The kiss was their best to date.
Yet, like every other time their kisses had turned from chaste to exhilarating, Cassandra compared Othryoneus to Apollo. Though she'd killed most of her longing for the god, she knew she'd never purge herself of her feelings for him.
Until he died, Othryoneus would live in the shadow of Cassandra's first love, but Cassandra would never let him know.
As they drew apart, Cassandra's sight tunneled. She cried out and struggled like movement would stop the oncoming vision.
No, not now! She wanted nothing to ruin her moment with her betrothed.
The prophecy didn't care, and, with ease, dragged her under.
A battle waged below Cassandra. Trojans and Greeks stabbed and hacked at one another. Spears flew every which way, and the cries of anguish and conquest filled the air.
In an instant, Cassandra's focus found a Trojan covered from head-to-toe in the enemy's blood. The man moved with expertise and killed without embellishment. His actions strengthened his fellow soldiers when he neared.
Beside the man moved a whirlwind of energy as red as the blood covering the battlefield. Animal grunts and hellish screams came from the cyclone.
Somehow, Cassandra could see inside the column of energy and made out the raging figure in its depths. Its form transformed from boar to dog to vulture in the matter of a few heartbeats. It used the shield and sword it held to kill any close-by Greeks.
Cassandra didn't know if the Trojan man, Hector, realized he fought with the war god, Ares. He acted unaware of Ares' intervention, yet he ducked and weaved at the right times to avoid a blow intended for a Greek soldier.
The fighting pair cut across the battlefield in an impressive display of skill. At this pace, they'd win the battle, and without too many casualties to the Trojans.
By dusk, the Trojans would celebrate a well-earned victory.
Then Hector's head turned, and he watched as a spear tethered Polydorus to the ground. He roared and raced toward his brother.
But he didn't move fast enough, and the dark-haired man who'd speared Polydorus lopped off the young prince's head.
Hector met the dark-haired Greek in fierce battle. Ares had followed Hector, but he didn't interfere. He kept back any soldier that attempted to aid either the Trojan or Greek.
The Trojan fought well, but his grief and fury drove him to take risks he wouldn't have otherwise. Hector moved like a man possessed, while the Greek challenged him with a level head and sure blows.
One wrong move left Hector's chest unprotected, and the Greek took the opportunity. He thrust his sword past Hector's armor and into the Trojan's heart.
Hector's movements ceased, and Ares fled from the battlefield.
The vision stopped there, and Cassandra came to reality with a shriek.
She slapped at Othryoneus, who'd tried to take her hands. She jumped to her feet and ran over to the spooked horses.
"I don't think that's wise, my Lady," the servant said.
"What's wrong?" Othryoneus asked.
Cassandra paid neither of them any mind as she untethered her mare and mounted it. Sharp commands wrangled the creature into her control, and she urged the mare to the opposite side of the field. There, she found a trail that would take her where she needed to go.
Othryoneus command his steed, then give orders to the servant to get help.
Shortly after she'd entered the woods, Cassandra's betrothed followed her. He yelled her name, but Cassandra didn't slow her mare, nor did she respond to Othryoneus.
Cassandra reached her destination, a knoll that overlooked the large road that led to the palace's main gate. She dismounted, and her mare took off for the palace.
Cassandra didn't care. She didn't need it any longer.
Othryoneus joined her. He left his stead, but the horse didn't race away. It trotted farther down the knoll to graze.
"What's wrong?" Othryoneus repeated as he took Cassandra's hand.
She didn't reply, couldn't find the words to express her turbulent emotions.
Cassandra focused on the main path and hoped her betrothed would leave.
Othryoneus mumbled under his breath but didn't engage her further.
While they stood, Cassandra prayed to the gods. She hoped what she'd seen wouldn't come to pass, that it'd somehow been a terrible metaphor.
Yet, in her soul, she knew her vision would come true today.
More servants and the physician came to see Cassandra, but she didn't respond to them.
After a bit, Othryoneus sent them away with orders to tell the King and Queen soon everything would work out.
As the day wore on, food and drink were delivered. Othryoneus had a bit but couldn't convince Cassandra to consume even a tiny morsel.
Toward dusk, a lone figure raced along the road. The messenger moved as if Hermes had control of him, and in a blink of an eye, he was within the palace walls.
It seemed like no time had passed when a blood-curdling scream echoed.
Othryoneus jumped.
He looked at Cassandra, terror in his eyes. "What was that?"
He took a step toward the palace. "Should we go see if we can assist?"
Cassandra tugged on his hand. "No. Please, stay with me."
"But—"
"The King can deal with my mother."
"Your mother?"
Cassandra offered no more information.
Othryoneus sighed and reclaimed his spot beside her.
Together they watched as the sun sank lower, and a bitter wind whipped around them. Cassandra shivered but didn't complain. Othryoneus wrapped an arm around her; his gesture offered little warmth.
Night settled, and the faint glow of torches could be seen on the road. As they neared the hill, Cassandra made out the two bandaged figures carried by a vast progression of people.
She burst into tears and went limp against Othryoneus.
Creusa, being the closest and oldest sister, took control of the burial rituals. Hecuba should have led them, and she tried to on multiple occasions, but each time she either broke down into tears or fainted. For her health, the physician demanded she remain in bed until the funeral procession.
For hours on the first day, Polyxena kept Cassandra out of the room where Hector's and Polydorus' bodies were washed and anointed with oil. She'd convinced herself Cassandra had been responsible for their brothers' deaths.
After Cassandra pleaded and cried until her voice grew hoarse, Priam stepped in and ordered Polyxena to stand down.
From then on, the sisters and Andromache worked in silence until they completed their gruesome task.
The dressed and wreathed bodies (Polydorus had to be covered to hide his grotesque injuries) were laid out at dawn the next day, and all of Troy came to pay their last respects to the King's most treasured sons.
On and off, family members stood with the King to greet the mourners. More than once Priam's advisors tried to get him to eat or take a moment's rest, but Priam wouldn't leave his sons.
Cassandra spotted Polyxena flitting through the vast crowd. Every so many people, she'd stop and whisper in their ear.
Somehow, they'd find Cassandra and stare her down until she exited the room. When she returned, the cycle would repeat.
By midday, Cassandra couldn't withstand the soundless accusations without losing her mind.
She spent the rest of the day in Aesacus' ritual chamber. Cassandra didn't bother to pray, had nothing to say that wouldn't result in more gods' wrath.
She sat on the floor and cried.
The brief times her tears ceased, Cassandra relived the many cherished memories she had of Hector and the few she'd made when Polydorus had been younger. They comforted her when not even Helenus could be bothered to come to her side.
Othryoneus found her in the late afternoon. He begged her forgiveness for his absence. The King had asked him to stay with him to keep the advisors from bothering him so often. He hadn't wanted to but hadn't thought of a good reason to refuse.
Cassandra held out her arms. "It's fine. Just hold me now."
Her betrothed was next to her in an instant. He took the spot beside her and embraced her.
Othryoneus rocked her to sleep.
Before the sun rose on the third day since the princes' deaths, all family members and the most-trusted servants gathered at the main gate. Hecuba arranged her daughters, Hector's wife, and Helen behind herself, in front of the two horse-drawn wagons with the princes' bodies. Priam and the royal sons stood behind the carts, while the servants took up the rear.
Each woman but the Queen carried a brightly colored vase filled with libations. In Hecuba's hands, she held a giant torch a servant lit for her.
The King and his sons had the deceased's favorite weapons, toys, and trinkets.
Every servant brought a bit of food or cloth, whatever they had of worth.
Once ensured of everyone's correct place, the Queen went to the front of the group. In an emotion-drenched voice, Hecuba started the prayer meant to usher the dead safely to the Underworld.
A third of the way through the prayer, Cassandra and her sisters and Andromache joined in. Helen's lips moved, yet no sound came.
Hecuba marched forward.
The King, his sons, and servants remained silent.
The group continued along the main road. When they came to the first crossroad, Hecuba turned left. She aimed them all toward the highest cliff overlooking the ocean.
There, much like in Athens, Hector's and Polydorus' bodies would be burned on a pyre. Once ash, they'd be collected into jars and placed alongside their ancestors in the royal burial grounds.
The journey was brief, but it seemed an eternity before they reached the prepared pyres. Cassandra, her sisters, and Andromache each took turns dancing around the pyres as they spilled their libations, all while they continued to chant. Even Helen did her part, though not with as much heart as the others.
Once they'd finished, the men put the dead's possessions around the pyres.
Afterward, Priam and his four oldest sons placed each of the bodies on a pyre. Then, with deft hands, the King slit the throats of the horses who'd hauled the wagons. He added a prayer of his own before he nodded at Hecuba.
The Queen lit each pyre and tossed the torch over the cliff.
The bodies burned brightly.
The servants put their tokens into the fires.
When done, the King stood before the group, his back to the pyres. He spoke of his sons, and the delight they'd given him. He wished for the great judges to look kindly upon them, then stepped aside for Hecuba.
The Queen's words were hard to understand through her tears. She didn't get far and collapsed to the ground in a hysterical fit.
Priam rushed to her side and pulled her into the group; his words soothed her.
A rustle went through the crowd when Helen pushed past Andromache and took the spot before the pyres. Through her black veil, her tears were clear.
Whispers started but stopped when Helen spoke.
Her light voice carried over the crackling of the fires as she thanked Hector for his friendship. She told the audience if not for Hector, she'd have jumped into the sea years ago.
Rage and lack of sense drove Cassandra out of the crowd. How dare the Spartan whore weep as if she'd loved Hector as much as anyone else in attendance?
Lies! Her very presence stained Hector's memory.
"Why not do it now?" Cassandra called.
Helen jerked as if Cassandra had pinched her.
Voices hissed at Cassandra to quiet and behave, but she ignored them as she neared Helen.
Cassandra pointed at Hector's pyre.
"Or, if Hector meant so much to you, why don't you join him in flames?" She bent close to Helen's face. "His blood is on your hands. You're why the city he loved will fall."
With a sudden burst of energy, Cassandra struck Helen.
Helen's veil toppled to the ground, and she screamed.
Cassandra made to slap her again, but Helenus dragged her away from Paris' wife.
Around the twins, chaos ensued.
People spat on Cassandra or yelled insults at her.
But Cassandra no longer cared.
What did anything matter when she'd lost so much, and the worst had yet to come?