Chapter Text
The city of Plakian Thebes had been stirring since early dawn as always. The usual clutter of guards switching up by the gates, songs of priestesses echoing gently from the temples, chatter of common people greeting each other in the streets – the sounds of everyday's life. Because for everyone else it was another normal day, but not for Andromache. She was the only daughter of the city's ruler – Eetion.
Word had spread quickly: envoys from Troy, led by King Priam and Prince Hector himself, were on their way. In the chambers of Thebe's palace, servants rushed around, carrying bolts of cloth, jars of fragrant oils, and jewelry boxes that gleamed in the early sunlight. Everything had to be perfect. The princess had to look perfect for their arrival. The chambers of the castle had to be spotless for their stay. Perfection. These were the orders of Eetion himself.
Andromache stood by an open balcony, watching the preparations unfold in the courtyard below. The sight of banners with her family's crest being unfurled, of guards polishing their bronze armor for the best presentation, made her heart beat a little faster, but not in a pleasant way. Her fingers tightened slightly against the cool stone of the balcony railing. Eetion's insistence on perfection only made the weight pressing against her chest heavier. Everyone seemed so certain of what must be done — what Andromache must become — and yet her thoughts churned with questions that had no place in the well-ordered world below.
What was the prince of Troy like?
Will they at least like each other?
Is it shameful of her to be afraid of what was coming?
Maybe in the end King Priam will find some flaw the hosts couldn't see before his arrival which will pull him away from the idea of having his son marry Andromache?
A light knock sounded behind her and succesfully pulled her out of the thought that only served to pull her into a deeper spiral.
– Lady Andromache – Thaleia, her oldest and most trusted servant, stepped inside. Her tone was warm, but her eyes were earnest and focused. – We must begin preparing you. The Trojans will reach the city by noon.
Andromache cast one last glance across the city she loved — the terracotta roofs glowing gold beneath the morning sun, the winding streets filled with the familiar rhythm of life — a rhythm that seemed to be slipping away from her grasp. With a quiet breath, she turned and followed Thaleia inside.
Other servants hurried to surround her eagerly. One brushed scented oil along her wrists and behind her ears. Another selected a gown of fine linen dyed a soft, royal purple — a reminder of her father's lineage, but also his great assets. A young girl carefully laid out silver pins adorned with small amber beads that caught every stray sunbeam like drops of trapped fire across.
Her reflection stared back from a polished bronze mirror — a reflection that looked composed, regal even...but she could feel how easily composure could crack under pressure. It was all just so overwhelming out of sudden. She was taught from an early age all about etiquette of a young lady who is to marry an illustrious man in the future. The princess knew her fate all of her life, but now when it was so close...Andromache didn't feel ready at all.
– Do you think he is kind? – she murmured, barely audible beneath the flutter of activity.
Thaleia paused in the middle of braiding her hair and met her gaze through the mirror. The older lady looked a bit surprised by being asked such question, but was it really so weird to ask this?
– My lady...Prince Hector is praised across the land and not only as a hero. The best heir to the throne Troy could ever wish for. He leads his men with honor, trains persistently and solves issues diplomatically...– she said while slowly continuing her work of putting Andromache's hair into a perfect braid. – You have nothing to worry about. He truly is the best match for you.
The reassurance should have calmed her, but instead a new rush of nerves washed over the young woman. She's heard that before. Prince Hector was steady like the great walls of Troy themselves. He was serious. Demanded perfection from his men even if there was no danger on the horizon. He was...a prince. Yes. These were traits that made him an ideal role model for any other prince – as Andromache's father liked to point out while each of her seven brothers made a face at this.
Andromache knew very well who the Prince of Troy was.
But who was Hector?
A sudden, distant horn sounded — deep and ceremonial.
Andromache's breath stilled.
– The gates are opening – Thaleia whispered. – The Trojans are nearing.
Outside, excitement surged through the streets of Thebes – guards forming ranks, priests stepping forward with olive branches, noblemen adjusting their cloaks. The air itself felt charged, as though the Fates had drawn a thread taut and were waiting for the first pull.
Everyone wanted to see the Trojan delegation. Some fathers even picked their children up to set them on their shoulders as the hoof tent grew louder.
Thelaia placed the final pin in her hair and rested her hands on Andromache's shoulders for the briefest moment — a steadying gesture.
– Come – she said softly. "Your family awaits. Let's not let the king and the prince do the same.
Andromache rose from her seat and took a small step which felt as though she was already stepping into another life. She smoothed her gown with trembling hands before letting them fold gracefully in front of her. The world beyond the chamber felt suddenly vast, terrifying, and irreversible. She wanted to stay
The second horn call – they were nearing.
The third horn – The prince of Troy had arrived.
And with him, the future she had never chosen – and could no longer escape from it.
Not that she ever could. It was her duty and princess Andromache loved her family dearly. She could never just run off out of fear or childish dream of pursuing true love.
She didn't feel ready by any means, despite all the preparations that took place through her whole eighteen years of life or the preparations she went through just a moment ago. She knew she looked flawless...but was she flawless enough for the perfect prince of Troy?
Thaleia smoothed one last fold of her gown at the shoulder and opened the door. The palace corridors, usually so familiar, felt longer today as if the castle itself wanted to keep her inside a bit longer.
As she walked, servants and guards bowed respectfully, though curiosity flickered openly in their eyes that followed after her. They knew what this day meant. They knew it was her moment – even if Andromache herself was far from feeling triumphant. It felt more like the day of final judgement.
Wasn't it though? After all king Priam came all the way here to judge her and if she was to his liking her life would change forever...if not she'd be covered with shame for failing to be a good enough match when the gods seemed to smile kindly upon her fate by letting someone like the king of Troy notice her.
The great audience hall stood open ahead, light pouring in through tall arched windows. Inside, movement and whispers blended with the glint of bronze and gold – the dowry. Excitement hummed like a plucked string, stretched tight and waiting to sing.
Near the high doors of the great hall stood King Eetion – proud, stern, wrapped in dark blue robe. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead, visible from the doors of the castle waiting wide open for the honourable guests, where the people of the city were cheering in voices that swelled like a rising tide. Arrayed beside him were his seven sons – Andromache's brothers – each in ceremonial armor, each standing tall as if carved from the very mountains that guarded Thebes. Their helmets rested under their arms.
When Andromache approached, the brothers turned to face her all at once.
The eldest, Podes, allowed a small, proud smile to appear on his face though concern lingered subtly beneath the surface of his steady gaze.
– You already look like a queen, sister – he murmured, just loud enough for family ears. – And if Priam fails to notice, I will tell him myself.
A couple of the younger brothers stifled soft laughs, but their joy was brief, the gravity of the moment pressed down on them as surely as it did on her. They always had a deep bond. All of them. Especially since their mother passed away. For the very first time the reality of Andromache leaving her home one day loomed over them so heavily because it was getting closer. They all could hear her future pass through the roads of Thebes, carrying joyful cheering of people.
Eetion stepped forward and adjusted the slightest wrinkle in her gown. It was a gesture not of a king, but of a caring father.
– Chin up, my lioness – he said quietly. –Troy must see the pride of Thebes. Pride of mine.
Andromache nodded, attempting to steady her breath.
Eetion rested his hands on the fragile shoulders of his youngest child as if trying to gift her courage in place of her own. So she could face the inevitable with her usual calm and calculating demeanor. Then he lowered his head a little to lay a gentle kiss on Andromache's forehead before one of the servants brought over a piece of linen cloth. Her veil.
The eldery king covered his daughter's head with it gently and allowed his eldest son to guide his sister a few steps back to stand beside him.
Then – the thunder of drums shook the air.
The trojans approached the opened gates of the castle and entered the courtyard where they pulled the reins and halted their horses.
Andromache couldn't see much through the veil, but her eyes observed the shadowy postures warily. Two men got off their horses first. Priam and Hector – followed by the rest of the delegation.
King Eetion smiled kindly and walked out of the great hall to greet the newcomers with his arms open in friendly gesture.
The sun glared sharply against the polished armor of the Trojan warriors as their delegation halted in the center of the courtyard. Dust still clung to their cloaks from the long road, and their horses snorted restlessly, as if they too sensed the weight of this moment.
At their head stood Priam, King of Troy – dignified, unbending, like a statue carved in honor of a royal dynasty and beside him – Hector, tall, steady, composed.
Even through the faint haze of her veil, Andromache could not fail to sense the power of their presence.
King Eetion walked forward, his steps calm but grounded — a ruler standing firm in his own domain. Priests raised olive branches in welcome, and guards lowered their spears, bowing their heads in respect for the honored guests.
– Welcome to Thebes, King Priam, Prince Hector – Eetion called out, his voice carrying across the courtyard and echoing off the palace walls despite his age. – It is an honor to receive the defenders of glorious Troy within our gates.
Priam dismounted with the composure of a man accustomed to the world yielding before him. He approached Eetion and bowed his head in gracious acknowledgement.
– Eetion, wise king – Priam replied, his tone smooth and weighted with authority. – Troy rejoices in this meeting far more than mere words might express. We come with a proposal born of respect and sealed with the hope of eternal brotherhood between our kingdoms as we agreed in our previous meeting back in Troy where you will be forever welcomed warmly.
A polite smile touched Eetion's lips, though caution remained steady in his eyes. Every word Priam spoke glimmered like a finely polished blade: beautiful, and sharp.
Only then did Hector take a step forward.
Andromache felt her pulse leap, even though she still saw him only as a noble silhouette behind a veil of fabric.
– Welcome, Prince Hector – Eetion said with measured respect. – Your courage and wisdom are praised not only in Ilium* but in every land that hears tales of your deeds.
Hector pressed his fist to his chest in a warrior's salute.
– It is an honor to stand before you, lord of Thebes – he responded, his voice deep, steady, and carrying the kind of strength that did not need to shout and which Priam would soon be envious of considering his age. – Your kingdom holds outstanding forests. True beauty in the crown of our shared piece of land on the wild sea.
Eetion bowed his head slightly as if to thank for the complement. Indeed his lands were often praised for beautiful, forest landscapes and he took pride in that.
– Accept our hospitality. Tomorrow — talk of alliances and the will of the gods. Tonight — we feast in celebration of friendship. – The king announced warmly.
The crowd erupted in cheers, drums bursting into triumphant rhythm.
Andromache felt Podes' reassuring grip on her arm tighten — a reminder that all eyes were about to turn to her, but also of his undying support.
She knew she was mere moments away from a more personal confrontation with her future.
But for now, the veil still offered a thin curtain of safety...Until she felt that gaze upon herself. A gaze like no other. It was palpable. Intense.
The cheers of the crowd swelled as Priam and his son advanced toward the palace entrance. Eetion turned to lead his guests inside and the entire procession shifted with him. Andromache and her brothers stepped back into the hall, granting the Trojans space to enter.
When Priam crossed the threshold, Andromache lowered her gaze under the veil bowing her head a little, as etiquette demanded, but she could not bring herself to do the same when Hector followed after his father.
Something inside her refused to obey the teachings of her tutors that she had to endure for long years. Her eyes moved back up, narrowing slightly behind the veil to try and see the prince at least a little bit better.
And then – their eyes met – because the pride of Ilium also looked her way, defying the etiquette that demanded from him to walk after his father and pay attention only to the host.
Though a distance still stretched between them, though drums thundered loud enough to drown her breath, though the veil still blinded the world before her – she saw him, and he saw her.
His stride faltered, barely, yet enough to betray surprise. There was no coldness in his look, nor arrogance. There was curiosity. A flicker of wonder and something else she could not name.
Was this Hector?
But along with that spark came a sudden stab of fear.
Prince Hector wasn't only a shadowy, unknown figure in her mind anymore. Now it was a tall man with the posture of someone who had never once bowed to fear, a presence that seemed to fill the space around him even through the blur of her veil.
Suddenly Andromache felt like he was real. She's heard stories of his bravery and skill, but the prince was here now. Closer than ever. All the stories she's ever heard were passing her by just right now. Staring at her.
Hector was the first to look away as if he woke up from the haze. His step gained it's purpose back and his eyes focused on what's ahead.
Andromache drew in a sharp breath, as if remembering only now how to breathe. Her seven brothers gathered around her in a protective crescent, and Podes gently guided her deeper into the hall, toward the towering doors of the banquet chamber where they would feast, but all the princess could think of is how to steal a few more glances at the prince to fill the gaps that were missing in his appearance that played in her imagination. Oh if she could only take a peak from under her veil. Just for a moment. To see him better – his eyes, what was in them, or his expression, his mannerisms.
As the nobles of Thebes and the delegation of Troy gathered to dine, Andromache reminded herself that this was only a feast – a polite conversation, a test to hospitality and good will of the hosts that soon could be bonded by family ties. Performative display of kindness.
She had to rest her feet on the steady ground again and remind herself that tomorrow she was going be the one weighed on golden scales, by no one else, but king Priam who laughed joyfully at something her father just said.
Andromache straightened her back a bit more. She couldn't give in to foolish curiousity like a little girl. She had to show herself from the best side for the sake of her kingdom and her family...yet the curious girl inside of her kept whispering into her ear:
Would it hurt to take a peak at your future though?
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1* Ilium - Another way to call the city of Troy.