I’m very entertained by the fact that the first thing Hektor does when he’s killed Patroclus is go after his chariot to get Achilles’ horses and Apollo has to yell at him to go back and fight. He doesn’t even get Achilles’ armor from Patroclus’s body until after that. Very telling of where his first thoughts and priorities are. Hektor has never once seen a horse he didn’t want
Hektor wakes up early, always rousing with the rising sun, though he often does not want to.
It’s draining to wake up tired; it’s been a long while since a night’s rest has actually shed all the fatigue clinging to him. It remains every time. Some mornings are easier than others, but he’s always tired.
This morning isn’t an easy one. Hektor’s not ready yet, he’s not ready to drag himself up and face another aching day of grueling battle, to face this never ending war. The bed is so soft and comfortable and his bones feel stubborn and unresponsive within his stiff, leaden limbs and his eyelids are so heavy.
He blinks blearily, struggling not to slip back under the soothing haze of sleep. Very slowly, he focuses on Andromache’s face resting across from his on the pillow.
She’s still asleep, as she often is when Hektor wakes. As well she should be; she doesn’t need to be disturbed this early. Andromache is tranquil and still, one hand resting over Hektor’s wrist between them. Her lips are parted slightly, soft cheek squished against the pillow, her hair disheveled, untamed strands spilling about her face.
Hektor takes a long, slow breath through the warm stutter in his chest.
He watches, tracing over the familiar lines of his wife’s face with his gaze, studying her at peace and in comfort, holding the vision close to his heart. The sight captivates him such that, despite the slow drift of his eyelids and the drowsy blur that sometimes threatens his vision, sleep fails to pull him back under.
He watches as the world slowly wakes outside, muted noises starting to slip through the window. The sound of wing beats and twittering comes from beyond the curtains as a bird flits past and Andromache stirs.
Her fingers twitch over Hektor’s wrist and she nuzzles further into the pillow and for a drawn out moment it seems she might fall back asleep, then she opens her eyes just barely. Shifting her other hand, Andromache scrubs over her face with the base of her palm, uttering a muffled noise of irritation when it tugs at her hair.
Hektor reaches out and stills her hand with a light touch, running a tender finger over her forehead to gently guide her stray hair back behind her ear. Andromache returns a little smile, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the knuckle of her thumb, then blinks languidly at him.
“Good morning,” Hektor breathes.
“’Morning,” Andromache rasps, struggling to keep her eyes open for more than a moment. Hektor strokes the side of his thumb delicately over the curve of her cheek and Andromache tips her head into the touch.
Shuffling forward, Hektor closes the short distance between them to set a light kiss on her lips. Andromache doesn’t bother with much response, though she shifts her hand down past his wrist to his palm to intertwine their fingers. Hektor lingers on the warm press of their lips until he breaks away, and then does Andromache sneak in to kiss him a moment longer.
Her eyes open slowly, her gentle, dark gaze peeking up through her lashes. “I’m glad I’m here with you,” Hektor murmurs low. She tugs on their hands woven together between them, bringing them over her chest and issues an inquisitive hum.
He didn’t mean it to be specific necessarily, Hektor always delights when they’re together, but he elaborates anyway, “I woke up stressed.” Andromache makes an exasperated yet fond noise. “I’m not anymore. You put me at ease. You give me strength.”
Andromache’s expression goes so overwhelmingly tender. “I feel the same, with you.” Again, Hektor takes a deeper breath.
She nudges in for another kiss, more attentive this time, the curve of their lips slotted together with soft pressure. Moments pass by unheeded as they trade leisurely, feather light kisses.
A bare inch finds its way between them and Andromache exhales, “Must you go?”
“I must go,” Hektor answers. “But I won’t rush. I’ll stay in bed a while longer, and once I must, I’ll stay by your side as I get ready.”
She squeezes his hand. “Then I’ll relish every moment that I have you, my Hektor,” Andromache replies, moving close to embrace him fully. Hektor returns the affection, folding his arms around her back and resting his forehead against hers, their noses bumping. They tangle together their legs, their breath, and their hearts.
So The dirty Trojan (Chuck) and I trolled around campus to take pics of the awesome TOMS that I made with iconic UCLA landmarks. =) I think they turned out well.
