A/N: Things kinda start to get a little more risky for our dear Andromache in this chapter. I hope you like it, it was a buttto write! Thank you all so much for your reviews! They really mean a lotto me, as sappy and sentimental as itsounds. Hugs to all!
Chapter Four
Misgivings andAssurances
o0o
It was quite late before the banquet was through, but Andromache found that she was not at all tired. If anything, she was energized. Through the whole of the festivities, her heart had been hammering and her chest tight, her breathing difficult. No one had known, of course. Her mother had suspected, but no one had known.
Unfortunately, she had made the mistake of going into the place where she felt the most peaceful: the gardens. She had forgotten that her former "Unknown," knew that she would attempt to find refuge there.
She was standing at the very edge of the orchard, still in her formal clothing, gazing into the darkness that surrounded the trees. She had never felt so incredibly simple-minded in her life: her dear Unknown had been the oldest prince of one of the strongest nations in the known world!
"I knew you would be here."
She turned at the familiar voice, but she did not smile at the sound of it, as she had grown accustomed to. "I do not wish to speak to you, your highness," she said coldly, turning back around and heading into the orchard, hoping he would leave her be.
Later she would realize that she should have known better.
"Andromache, please-"
She whirled around. By this time, they were far enough into the orchard for a faint light to be cast, but they were out of general sight: no one would know they were there unless that person was searching for them. "You never told me!" she snarled. "Nothing will ever be the same again!"
"Why can they not be the same?" Prince Hector demanded.
"Everything has changed, Prince Hector!" Andromache couldn't completely manage to hide the betrayal that settled itself, like a cloud, over her features. "This can no longer be blamed on the trivial idiosyncrasies of a Theban princess!"
"It ever could be?" She made to turn around and walk away, but he grabbed her arm, preventing her escape. "Andromache, listen to me."
Despite herself, she stopped struggling and looked up at him, angry betrayal blazing on her features. "Speak," she commanded. "I'll not have the patience to listen for long."
"I realize," he said, "that I should have told you. But what would I have said? And, not to shift the blame, but you said never said anything, either."
"You say that as if you never knew who I was," she said darkly.
"I had an idea," he admitted. "But I never knew."
She pulled her arm out of his grasp and walked a couple of steps away, putting her hands to her head. Then she whirled to face him. "Do you realize what has happened?"
"No, Andromache. I can find no change, other than that we now may call each other by name."
"The change, Prince," she raged, "is that we are each of us betrothed!"
Comprehension dawned on his face. "You're afraid that we'll be found out."
"This can't continue," she said, turning to walk back toward the palace.
Hector reached out to grab her arm again, stopping her. "Andromache-"
The look she gave him stopped his words, and he released her, stepping away. "This can't continue," she repeated, and with that she turned away and went directly to her chambers.
She didn't allow herself to cry until she was safely tucked under her blankets.
o0o
The next morning dawned bright and clear, and with it Andromache was given new decision. Her tears the night before, she resolved, had been wasted. She never really knew the man, after all, and it wasn't at all condoned, being alone with a man who was not a direct relative, her betrothed, or her husband. Particularly for such a length of time.
As it was, clearly his regard for her was not at all high, otherwise he would have told her who he was in the beginning. He had deliberately avoided her question as to whether he was with the envoy from Troy! Yes, she had made the right decision in resolving to stay away from him.
Within the next hour, she was on her betrothed's arm as they wandered through the gardens. Prince Paris was on Corydon's other side, and on his arm was Cloris. Cloris' betrothed was no where in sight, for which Andromache was thankful.
"They say that the harvest celebrations are near at hand, Andromache," Cloris commented as the strolled leisurely through the well-landscaped foliage. "Will they be soon enough for us all to be involved?"
"Within the month, I should say. The harvest is almost through, and then the farmers take three days to rest. Then the celebrations begin," she replied.
"I trust we will all still be here within the month?" Paris asked, his brows raised as he grinned at them all. Corydon's own smile was small and rather aloof.
"I do believe we will. I would like to see the quaintest of all Thebe's rituals."
Andromache smiled, but inwardly wanted nothing more than to shove him over into a conveniently placed pond; Thebe was her home, and its rituals were hardly quaint.
He is simply unfamiliar with our customs, she told herself. Give him time to adjust; he will learn to love them as you do.
Somehow, she couldn't convince herself.
o0o
"Would you be offended if I were to be bluntly honest, Princess?" Paris asked as they wandered the dusty streets of the market. Their afternoon with Cloris and Corydon had been called short due to negotiation meetings that Corydon had to attend. Paris had commented that his brother Hector would be there as well, but Andromache had struggled not to think of the older Prince of Troy.
Cloris had resigned her company in order to go lie down and rest, and so Andromache and Paris were left to themselves. They had resumed their tour of Thebe, and until that moment had been walking in congenial silence, with the occasional break in the quiet by Andromache as she explained or pointed something out.
"Since it is you, no," she replied, assuming that whatever he would say would not be too terribly disconcerting.
"It seemed to me," he hesitated a bit, then said, "that you knew my brother before I introduced you to him."
Andromache's stomach gave a nervous jerk, but outwardly she laughed. "How would you have gathered that idea, pray tell?"
"The look in your eyes when I brought him forward. You knew him, but you didn't know his name until I told you." It was a struggle not to betray her anxiety, but somehow she managed to control her fears as Paris asked, "Where have you met my brother, dear Andromache?"
"I could ask you the same question!" she countered with a laugh, as if she found the whole conversation amusing. "You saw it just as plainly as I; you introduced us, in fact. As it is," she said, sober now, "would it not be indecent for me to have met him before, when clearly no one introduced us?"
"I would never mention it, naturally," Paris said quietly. Andromache looked away with a sigh.
"You are one of the few who would, Prince." She looked down at the ground, then up at the people rushing through the market, shouting about wares, goods, and their prices and exchanging news between friends and family members. Suddenly, she longed to be just like them, with no political duties on their shoulders, merely the ordinary everyday duties that every human has. "I am very much afraid that even out meetings, chaperoned as they are, will cause a fuss. A small one, true, but a fuss all the same."
"You are completely under his thumb, aren't you?"
This caused her to look at him, surprised. "What?"
"Corydon," he explained.
Andromache's eyes fell to the ground and she swallowed. "Yes," she whispered. There was a heavy silence, and then she looked back up at Paris with a smile. "No need to worry, though. I will endure. This is, after all, to protect Thebe."
"It is?" The prince looked genuinely confused.
"Yes. Our military leaves much to be desired; after the time of Queen Ophelia, our army declined and our economy and stress on the arts increased. Mytilene is a strong nation."
"Troy will protect you," he said, grabbing her other hand and looking at her earnestly. It was then that she realized that she had become a strange sort of friend to the younger Prince of Troy; even more strange, she realized that he had become the same to her. "I've met Corydon, and I've seen him with you. He would destroy any woman. He will crush you, slowly."
"Don't worry yourself over me, Prince of Troy," she said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I am the youngest child of a small nation's king, and a woman. To worry over me is below you."
He looked angry, "If you truly believe-"
Andromache laughed. "I was teasing, Paris!" she cried, and he glowered at her. "Don't fret, please. I will endure."
He sighed and nodded, but the look on his face proved that he either couldn't or wouldn't believe her. This was really no surprise, as she was beginning to not believe herself. Then he forced a smile for her. "Let us return."
Andromache nodded, and they turned around and headed back toward the palace. It was a long, comfortably silent walk, and for the larger part of it Andromache thought of her mother's, and now Paris', words. Both of them suggested that Corydon would destroy her - this was not a comforting thought. The idea that her history with Prince Hector of Troy, however short it may have been, would get out was just as unsettling a thought as the previous.
I must be very, very careful, she thought as they mounted the steps. She looked up and saw Cloris and Corydon, accompanied by Andromache's father and favorite brother, Erastus, and she struggled to keep back the sigh of frustration. She only wanted to be alone!
I must be cautious.
o0o
"I hate him, Andromache! I hate him!"
"Erastus, please!"
"The way he treated you this evening-"
"There is nothing for it!" she cried, flinging herself at her brother and latching onto his arm. "You can't say that you didn't expect it. I myself expected worse!"
This did not, at all, placate her brother. "Worse?" he roared, pulling out of her grasp and resuming his pacing. "If he was any worse, Andromache, he would have struck you!"
"Erastus, you aren't thinking! We need this alliance, you know this! Marriage is the only way!"
"Why him? There are other princes! I would be willing to settle for the younger prince of Troy before that Mytilene rat!"
Andromache clenched her fists, her eyes darkening. She could tolerate that her brother was upset. But when he started this tirade, one she had heard time and time again, about the other princes of the world and how they all would make better husbands for her, it only reminded her of just how horribly things could become, and most likely would be come. She thought of it often enough on her own, and did not appreciate her brother reminding her of it, even if it was unintentional.
"Enough!" she snapped. "Whether either of us want it to occur or not, I am betrothed the Corydon of Mytilene! Did Alexander and Demos not tell you of what might happen? Were you misinformed at the council's gatherings? This marriage will prevent a war that we cannot win! You may hate him all you wish, but you may not make things worse for us all by marching on to these tirades! You can either help me through this, or you can wash your hands of it, I haven't a care, but stop making this situation worse!"
With that, she turned and marched out of her brother's chambers. As she left, she came across his wife, Megara, who was bearing young Andreas. "Perhaps you have the ability to reason with your husband," she said abruptly, though her tone was not nearly so sharp as it had been with Erastus.
Megara sighed. "I will speak with him, Andromache. He will be repentant within two hours."
"I will not be, however. Do not send him to speak to me tonight, I may end up doing something we would all regret."
The older woman smiled and kissed Andromache's cheek. "I will keep this in mind. Go calm yourself, dear. Leave your brother to me."
Andromache nodded and began to head for her chambers. But not far from where her brother and his family slept, she stopped, leaned against the cold stone wall, and began to silently weep. She wept for everything, including her brothers, who all hated this union and could do nothing for it; for the people of Thebe, who would pay the ultimate price if she did not follow through; and out of fear of her future husband and what he could, and would, do to her.
After a few moments, she had calmed herself sufficiently, and went to seek the comfort of the gardens. She wandered them listlessly, thinking of her situation.
Erastus' marriage was a happy one, a truly unique union that had begun in arrangement and anger and had somehow, somewhere along the way, turned to the fiercest love she had ever seen. Megara was as much a part of Erastus as Erastus was to her; each life seemed to revolve around the other. They each performed their own duties, of course, and they both were marvelous at the intense yet subtle political battles that took place nearly every day of a royal's life; but their love was the strongest she had ever seen.
It was something she had always secretly longed for, but also something she could never have. Her fate was sealed the day Mytilene offered peace and protection in exchange for the sole Theban princess, and she knew that she would not change it: she would do anything to protect her family and her country. As much as she loathed it, even as she mourned the loss of her secret dream, she had resigned herself to her fate.
As soon as she stepped foot in the clearing, she knew that she wasn't alone: there, on the bench, sat Prince Hector of Troy. She stopped and looked at him, and he simply stared right back at her. After a moment, he gave her a weak smile. She looked away.
How long they stood there, she couldn't tell. But eventually he stood and slowly walked towards her. "Would you walk with me?"
Andromache looked at him, knowing full well what her answer should have been: an emphatic 'no.' Even standing there, at opposite ends of a clearing, was dangerous, particularly when her betrothed was in the palace not a hundred yards away.
She closed her eyes and nodded. When she reopened them, he was closer, and he was smiling again. It was stronger this time. He offered his arm, which she took, and the proceeded further into the gardens, where they would be farther from view.
After several moments, he stopped and turned toward her. "All right," he said. "What is it?"
She blinked up at him. "What?"
"Something is bothering you again," he said. "Perhaps it is me, and who I turned out to be, and if it is, I apologize."
"It isn't."
"Then what?"
She looked down at her hands, which were wringing about themselves. "I spoke with your brother today."
"Yes, I know," Hector said rather slowly, as if he was unsure as to how it pertained to his query.
"He seems to agree with my mother, and my brothers. And my father, to some extent." Prince Hector simply looked at her, his question evident in his gaze. "My betrothed," he explained.
Comprehension dawned on his face, as well as caution. "I see."
"Have you met Prince Corydon?"
"I have," he replied. "You were present on one occasion."
"And what is your assessment?"
The elder Prince of Troy looked suddenly quite guarded. "I have no place to say a word-"
"No, truly," Andromache insisted. "What do you think of him?"
"I don't know him well enough to pass any form of judgment," he said, almost cautiously.
Andromache looked at the ground as she folded her arms about herself tightly. "You needn't worry about offending me," she said quietly. "My brothers feel no qualms in informing me of exactly what they think of my betrothed. The concern of one is the concern of all who have spoken to me."
It seemed as if he did not want to ask. Andromache could sense his misgivings, but there was also sympathy there. Not pity, but sympathy, for which she was grateful, but she couldn't help being a bit confused by it. After a moment of nothing but the night-sounds of insects, he asked cautiously, "What is the general concern, Princess?"
Her eyes slid closed as the now-familiar sense of fear washed over her. She began to shake slightly, and not at all from the chill that had begun to permeate the night air. Andromache took a couple of steps away and said in a near-broken voice, "That he will crush me."
Prince Hector, apparently, had no response to that. He did not move nor speak, and Andromache wrapped her arms about herself tighter. "I have done my best," she said in a slightly stronger voice, "to portray nothing but assurance, but I fear that my confidence is beginning to waver. I have always forced myself to hide fear - with seven brothers, it is wise to conceal the fact that you are afraid. But I do not believe that I will be able to hide it much longer." She turned back to him and met his eyes. In his eyes were a mixture of emotions, ranging from sympathy to sadness. In fact, if anything, he looked tormented. But it made no sense to her emotionally over-exerted mind - indeed, it probably would have mystified her even if she had been thinking clearly. "I am terrified of the Prince of Mytilene."
Prince Hector walked forward then and placed both of his large, calloused hands on her shoulders. "Your fear," he said firmly, meeting her eyes intensely, "is a valid one. I cannot claim to understand what you are facing now, but I can say that your concern is not misplaced. I, however, see something that you are doubtless to overlook. It is in your nature to overlook it." His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly as he leaned a bit closer. "You," Hector said, quietly fierce, "are far too strong to be overpowered by one man, particularly one so weak as Corydon of Mytilene. I know of his reputation, and I have met him, and I have seen him held prisoner by intoxication, and I still believe that you are much stronger than he could ever hope to be. It will be difficult, and believe me when I say that I would spare you of it if I had the power to. However, I am confident that you will endure, simply because, when compared to your strength, he is nothing, Andromache."
The silence was a profound one. Then he straightened and took a step back. Slowly, Andromache began to smile at him. "That," she said, "is probably the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me in my life. I do hope you meant it."
He laughed. "Every word, I swear!" He offered his arm again, and they resumed their walk. This time, the mood was much lighter. "Now, Princess," Hector said, his voice teasingly sly, "you must tell me of everything that my brother has told you of me. We must separate fact from fiction. I will tell you now, the story about me dropping him from the highest balcony is only partially true. It was the battlements, and it was completely an accident."
Andromache laughed and replied, "Perhaps the fall addled his memory, because he has mentioned nothing."
"Of course!" he cried. "The one time I expect him to have said something, he has said nothing, and I condemn myself."
Their evening continued for much later than was intended. When Hector finally escorted her back to her chambers, she was exhausted - the time between lying down on the bed and falling asleep was a very short one.
She would not realize until later that that was the night she began to fall in love with the Prince of Troy.