Chapter Text
She watches the shoreline as her ship speeds past, swift over the flashing brightness of the sun-capped sea. If Andromache were to look to her left, she knows, she would see the ship escorting her own. Knows her new husband stands upon his deck, guarding her safety now as he will for the rest of their days.
To their peoples, this will be the first time they meet, for all that the Prince of Ilion is familiar to her brothers. She had been grateful for every kernel of information the boys let slip to her, tales of his bravery, of the joy they find in Hektor's company. They had promised her that he is a good man and will treat her well.
She doesn't doubt them, even if she had figured out that information for herself. More than any woman should normally know about her husband before the wedding, but Andromache would never complain for it. She risks a glance in the other ship's direction and finds Hektor half-turned towards her.
He offers her a surreptitious wave - little more than a wiggle of his fingers in her direction - and at once Andromache flushes, ducking her head. The motion sends her veil swinging forward, the sheer linen light enough to be caught in the wind. It twists about, tangling in the mass of her hair.
A pin breaks free under the force of it, then another as the fabric twists further, straining. Either her hair and pins give, or the fabric does. And her hair has never held onto pins very well. Too quick for her to react, that breeze rips the veil entirely free from her hair. That last gift from her mother, from her home.
She reaches for it, even knowing that it's too late to be caught. Only swept away by the wind. A leaping wave swallows the fabric whole, leaving Andromache alone on that ship. Unveiled on the way to her own wedding. An occasion of which she should be veiled, for the first time in all her life.
To lose that veil, especially one that is an heirloom, must be a poor sign for her wedding. But only the priests can truly say it is so. And thusly Andromache puts it from her mind, until someone is to say that it needs consideration. So too does she refuse to look Hektor's way again, for fear that he saw the loss of her veil and is disappointed in her over it.
Andromache can see the city ahead, the Scamander's delta and those great walls looking over the plain. Her new home, the city shining in the sunlight. It looks beautiful like this, a vision before her that Andromache can so easily see become hers. The two ships are so close to shore now, having come into the bay.
She can see at the delta's mouth where the boats are docked, and where she can see people milling about. There are many chariots waiting for them there, to lead bride and groom across the plains and into that city. The moment she steps off of this ship, no longer will she be a girl.
To step onto Ilian land is to truly, irreversibly, step into bridehood and walk the path to marriage. She isn't afraid of it, not really. But it's a new world to her, a life that for all she has been prepared for, it won't be what she's used to. And that's a thing that would make anyone nervous.
But all Andromache needs is a careful inhale and a sidelong glance, just enough to catch a glimpse of that other ship to remind her. She will not be the first one taking this journey, she will not be alone. Whatever trials may find them in this life, Hektor will be at her side. So she lets her breath flow out and the nerves with it as her vessel slips through the waters into the bay.
She's ready when they come to a stop, her escorting ship sliding into place just before hers can. Hektor is waiting to help her down the shallow sides of the boat, having presumably been one of the first men off of his own. Andromache takes his hand with a flush burning itself into her cheeks. Embarrassment, gratitude, fondness all. He offers her a gentle, warm smile as he steers them towards the waiting chariot.
"Was the journey kind to you? Gentle seas? No illness, I hope."
Andromache laughs. As if he doesn't know the conditions of the waters, having escorted her all the way himself. But, she'll play along nevertheless. "I am quite well, and the journey smooth. My compliments to my escorts."
His smile only warms further if possible.
