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Cold. Dark. Bleak. These sensations were all I had known for years once the swift-footed Achilles sent me here and Charon took me to wander the Asphodel Meadows. I saw many souls come—some with whom I was familiar, others I did not know. Even with old friends and enemies, I couldn't let it faze me, and yet I remembered one clearly: it was one of my brothers, the cause of all this death, Paris.
He turned to me in relief. “Oh…brother, thank the gods I found you in here. This place is so intimidating, and all these souls keep their hollow gazes fixed on nothing. But I have good news, Hector…”
“What?”
“The great Lord Apollo of the silver bow helped me strike at Achilles’ vulnerability, guiding my arrows and killing him for you.” Paris said, a hint of pride in his voice.
Paris then reached out to me, trying to place his hand on my shoulder, but I stepped back and pushed him away.
“Fool!” I exclaimed at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel any better? Look around you, brother! I’ve seen hundreds of people cross over here, more than any average battle.”
“Do you know what that means?” I shouted, trying to push Paris further away, but he simply stepped back forward in front of me.
“Hector-”
He called out to me, but I spoke over him. “No, Paris, let me speak. I wanted you to help me fight the strong-armed Achaeans, to defend Troy’s walls together. Despite what the city said of you, I knew of your abilities. And yet, when you finally find your nerve and get your head out of the arms of women, you come to me with this now? Who does that help?” My head hung down as I finished, and I took a sharp intake of breath, then released it slowly. Paris saw this and simply walked away without another word, his shoulders slumping. I don't think he knew what to say to me, and I did not know what to say to him. I can't say the silence is better, but maybe such things are left unsaid. I wish I didn't have to be so harsh. I know how much the words of our people would have grated on him and I truly don't believe he solely deserves the blame but I suppose I can't fault others thinking how they did. I didn't ponder it for long, however, as I heard the sounds of another arrival.
And yet this was different. Somehow, there was an influx of them today, more than if the Achaeans had simply won a fight. I knew in my cold, unbeating heart what this meant, but I didn't let the thought cross my mind. There was enough misery without such things.
Then there was a stir. I looked up; my curiosity, whatever was left of it, called to me as I saw the newest soul arrive. Like me and most of the others, I expected them to have been guided by the silent ferryman. Instead, I saw a different psychopomp in tow with a young boy. The air around them seemed to shimmer with a faint, otherworldly glow. I could not yet see his face, and yet I felt the corners of my mouth slowly upturn for the first time since I arrived here. My feet began walking to them both before I could even react.
The psychopomp turned to me, and even with the low light, I could finally see his appearance as well as the boy's: Lord Hermes, the immortal guide, and my beautiful son, Scamandrius, clinging to Hermes' chiton in fear of being in such an unsettling space for a child. My expression immediately faded, the joy stolen from my face. My poor, innocent little son, who knew nothing of war, violence, and death, still had all the light of the stars in his eyes, even in his death. How long would it be before his time here extinguished that light? I wondered, but quickly pushed it down. I did not want to see the sky go dark.
“Hector!” The great Lord Hermes of the golden wand called out to me, his voice resonant with a soft warmth. “Look who I have…!” He continued as he gently nudged my little Scamandrius towards me. I felt his small, soft arms wrap around my legs. I looked down at him and remembered the joy I felt when I first held him, but deeper than that, an anger at the Fates for letting my boy die so young, never to be a man. Water began to form in my eyes as I embraced little Scamandrius, trying to bring him whatever comfort I could. Finally, he let go of my legs and stood by my side instead, still clinging to me, not completely robbed of fear, but I hoped at least my presence was giving him some comfort.
“I thought you should be together,” Hermes said softly, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips as he looked at both of us. “A child shouldn't wander here alone, and besides, I have orders from the highest of highs.”
“You mean…-” My voice trailed off for a moment before I continued. “But why would he…” I looked back up at Hermes who offered nothing but that same cryptic smile in response.
“Thank you…” I replied, trying to be grateful for the small mercy of at least being with my son. I did not know what else to say. Rage began to pollute my thoughts. I was exasperated at many things, but the highest was myself. I let my son die. It did not matter which Achaean claimed his life or how. I let him die by allowing myself to be taken by the godlike Achilles. But what did that matter now? Regrets, cowardice, and foolishness do not help anyone.
I looked back and noticed Hermes had already flown off to other duties. I looked down at little Scamandrius again and fell to the ground, picking him up and placing him on my knees as I did so. I sat there for a while looking out at my dim surroundings, the pale shadows stretching endlessly, before picking myself and my son up again who was now resting softly on my shoulder as we both continued to wander once more until I heard a voice like a thousand flames behind me and immediately knew who was behind me before turning.
“Achilles, I did not think you would want to speak with me,” I commented while turning to face the warrior that killed me.
“I didn't.” He spoke simply. “My friend insisted, and as you have no doubt noticed, there's not much more to do in this place.”
“You sound bitter.” I commented on his tone.
“Aren't you?” He replied. “We should have glory and riches for all the blood we spilled, and what do we have to show for it? All I have is being a forgotten shade with you.”
“It's our duty to fight and defend, even knowing what's coming, even when faced with the consequences.”
“Hah!” Achilles laughed bitterly. “You can't seriously believe that trite!” He continued, spitting out the words. “Look around you, there's no glory or honour here, and yet you still cling to it like it means something. You're a fool, Hector, you were one in life and you're a bigger one in death.” Achilles paused for a moment and stared straight into my eyes. “You fought well, for all the good it did.” He said begrudgingly, his eyes wandering to something in the distance.
“Don't talk to me again, ever.” He said while pushing me away from him and returning to the side of another man, but I didn't catch his face.
I take a deep breath and I look again at my surroundings and approach the river Lethe. “You're supposed to drink from this, aren't we, to forget, to make things easier.” I whispered quietly to myself. “How could I?” I gently stroked Scamandrius’ hair and kissed his forehead as I used to. My boy. I can't forget him. What would it be like for him, my shining bright little star, wandering, drifting, all alone in the dark with nobody to comfort him in his cries? No. I won't. And Scamandrius, my boy, if he were to forget me, I would have less than nothing. I step away from the river, ignoring it. I won't let the gods take anything else from me.
Walking around with Scamandrius is tiring not physically but otherwise, the mind of a child is different and he will always have that innocence he keeps on asking for his mother, I do not know what to tell him other than she'll be here soon, how soon though it's best not to dwell and just walk and then perhaps it will be easier though I have to push my tears down every time he asks. So that's what we do we walk and wander down time passes although there's little to indicate it other than the coming and going of the boat across the Styx, I try to ignore it nothing good would come from seeing if I recognise any of the souls coming in but little Scamandrius he likes to watch it still with the same childlike wonder, his light not yet extinguished. Today he points out an older woman still with the same excitement and innocence you can only find in a child.
“Father, look!” He calls out pointing to the woman. I look back to where he's pointing and stare at the woman her face veiled and her head is down turned I don't see much of her face except her eyes which softly whisper tales of untold pain, I know that look perhaps because you could see the same in my own eyes, perhaps that's why I approach her even as she approaches the river Lethe and lifts her veil. But that's when I see it, older, yes, different but still every bit as beautiful and strong, my beloved wife Andromache. Scamandrius noticed and seemed to be even more excited as he gripped me tighter, encouraging me to go to her. “Look! It's mother! I wanna see her.” Scamandrius pouted, still encouraging me to gently move towards her with his small arms.
“Yes, it is, isn't it?” I whisper gently, forcing a smile as we slowly approach her. What would she have to say to the husband who abandoned her? “Andromache.”
She turns to me with tears in her eyes. “You still recognise me?”
“Of course I could never forget a face such as yours.” I reply staring straight into those resplendent eyes still full of spirit even with the pain. I look at our son and place him on the floor. “Go give your mother a hug Scamandrius” And he runs up to her and wraps his arms around her happily.
“He hasn't changed has he?” Andromache asks, looking down at our son.
“You have” I point out but that doesn't make me love you any less” I reach out to embrace her as Scamandrius now stands by her side. We stay like that for a while just happy to be in eachother 's presence and then she breaks away.
“It was difficult without you Hector, after the Achaeans took the city I was forced to be with the murderer of our son.” I stay silent as she talks with me but my hands slowly subconsciously form fists, Andromache notices but continues. “That was until he was slain then I was married to your brother Helenus but I never stopped thinking of you and visited your grave whenever I could, no matter what happens I'm always yours Hector.” She looks at the river contemplating. “I can feel myself fading Hector, perhaps my spirit is not as strong as yours and so cannot hold onto myself as you did, I do not have long. ” She murmurs
“Nonsense, you are every bit as strong as me, maybe even stronger to go through what you did and still remain yourself.” I say leaning my head against her own.
“It’s not just that it's so quick, almost unnatural, I try to hold on and still I feel like I am losing myself, I don't want to be around for that” She says as she holds my hand as she looks to the river again.
“Don't, I'll think of something!” I cry out.
“I have to Hector. I think some other force is controlling this and I don't want you or our son to see me as just some husk” she whispers.
“That's exactly what will happen if you drink!” She walks back up to be and our lips lock for a moment before she steps away and walks to the river once more. “I'm happy at least the gods granted me the final mercy of seeing you and my own son again.” She fakes a smile as she bends down to drink from Lethe, I stand there frozen for a moment not knowing what to do before I finally find my senses and try to knock the water from her hands and prevent her from drinking but it's too late. You didn't have to drink Andromache, why did you drink? I slowly turn her head to face me as Scamandrius walks back to me and holds my hand. ‘“Andromache.”
I softly call but she doesn't respond just continues to stare at the river so I walk closer our son still in hand and look deeply into her eyes again expecting to see those sad eyes again that I noticed when I arrived yet that's not what I saw instead she looked straight past us not even bothering to move my hand, Scamandrius notices and even calls out to me.
“Father, what's wrong with mother?” He asks innocently as I hold him tighter, close my eyes and take a few steps back.
“I'm not sure little one, she's just sick she'll be back soon.” I lied to him, unable to explain the true reality of the situation. He accepts my answer at least for now but I don't think he fully believes me but it's better than knowing that his father failed his mother. I don't want to but I open my eyes again looking at my wife's shade. What did the Achaeans do to you that you wanted to forget so badly? If I had fought harder and noticed the gods deception in my duel with Achilles then perhaps we would have more time together and you would not have not drank from that river. Andromache forgive me that I could not be your side, that I did not listen and made you like this. My only small mercy I have is seeing your face again now aged and it is still just as beautiful as the first day I saw it and I will never forget it you will always be my beloved, I think quietly to myself as a tear drops from my face. Is this what you wanted gods? For me to see my wife again only take it away, for me to be so overcome with grief that I'd drink from that accursed river because I already told you that isn't happening, my wife is not gone she lives forever in my memory and you won't take that.