to say that she won the war for them. And, in many ways, she had: tales of the Great Warrior Queen permeated all of the lands around the Aegean, and stories of her victories, both economically and militarily, had elevated the army's morale greater than anything ever could, and many enemies had questioned fighting against a country whose women were so strong.

Not only this, but the gods themselves blessed Ophelia and her efforts. Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war, had personally taught Ophelia how to fight and had bestowed her with a blade of pure, unbendable gold, which became known as the Queen's Blade and was kept in a place of honor above the thrones. Artemis had blessed her with plenty of game to hunt, and had on one occasion defended Ophelia's children personally; Demeter had given Ophelia good harvests, and therefore plenty of food for those in the city and for the army; from Aphrodite came the pure, unadulterated love for and from Obelix; and from Hera, the birth of her two children. Apollo had smiled down at her for her defense of a city so dedicated to the arts, and had granted her healers with remarkable skills; Hephaistos had crafted her with a shield of silver and glass that was unbreakable, which became the Queen's Shield and was placed with the blade above the thrones; Ares had guided the blades of her soldiers; Hermes had given her merchants uncharted success; Poseidon had caused an earthquake that devastated the enemy, but had left Thebe and her warriors untouched; Dionysos had granted Ophelia's soldiers stealth.

The list continued, from Hecate to the Graces, from Eunomia to Peitho. Never had the Grecian world seen a woman so blessed by the gods. And the world, particularly Thebe, loved her for it.

Andromache reverently touched the foot of the stature. Ophelia had been as beautiful as she was great and intelligent, and uniquely so. Her hair had been a beautiful, deep red, her skin pale despite the amount of time she spent in the sun, and her eyes were striking blue, the same color as the sea, or so Andromache had been told - the Princess of Thebe had never seen the ocean. It was said that Ophelia had been a chosen one of the gods, for her looks, intelligence, and skills were so unique, so extraordinary.

Princess Andromache gazed up at the statue. The stone Ophelia of Thebe gazed out kindly at the world, as if to say, "This is my home, and I love everything in it, most especially you. Should you but call my name, I will aid you and your homeland." She held the blade of Athena in one hand, its tip pointed down, touching the pillar on which the statue stood, and her other hand was outstretched, as if she were offering aid to someone who had fallen. The shield Hephaistos gave to her was braced at her feet.

More than anything, Andromache wanted to be like Ophelia. Strong in the face of adversity, courageous, caring, dedicated, dutiful, honorable, loyal, all traits that Andromache wished to find in herself. As she did each time she came to the statue of Ophelia, she paused for a moment and reviewed the traits the queen had had, looking to see if she had them in herself.

First was strength in the face of adversity. Andromache frowned. Had she even faced adversity before? Then it occurred to her that, yes, she had: her ever-approaching marriage. Had she faced it with strength? No, I haven't, she thought. I've never had so many ill thoughts toward a man as I have toward Corydon of Mytilene.

Next was courage. The response to this was instantaneous and emphatic: no. She was terrified of her upcoming marriage, particularly leaving her home, and equally afraid of the country she was moving to. No, she was not courageous.

Caring? She tried, at least, to always be caring towards others. She truly didn't know if she succeeded in this or not, but she at least tried.

Dedicated? After some consideration, she decided that she was, indeed, dedicated, to her home and to her family and to her people. They were, after all, the reasons that she was marrying Corydon.

Honorable? Well, she was no adulteress, and that was something. But whether or not she possessed honor… she was unsure.

Loyal? Yes. Her loyalty to her family and country was fierce, and she knew that, no matter how deplorable the situation might become in Mytilene, she would never be disloyal to her husband. Never would she lower herself to such a level, degrade herself in such a manner.

She sighed heavily; she still had many traits to gain before she could even begin to compare herself with the great Ophelia of Thebe.

"Ah, here you are! I though you had fled the city, my child."

Andromache turned to find her father, Eetion, a long with many members of the court and a man she didn't recognize, coming toward her. She folded her hands in front of her and walked toward her father, smiling. He smiled in returned and held out his hands, which she took, and kissed both her cheeks. "Daughter, this is Prince Paris of Troy. Prince, this is my most beloved daughter, Andromache."

She smiled to the prince, who took her hand and kissed it. He was charming, and just as attractive as Cloris had said, but Andromache wasn't fooled by the façade: there was intelligence behind those dark eyes, and a bright personality. "Do not be fooled, Prince," she said, glancing at her father before meeting Paris' eyes once more. "He claims I am his most beloved daughter, but the truth of it is that I am his only daughter."

"All the more reason for you to be beloved in his eyes, Princess," he replied, a smile on his face as well. "Would you like to join us? Your father and his advisors were just giving me a tour of your beautiful palace, I would be much honored to be given a tour by the jewel of Thebe."

Andromache blushed slightly at the nickname, but replied, "I would love to." Paris offered his arm, which Andromache took, positioning herself between her father and the Trojan prince.

"You must excuse my brother, dear Andromache," Paris said. "He was offered the tour of the palace, but declined in order to go to the stables and riding arena with two of your brothers."

"He has given no offense," Andromache replied, patting his arm in a jokingly reassuring manner. "Fear not; I shall not have him flogged for slighting me. We all have our preferences."

"Well said, dear lady." Paris surveyed the surrounding courtyard that they had been walking through. "Is this the famed Theban Court?"

"Yes, though we know it as the Shrine of the Queens. Any royal woman who has lived here has a statue, so that we may remember her sacrifices and gifts to Thebe."

"Will you have one?"

"Of course!" the king of Thebe interjected. "What sort of father would I be if I did not honor my daughter?"

"It will be carved long after I leave, I'm sure," she told Paris. "My mother's likeness is being carved as we speak."

"It will be nothing compared to the original, I'm sure."

"Naturally."

"Now, dear children, my advisors and I will leave you. This servant girl will act as your escort."

Both Andromache and her companion nodded to Eetion, who kissed his daughter's cheek before turning and going back to the palace. A servant girl, Peta by name, came to walk behind them. The pair continued the tour.

"What else would you like to see, Prince Paris?" she asked as they continued their leisurely walk through the Shrine of the Queens.

He gave her an odd look. "Are you not afraid for your virtue?"

Andromache blinked at him, confusion evident on her face. "What," she asked, "has that got to do with your tour of Thebe?"

"My reputation is well known on this side of the Aegean, Princess Andromache."

She considered him for a moment, looking him up and down, and then saying, "I trust you, Prince of Troy. Perhaps your reputation is less than honorable, but you cannot be entirely at fault. You certainly don't seem the sort interested in rape." The prince winced at the world 'rape,' confirming her beliefs and words, but she continued. "As it is, you would not make a move toward me, because I see the intelligence behind the frivolous mask."

He looked at her for a moment, not unlike the way she had looked at him a moment before. "You are very insightful, Andromache. I do believe that you possess more intelligence than the majority of men I know. Your understanding of human nature is extensive, isn't it?"

Andromache smiled slightly and looked at the ground, embarrassed at the compliments. "Hardly, Prince, but you will believe what you will, despite my influence." She looked up at their surroundings, then asked him, "Would you like to see to market? I can truly say that it is one of the best on this side of the Aegean, and I have never left Thebe."

Paris laughed. "Indeed! Please, show me the Theban market. When I return to Troy, I shall boast that the Jewel of Thebe personally guided me through the greatest market in the world."

Andromache laughed in response to this. "You had better, Prince, or I shall be severely disappointed," she warned, deeply amused, as they set out for the market of Thebe.

o0o

By the time the two and their escort had returned to the palace, it was near to dusk and all were exhausted. Both the Prince of Troy and the Princess of Thebe had requested that their attendance at the feast that evening be excused, and their requests had been granted. Both had gone their separate ways, with the promise that Andromache would continue the tour of the city the next day.

Sitting on a small bench before a vanity table, Andromache struggled to remove her hair from its complex configuration. After several moments of painful struggling, Andromache sighed and cried, "Metis!"

A girl of roughly sixteen emerged from a sectioned-off portion of the princess's chambers, an amused look on her face. "Most princesses take the time to learn to manage their hair," she pointed out as she came over.

"I have seven brothers, styling my hair was never a very important task for me to learn," she pointed out.

Metis sighed as she began letting down Andromache's hair. "And now it's too late."

"How so?"

"Wives typically know how to do this sort of thing in advanced. But never fear; I will be going with you."

"Naturally," Andromache said, but her mind was now on her upcoming nuptials. "I don't want to marry him, Metis."

"Of course you don't," Metis replied, as if it were obvious. "Leaving your home is a frightful thing, particularly leaving it to marry someone you've never met."

"Not that. That is a required task in my duty to Thebe. I do not fear marriage, Metis." She twisted around to face the younger woman, a tinge of fear evident in her eyes. "I fear the man I am going to marry."

"Prince Corydon?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Metis asked as she gently took hold of Andromache's shoulders and twisted her back around, resuming her work on the princess' hair. "His reputation is… odd, but a history of violence is not evident."

"That is what I fear," Andromache said quietly, staring at her hands clasped in her lap unseeingly. "He will crush me, Metis. I will lose what little independence is allowed a woman. Not only this, but he has a history that little have heard of. His love for the fruit of the vine is little known, but intense. And he is a violent drunk, they say."

Metis' hands stilled for a moment as she contemplated these words. Being a slave, she knew more truth than most royalty did, simply because the slaves and servants know everything. She knew of the propensity for drunken rages that Corydon of Mytilene had, but she had kept them to herself, in order to protect her mistress. Now, it seemed, that Andromache had known all along.

"I don't want to be crushed, Metis. That is why I fear him."

The slave girl finished her work and placed her hands on the princess' shoulders. "You are a strong woman, Andromache. No man will ever truly suppress you."

"I truly hope you're right, Metis." Andromache stood. "I think I will change and go for a walk."

"Very well. Do you need help changing?"

Andromache smiled and shoved at her confidante and handmaiden playfully. "I may be impossible with my hair, but I am capable of clothing myself."

Metis raised her hands in a gesture of surrender and left as Andromache began changing into a simple burgundy dress. This time, as she made her way to the gardens, she did not take her nephew with her. Instead, she found another bit of dried, old bread, and returned to the pond that her brother had found her at this morning.

As she tossed bits of bread into the water, Andromache let her mind wander. She purposefully kept her engagement from her thoughts, but everything else was subject to her mind. Prince Paris was not at all what I expected him to be, she thought, cocking her head to the side as she watched a fish snatch a bloated piece of bread from just under the surface. He was kind, rather than aloof. Fun. One would have expected the prince of such a great nation to be haughty.

How long she sat there, she didn't know. But the sun was half below the horizon and the sky a gigantic splash of color, ranging from flaming red to deep, deep blue, when she was joined in the gardens once more.

"It seems that we both are attracted to the same places, my lady."

Andromache looked up to see the man she had spoken to the night before gazing at her with an amused look, his arms crossed over his chest. She couldn't help but smile in reply.

"So it does seem," she replied. "Would you like the join me in fattening the fish?"

"I would be honored," he replied gallantly, coming over to sit beside her. He was a tasteful distance away, but close enough to be familiar. Andromache found that, oddly, she didn't mind.

After a few moments of that oddly companionable silence that seemed to mark both of their meetings, Andromache said, "I spend time in this place because I was raised here. This has been a sanctuary for me nearly all of my life. Why do you come here?"

He was silent for a moment, considering his answer. "I suppose I come here for the quiet. At home I would do the same, though it was more often the sea rather than the garden."

"Your life is tumultuous," she commented.

"No more than yours, I would say."

Andromache was not stupid: she knew that women played little more than a decorative and breeding role in the lives of men. For any man to say that a woman's life was tumultuous was something to cause suspicion. What man acknowledged the fact that women did not have an easy role to play. "Why would you say that? I am, after all, a woman," she said, carefully testing him.

He sighed and settled back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. "I have grown up a warrior and commander, and therefore I must have at least a vague understanding of the human mind. Women are severely underestimated in the responsibilities they bear and the strength with which they bear them. Though," he looked to her with a crooked smile, "I highly doubt you need to be informed of that."

The smile she gave in return was rather wry. "Do you really understand a woman's role?"

His look was just as dry. "No. I would not presume to know what it's like, being a woman. Though I have always tried to understand."

Andromache tossed another bit of bread into the water. "You, my friend, are probably the only man in the world to say such a thing." She spared him a glance. "It is an honorable thing."

"Something I have always strived for." He stood and offered a hand to help her up. She looked at his hand, then up at him questionably. "I want you to show me something."

Andromache blinked up at him. "What do you want me to show you?"

"Anything you like. Show me…" He paused, considering, then finished, "Something that you think is the essence of Thebe."

She slowly slipped her fingers into his, and he helped her to her feet. His hand was rough and calloused, quite the contrast to her own soft palm, but gentle. She quickly pushed the traitorous thought away.

"We will have to leave the grounds in order for me to show you," she warned, gently sliding her hand from his. The odd feeling that made her blood hum at the contact was unnerving, she didn't dare subject herself to it for longer than was necessary.

"I am willing to endure it if you are," he replied.

Andromache nodded started towards a side exit in the wall of the garden, hidden away from view. She looked over her shoulder and said with a smile, "I must ask that you not tell anyone I showed you this exit. In all truthfulness, I myself am not supposed to know of it."

He laughed, a sound which was as pleasant to listen to as his voice. It was then that she realized that his voice was, indeed, pleasant to listen to. This discovery was nearly as unnerving as touching him. "You have my silence, my lady."

"And I thank you for it." They slipped through the hidden doorway. She led him quickly and silently away from the palace, to the top of a nearby hill. From its summit, one could see the main part of the city of Thebe, where the people went about their daily lives. She pointed out at the city, at the people who were beginning to pack away their things and go to their homes and families. "There," she said, "is the very soul of Thebe. Those common, everyday people that are simply going about their lives. They say that history remembers kings and warriors. But what does history matter to the merchant selling his wares, or the woman looking after her children? History may remember my father and my brothers, but I will remember these people, because they are the heart of Thebe."

Up on that summit, the sun was blazing as it lowered in the sky, dipping further below the horizon with every moment. Though she didn't know it, in the light her auburn locks shone, her skin glowed, and her deep brown eyes glittered. She sighed, a small, content smile on her lips. "They are the reason I am willing to do anything for Thebe." Even marry the Prince of Mytilene.

At that thought, her smile faltered, and her eyes fell to the ground, clamping her lower lip between her teeth. A hand slid under her chin, lifting her head, and she found herself gazing into her companions eyes. He had the strangest expression in those eyes, an expression she couldn't read for the life of her.

"Your insight," he said after a moment, his voice so quiet that she thought that the wind my pick it up and take it away, "is staggering. I believe you are the first person I have ever met to love a place for its people rather than its greatness."

She was struggling to breathe, and thus her voice was equally quiet. "Thebe is my home."

"It is," he agreed. "May your next location find such a place in your heart. Should it do so, it will be a great place, indeed."

Andromache couldn't tell how long they stood there, gazing at each other on the top of that hill. But after an untold amount of time, he suddenly straightened and dropped his hand to his side. "We must return," he said, offering his arm.

Andromache nodded shakily, resting her palm on his arm, and they made their way back to the palace. What happened? she wondered. So lost was she in her thoughts that she never realized that they had reentered the gardens of the palace until her companion turned to her, taking her hand and kissing it.

"I must go," he said quietly. "I am expected. May I see you tomorrow?"

No, her mind said. She knew that it was wrong. She didn't even know his name! She was not only a maiden, but a betrothed one; it was entirely improper for her to be having secret meetings with a man she did not even know the name of.

But in her heart, she knew she couldn't tell him no.

"Yes. Meet me near the pond. After sunset."

He smiled at her, and her breath caught in her throat. He raised her hand to his lips again, and said, "Until tomorrow, my lady."

She nodded and watched as he turned and left. What have I gotten myself into?