A/N: Jeez, this chapter was a butt. It got easier as I progressed, and you can tell, lol. The beginning is kinda forced, but it gets smoother as you go along. Oh, well.

Chapter Seven
The Beginning
o0o

Corydon wore a deep crimson hue, the color of freshly spilt blood, to the second feast, and Andromache wore the same. The color was not exactly an attractive one on her: it clashed with her auburn curls and made her skin look too pale. But she wore it without complaint - the woman that Hector had not recognized was back, her perfectly bland mask securely in place. She had thought that the banquet would never end; she was so anxious for what would come afterward that she thought she would die from the waiting.

Eventually, however - and none too soon - attendees began to disperse from the banquet, and Andromache excused herself, claiming that she was tired, and fled to her rooms. Metis had her things prepared for her, and she changed quickly into her royal blue gown. It was made of a fine, very thin cotton, and was cut in a way that made it flare when she spun - the exact purpose of the oddly full skirt. Metis pulled back her hair and pinned it with a gold pin, helped Andromache to put on her gold jewelry, all of which jingled merrily when she moved, and soon the princess was rushing out the door, a dark, over-sized cloak covering her from head to toe.

Hector was waiting for her when she arrived, and she barely paused to grab his hand as she opened the door and slipped through. "I thought that the accursed feast would never end," she grumbled to him. "I manage to be late every year, and now I am even more so than normal."

"Where are we going?" Hector asked as she began leading him through a small side street.

"To my favorite tradition," she replied. They rushed through the twisting and turning lanes and pathways, hearing nothing but the sounds of their own footsteps.

"Where is everyone?" Hector asked her, and she threw him back a smile.

"Some are in their homes for the night. Others are where our destination is. Stop." Andromache threw herself into a sudden halt, turning and absorbing the slight impact when Hector ran into her very slightly, taken aback by her abrupt stop. She held up a hand for silence, a smile growing slowly on her face. "Do you hear it?" she asked after a moment.

"Yes," he answered. "What is it?"

"Music." Andromache grabbed his hand, and they rushed down the next few streets. The burst of noise and light was quite sudden, and when their eyes cleared, they found themselves at the very edge of the city along with a great number of people. The music was much livelier than it was at the palace festivals, and towards the center, around a great fire, dozens of people were twirling and clapping.

Andromache looked back at her companion. "Is it too overwhelming?" she asked.

He looked down at her, grinning, and said, "No. Surprising yes, but not overwhelming."

"Wonderful." She grabbed his hand again and started pulling him along behind her. "Come, there is someone you must meet."

Perhaps Hector was beginning to wonder at her sanity, and she wouldn't have blamed him. At that moment, Andromache would not have cared a bit. She raised her free hand in greeting and called, "Adrastos!"

Adrastos was a very large man, tall and broad, muscular from years as a soldier, then a farmer. Andromache supposed he was getting on in years, visible through his more-silver-than-black hair and beard, but his weather beaten face was kind and smiling, and his eyes always sparkled.

"Princess!" he cried in return, throwing his hands into the air and coming over to greet them. It took him possibly three steps, at most, to cover a distance of ten feet, and he immediately grabbed Andromache's face in both hands and kissed her forehead. "We feared you would not join us," he commented, removing her cloak and slinging it over his arm.

"I could never not come," she replied, pulling Hector forward. "I brought a guest."

Adrastos' dark brows rose. "A guest?"

"Yes." Hector's face was inscrutable, and so she assumed that he didn't quite know what to make of the situation. She gave him a reassuring smile. "He is Hector."

"I see." Adrastos surveyed them both for a moment, and Andromache tilted her head slightly in question. Her old friend ignored her, however, and said, "I shall attend to your friend, Andromache. My daughters are missing you."

Immediately she looked to Hector; she had brought him here, should she not stay with him? But he nodded to her. "Go on, I will remain with your Adrastos."

In truth, Andromache did not need much encouragement. She smiled at him and then rushed away, to be received enthusiastically by four young women all within four years of her own age.

o0o

In truth, Hector was slightly taken aback by everything. This portion of the celebration clearly had no ties to the upper levels of the social tier, and yet Andromache had shown more enthusiasm over this than anything. He resolved to ask her about it later.

"So you are the one who has stolen our princess away."

Hector looked -up, for the man was very tall - at Adrastos, who smiled slyly. "She typically comes to see us every few days, but has not been for quite a while. You have been detaining her?"

He didn't really know how much to say, and so his words were hesitant. "We have been meeting, yes-"

"You needn't worry, Prince of Troy. No one here will give your secret away, for that would be betraying our princess."
Hector looked at him in slight surprise, and Adrastos said, "Of course I know who you are. I may be a farmer, but I am not simple."

"Of course," Hector replied, nodding deeply. "I never intended to suggest any such thing."

Adrastos nodded, and they stood in silence for a moment. "She truly is adored by the people, isn't she?" Hector asked, watching the dancers as they whirled around the fire.

"If adoration fills it properly, yes." Adrastos looked at him, his face unreadable. "You have met her betrothed, the Prince of Mytilene?"

The change in topic surprised him, to say the least. "I have."

"Then you see why we have a great concern for Andromache's welfare."

The subject had become dangerous; he knew this as well as he knew that his brother had a premature obsession with women. In fact, everything was becoming more dangerous, for everyone involved. He saw the tension everywhere, from Andromache's oldest brother to the servants of the palace. Thebe's position was precarious, and it seemed that Lampsascus and Troy were no better off: after all, the only reason he had so much time to spend with Andromache was because his own betrothed was, more often than not, "detained." This was irksome to the Trojan council members that had accompanied Hector and his brother, and Hector knew that the conferences would begin soon.

Andromache trusted this man, however, and he was determined to do the same. After all, she was showing emotions now; he wasn't about to destroy that by slighting her trust for this man and these people. He hadn't realize just how fond of the princess he'd become until she began to act as a mere empty shell; the idea had shaken him more than he had been comfortable with.

"I see it," he answered.

"Prince Corydon is a horrible man. His heart is black, and his soul blacker. Andromache is pure."

"You needn't say such things to me," Hector pointed out.

Adrastos studied him for a moment, then said, "Come." He led Hector around a small group of people as he said, "You have heard that our princess is called the Jewel of Thebe. We started this, when she first began coming here. It is an unwritten tradition: each member of the royal family sneaks out of the palace on the second night of the festival and comes with us. Andromache is the only one to return five festivals consequentially, and we never tire of having her. That," Adrastos pointed, "is why we call her the Jewel of Thebe."

Hector looked to see Andromache mid-twirl, royal blue skirt swirling, her hair cascading down her back in auburn waves and smiling brightly. She had never looked happier, and thus, never more beautiful. He suddenly wished that Adrastos had not pointed this out to him.

"Now, Prince of Troy, you know our princess as well as any of us. You know that the Rat of Mytilene will destroy her. Will you now tell me that there is nothing you can do?"

"The very thought is treasonous," Hector said, watching the princess.

"So says your mind," Adrastos pointed out. "You must listen to more than reason, Prince Hector."

o0o

Andromache nearly fell over laughing, and she stumbled out of the other dancers' way. "I must see to my guest," she said to her friends, who rolled their eyes at her and laughed. She put her hands on her hips. "I apologize for being polite!" she teased.

"Oh, go on," one scolded, twitching her vibrant green skirt and waving Andromache on her way.
With a mock huff, she whirled around and headed over to where Hector stood with Adrastos. As she approached, Adrastos clapped her friend on the shoulder and left. Andromache smiled in greeting. "I trust you aren't terribly bored."

"Certainly not, no," Hector replied.

"I am very relieved." It was then that she noticed that he was slightly distracted, and she frowned. "Are you sure you are entertained?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered insistently.

Andromache eyed him speculatively. "Then is something wrong."

"No, nothing."

She simply looked up at him for a moment, feeling decidedly odd. "That isn't true," she stated flatly. "Hector, what is it?" He looked at her then, and she grabbed his wrist. "Please tell me."

It was quite sudden, really. Never in all her years would she have ever known what was about to happen. But very suddenly, Hector's hand was behind her neck, and he dragged her forward and pressed his lips over hers. Andromache didn't know what to think; in fact, the only things that crossed her mind was a very vague, "Oh," before she finally gained enough sense to respond. She had barely begun this process, however, when he suddenly pulled away, severing all contact with her.

"I apologize," he said. I-"

She didn't let him finish. Instead, she slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him back to her.

Andromache was unable to say that she had ever experienced this act before, though she had heard the testimony of those who had. In some cases it was wild and passionate, others light and airy. She herself had never really seen a difference - it all had seemed the same to her, and it hadn't seemed terribly special. And perhaps there wasn't a difference - this was, after all, the first time she had ever been truly kissed.

But one thing she knew: "not terribly special" was wrong. Very wrong.

Suddenly he pulled away with a strangled laugh and held her against him. "And I had begun to prepare myself for your wrathful incense," he commented, smoothing her hair, and Andromache chuckled slightly.

As they stood there, it crossed her mind that this would bring everything - everything - into a whole new territory. Nothing would ever be the same, ever. Not only this, but her marriage to Corydon would become all the more difficult; at this thought, she shamelessly buried her face in his chest, as if she could hide from her own thinking.

"We should return," Hector commented after some time, and she nodded and pulled away.

"Yes," Andromache said. "I promised my niece I would tell her goodnight."

One dark brow rose, and he said, "Your niece is still awake?"

"No. But I promised, all the same. And her mother is expecting me."

Andromache went over to Adrastos and retrieved her cloak from him, and he gave her a very large hug in farewell. Within moments, she grabbed Hector's hand and was leading them back to the palace.

What would this change, she wondered? Naturally, it brought their relationship to a new level, but she was trying to see past that to how it would affect other constants in her life. Her brothers would rejoice, she knew. Anything was better than Corydon: the elder Prince of Troy was very much like a dream come true for them. Her mother and father were another story.

Thebe itself, however, was another matter all its own. If she were to end the marriage agreement, Mytilene would attack for sure; thousands of Thebans would die needlessly.

Andromache viciously shoved the thought away. No one would ever know, she would have her time with Hector, and she would move on; it was a simple matter. As it was, even if she were to get it into her head to act on this little… romance?… she would stand no chance; it was a very well-known fact that Hector of Troy held his loyalty to his country in highest respect. To terminate a marriage agreement and possibly start a war, that was a direct violation of that loyalty.

No. Even if she wanted something tangible out of this, she would never get it.

But, of course, she did not want it. Thus, she had no reason to worry.

Still, she was not about to let any source of happiness slip away from her, not when she was so close to loosing nearly all happiness for the rest of her days. And this man, she had realized, made her happy. Therefore, Andromache resolved to enjoy her time she shared with Hector while she could, and she would do nothing to alter the course of her life. Thebe and her family was depending on her, and Hector himself had a country and family to care for. True, his position was not quite so precarious as her own, but it was still delicate.

Not only this, but the vague fear, the fearof what Mytilene would do to Hector, should they be discovered, that lurked in the back of her mind reinforced her resolve. She would not let him be injured, or worse, killed, because of her.

It was with these thoughts that she lead them back into the gardens and closed the entrance door behind her. She turned around, and Hector was facing her.

"Nothing need progress any further if you do not wish it," he told her quietly, brushing a curl behind her ear.

Andromache was touched by his gallantry, but not surprised in the least. She smiled and grabbed his hand. "No," she replied. "I wish to be happy for now, even if it is only a small amount of time."

Andromache saw the question in his eyes, and before he could speak, she kissed his cheek and said, "I am expected. Meet me here tomorrow evening?"

"Of course," he nodded, and she smiled at him once more before slipping past him and heading to the palace.

She did not want to think any further on what the two of them now had. To do so, she knew, would be disastrous for them both.

o0o

"Andromache, why can't I spend time with Mother?"

Andromache smoothed her niece's hair as the girl tossed a bread crumb into the water with such apathy that it bordered on out right dejection. "Your mother needs her rest, Nerissa. She is still recovering."

Callidora's daughter, who was eight summers old, and second oldest child was a pretty little thing, with straight brown hair that was smooth and soft, deep brown eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her nose. Nerissa leaned against her aunt and sighed.

"I don't want Mother to be ill anymore," she said mournfully. Andromache settled her arm around the girl's shoulders and held the small form to her.

"I know it's difficult. But she is gaining strength; she'll be better soon," Andromache assured her.

"She promised me she would," Nerissa added. They sat in silence for a moment, Nerissa leaning into her aunt comfortably as Andromache absently tossed. Then the girl twisted and looked up at her, and said, "Mother told me that if she was completely well within the week, she would tell everyone that she was unavailable for a day, and she and I would spend the day together. Will you come with us?"

Inwardly, Andromache froze, but outwardly, she forced a smile for her niece. "It will be several days before your father lets your mother out on such a venture. I will not be here, I can't go with you. Besides, I'm sure you do not wish me to intrude on your big day."

"Why won't you be here?" Nerissa asked with a scowl. "Why can't you come?"

"I'm getting married, Nerissa. Remember?"

"Yes, but won't he let you spend time with me? I'm important." Andromache saw the possibility for upset, and braced herself to deal with tears. "You said so. I'm important."

"And you are very important," Andromache assured her soothingly. "But the man I'm marrying wants to leave soon after the festival."

Nerissa scowled fiercely and said, "Why can he not just wait? Dumb men, always ruining everything."

"Don't say such things, Nerissa."

"Will you come visit us?" the girl asked, toying with the fine cotton of Andromache's clothing.

She sighed and reached out to toy with her niece's hair. "I will try my hardest."

"Promise you will visit at least once," Nerissa demanded.

Andromache's expression was slightly pained. "I cannot make that promise, Nerissa."

"Promise you will try?"

The princess bit her lip. She could try, but she would never succeed. She knew this. But Nerissa would not be swayed. "I will try."

Andromache looked up and saw Callidora standing a few yards away, and saw the opportunity for distract the girl from this subject. "Look," she said to the girl leaning against her and pointing to the girl's mother.

"Mother!" Nerissa shrieked, jumping up and sprinting over to Callidora. The older woman greeted her daughter warmly, nodded her thanks to Andromache, who returned the favor, and left, Nerissa in tow.

"You," a voice behind her said, "are horrible."

Andromache turned with a heavy sigh. "What was I to tell her, pray tell?" she asked stiltedly. "I could hardly tell her that I will hardly be let out of the palace, let alone be allowed to visit."

Erastus shook his head, looking at the ground, then came forward. "If you say one word, only one, I will have him on a platter for you."

Andromache sighed and walked a few feet away. "Erastus, you must cease such talk."

"You have always been the one to impress upon us all the importance of the truth."

She whirled around. "Not when the truth could get us all killed!"

"Andromache-"

"No, Erastus," she said fiercely, holding up a hand. "No more. There is nothing for it. I will marry Corydon, and I will go to Mytilene. There is nothing anyone can do."
Erastus sighed, looking at her almost mournfully. "If there is anything that can be done-"

She held up a hand. "I will tell you. Until then, say no more."

o0o

That evening of the festival was simple, a mere feast with added entertainment. Andromache had escaped early, claiming to feel ill. Her mother and Erastus saw straight through this, but did not argue, and Andromache found herself lying beside a small, ornamental waterfall, dipping her fingers into the water and letting it run smoothly over her long, slender limbs.

"Is it not a signal of your unhappiness, that you sneak away early from a festival you clearly adore nearly every night?"

Andromache shot him a look over her shoulder and sat up, and Hector came over to sit beside her, his back to the water. "I have already instructed my brother on saying such things," she said, giving him a bit of a glare. "To think that way will only bring about more problems. You know this, surely."
"I do," he admitted, studying her. "But I can't help but point this out. One fault of many, I suppose."

She ignored this last comment as frivolous and unworthy of remark. "What point is there in pointing out such truths when there is nothing to be done for them?" she asked. "We both know that my fate is sealed. I fail to see how pointing out my unhappiness constantly will bring about a resolution."

Hector looked away, and Andromache turned her attention back to the water, absently drawing nonsense designs on the surface. The silence was comfortable, and at one point Hector reached out and toyed with one of her curls. Then suddenly he pulled his hand away and eyed her almost cautiously.

"Perhaps…" He hesitated slightly, which was odd, and uncharacteristic. "Perhaps we should discuss this."

Andromache knew, without asking, what he was speaking of. She looked at the water for a moment, then stood and took a few steps away, wrapping her hands about her elbows.

"Andromache."

"I would rather not," she said, turning to face him. "I realize that we should, but…" She walked back over to him and sat down, reaching out to toy with the fabric draped across his shoulder. "You've given me the chance for happiness. For a few days, at least." She looked back up at him then, moving her eyes from his shoulder to meet his own. "I do not feel the need to questions what has been given to me."

He reached up and took hold of her hand, then brought it to his lips. "Very well," he murmured.

"Thank you," she whispered, and Hector shifted his grip on her hand to his other, then slid his now-free arm around her.
It was most inappropriate; her brothers would have killed men for less than this, had they attempted to be so familiar with her. But Andromache could not bring herself to care; indeed, she leaned into him and let her eyes slide closed. The steady sound and movement of his breathing and rhythm of his heartbeat lulled her into a relaxed state, and she felt as if she would never be able to move.

"Hove you ever wondered," she asked after several moments' silence, "why our traditions are what they are? I see why things such as expectations for chastity are in place, but I can't help but wonder why we do what we do."

"I rarely think of it, truthfully. I suppose it crosses my mind every so often, when confronted with a particularly tedious tradition."

"This is understandable," she murmured. "You do much more than I on a daily basis."

She was very near to sleeping, and Hector saw this. "You should go," he pointed out.

"And if I do not wish to?"

"Then you shall find yourself sleeping out here tonight. I should hope that you don't fall into the water."

Andromache finally opened her eyes and glared up into his amused face. "Please, threaten to let me die again," she muttered sarcastically. "It makes me feel so very dear."

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Good night, Andromache," he said. Then he stood and left, and not long after, she did the same.