Chapter Text
“Any news? New allies?” Hector asked immediately upon entrance, hand on the hilt of his sword. Although it did tend to be in use, his hands felt strange when they were empty in those rare idle moments. He stood on the right of his father’s throne and looked disapprovingly at Paris, who sat cross-legged on the other side.
“One ally less.” Priam’s voice carried with it a sigh.
Hector frowned. “Someone stepped out? Were they threatened? They do know that stepping out doesn’t change a thing in the eyes of Achaeans, right?”
His father shook his head. “Thebae was destroyed, and Eetion’s family killed.”
The blood drained from Hector’s face and he tightened his grip around his sword for stability. A strange ball formed in his throat. “All… All of them?”
“His first wife and daughter have been captured and his second wife is on the run. Or so they say. He and his sons—all seven—are certainly dead.”
Pictures flashed before Hector’s eyes. A woman being tossed around the strewn corpses of her brothers, a woman being forced into chains, wailing as her captors laughed. He clenched his jaw. “Who led the attack?”
“Achilles.”
“Apollo’s sake, that… that bastard.” Only twenty-five and yet he was the greatest threat Hector could even dare to imagine.
Paris looked up at Hector, like a child. “Why are they even wasting resources on attacking our allies? Wouldn’t attacking the city be more efficient?”
Hector inhaled deeply. “Other than the fact that it scares off other people from siding with us, they earn resources from the cities they attack.”
“They are also slowly surrounding us. Cutting us off from our more distant allies, cutting off our food supplies. They’re slowly drawing the noose tighter. If they don’t attack us outright soon, we’ll starve to death and be forced into capitulation. Hector, call in a meeting with all our kings and chiefs. We need to discuss rationing.”
He nodded, and turned to leave from the side exit when the main door of the throne room swung open with a loud bang. A woman ran in, her dark purple dress pulled up, her steps echoing in the hall. She panted loudly before falling onto the floor in front of the throne. Hector noticed that her dress was stained in blood, as were her wrists. One arm had a makeshift bandage with golden embroidery wrapped around it, but even that had started to come loose. There was some remaining evidence of an elegant braid in her hair, but most of it was matted in blood. Not an unfamiliar sight to Hector, but certainly not one he had seen in a woman. Not in many years.
Hector frowned and went down on one knee to get a closer look. She lifted her head, chest heaving and looked straight at him, brown eyes glinting with tears. His heart skipped a beat. It was her, undeniably. Her lips were dry, chapped and bleeding. No sound came out of her mouth when she attempted to speak. Help me, Andromache mouthed.
***
Hector spun in his spot and threw his legs over one armrest of his dad’s throne, and his head over the other. Helenus sniffled, and inched backwards, away from the door where his mother’s pained screams seemed to be coming from. Hector reached out and ruffled his brother’s hair. Any other day, he would have scolded him for the thumb that was lodged in his mouth, but today it was the smallest kindness he could grant him.
The hall went quiet again. Nobody spoke. Deiphobus still paced up and down the dais, balancing on the uppermost step, Cassandra had not returned, Helenus leaned against the throne and Andromache … was missing. Hector sat up, craning his head in search of her.
“The last time my mother gave birth, it took the whole day. We’ve only been awake for three hours.” Her voice came from behind Hector, who jolted. She had been sitting behind the throne and now poked her head behind it so she was face-to-face with Hector. She giggled at his fright.
Heat rose to Hector’s face. “I’m being patient,” he simply answered.
Andromache crawled out from behind the throne and nudged Helenus to the side. He immediately melted into her. “I can tell you’re not.”
Hector threw his head back again and groaned. “It didn’t even take this long when Cassandra and Helenus were born,” he said.
Deiphobus stopped in his tracks, arms still outstretched for balance. “What if it is twins? Again?” His face was lined with pure horror.
“It won’t be,” Hector reassured him.
Andromache took over. “My mother had eight pregnancies, and not one of them was twins.” Hector pressed his ear against the gilded armrest to look down at her. She was biting down her lip, evidently holding back a giggle.
Deiphobus sighed. “Your mother also had seven boys. You shouldn’t compare to her.” He started pacing again.
The next cry tore through the silence.
“What do you guys think?” Hector said, lifting himself up. “Do you think it’s going to be a boy or a girl?” He made an effort to raise his voice, hoping to cover up his mother’s screams. There was no use.
“I heard the priest say something about a boy,” Helenus chimed in, his voice even squeakier than usual. He only took his thumb out of his mouth for the time it to took to speak that sentence.
“Why were you—”
“Really?” Andromache cut him off. “What else did you hear?” She gave Hector a meaningful look. Hector plummeted back into the throne.
Helenus shrugged. “Something about a snake.”
Deiphobus cackled. Hector shot him a look, which he disregarded. “Maybe he was prophesying about the mountain-life instead.” Helenus didn’t respond. Deiphobus continued. “I think it’s going to be a girl. Just because you said that.”
And they were quiet again.
Deiphobus lost his balance and stumbled off the dais, letting loose a string of rude words. Hector tutted. “Don’t curse.” He only stuck his tongue out at him. “Don’t do that either.” Another scream pierced the air. Andromache stroked Helenus’ hair.
“Why are you even sitting on grandpa’s throne?” Deiphobus asked, gesturing to him.
Hector crossed his arms. “It’s my throne.”
“You’re eight.”
“And crown prince.”
“Dad is the crown prince.”
“The throne is still going to be mine.”
“I’m telling Dad.” Deiphobus dropped onto the first step of dais, and leaned against the second.
“Tell him,” Hector retorted. “I think he has more important things to take care of now.” In reality, Hector knew that his dad would side with him. He did not worry that his sitting on the throne would draw his anger.
The door creaked open. Hector turned to the main entrance—still shut—then tilted his head back beyond the edge of the armrest, to see the tiny frame of Cassandra in the tall door-frame, her feet pitter-pattering as she stepped closer, her soles sticking to the cold stone floor.
“It’s over,” she said. “The baby is here.” Hector sat up and spun around, as Deiphobus inched closer and Helenus leaned forward. Andromache turned to Cassandra. “It’s a boy. They named him ‘Alexander’.”
What a great name, Hector thought to himself. Defender of men.