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A man waits at the edge of the River Styx.
He’s been there for a long time, could have crossed it years ago in fact. And yet he waits. Elysium waits for him but he refuses, not without the woman he loves in his arms.
There’s a small boy at his side, the small child came over as an infant, still in swaddlings, but he had grown, albeit differently than a normal, living child would, slower or maybe faster. He sits with his father, clinging to his father’s chiton like it he lets go he will disappear the second
The two are an odd pair, watching thousands pass by them and having the option to join but refusing. Occasionally, a person will greet them with crying or joyous laughter or the too-human combination of the two. He will smile and kiss their cheeks, squeezing their hands as they continue on. He doesn’t join though. He won’t join yet.
He talks to the boy at his side. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like he stops talking. He tells stories of bright happiness, times where Troy was colorful and celebratory. He tells of the wedding of Prince Hector and Princess Andromache. He smiles and cries and laughs at the memories. He tells of his son’s birth, how he had held up the baby to the army as a show of Trojan victory, his greatest victory perhaps. The boy laughs and points to himself, babbling in the way babies do when they recognize their name. Hector presses their foreheads together and takes his son in like he will be taken from him again.
“Shall I call you Scamandrius because your father failed to protect the city? Or should I continue to call you Astyanax, because I died to defend the city?” The small human babbles louder at the latter, so Hector continues to call him Astyanax.
Astyanax is a content child. As a small boy, Hector would not have been happy to wait in the same place for days? weeks? months? years? Time passes differently here and he finds that he can’t figure out how long it’s been. So-called heroes pass, some he praises, others he spits at as they find their disoriented way across the river. He wonders what would happen if he tried to drown the likes of Agamemnon in these waters but he doesn’t because his son is with him. His wife’s enslaver passes and Hector clings to his child like the man will take him away. He can’t even find words for his anger so he glares until Astyanax distracts him by begging for another story about his own childhood.
One day, a ship lands. Definitely not an uncommon occurrence, given where they are. Hector almost doesn’t notice, numb to the passings of people. It’s only because Astyanax looks up, used to seeing Hector’s eyes searching every ship that passes, that they notice her. There are hundreds on it but Hector spots the black braids and dark skin past the bodies crowding off the ship. He has no doubt that this is the woman he waits for.
“Andromache!” He shouts, pushing and shoving the people getting off in a daze. It’s an unprincely decorum but it doesn’t matter, he hasn’t been a prince for a while.
Her head spins around at her name. Her eyes are full of fear and she looks exhausted, but he sees the moment recognition sparks in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles and her eyes glaze over like this is a cruel dream that will be taken from her.
“Mama!” Astyanax shouts and that drags her back into her own body. She runs down the gangplank the moment she’s able.
“My baby! Oh, my darling boy!” She clutches his face, Astyanax wriggles out of Hector’s arms and now clings to his mother’s face. “You’ve grown so much.” She sobs, legs wobbling unsteadily. Hector catches her before she falls, guiding her down to the ground where he joins her. Her knees clash with the earth in a way that he knows has to hurt but she doesn’t even flinch. What happened to you? He wants to ask but the words stick in his throat and he finds himself feeling sick to know. He pushes that out of his mind. There will be a time for those hard conversations but not here, not when he just got her back.
She presses a million kisses into her son’s skin, his cheeks, curly hair, nose, forehead, hands, feet, belly. Her tears don’t let up, enough to flood the River Styx. He watches. In all the time he’s dreamt of this, he never thought about what he would do once they were together, he never thought of what he would say beyond…
“I love you.” He says the long awaited words.
“Hector, my love.” She now turns to him, hazel-green eyes full of love. “You waited for me?”
“Of course.” He grounds out, anything else would be intolerable. “We both did.” He hates that she would even think otherwise.
She shakes her head fondly. “You stubborn man. I love you, so very much.” Her voice catches and again tears roll down those beautiful cheeks.
She pulls his face to her and kisses him. He feels like a younger prince, the nervous one who held her hand in his sweaty palm throughout their wedding. There are tears on his cheeks and he isn’t sure if they’re his or hers. It doesn’t matter because she’s here and he loved her to death and loves her even beyond that.
The family stays like that, Astyanax tries to escape the hug but is pulled in tighter despite his protests.
Now they cross together. Wrapped up around each other the way things should be. Astyanax is a little unnerved by the dark water but doesn’t cry. Why would he with both parents holding him so close?
Hector cries though. Tears of relief. Tears of joy. Tears of grief. Tears of anger. His loves are here. The water sinks into his clothes and skin and hair and he feels himself be able to breathe for the first time since he died.