Chapter Text
It's an offhand comment of musing from Cassandra that changes the course of their fates. "Surely my brother, with his love for his family and people, could win a duel against Aristos Achaion with that same strength, would win without question. And surely Pelides is the type of man to honor those who fall before him in battle, as our men do for any felled Achaean."
He hadn't been meant to hear it, she had spoken barely louder than a murmur, but Hektor had anyway. He watches his sister make her way down the corridor, the hem of her dress almost looking like blood. For all that he wishes Cassandra's words were true, he knows well that while he may be considered the greatest warrior of his people, Achilles is the greatest of his.
And after the death of Patroclus the man is filled with rage, the same blood-hunger that those blessed by War feel on the battlefield. In the heat of the fighting, he can only imagine that rage will intensify. So too can a man under the weight of grief and simmering anger do awful things.
From what he knows of Achilles, Hektor wouldn't put it past him. But his people also need him, Hektor cannot refuse to fight entirely. What he can do is take a day to observe the battlefield from above - a chance he rarely takes - and see how the Achaean forces move, what their weaknesses may be. A day that would double as time for Pelides' rage to boil over and begin to fade, for it is not the kind of thing that can be eternally kept at its peak.
He can make sure he is rested, so that when he does inevitably encounter the Achaean warrior, he will be in better condition to survive that fight. Better able to return to his family, his boy, his wife. He would do anything for them. Even die, but no death but one ordained by the Fates will find him. Hektor will have to go tell his men this change of plans before they take to their beds for the night, little more than an hour from now. Following that, he'll go and kiss his wife, cradle his son to sleep.
When he enters their chambers that night, Andromache is waiting for him. She often is, unable to fall asleep before she knows he has safely returned to the city. Scamandrius is tucked against her chest with one arm, the other hand playing with one of his dark curls as she sings to the boy. Hektor cant help but lean against the doorway at the sight, a soft smile rising to his face. It takes several moments for Andromache to stop singing and lift her gaze, baby lightly clutching the neckline of her gown. She blinks at the sight of him, a surprised but adoring light in her eyes.
"Oh! How long have you been standing there, husband?"
"Long enough," Hektor says with a smile. "No need to get up, I'm coming to join you." Andromache sinks back down, and Hektor kisses his wife on the brow as he sits beside her. "Has Scamandrius been good today?"
"He has, but he missed you, as do I. I shall pray to the gods that this war is over soon and we can have you all to ourselves."
Hektor chuckles. "I think it may be the other way around, my love. When this war is over I will have my beloved wife and treasured son all to myself."
Andromache smiles. "I care little for what we call it, so long that we are together in sunlit days of peace."
"Nor do I," he responds, tilting her chin up to kiss her. He smiles against her mouth as he pulls away. "And what have you been doing today?"
She lifts a shoulder in what could almost be a coy motion, save for her grin. "Just weaving. I'm almost done with your cloak. Just another week, I should think." Andromache makes to cup his face, brushing her thumb over his cheeks. "Was everything alright out there, today? No injury you're hiding from me?"
"I wouldn't dream of it, daimonie."
She hums and withdraws, leaving his cheeks cool and missing her hands. She inspects her fingers, frowning at something she sees, and reaches out again to swipe a finger across his skin anew, this time his arm. "I think I should call a bath for you when you return tomorrow. The fighting is leaving its touch upon you." Andromache shows him the smudge of dirt. Hektor frowns down at himself.
"It needn't wait til tomorrow evening. I'll be remaining inside the walls to strategize."
"The morning then. But you must sleep now, beloved. Your day has been long and hard, you should rest. Let me just put Scamandrius to bed and I shall join you."
He stops her just long enough to kiss the babe on the forehead. Andromache places the boy in his cradle, gently removing his fingers from her dress to curl them around his rattle instead. She, too, places a kiss against the baby's cheek. And then Andromache returns to Hektor's side, perching beside him on the bed as she removes the pins and coils from her bound hair and combs it free. He can't help but watch her with fondness in his chest.