Chapter Nine...Healing
His confession was so unlike anything she'd been prepared for that it took her mind a moment to understand what
he was saying. And when it finally did make sense she gasped against the wave of emotions that washed
mercilessly through her. Relief and love. And miserable guilt. And the guilt was the strongest.
Hector. Her husband. The man that had fought so hard for her. The only man that had been her friend and her
comfort, her safety and her laughter as well as her lover all in one. He went off to battle to protect his people, to
let her live in safety, and he worried the whole time about getting hurt, not for its own sake, but because he knew
she feared it. And now, here he was, cut to the bone, weak and wounded. Worrying about her. Because she
couldn't act well enough to hide that the thought of losing him terrified her. She should have greeted him with
smiles and light jokes and all she could offer him was -
was the shaking hands and the terrified eyes and the empty ache in her chest. He already carried so much, so
many people... She raised her slim hands to rub at her eyes. Setting her jaw.
"Do you think I'm blind?" she asked. Forcing her mind to focus on what they were talking about instead of what
might have been. The tears glinted in her eyes when she raised them. But they didn't fall. She was so - furious at
herself that she was becoming a burden when all he should be thinking of was himself and getting better. "It wasn't
as if you lied to me. As if I didn't know what you did or who you were." She raised her chin to look at him.
Stubbornness coming to the fore. "I knew. I knew what loving you would do to me. I knew that you woke emotions
in me as if I'd only been dreaming before you came along and now, suddenly, for the first time I was awake and I
could feel. And I'd never be able to go back. I'm not stupid. I could have either spent my life asleep or I could live
it. Alive. With you." She cupped his face in her hands, leaning close to search his eyes. Did he regret her? For
even an instant? Voice softening she told him: "I chose you. I wanted your love and your future and your children.
I still do. Akakios was already too late when I first met him. I already loved you. One single moment of being your
wife is worth any price in this life or the next. That I get more than a moment and pay so little is surely the biggest
cheat in the history of women. I want you. I always just want you."
"No, I don't think you're blind, you see better than me most of the time." He said, caressing her face, seeing the
shine of tears in her eyes even as she set her jaw and spoke her passionate words. "But we both knew this day
would come, where you would be forced to sit there and watch, wait to see if I'd live or die," and he couldn't
promise her this would be the last and only time. They both knew that. "and I think we both denied it." He'd come
back from so many other battles not nearly hurt as bad, it had gotten to the point where he knew his people
believed him almost immortal and blessed by the gods themselves. But he had felt every ache and twinge and
knew he wasn't.
He also knew chances were good that he wouldn't come back one day. She knew it too, and it shook him that that
day was almost today.
He pulled her toward him, ignoring any pain and discomfort that may have resulted, because just being here able
to hold her in his arms made it all worth it. She was trying so hard to be so strong, and she didn't have to be, not
for him. He could only guess what it was like when the Apollonians rode out, knowing the wives of his soldiers
looked to her for an example on how to handle it. She didn't have to keep it up for him.
The man who had struck Hector with his worst injury...Hector had never hated before in his life. His emotions in
battle were so controlled, it left no room for hate. But that man...Hector hated him. Because of him Andromache
was almost a widow and his son was almost fatherless. He closed his eyes as he held his wife, remembering the
rage, the utter rage, he had felt in that moment when the sword pierced his armor, good really for softening blunt
injuries then protecting from swords or arrows then anything else.
But she said somehow it was all worth it for moments like this. And it was, it really was.
"I love you." He whispered against her hair.
The tears came then and there was no more stopping their fall. She shouldn't. She shouldn't be in his arms, held
against his chest, risking hurting him. And she shouldn't be crying. She shouldn't.
But she couldn't stop.
And the silent tears were a mingling of her lonely nights without him and her days of uncertainty and the pure
physical pain of seeing him hurt and in pain. And they were tears stored against that day when he wouldn't come
back through the gates of Troy to her. Because - now - she knew. Truly knew. That one day, Hector, her husband
and the light of her world, wouldn't be coming back.
But she hadn't lied. He was worth it. A single day being loved by him was worth any price. Any price at all.
Hector just held her tightly, making soothing noises as he kissed her head and caressed her hair. She’d been the
face of courage and strength for so long, this needed to come out. And he knew that. Though he still hated that
he was the reason for all of this, he held her and let her cry. She didn’t deserve this, and he didn’t deserve her.
"Its okay..." He whispered. "I’m still here." And that was at least one promise he could fulfill.
She didn't know how long she cried. She never cried. Never. But Hector collected a great many of her 'nevers' in
the safety of his embrace. And now he'd collected her tears as well. She quieted under his soothing touch,
pressing close and being careful at the same time to avoid his wounds. Inhaling shakily. He was the only one in
this life or the next who saw all of her. That she gave all of herself to. Even the weak, fragile pieces. He soothed
her soul. She sometimes felt she gave him so little compared to all he gave her.
"I missed you," she whispered it against his skin. Eyes closed. Held safe in his arms. "I missed this."
"I missed you." He said to her. He knew many of his soldiers rushed back to Troy because the walls were thick. He
rushed back to what was inside those thick walls, his heart and soul. Had Troy never had its walls, and only a
simple gate, he'd have rushed back just as quick every time. To the one woman who would stand up to his
captains and generals, saying 'No, you can't have access to him.' when he would return bone tired and battle
weary. Or when he was just enjoying the quiet peaceful domestic side of his life.
The one woman who made it all worth it, every cut, every bruise, every drop of blood he spilled, whether it be his
or his enemy's. The one who knew, as confusing as it was, that Prince Hector, general of the Apollonians and
renowned soldier, and Hector, father of Astyanax and husband of Andromache were two completely different
people.
"I missed you, I missed this, I missed this room, I missed our boy." He said. "And if there's one good thing that
came out of this, I'm Troy bound for a while." He wasn't even sure he could lift his sword, or his shield....but he
hoped at least his son.
She nodded against him softly and her arms around him tightened carefully so they wouldn't cause any pressure
against bruises or the wounds he'd suffered. The hint that she would have kept him here whether he'd been of the
same mind or not.
"Easier ways of staying in bed with me." she commented softly against him. Gods... she loved him. Fiercely,
protectively, achingly. Sweetly, peacefully, deeply. Completely. She pressed a kiss to his skin before shifting in his
embrace to wind her arms around his shoulders, tangling fingers in his thick hair. His skin was still a bit hot to the
touch and she knew he was tired and his body would be aching with steady pain. She would have taken it all on
herself if she'd only known how.
"Illyrius left medicine for you to take when you woke up." she rested her forehead against his. Moving long fingers
gently through his hair. "And you should sleep again too." she added. Knowing he needed it. Knowing he wouldn't
until he was sure she was healed inside. He was a miracle to her. One he'd given her himself and unlike the gods,
there was nothing hidden in his amazing, impossible gift but his love. And he owned her, heart, body, and soul,
because of it.
"I love you." she whispered, brushing her lips gently against his. "Always you."
He got her silent hint and embraced her as tightly as he dared in return to assure he was in fact still there. He
would take on any pain for her, but knew sooner or later she'd object to that, him intentionally aggravating injuries,
so for the moment he just savored this.
"Love you." He responded, kissing her again just as tenderly. "And I'll sleep later." She was right, he wanted to be
certain she was okay as much as he could make her, as much as he could reassure her that their greatest fear
was not to be realized today.
She should make a point of it. She knew. Push both the medicine and the sleep. He needed both. The soldiers in
the regular army thought Hector was invincible. But she knew better. That he was a man and his body, while it
would push past what it shouldn’t if his heart demanded it, still bled and bruised. And she knew he was pushing
himself now. So she should...
But when his lips touched hers again, impossibly gentle and sweet, her heart melted open in her chest. She had
never known there were so many different ways of kissing before Hector. More ways of saying different things
than words in the human language. Her slim hand slipped from his hair to cup his cheek and she returned the
kiss. Not to lead anywhere, not to seal anything away. To simply cherish him. For the promise and assurance that
a simple kiss both offered and took. He was here. He was alive. And she loved him. Everything else came later.
Right now - in their moment - it didn't matter.
Lifting her face, she rested her forehead lightly against his, fingers still soft against his cheek. Loving him. Filling
herself with the scent and warmth and solid feel of him. He was here...
"I know you don't sleep well on campaign." she murmured. His guard knew. And so their wives knew. And what the
wives knew, Andromache did as well. "I'll pretend I forgot the medicine if you'll go back to sleep."
"I'm going to have to start putting a gag order on my guard." He said with a chuckle. "They talk far too much than
is healthy for them...or me!" Oh, she had learned well from his mother, on how to listen in on council meetings, get
information from the front from messengers, how to ask other wives about their husbands and get information on
her own husband without seeming to be interrogating...
"Would you believe me if I said I don't need as much sleep as you think I do? And I did just sleep for a while?" He
was afraid if he fell asleep, though he was tired, she'd go back to her anxious watching, and all his reassurances
so far would be for naught.
She met his eyes with her own dark ones. Knowing what he was doing. For her. And she should argue. He needed
his rest. Real, healing sleep instead of the fever dreams that had burned their way through him and her own heart
at the same time. If she lay the way she was now, rested her head on his chest, she could listen to his heartbeat
for reassurance while he slept. She was safe in his arms. From everything. Anything.
"I want to take care of you." she murmured, tucking her face against the side of his jaw. "I like taking care of you. I
like that I'm the only one you let do that." she confessed. It was a gift he gave her. Himself without guards or walls.
Shutting her eyes, she relaxed against him. Nowhere close to sleep herself but he did that to her. Soothed her
heart.
"You're going to get me in trouble with Illyrius." she added. Quietly teasing. "And he's very fierce."
"I could take Illyrius easily." Hector joked back. "Don't worry about him, we can't get in trouble if we avoid him after
all." He tenderly kissed the top of her head as he ran his hand along her upper arm lightly. "And you do a
wonderful job of taking care of me. And sometimes...sometimes I like being taken care of."
It was a different feeling, that was for sure. He was the one who took care of and protected others, from his family
to his country. That kind of life and responsibility bred a certain kind of independence and stubbornness that he
let go of only for her at times like these.
"Besides, the good doctor will lay off once he realizes I'm healthy enough to argue with him." He chuckled. "I
should anyway, he did disobey a direct order." He remembered telling the doctor to stop what he was doing,
because dammit it hurt more than he could describe. And he also remembered the doctor ignoring him.