Andromache + Hector

They both knew what was coming. They could feel it in the air, just like everyone else in Troy – the impending doom of a waiting invasion. Greek ships sat floating just offshore, barely far enough out to be hidden from sight. It didn’t matter whether they could see the ships or not, though. Everyone could feel that they were being watched. 

Hector, ever the pragmatist, was not left without his druthers. He was The Prince of Troy, and the commander of their troops, the son of Queen Hecuba and King Priam, a lineage not known for their weakness. He had been preparing for exactly these circumstances since before he could even remember, though he had hoped it would never come – the eve of the greatest war his people would ever know.

Hector and his squadron spent weeks training furiously for battle, from the moment the news arrived that the Greeks were out for blood. They had prepared as much as they could. Knowing that the ships could not dock until dawn, Hector sent his men home to spend one final night with their families. Then, he battened down the hatches for the night, organized his thoughts, took a final deep breath, and did the same. 

Trying not to think about the inevitable bloodshed the light of day would bring, Hector pushed open the door to his home, and with it, did his best to push away the thought that he might never see it again. Andromache sat on the floor by the fire, one hand rocking the bassinet by her side. Hector stood in the doorway, silently absorbing the scene – His wife, the love of his life, more beautiful than he had ever seen her, bathed in the golden flicker of firelight. Their son Astyanax, sleeping peacefully with no idea what was to come. Finally, he broke the silence, stepping over the threshold and closing the door behind him. 

At the click of the handle, Andromache looked up. She was never one to wallow, the strong and silent type. She had always been able to handle whatever life threw her way with ease, seemingly clear headed and emotionless. Hector knew her better than that, though. He had always been able to see through her public face, catching even the subtlest hint of her true feelings. This time, however, he didn’t have to guess. Andromache raised her head to look at him, the light of the fire catching the glint of tears on her cheeks. 

“You’re home.” 

That was all she needed to say. Hector dropped his cloak and joined her on the floor, wrapping her in his arms. She nestled peacefully into his chest, and they simply enjoyed each other’s company. They sat this way for hours, in quiet love, until the first chirps of the morning birds told them it was time for Hector to go. Astyanax began to stir as Hector gathered his gear, and Andromache lifted him gently out of the cradle. 

Hector tucked his helmet under his arm, glancing around to ensure he had all he would need, and taking in the room in the early morning light. He knew he had to go, but he couldn’t make himself leave. 

He wrapped his arms around his love, embracing her with their son between them. He leaned in and kissed her passionately, in case it was the last time. 

As he pulled away, he caught Andromache’s eyes, and her clearheadedness failed her just this once.

“Don’t go,” she said, choking on her words, knowing they didn’t matter. Hector had to leave, he had to fight. He didn’t have to say it, he couldn’t stay. Instead, he chose the simple route, stating only, “I love you.” 

He picked up his helmet and placed it on his head. With a deep breath, he prepared himself to head into battle. He leaned down to kiss his baby boy goodbye. Astyanax began to wail, a terrified shriek, the unmistakable sound of fear. 

His panic broke Hector’s heart. The helmet he wore, passed down to him from his own father, terrified his son. The lasting memory, the final glimpse the boy had of his dad was not one of love. Astyanax’s screams echoed in his head, and he backed away, knowing they would not be the last of their kind that he heard that day. They would not even be the last he caused. 

Heading for the door, Hector turned around one final time. He locked eyes with Andromache, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He knew this was all she would allow herself, just one. She took a deep inhale, and said in such a whisper it was almost silent, “I love you. Be safe.” 

Hector nodded, wiped away a single tear of his own, and left.