A/N: Happy Easter! A gift for you all: an even faster update! And for our Jewish friends… a Passover gift. And anyone else… um… I can't think of any nearby holidays, so you just get a gift.
Though, unfortunately, Spring Break will very soon be over, and that means updates that aren't nearly so fast. But I'll do my best!
Now, things get a little teary (I say that because I got teary writing it - don't laugh at me!) in this chapter, which means some people may be a bit out of character; I apologize for it now. But let's keep in mind, this is fairly traumatic for these poor people! I know I'd be acting odd if I were in their situation!
Oh! And, Queen Arwen, I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm very flattered and honored! Thank you so much for nominating this!
Chapter Eleven
The Last Day
o0o
She spent the day with her family, never leaving the company of at least one family member, and it was only with great persuasion that she attended the masked banquet that evening.
The sixth night of the festival was always celebrated by the infamous matchmaking-tool-turned-form-of-entertainment. Despite Corydon's words nearly a week before, Andromache dressed herself in elegant royal blue cotton, placed a full veil, which covered her face, over her head, and attended. It was the least he could do for her, since he was ripping her so forcefully away from her home; as it was, she never intended him to find out. With Metis keeping guard with the ready excuse that Andromache was feeling ill, Corydon need never know that his betrothed was disobeying his orders.
By the time she slipped into hall, the evening was already in motion. She very deliberately avoided most of the men in the room, slinking around the edge of hall as she watched the crowds. Suddenly a hand grabbed her arm, and she turned with a gasp.
"My lady, if I were to not recognize you by now, I would have myself flogged," Hector murmured in her ear.
"I would say that a mistake has been made on my part, given that the object it to be unrecognizable," she countered.
"Yes, but somehow I doubt there are many others who know you as well as I do, Princess of Thebe."
"My brothers do," she pointed out. "And perhaps your brother may. I have become quite fond of him, I'll have you know. He is very much like the wayward little brother I never had."
"Clearly he has not shown you every aspect of his personality," he said dryly. "Besides, I do believe he is occupied by a woman in red silk. As for your brothers, they are very clearly spoken for, by women who are very clearly their wives."
"My sisters never attend anonymously, and wisely so. Some women have lost their virtue to the wrong man when all have had too much of the wine."
"You are not afraid, I assume, for your virtue?"
She smiled and leaned a bit closer to him. "I was looking for you, Prince of Troy. I have nothing to fear."
"I see," he commented. "Rather presumptuous of you, don't you think?"
"Oh, I can leave, if you'd like," she said innocently, stepping away. Hector grabbed her arm once more, preventing her escape.
"I would rather you didn't," he murmured.
Andromache cast a glance around the crowded feasting hall, then said, "I really only came to see you. I'm thinking of leaving, it's too loud for my tastes here."
"I agree with you, and I'm sure I won't be missed," he replied. Without warning, he grabbed her hand and pulled her out a side entrance. They were in the stables in moments, and Andromache sighed in relief when they were truly on their own at last.
"The presence of most people has become oppressive as of late," she commented, lifting her veil away from her face as Hector moved to a stall.
He spared her a glance that she couldn't read. "Understandably."
She sighed as he entered the stall, and followed him stubbornly. "I am trying not to think of it," she informed him flatly.
"I made no mention of it," he pointed out.
Andromache bit her lip, looking away and feeling like a wretch. She had made a discovery the night before, and a fairly large one at that. It was not momentous, nor did it bowl her over as a toy boat caught in one of the sea storms she had heard about. The realization had been quiet, subtle, and had very nearly reduced her to tears of despair: she was in love with Hector.
Worse, she didn't know when exactly it had happened.
She stepped towards him hesitantly and placed a tentative hand on his arm. "I had to do it," she said quietly. "For Thebe. Please tell me that you understand."
"I understand," he said, not looking at her. "It does not mean, however, that I have to agree."
Andromache took a step back and kept her eyes to the ground, more hurt than she cared to admit, as Hector began grooming Eros. After a moment, she turned, heading for the doorway and saying quietly, "Perhaps I should go."
"Andromache."
She stopped, her hand on the door post, and looked back at him. Andromache could read absolutely nothing in his gaze, and so refused to move. He sighed after a moment and ran his hand through his hair restlessly. "Come here."
Andromache frowned at him, slightly perturbed at the abrupt treatment.
"Please," he added.
She pursed her lips and went over to him. "Neither of us want this to happen, Hector, I assure you," she informed him with no small amount of irritation in her tone. "What choice do I have? You know why I have to do this. You have heard it many times over."
"I do believe," he replied just as tersely, "that I am more troubled by the amount of dislike I have for the idea."
Andromache's frown was as confused as it was annoyed. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean," he said with forced patience, "that this disturbs me more than it has the right to. Do you realize how difficult it has been to keep myself from murdering that betrothed of yours? I am not prone to violent tendencies, Princess."
"You sound like my brothers," she accused.
"For good reason. They mean well, Andromache."
"And I do not?" she yelled suddenly, stumbling back a step and staring at him with a mixture of anger and hurt. "Clearly everyone in this palace thinks me a complete imbecile, since every one of my decisions has been questioned to no end, despite the fact that each of them has been made with the very best of intentions!" Hector turned to face her completely with remorse in his gaze. "I want to protect them, Hector," she told him. "I want my family to live the lives they deserve, and I want my people to carry the soul of my country through the ages. I want them to lead long, happy lives, and have good homes, and good families, and a chance at life. I am making a sacrifice for the greater good of Thebe, and I'm doing it willingly. I am nothing compared to the lives that could be saved."
Hector sighed and came toward her, grabbing her and pulling her to him. "You are everything," he muttered vaguely. "I'm sorry. I understand your motives, and I questioned you still."
Andromache shook her head. "No more," she said, though her words were slightly muffled by the blue cotton covering his chest. "Let us not speak of it. With so little time left, I don't want to spend it arguing."
"I agree," he murmured. He seemed vaguely distracted, as if he were thinking on something with his whole mind, and Andromache looked up at him, resting her cheek against one strong shoulder.
"Is something wrong?"
Hector sighed. "Everything is wrong, Andromache," he replied. "And yet none of it is a recent development."
o0o
Her last day in Thebe dawned bright and warm, the sunlight dancing across her room cheerfully. She smiled bitterly at the irony and rolled over, burying her face in her pillow and wishing she could make her troubles disappear. Just as she was beginning to fall back into slumber, one of her rare sources of peace as of late, there was a loud thud on her door.
Andromache sighed and stood, padding quietly over to the door and hauling it open. She blinked at the young woman who stood on the other side. "Cloris," she said, surprised.
"Good morning, Andromache," she said quietly.
Andromache stepped aside, gesturing for Cloris to enter. The younger woman did so, twisting the corner of her veil nervously in her hands. Andromache smiled at her, hoping to be reassuring. "Would you like anything to drink?" she asked, turning to the small table that held two pitchers, one filled with water and the other with wine, and several cups.
"No, actually," Cloris replied. "I cannot stay long, I fear. I only wanted to speak with you for a moment."
Andromache turned back to face her, a concerned look clouding her features. "Speak. I am at your disposal."
Cloris looked at her as if she were about to speak, and then with a frustrated noise began to pace anxiously. Andromache watched her, slightly more than concerned now. She had never seen the even-tempered Cloris in such a state, and it bothered Andromache to see it now. "Andromache, I fear I have condemned my home," Cloris said finally.
"How so?" she asked gently.
"I-" Cloris stopped; she seemed to have difficulty forcing the words out, and not because of any physical inhibition.
"It's all right," Andromache said in much the same way she spoke when she was coaxing a niece or nephew. "Say what you need."
"I- I think…" Cloris' voice was trembling violently, and Andromache walked over and guided the Princess of Lampsacus to a chair. "I think I have fallen in love with your brother."
Andromache froze, staring at the younger woman with wide eyes. Her insides felt as if they had turned to lead, and her head was numb, completely blank. She only barely managed to fall into another chair, the breath in her lungs having been stolen away. "What?" she breathed.
"I never meant to!" Cloris cried as tears began to well in her eyes and trickle down her cheeks. "He was so kind to me, and he listened to me, as they do you! I felt… like an equal. For the first time in my life, I was an equal! Andromache…" Cloris sniffled and looked up at the older woman with red-rimmed eyes. "I can't marry the Prince of Troy. He is good and kind and just, but I cannot marry him. What am I to do?" she whispered brokenly.
Andromache refused to allow herself to think. She simply acted, which, at the moment, was for the best. She stood and went over to Cloris, pulling her into a reassuring hug. The Princess of Lampsacus sobbed into her shoulder for several long moments. When she had calmed down enough for coherent conversation, Andromache stood and went to fetch a two cloths. One she wetted in the basin filled with water, and the other she left dry.
She gave the dry cloth to her friend, who wiped her tears away and blew her nose gently, and then Andromache gave her the wet cloth. Cloris held it first to one eye, and then the other, in order to bring down the redness and swelling.
"Which brother," Andromache asked gently after a moment, "do you refer to?"
"Othello," Cloris answer thickly.
She nodded vaguely, frowning as a small glimmer of anger flared up inside her. Did Othello realize what he was doing? Did he realize the danger he was putting Thebe in?
Andromache stopped herself immediately, feeling incredibly guilty. What had she been doing with Hector for the past week? Discussing cloud formations? She clamped her lip between her teeth. No, she was just as guilty as Othello. More so, even, for Troy and Lampsacus were much less belligerent than Mytilene.
"Andromache," Cloris begged, "what do I do?"
I am not the one to answer that question, my friend, she thought sadly. Andromache went over to her friend and knelt before her, taking Cloris' hand and attempting to be reassuring. "Do what you feel is right, Cloris," she said gently. "Go somewhere quiet and alone, and think over the choices you could make, and what could happen should you make that choice. Do not return until your have examined everything. Then return and make your action. If you have made the right choice, then your heart will stand firm."
It was a lie. But Cloris' situation was far less desperate than Andromache's and so she felt very little shame in giving her friend the advice she so desperately wanted to follow. Cloris nodded, then nodded again, more firmly.
"Thank you," the Princess of Lampsacus said gratefully. "You are the wisest person I know, man or woman. I pray that your life follows a good path."
"And I pray the same for you," Andromache replied. Cloris gave her a shaky smile in return, then left quietly.
Only then did Andromache allow her knees to buckle. How had this happened? Under her very nose, no less? Had she really become so negligent towards her family? She looked out across her balcony: the sun was well above the horizon.
I must look past this, she told herself firmly. This is my last day with those I love, I will not waste it dwelling on things that are now beyond my control.
o0o
"Surrendering so quickly, Andromache?" Erastus teased as she sat ungracefully by a fountain, a hand to her chest and her cheeks flushed.
"I believe we had this discussion yesterday, dearest brother. I would like to see you challenge five children on your own."
"Yes, and we stated then that we were not foolish enough to partake in such a test," Erastus pointed out.
Andromache sighed. "Yes, I suppose I must surrender," she said.
Erastus' look was suddenly grim: he knew what her meaning was. She was admitting to loosing an argument, which she never did, even if the argument was a game. It was more of a goodbye than the words themselves, and it angered him all over again to hear it.
"Come," he said, standing and offering his hand. "Our family is going to have a noon meal together."
"Of course," she replied, slipping her hand into his and letting him help her to her feet. The children saw them standing and came over to them.
"Are we going in now?" Aure asked, reaching for Andromache's hand.
"Yes," Erastus replied. "Food beckons."
This was generally well-received, and after Andromache had gathered Andreas and held Aure's hand in hers, the large group began to make its way to the dining hall.
o0o
She found Hector in the stables later, some time around mid afternoon. Andromache bit her lip viciously, unsure of she even wanted to speak to him of what Cloris had said. She hovered a few steps from the stall door, half hoping she could simply slip away unnoticed.
"I haven't much time. A meeting has been called, and I must attend. So if you wish to speak, I suggest you do it soon, before I have to leave."
Andromache closed her eyes with a quiet sigh. Too late, she thought grimly. She went to the entrance to the stall and leaned against one post. "I spoke with Cloris today."
"Did you? The envoy from Lampsacus called the meeting I must attend." He grinned at her teasingly. "Did you do something to alienate them against me?" He turned back to his horse, a beast she didn't recognize.
"I think I may have destroyed your betrothal," she said, clenching her eyes shut. When she opened them, he was looking at her questioningly. "I certainly didn't mean to. She came to me, and she was terribly upset, and I-"
"Andromache," Hector said, holding up a hand to cease her words and looking highly amused. "I can hardly understand a word you're saying."
"I truly believe she never meant-"
"Stop," he said, very near to laughing at her. "We will discuss this later. I must go."
He kissed her forehead, and Andromache heaved a sigh to the horse that was staring at her with an expression that said, "You really aren't as smart as everyone thinks you are, are you?"
"You needn't rub it in," she snapped at the beast. Then she looked up to the heavens with a groan. "And now I am speaking to those who cannot reply. My sanity has fled."
With that she turned and left to go spend more time with her family.
o0o
She spent the rest of her day quietly, with her family and friends. Paris and Cloris each joined her, though Paris for longer, and she welcomed their company fervently. Andromache struggled against the passing of the sun, knowing that each passing moment was one less moment of happiness. As the day wore on, a sense of dread only continued to press down on her as her impending doom drew near.
At sundown, she met with her family. The meal was quiet and somber, and even the children seemed to feel that this was some how a finality. Everyone tried to force conversation and lightheartedness, but no one succeeded: they all knew that after that night, Andromache would be at the mercy of a man who had been revealed to be much less than honorable.
When the meal was over, it was late enough that Andromache needed to begin thinking of her bed; she had an early morning ahead of her. And so she gathered the children to her, including the baby, and sat on the floor, where they clustered around her.
"Why is everyone sad, Amdroche?" Alcander asked her, leaning on her leg and looking up at her plaintively.
"I'm going away tomorrow," she replied, doing her best to keep her voice light.
"Oh," Nerissa said, fighting back a yawn. "When will you be back?"
They're children, you had to expect them to ask that, she reminded herself when she felt tears prickle her eyes. "I'm not coming back, lovely," she said. "I'm getting married, remember?"
"Yes," Alexander's oldest son, Lander, said bitterly. He was fourteen, nearly fifteen, and very much his father's son. "To a dishonorable pig."
"Lander!" Alexander's wife said in shock as her son turned and marched away furiously.
As he did this, his thirteen-year-old sister, Eleni, jumped to her feet. The girl had a taste for the dramatic, but her speechlessness seemed genuine as she opened her mouth and, when she couldn't find the words, she made an upset noise and stomped her foot, then turned and fled, running after her brother.
"Eleni!" the poor woman snapped. "I'll go after them," she murmured to her husband, then rushed out of the room with an apologetic glance to Andromache.
Andromache smiled sadly, then turned to her other nieces and nephews, who were now looking quite forlorn, and many were on the verge of tears. The only one who wasn't in such a state was the baby, who was gazing up at her with innocently ignorant eyes. Andromache was more than a little envious.
"Please don't be upset," she said to the children. "You are all going to grow up and live happy lives, and I'll be joyful because I knew you."
"You won't visit?" Halia, Alexander's nine-year-old, asked with an upset frown.
Andromache shook her head, "I'm sorry, dearest. I can't."
It continued on the vein of Andromache's departure until it took a gigantic effort to force her smiles and the children were in tears. Even the baby, little Hyacinth, looked forlorn, but perhaps that was the overactive imagination of a distraught Theban princess.
"I think it's time we all went to bed," Alexander said quietly. His two youngest daughters, the only remaining children he had in attendance (his older two having stormed out), both nodded sadly. Andromache waved the forward, handing Hyacinth to her mother, and hugged Halia and Aure tightly.
"I love you both," she said quietly. "Behave yourselves, and look after your father for me. Good night."
"Good night," they muttered very nearly in unison, and they left for their family's chambers as Andreas crawled into Andromache's lap.
"Nerissa, Alcander," she said, swallowing hard in order to keep her voice steady. Both of Demos' children came forward, and she hugged them each, reminded them that she loved them, and said, "Remember to take care of your mother for me, and to behave for her. I won't be here to look after you when she's ill."
They both nodded, and Nerissa burst into tears and ran for her mother, who picked the girl up despite the fact that she had no business picking up eight-year-old children. With a glance to her husband, she took her children to their chambers.
Andreas was the only child remaining. Knowing he was too young to understand the goodbyes she had given to the other children, she stood, gathering the small boy in her arms. "I can't play chase with you anymore, lovely."
He gave a small whimper and buried his face in her shoulder. Andromache fought back another onslaught of tears as she kissed the boy's head and passed him to his mother, who took him and fled. Andromache was then left with her brother, all of whom looked very sad, an expression that was not typical of any of them.
"In the morning," she said quietly. "No more for tonight. I can't bear it. But, if any of those girls, or any girls to come, are forced into a situation such as mine, I will kill you myself."
With that she silently retreated, but she did not go to her rooms: she still had one goodbye to take care of before she could retire.
She found him pacing in the rear of the garden, looking aggravated and anxious. His hair was in a state of disarray. No, she thought fondly. A state of chaos. Disarray is more typical of him. "Hector," she called softly, and he stopped to look at her.
Very suddenly he was directly before her, and his large hands were on her shoulders. "You can't do this," he said vehemently, though his voice was low.
"What?" she demanded, truthfully bewildered. Her mind was still slow with melancholy, thanks to the goodbyes she had been forced to say to her nieces and nephews.
"You can't let him enslave you!" he cried, giving her a small shake. "I can't allow you to let it happen."
Andromache realized then what he was implying, and she backed out of his grasp, shaking her head forebodingly. "Hector," she said warningly.
"My betrothal is over, and I cannot bring myself to regret it," he told her, confirming her suspicions that Cloris had ended the betrothal. "I have nothing to fear from an announcement of intentions."
"Hector, no," she said firmly.
"'No,' what?" he snapped.
"You can't," Andromache said.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why can't I?" he demanded.
"Because I won't allow it," she said, her voice growing louder.
"Why won't you?" he demanded harshly. "Do you want to marry Corydon?"
"No-"
"Does the idea of slavery through marriage appeal to you?"
"Of course not-"
"Is it your wish the thrust me away?"
"Stop it!" she cried, tears prickling her eyes. "Just, stop it! I won't allow it!"
"Why?" he shouted.
"Because I won't have you risking your life for me!" she yelled at him. The tears were falling down her cheeks now, and she wiped them away furiously, angry with herself for letting them fall. "I will not let you risk your country and your family for me!"
He stopped and looked at her with a sigh. There was an odd mixture of emotions in his eyes: there was anger and frustration, but also grief and affection. "I won't allow it," she reiterated quietly, struggling to get her tears in check.
Hector came forward one again, and his grip was gentler this time as he slid his hands onto her shoulders.
"I can't let you," she said, choking back a sob. "I can't let you risk your life for me."
"It is mine to risk," he countered quietly.
She closed her eyes, wishing he would stop making her feel so miserable, even though she knew he did not intend to. Andromache opened her eyes and reached up, resting a hand on his jaw. His light beard was rough under her palm; she felt her heart break. She swallowed in an attempt to solidify her voice. "If I go through with this," she said, doing her best to make her voice even through the tears, "then I can keep you all safe. Thebe, my family, you. I can save you all."
"You shouldn't have to save me."
A light sob escaped her, and she placed her hand on his unruly curls. "I love you too much not to," she said tearfully.
He crushed her to him, claiming her mouth passionately, and she responded even as more tears burned their way down her cheeks. He deepened the kiss, and she clung to him tightly, knowing that it was the last time she would ever see him like this. It ended as suddenly as it had begun, and Hector pressed his face to her neck.
"Promise me," she whispered, her voice wavering. "Promise me you won't challenge him. Please. If I go to Mytilene knowing that you will live on, I will survive, I will. I can't let you risk yourself for me." Hector did not reply, only pulled her tighter to him. She clung to him desperately, struggling with her tears.
How long they stood there, clutching each other as if the very world depended on it, Andromache couldn't say. Eventually, however, they both relaxed, and Andromache sank to the ground. She gave a humorless, albeit rather watery, chuckle.
"The last time I cried like this, I thought my brother was dead," she commented hoarsely as Hector lowered himself to the ground beside her.
He did not reply, only smoothed her hair gently away from her face, then tenderly wiping the wetness of her cheeks with his callused fingers. "I have never had a way with women," he commented quietly after several moments of silence. "I have always been more introverted than most, and have never handled myself well in social situations. Formal meetings and battlefield conferences I can handle, but put me in a social setting, and I automatically become reclusive. But with you…" He gave a wholly humorless laugh and shook his head. "How is it that I find the one person with whom I am completely at home, and now I find her being ripped from me?"
There was nothing to say in response to this, and she knew it. So she simply laid her head on his shoulder, clutching his tunic in delicate hand. Hector wrapped his arms about her, running his hand along her curls gently.
Neither slept that night, nor moved until the sun began rise in the east.