A/N: Wow, these chapters are coming out fast! This makes me very happy. I'm sure it makes everyone else happy, too, for that matter…

Anywho, please remember to tell me what you think!

Chapter Three
True Identities

o0o

"Andromache!"

With a moan of displeasure, the princess in question rolled over in her bed, hauling her blankets up over her head in order to stifle the incessant pounding on her door. "Go away," she muttered into her pillow.

"Andromache, I need your help!"

With an irritated noise, she flung the blankets off in time to see Metis walking out of her chambers sleepily. From the darkness of her room, Andromache knew that the sun had hardly begun to rise. This only served to annoy her further. "Back to bed, Metis," she said, her voice pitched low as she glared at the door. "I will take care of this."

Metis nodded and wandered back into her chambers as Andromache stumbled out of bed and went over to the door. She jerked it open and glared out at her brother. "If the sun is not awake, I am not awake, Demos."

"Yes, but my son is very much awake."

She sighed. "Haven't you learned to control your son yet?"

"How is it my fault that he only listens to you?" her second oldest brother demanded.

Andromache sighed, raising her eyes towards the heavens and begging for patience.

"I personally will see to it that, should you wish to sleep all day, no one will stop you. Not even Father."

It struck her that this could come in quite useful, and so she eyes him suspiciously. "No one will stop me? No one at all?"

"No one. You may sleep for seven days if you wish."

"Done," she said firmly before her brother could take back his words. "Where is Alcander?"

"In his nursery."

Andromache heaved a sigh and led the way down the corridor at a brisk pace. The nursery wasn't far, thus it wasn't long before she heard the four-year-old boy's screams. She raised her eyebrows and looked back at her brother. "What did you do to him?" she asked.

Demos raised his hands. "I did nothing!"

"That, my dear brother, is doubtful." She fixed him with a firm look. "You should take more time to spend with your child. Then you would not be summoning me."

"Andromache, my wife is sick and I am bewildered. Please save your lectures for later."

"I will save my lectures, but you will hear them, I promise you."

"Oh, joyous occasion," he said sarcastically.

Andromache couldn't find it in her heart to blame him: her lectures were infamous, even to the point of earning the nickname 'Mother,' from her brothers. They didn't mind the lectures so much, which they reminded her of every time she grew irritated by the nickname they had given her.

The princess gave her brother a firm look before pushing open the door to the nursery. The wailing suddenly increased in volume dramatically, and Andromache jammed her hands onto her hips, glaring at the source of the crying. "Alcander!" she snapped, albeit rather gently. "That is enough!"

The boy paused in order to see if it truly was his aunt who had entered the room. Upon seeing that it was, he jabbed his lip out and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her. Andromache, however, did not fall before him and beg him not to cry any more, as his poor mother had. Andromache stood in his doorway, tall and imposing, like Athena, the goddess of war and wisdom, personified. Suddenly, Alcander wished that he hadn't made such a fuss.

"How many times, Alcander," Andromache scolded, "have I told you to listen to your parents? The fact that your father had to ask me for help is appalling. You have embarrassed me, Alcander." The boy lowered his head and glowered at the floor, but at least he began to look ashamed. "Your father is a very busy man, and needs his sleep. You have prevented that. Worse, your mother is ill, and needs all the rest she can. How long did she stay in here, begging you to behave? Your mother should not have to beg you to behave, Alcander, especially when she is sick. You have behaved very, very badly."

Alcander sniffled, but he wasn't glowering anymore.

"Have you anything to say in defense of your actions?"

Now the boy was outright repentant, and Andromache marked it as progress. He shook his head.

"No defense? No excuses?"

"No," he said sulkily.

"Then should you not give your apologies?"

"I'm sorry, Amdroche," he muttered.

"I accept your apology, but I am not the one who should be receiving it." Andromache looked back at her brother and motioned him to come forward. Hesitantly, he did as his sister requested as Alcander slid off the bed he had been sitting on and came forward to speak to his father.

"I'm sorry for yelling," the boy said. "I only wanted you to stay."

Andromache looked at her brother in alarm, who was crouched on the floor to be at the same level as his son. Demos had a grim look on his face as he cradled Alcander to him and said up to his sister, "Father believes that Mytilene is backing out of out of the peace agreement. He has asked that Alexander and I go see if the reports are true."

"Mytilene?" she asked, her stomach jerked uncomfortably. "But they can't- The marriage-"

"They can, Andromache," he said quietly. "And they will, if they find cause."

"Will they back out of the marriage agreement?" For all her loathing of the betrothal, Andromache knew that the engagement was the only thing that would possibly keep Mytilene from attacking Thebe. She also knew that in a war against Mytilene, Thebe would more than likely not survive on her own.

"You know as well as I, sister," he said, reaching for her hand. She slipped her suddenly cold fingers into his.

"What cause could they find to attack us? Demos…" She flailed her free hand, as if the motion would fill in the words that she couldn't seem to find. "There has to be something that we can do to prevent an attack."

Demos hoisted his son onto his hip and stood. He placed a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder. "At this very moment, there is very little we can so, simply because we have no way of knowing if the danger is real. But until we're positive…" He looked hesitant to continue, but at her insistent look, he said, "You are the only one who can protect us, Andromache."

She blanched. "What?"

"The entire world, particularly Mytilene, will be watching you. One misstep, and Mytilene-"

"Will declare war," she finished faintly. Her brother winced.

"I don't want to burden you, Andromache-"

Andromache looked up at him, her expression suddenly firm and assured. "It's for the best," she said confidently. "This way I may ensure that I do nothing that will bring harm to Thebe."

This did not alleviate her brother's distress, as she had intended it to. If anything, it intensified it. "Andromache, you should not have to worry yourself over the folly of men-"

She smiled at him and patted his cheek. "What do you think the role of a woman is, Demos? I can cope with this, brother. Don't worry yourself over me." She rose up on her toes and kissed her brother's cheek, then ruffled her nephew's hair. "I hope you remember to apologize to your mother, as well, Alcander. She is ill."

"I will," the boy promised, and she smiled and kissed his cheek before leaving the room, returning to her own.

When she was safely barred behind her doors, she sat down on the bench before the vanity and lowered her face into violently shaking hands. Why would Mytilene declare war on Thebe? What could possibly cause a nation with such military strength to declare war on a militarily weak nation such as Thebe? Andromache's home was no threat to anyone; Thebe was a trading country, whose strength was its economy. What purpose could Thebe possibly serve?

Then she realized it: gold. With such a powerful economy, Thebe was a wealthy, if not militant, nation. But then, why would Mytilene threaten war when one of its princes was about to marry the only princess of Thebe? None of it made any sense, none at all.

Andromache straightened, forcing herself to see reason. There was no immediate threat, only suspicions. And if she accused Mytilene of such things without affirmable cause, then she would truly give Mytilene to attack her home. So she pushed the thought away with the resolution that she would maintain her best behavior, taking care to offend no one from another nation, from Cloris of Lampsascus to the Trojan princes to Corydon of Mytilene.

It was with that thought in mind that she began readying herself for another day. Of course, she couldn't completely banish the fear, and so she tucked it away, stubbornly refusing to see just how great the danger to Thebe could become.

o0o

That afternoon, Demos' wife's condition took a turn for the worse. Because her husband was forced to attend a lengthy council meeting on the new turns the negotiations with Mytilene had developed, Andromache spent the entire afternoon by Callidora's side, speaking to her sister-in-law of everything and nothing.

It was a painful thing. The woman had always been as thin and frail as Andromache herself, though it was easier for the slightly older woman to bear children than it would be for Andromache. Now, however, she was ravaged by illness, and it showed. Her eyes were near to lifeless, and her general appearance was cadaverous. Callidora had become a very dear friend over her years in Thebe, and now it appeared that she was being taken away all too soon.

By sunset, Demos had returned, and Andromache left in order to give them privacy. She knew it was difficult for her brother to see his wife so weak, and she wanted to give them all the time they could have together.

In truth, she had very much forgotten about her arrangement to meet her Unknown, as she had come to call him. It was by a mere stroke of luck, or perhaps fate, that led her to the pond not long after the sun had gone to bed. As it was, she was taken by complete surprise when a now-familiar voice said, "We meet again. At least this time it was arranged."

Andromache's head flew up and found her Unknown, seated leisurely on a bench near the pond, watching her idly. "Indeed," she said after an instant's hesitation.

His brows knitted together and he stood, walking over to stand directly before her. He watched her face for a moment, a concerned frown on his face. "Something is bothering you."

Why am I so transparent? her mind wailed, but her face was calm. "No," she said. "I'm perfectly all right." Andromache flashed him a smile and began to wander away from the open area the pond was in, more toward the trees that were closer to the back of the garden.

"You're bluffing," he said as he followed her. She stopped and turned, leaning against a tree as he made his way towards her at a leisurely pace. "I may not know you well, but I know that much."

Andromache looked away. "Am I really so obvious?"

"Only to me, I assure you."

The smile she gave him was a wry one. "A rather ironic statement, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed." He stepped forward again until he was hardly a foot from her. "Now, tell me. What is it that's troubling you?"

She looked away again and folded her arms about herself tightly, as if to shield herself from the distress that the thoughts brought. "Have you ever watched someone dear to you waste away into nothing before your very eyes?"

For a moment, all that was heard was the slight breeze as it whispered through the trees. Then he said, "No, I haven't."

"I pray that you never will. My brother's wife is ill. Desperately so. The general fear is that she will not recover." Andromache blinked as her eyes began to burn and blur. "She is a very dear friend of mine, yes, but she also has three children, the youngest a little girl no older than three summers." She stopped in order to regain control over her voice, which had begun to waver.

"A horrible thing," he murmured. After another moment's silence, he asked, "Would you show me something else?"

Andromache nodded, hoping for a distraction. "Yes. What would you like to see?"

"The temple district, if you don't mind."

An odd request, to be sure, but Andromache wasn't about to refuse. She nodded and said, "Come with me. I suggest we go through this side exit once more."

"You lead, I will follow."

This was one of the oddest things he had said to her yet, and she turned to stare at him. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

Andromache shook her head. "Nothing." She grabbed his hand and towed him along behind her. Within moments, they were in the temple district - the district was right before the palace. Her Unknown reclaimed his hand when she slowed to a stop and began moving towards a particular temple.

"This is the temple of Apollo?" he asked her.

She nodded. "It is."

Now it was he who grabbed her hand. "Come with me," he said gently, propelling her up the steps and into the temple. "We are going to pray for your brother's wife."

o0o

For the next four days, Andromache met her Unknown in the garden after sunset. Twice they went to Apollo's temple to pray for Callidora's health after that first time. When they weren't praying, they spoke of everything - at least, everything that gave away nothing referring to identity: anonymity seemed to be the unspoken rule of their meetings. Oddly, Andromache didn't mind in the least.

One night, she took Andreas, already sleeping soundly, with her, simply to spend time with her nephew, even if he wasn't awake. Another night, her Unknown had introduced her to his horse, which he had found quite humorous.

"He is gigantic," she had said flatly, eyeing the animal with apprehension.

Her Unknown's struggle to withhold his amusement was clear. "He's actually rather small for a horse," he informed her.

Andromache's stare had been incredulous. "They get bigger?" she cried, and he laughed outright.

"Yes, they get bigger." He held out a hand to her. "Come here."

The look she gave him suggested that she thought he had lost his sanity.

"You have nothing to fear," he insisted. "Come here."

Hesitantly, Andromache slipped her hand into his, and he gently pulled her forward. He stepped behind her, placing Andromache between himself and the horse. "It's all right," he said comfortingly. "He may seem quite large, but Eros is really quite docile."

She couldn't help the amused smile that caused her lips to curve upward. "Eros?" she enquired, twisting and looking over her shoulder to look at him.

His own smile portrayed not a bit of embarrassment. "My mother named him."

"I see." Andromache turned back to the large, chestnut-hued animal before her. "I have grown up around men all my life, but I have rarely stepped foot in the stables," she commented after a moment.

"How is that possible?" he murmured, reaching around her and stroking the beast's neck. It occurred to her that this horse was very dear to her Unknown, possibly as dear to her as her nephew was.

"My brothers were very protective when I was younger. They have improved, to give them credit, but for many years I did nothing that my endanger myself in any way."

"I see. I suppose I cannot blame them, though I also cannot help but feel that you were mistreated as a child."

She laughed, and she felt him smile in return. Then, suddenly, his hand was on hers. "Here, my lady. Let me assist you."

He placed her hand on the horse's neck and guided her in petting Eros. This continued for several moments, during which it was oddly difficult for Andromache to breathe. Then he pulled away, stepping to the side and placing his shoulder under the horse's chin. "There," he said with a smile. "Is that so terrible?"

"Don't poke fun at me," she warned. "This is the first time I've been this close to a horse since I was my nephew's age."

He smiled and shook his head. "Mistreated girl," he muttered, and she laughed.

Not long after that, he had suggested that he escort her back to her chambers, which she agreed to. That night, she had decided that those meetings with her Unknown were her time of peace in her days. True, her days were not exactly difficult, but they were chaotic at times; her time with her Unknown came with the promise of peace and enjoyment.

She never expected those days to end so disappointingly quickly.

o0o

The day Corydon of Mytilene arrived, her brother Demos had already left along with their oldest brother, Alexander, and Andromache was spending time with Cloris. "I do believe, my friend, that these fish are quite tired of bread," the princess of Thebe commented. It was only an hour or so after noon, and the two young women were sitting by the pond, tossing breadcrumbs.

"I agree," Cloris said, tilting her head and peering at the bread in the water. "The last eight pieces I've thrown are still there."

Andromache tilted her head as well, surveying the water. "I believe seven of mine are there." She paused, and then corrected, "No. I have eight as well."

"Princess Andromache!"

They both turned to find Metis, looking quite flustered, rush up to them, bow quickly, then say breathlessly, "Prince Corydon is here! You must change, Princess-"

Andromache sent Cloris a serene smile. "I apologize, but it seems that my betrothed has arrived. I must go greet him."

Cloris nodded. "Of course."

Andromache stood and walked back to the palace. Once she was out of sight, however, she broke into a run. Metis was only a step behind. "I have already laid out the pale green silk," her handmaiden said as they rushed into Andromache's chambers. "Go wash your face while I find all the necessary pins."

Rather than being irritated at being ordered by a slave, Andromache fell into the usual rhythm that the two of them adopted when the princess had to be ready very quickly for a state affair. Within moments, Andromache was washed and changed, and Metis was placing the veil over her head and pinning it in place discreetly.

Within another five minutes, Andromache was at her father's side, and the Prince of Mytilene was mounting the steps to the palace. He was of an average stature, with mouse brown hair and mud-brown eyes. Not exactly attractive, to be sure, but passable, as far as vanity went. But the haughty look in his eyes did not escape the Theban princess, and she felt her stomach jerk anxiously.

"Prince Corydon," Eetion greeted, clasping the much younger man's forearm in greeting. "We are honored to have your presence."

"And I am honored to give it, I assure you."

"Please, Prince, may I introduce to you my wife, Anatola?"

Andromache's mother stepped forward regally and inclined her head, appearing as an empress even in subordination. Prince Corydon simply nodded in return, then looked to Andromache, who felt a stab of annoyance on behalf of her mother.

"This, Prince, is my daughter, Andromache."

"My betrothed?" Corydon asked, not taking his eyes from Andromache, who met his gaze levelly.

"Yes."

The prince raised another step in order to be level with Andromache and surveyed her blatantly, assessing her. "Impressive, Eetion," he said finally, turning to the King of Thebe with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Very impressive."

"I'm glad you think so," Eetion replied, casting a quick glance at Andromache, who shook her head slightly. She had expected such treatment from the Prince of Mytilene. "Come," Eetion said, gesturing to the palace. "Let us go indoors. The sun is hot, and I am not as young as I once was. Anatola, Andromache, you may leave us."

Both women nodded their heads respectfully and made their way to a side entrance. Once out of sight, Anatola took her daughter's hand. "I am sorry, Andromache," she whispered. "I did not want you to marry him. Neither did your father. We had no choice-"

"I know, Mother." She smiled, forcing a brave front for her mother's sake and gripping Anatola's hand in both of her own. "Don't fret. I will endure, I promise you."

The older woman's eyes were over bright as she sighed and cupped her daughter's cheek in one hand. "Oh, my poor daughter," she breathed. "No. You won't."

o0o

The next several hours was spent, by turns, with her family, Cloris, and Corydon. She was never with Corydon alone, for which she was thankful - she feared that she wouldn't be able to make even a passable conversation with only herself and her betrothed. Eventually, however (though not soon enough by her standards), it was time to prepare for the welcoming banquet. All of the guests would be attending, and it would be the largest banquet yet, celebrating all of the visiting royalty.

Andromache wore an under gown of deep blue, and an over gown of deep violet, with gold jewelry and a gold accented, deep blue veil. Corydon, however, wore a vibrant red shade that made one automatically think of fresh blood. The festivities were already in progress by the time they entered the hall.

They were received by great applause, and Andromache responded by instinct, smiling and nodding to the people who waved and applauded and cheered. Corydon, however, was haughty, acting as if the applause they received was nothing more than expected. This dampened her mood significantly, but she refused to display it.

"Princess Andromache, Prince Corydon," a voice said in greeting, and they turned to see Prince Paris of Troy beaming at them.

"Good evening, Prince Paris," Andromache said congenially, truly happy to see someone she knew she could speak with.

"Good evening to the both of you. Princess, I have finally managed to find the brother you have yet to meet."

"I would love to finally do so," she replied.

"Wonderful! Princess Andromache, this is my brother, the renowned Prince Hector." Paris reached back and dragged someone forward. "Prince Hector, this is the Jewel of Thebe herself, Princess Andromache."

The smile fell from her face as her heart thudded to a stop:

She was looking into the face of her Unknown.