A/N: This one doesn't have much Hector/Andromache in it, either, and it's really fairly short, but it's necessary. Highly necessary, even. It's a dramatic one! Don't worry, I'm fairly certain the next chapter will have a certain degree of fluffiness, so I'll try to make up for it.

Love and hugs to all of you; I don't know where I'd be without you!

Chapter Nine
Cataclysm

o0o

Andromache did not see Hector that night, with the thought that it might help her vision to clear: everything had become so complicated, and she only wanted to be able to see what to do. When the next morning dawned, however, little had altered: she was thoroughly upset with the way things were beginning to change and more confused than ever.

She sighed , watching the sun rise from her balcony. It was the fifth day of the festival, and that evening would be the Feast of the Children. Her niece had already demanded that Andromache attend. It was an unusual thing for an adult to attend the evening of the festival specifically for the children, but there were no laws against it, and Andromache intended to spend as much time with her nieces and nephews as possible.

"Princess, you did not sleep well. Should you even be awake at this hour?"

Andromache turned and gave Metis a smile, even if it was small. "Don't fret, Metis. My sleeping habits have become so unusual lately, it is no longer a concern."

"It should be," the slave girl pointed out.

"I am not concerned. Sleep is something I can catch up on at a later date."

There was a heavy thud from the direction of the door, and Metis went to go open it. A moment later, she returned. "Princess, the Prince Paris of Troy is here to see you."

Andromache smiled and went to greet him. "You do realize that it is typically inappropriate to enter a woman's rooms?" she asked teasingly as she moved to kiss each of his cheeks.

"Tell me, Princess, when has propriety ever been a factor in our meetings?" he asked, jerking his eyebrows suggestively, and she shoved at his shoulder.

"You shouldn't say such things, you will give our secret away!" she scolded. She went over to where to cups of wine sat, having been just poured by Metis. Andromache picked them both up and took one to Paris, then gestured for him to join her on the balcony. "What brings you to my rooms this fine morning, Paris?" she asked.

Suddenly his face was unusually grave, and Andromache steeled herself. "Hector," Paris said grimly.

She flattened her hand against the stone railing of the balcony, struggling to maintain a calm outer aura. "What of him, then?"

"I fear for him, Andromache," he said, leaning heavily against the banister. "I know that I am regarded as a womanizing fool, and perhaps those who hold me in such regard are right. I certainly would not deny the fact. But I love my brother. He is the greatest man I know, and my dearest friend." Paris looked to her then, and Andromache struggled with her emotions. This conversation was dangerous. "His resolve to marry that Princess of Lampsacus is weakening."

What? she wanted to cry. What on earth could cause Hector's unwavering loyalty to his country to falter? Did she want to know what had caused him to question his duty? Fearing the worst, she asked, "Has he told you this?"

"I know my brother, Andromache," he said, frustrated. "He is wavering. And I-" He gave a short, completely humorless, laugh. "I do believe that I support him wholeheartedly."

By now, Andromache was shaking slightly. This entire conversation was throwing her state of equilibrium into chaos, and she did not appreciate it. She forced a smile. "Do you even know why he is wavering?" she inquired, attempting to be reassuring.

"Does it matter?" he demanded, leaving the rail to pace. Andromache turned to watch him, leaning against the banister. "The Princess of Lampsascus is dull and lifeless. She would never make Hector happy."

"You don't know that," she pointed out. "And I hardly would call Cloris dull and lifeless-"

"No," Paris said with a sigh. "But compared to other women, she is… lesser." He gave her a pointed look, which she deliberately ignored.

"Perhaps she is not the brightest," Andromache said fairly. "But she has a kind heart and a good disposition. She would make a good wife for anyone, I'm sure your brother will be happy."

"You don't know my brother, Andromache," Paris said, resuming his pacing. "He would never be happy with a good disposition, though it would certainly make things easier. He would be much happier with someone with whom he could speak, hold conversations. He was never very good at charming women, that has always been my domain. He responds to words of intellect, not frivolity. Kindliness is not enough; intelligence is required."

The conversation was making her feel thoroughly miserable, though she could not exactly find why. "I am sure that everything will work out in the end," she assured Paris. Then she tilted her head slightly and asked, "Why do you believe that Hector's determination is wavering?"

Paris stopped and looked at her. She returned his gaze questioningly, and after a moment he shook his head with a smile. "Pay no mind to me, Princess. The simple ramblings of a wayward prince far from his home, nothing more."

Liar, she thought, but did not voice it. Rather, she smiled in return and said, "If you wish it. Though surely Thebe is not so deplorable when compared with Troy?"

"Of course not. Thebe is splendid, I assure you. I simply miss my home."

"And for good reason, I'm sure. I do not look forward to leaving my home, only to never return," she replied, keeping her voice light despite the heaviness of her words.

"Yes, I have never envied the role of a woman," Paris agreed. "You must endure so much, only to endure more."

Andromache patted his cheek, resolving to put an end to their current conversation. "Yes, well, it is something that is best assigned to women. No man, I am sure, could endure what women go through."

"Naturally." He kissed her hand. "I shall take my leave now. Pleasant day, Andromache."

"The same to you," she said as he left. She stood silently for several moments after he was gone, considering what was said. What on earth would drive Paris to speak to her, of all people, of his brother's hesitance? More importantly, what would cause that hesitance? She bit her lip; did she want to know? "Metis," she called, returning back into her room.

"Yes?"

"I am going to see my father. Should any call on me, tell them I will return their call as soon as I may," she said, pulling a shawl around her shoulders and adjusting her veil.

"Of course."

Andromache slipped from her chambers and walked silently down the still corridors until she came to her parents' chambers. She lifted the large knocker and let it thud onto the door, then waited patiently as a servant opened the door.

Her father saw her immediately. He gestured her inside, holding out his hands and saying, "Andromache, love. What brings you here at such an hour?"

"I had to speak with you," she replied, slipping her fingers into his.

"Come, my dear." Eetion led his daughter out onto the pavilion he shared with his wife. Anatola was already up and out seeing her grandchildren, and so it was only the king and his daughter. "Tell me. What is it you would like to speak of?"

Andromache drew a deep breath, then said, "My upcoming marriage to the Prince of Mytilene, and the… repercussions that might result from it."

Eetion's face became very grave. "Speak, child. I will answer all that I can."

"Do the Mytilian ambassadors know of my inability to bear children?" she asked directly. Her countenance was brave and solid. Firm, competent. Inwardly, however, she was terrified, but knew that the time for fear was past. She had to be brave. Corydon had revealed something by his words that denied his willingness to marry her. Should she stand quiet but firm, she may very well survive the storm that her life would become. Perhaps Corydon's persistent hostility toward her was caused by his dislike of the arrangement. The only thing that stood in her way now was her childbearing matter.

"No, they do not."

"So Prince Corydon's words were uttered in ignorance," she said, relaxing slightly. "Will they be informed?"

"I am going to speak with them today, and I shall do it personally."

Andromache nodded firmly, her inner terror beginning to dissipate. There was silence for a moment, then she said, "Father, I want to say it."

Eetion looked to her sharply. "Please say that again, dearest, I do not believe I heard you correctly."

"I cannot hide behind you and Mother forever, Father," she said. "I wish to say it, and to argue for Thebe's safety should they prove recalcitrant."

"Andromache-"

"Please, Father," she said, laying a hand on his arm. "If I am to be these men's princess, I want their regard."

He looked hesitant, but Andromache's gaze did not waver. Eventually, her father looked away. "Very well. We are meeting in an hour."

o0o

She wore a pale green silk and gold jewelry, sitting proudly on her father's right. Alexander sat on their father's left, not bothering to hide his anxiety. There were men from every assembly present: all of her brothers, her father's council, the ambassadors from Mytilene, the ambassadors from Lampsacus, and from Troy. Men from Thebe who had rarely attended such meetings, when they were made public, were present; the word that Princess Andromache would be speaking had spread like fire during a drought.

In fact, there were enough people there that she struggled not to look at their numbers; Andromache kept her eyes carefully on the Mytilian ambassadors, watching their reactions with a shrewd eye. Many of them seemed both disgruntled and concerned that such a meeting had been called, and that it had been made public.

Making the meeting public had been Andromache's idea, as well. Appearing before them all at once would dispel any cruel rumors that may begin from her words, or the words said in response. Not only this, but she had viewed this as an opportunity to win some respect from her future husband and his peers, and she was determined to not fail.

Eetion stood, and everyone in the assembly stood respectfully - at least, those who were not already standing rose. The room was full enough that there were more men standing than sitting. The numbers frightened her if she let herself think on them: never had she felt so insignificant. So she refused to think of them, and thought only of the reasons she was standing there.

"We have an announcement to present to the assembly, particularly to those of Mytilene," Eetion said, very much the King of Thebe. "At her request, my daughter will be speaking on my behalf. I request that you give her the same respect and attention you would me, for she is as qualified to stand here as any of us." Eetion gazed around the room, seemingly staring down every man in attendance. Then he slowly sat, and the rest of the assembly sat with him.

Andromache remained standing. She was regal, commanding respect and attention without speaking. She nodded deeply to her father, who nodded in reply, and then stepped down from the dais her seat was on and toward her audience.

She had never been more afraid in her life. There were so many, and so many of them were important men with a great deal of power. And there she was, the youngest child of King Eetion, a woman, and a physically weak woman at that. She had never deluded herself into thinking that she possessed a great intelligence or beauty. She was, essentially, insignificant, and now she was presenting the case on which rested the fate of her people.

Athena give me courage, she thought, terrified. Then, she added, Ophelia, help me to be as you were.

"Gentlemen, a dilemma has recently presented itself regarding myself and the traditions of Mytilene," she said. Her voice was calm and level. Royal. She inwardly thanked the gods that she had inherited her mother's adeptness at adopting regality. "Many of you know of a tradition in Mytilene concerning the bearing of children within the first year of marriage. I must now say that, to our shame, we of Thebe did not know this. Therefore, it never occurred to us to inform you of what I am about to say.

"There is an affliction that plagues the women of my family, great gentlemen. I, unfortunately, will have great difficulty ever bearing children. My mother is the single exception in a long line of failed pregnancies and difficult, terrible labors. It is unlikely that I, as Princess of Mytilene, will bear a child within the first year of my marriage to Prince Corydon."

The uproar at this was tremendous. Men jumped to their feet in shock or outrage, or sagged in their seats, depending on their reaction to her announcement. Andromache met it levelly, refusing to show any emotion, least of all the shame that was coursing through her violently. As she surveyed the room, she met the eyes of Hector, and wanted very dearly to fall over and die.

Eventually the men quieted enough for at least semi-civilized conversation to take hold, and immediately questions were launched.

"Why were we never informed of this?" demanded one outraged member of the Mytilian envoy.

"You were not informed because it was believed that there would be no concerns regarding it," Andromache answered. "Be assured, had we known that a problem would arise, you would have been informed before any treaty was made."

"This changes everything, Eetion!" another Mytilian snapped, jumping to his feet. "The entire treaty is now at question!"

"Is it?" Andromache inquired, outwardly calm even as she felt her grip on the situation slipping. "I do not believe it is. Should you wish to withdraw from the marriage agreement, it is your prerogative. However, we would like to mention that this would, in turn, alter any trade agreements between Mytilene and Thebe."

There was a murmuring at this, and Andromache knew why: Thebe was threatening to end trade between itself and Mytilene should the agreement be abolished. This would be a terrible blow to Mytilene's less-than-flourishing economy, and everyone in that room knew it.

"Blasted woman!" the first ambassador roared, looking furious. "What right have you to speak? Ignorant wench-"

"Speak in such a manner toward the princess again, Tarasios, and you will find just how fierce Theban warriors can be," Talos said coldly.

"You wouldn't dare," the second ambassador snarled.

"Wouldn't we?" Erastus demanded, rising dangerously.

This was getting out of control. "Gentlemen, please!" Andromache cried. She threw a panicked look to Alexander, who nodded encouragingly. His expression, however, showed that he was just as tense as she, if not more so.

"I am sure," she said when they all had returned slowly to their seats, "that we can discuss this as civilized people, rather than barbarians. I would like to hear what the Prince of Mytilene thinks of this, rather than what his ambassadors think, if I may."

All eyes shifted from her to Corydon, who gazed back at her with a neutral, yet almost amused, expression. "I see no reason," he said, "in breaking off the agreement. However," he added, thoroughly abolishing any rising hopes any of the Thebans may have had. "I do see that some adjustments should take place."

Alexander stood but did not come forward; the floor still belonged to Andromache, and he understood her reasons for taking it, even if he did not like it. "Within reason, Prince," he said, almost warningly.

"Naturally." Corydon stood, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. Andromache felt her heart turn to lead and fall. "First, the dowry must increase. Second, the princess must relinquish all claim to any fortune. Her assets will be controlled by me, rather than herself, as we had originally planned. Third, the princess will never leave Mytilene. She will not venture outside the walls, even to pick a flower. Fourth, she will have no contact from outside the city walls. Absolutely no contact, in visit or writing."

The Thebans were on their feet instantly at this, crying out in outrage. Erastus was most furious, and had to be physically restrained by Othello and Hector of Troy, for fear of the Theban prince attacking Corydon. Hector himself hardly looked amused by what was taking place. If anything, he looked as if he wanted to take a hit at Corydon, himself. Andromache, however, was numb: Corydon was slowly cutting off her connections to her world outside of Mytilene, and she saw what he was doing perfectly.

She held up a hand for silence, her eyes never leaving Corydon's.

"By how much would the dowry increase?" she asked.

"What!" Demos shouted.

"This is madness, Andromache!" Erastus snarled. "Madness!"

"How," Andromache demanded in a hard voice, "much?"

"By half."

"Lower," she said before another bout of shouting could erupt.

"A quarter."

"An eighth," she countered.

Corydon examined her for a moment, then said, "An eighth. But this means that there is no negotiating my other terms. Take them as they are, or everything is abolished."

"You can't do that!" one of her father's advisors roared.

"He very well can, you imbecile!" a Mytilian ambassador bellowed. "You are the ones who failed to mention your princess's deformity!"

"Do not insult my sister in such a manner again, you rat, or you will not live to do it again!" Erastus roared.

"You wouldn't dare, you Theban pig!" the man snarled.

"Coward!" Orestes roared. "Fearful wretch! Insult a man in his own home, knowing he would not give retribution!"

"My mercy has it's limits!" Erastus snarled. "One wrong move, filth, and you will find yourself wishing you had never ventured into Thebe!"

"You dare threaten me!"

"Enough, all of you!" Andromache said loudly, desperately attempting to gain control of the situation.

"Keep your mouth shut, wench-"

"ENOUGH!"

Eetion was on his feet, and utterly furious. Belatedly, those who were still sitting, though they were few, rose to their feet. "I have had enough," Eetion grated out, his voice trembling in fury, "of such insolence. Another word against my daughter, and we will break all trade with Mytilene without hesitation, and not a single one of you will return to your home until your king has apologized your behavior and compensated my daughter for it appropriately!"

A heavy silence rang out after this statement. Through it all, Andromache remained bland and distant. This is the end, she thought.

"I accept your terms. We will depart for Mytilene in three days' time, at dawn."

She did not wait for the uproar that she knew would follow. She left, and did not acknowledge a single soul as she did so. As the doors closed behind her, she heard Erastus say, "Had my sister not just saved you, I would personally burn your cursed city to the ground! Watch your step, Prince of Mytilene, or you will find yourself with my blade in your chest!"