Chapter Nine...'Hero' of the People (continued)
"A dangerous spiral, no doubt." Andromache told her husband with a grin. "They really will have to roll you back to
the ship. Luckily its mostly downhill." She turned to face him, taking both of her hands in his as she pressed her
back against a door set in the side of the wall. The wall here though actually let off into the side of the mountain
though and the door opened to reveal a narrow, dark hallway that angled downward. Andromache's dark eyes
glinted in the outside light.
"Care to take a walk in the dark with me, prince of Troy?" she challenged, edges of her lips curving.
"Oh I don't know about that." He said with a mock serious look on his face as he looked down the path. "Not sure if I
can trust you, in the dark, with my sparkling white innocence. You might try to take advantage of me."
Then he laughed, its full sound echoing down the passage way a bit. "And I might like it." He said leaning into her
ear. "Well, go on. You're the tour guide. I'd get us lost."
It was good to see her smile, honestly smile. Warmed his heart, especially since he thought it might be a bit in
coming back, after everything.
"Oh, I'm definitely going to take advantage of you." she smiled up at him before drawing him into the dark passage.
She could have lit a torch, there were some on the wall along with flint to strike them. But she'd taken this passage
so much she could have done it blind. And she liked the trust Hector placed in her, to walk into the dark unknown on
her word alone. Besides, the tunnels under the walls and through the mountains were designed to be confusing to
anyone not used to them. Seeing where they were going, and where they weren't, would actually be harder. And
more intimidating because the architecture wasn't designed to be comforting to someone that wasn't used to it.
So she stepped into the darkness ahead of Hector and rested one of their linked sets of hands against the wall at a
bit below shoulder level and the other she curved around her hip so he could feel when she took steps or shifted.
And she started off into the darkness, movements sure. The tunnels were kept empty and mostly unknown to the
majority of the populace. But they were kept in perfect repair. Another defense if the city should ever be entered.
Battles fought in absolutely darkness with only one of the opponents knowing where everything was. Vastly different
from airy Troy.
"I've never asked." she mentioned after a moment. "But I should probably ask if you're afraid of the dark."
"Not overly fond, no." Hector said as she led him down the passage in the pitch black. "Afraid? No. I don't think I
have many fears."
At least nothing physical. As far as wars and battles had gone, he'd probably seen the worst. He'd sailed through
the worst Poseidon could throw at him, he'd seen his sister succumb to her fits and credit the gods.
It was the intangible that frightened him. Not death, that he didn't fear. He feared loss. And with her mother and her
rantings, it was brought right below the surface, as intangible as his fear.
"No, I'm not afraid of the dark." He said, his hand resting gently on her hip as she held his other hand. He could feel
the cold of the wall against the back of his hand as they walked, the heat of her skin under his other hand, and he
knew that he feared losing her in some way the most. "As long as I know eventually there's some light on the other
side."
"There's always light at the end." Andromache murmured. "Always."
There were wide steps leading down and she took them slowly, more attuned to her husband's movements than
even her own. She was taking him to her secret place but she was doing more than that. She was taking him away.
Away from the city and the crowds and the noise and her family. And her mother. Not because he had been
defeated or needed protection. But because as far as she was concerned he'd just fought a battle. And now it was
time for peace and quiet and healing. Because Triantifilla fought her battles in other people's hearts. And, defeated
or not, she always left wounds behind. Their linked hands suddenly ran out of wall and she turned into that
darkness, directing his hand until it touched a wall again and they could continue on. The stone ran damp here and
there was the smell of wet rock and moss. Faintly, the sound and feel of rumbling.
"My father took me down into the tunnels. When I was just a little girl. He wanted me to know the way, so that, no
matter what happened, or where, I would always know the quickest route. I loved the secretiveness of it. I used to
use these tunnels all the time. To get wherever I wanted to go. To hide. And sometimes, to run away from it all."
She'd gotten used to not using torches after Athanasios had gotten her lost in here once and left her in the dark to
find her way back to the surface. The vague rumbling faded and the ground started a winding, casual upward slant.
Still in total darkness. "The first night you took me walking through Troy... I thought of my tunnels and wondered if
your city's streets offered you the same thing these always offered me." She smiled in the darkness even though he
couldn't see it and added softly: "You seemed like such a responsible, serious prince. I hoped that they
did."
He made a sound of amusement at the responsible, serious part. Though it was true. Responsible. Serious.
Someone had to be.
Couldn't expect it from Cassandra, driven at least half mad by what she perceived as visions and prophecies
running through her mind. Not to mention the whispers and the taunts.
Paris? That alone was laugh worthy. Paris, Hector believed, didn’t have a responsible bone in his body, made worse
by the fact that no one held him accountable. Hector included. His brother was protected and spoiled, allowed to do
what he wanted because he knew however it turned out, Hector would be there to clean up the mess.
He'd been responsible for a whole army, and the safety of Troy itself since he returned to Troy after completing his
training. He knew what lay before him, not only guarding Troy but one day ruling his beloved city.
"I've always found peace on the streets of Troy." He said. "They've kept me balanced in the past, reminded me of
what I was fighting for." Hector didn't fight for glory or accolades, or even the legends that seemed to precede him
wherever he went, including the mountain city-state of Thebes. "But now I've got you."
"You have me." Andromache agreed, pausing in the ascent to turn into him in the darkness. Not needing sight to
know exactly where to lift her hand to brush fingers through the hair at the side of his face. "Through this life and
the next."
If she gave him comfort, if she gave him pleasure, if she gave him peace, then her soul was satisfied with its life.
Being responsible for everyone and everything else was a lonely job and she would never let him walk it alone
again. She stroked fingers through his hair, aware of its soft curl all the more because she couldn't see it.
"You will always have me." she whispered, touching her lips to his. "And I will promise you will always have light at
the end. Always."
"And someday you'll fully know what a relief and pleasure that is." He said, kissing her lightly. "But see, I knew this
whole dark thing was just a ploy." He teased her.
It was just a relief to have that person as separate as he could keep her from the responsible part of his life. That
person to just relax and kick back with, maybe at times get a little goofy. There were probably some that didn't
believe he could get goofy, probably. And others who had never heard him laugh so hard his stomach hurt
afterward.
That, among other countless things, was what she offered him. What she gave him. And for that he was eternally
grateful.
Her lips smiled against his at his teasing and she hummed slightly.
"Any excuse to get you alone." she agreed. A statement that was both entirely truthful and entirely teasing at the
same time. "Now" she turned again, finding the wall again with their hands. "I promised you light." Three more easy
steps took them to a corner and she turned it. And around another curve in the path there was the indistinct spill of
daylight.