The minimum he can do

[gwenchan]

 

Fandom: The Iliad, The Andromache
Characters: Helenus, Andromache, Neoptolemus
Prompt: Antica Grecia
Tag: Post-canon, mention of slavery and concubinage 

“He would have been eleven today.”

Helenus doesn’t need to ask to whom Andromache is referring. He knows. 

Andromache’s eyes are set on the kids of the household that, crowding the courtyard down below, are playing with wooden swords. Coming closer on the balcony, he wonders if she’s imagining how Scamandrius would have been, if she’s seeing his ghost among them. 

Eleven. He would have been eleven today.

It’s already been ten years. Ten years since Troy fell, ten years since they were forced away from their home. 

And Helenus remembers. He remembers a little boy, already so similar to his father, who had just begun to toddle around and who would occasionally come to him, pull his tunic and demand to be picked up. He remembers his brother and how his face always immediately lit up each time he saw his son. 

And then he remembers blood staining dark curls, a neck snapped at an unnatural angle, the white of the bone peering out. 

Andromache hadn’t been the same afterwards.

The first night after Troy had surrendered, Helenus hadn’t slept. Each time he closed his eyes, he would be assaulted by imagines as a voice whispered in his ears.

It’s your fault.

It was him who told the Achaians how to enter the city; him who revealed they had to steal the Palladium.

It had been under his suggestion that they brought Neoptolemus to Troy's shore, this monster of a boy who didn't know any pity. 

If it wasn’t for him, Troy might still be there. Astyanax would be still alive.

But he had betrayed, blinded by lust for a woman who caused them only troubles. 

He had been compensated, of course, for his treason and profusely. Neoptolemus might be cruel, but he respected and honored the gods, and knew enough about them to not neglect to show gratitude. And so, he had given Helenus a freedom most prisoners of war could only imagine in their wildest dreams. 

Helenus could walk around unchained while every night Neoptolemus forced himself onto Andromache.

He had turned his head the other way, forced his ears to not listen, repeating the mantra staying on Neoptolemus’ good side would eventually be of help for the others too.

The voices hadn’t stopped. They mingle with those Helenus had heard since he was a kid, the words the bees buzzed and the wind blew. Those voices told him how things would be,

In the courtyard two kids not older than nine are wrestling in the dust. 

"Mestor and Hector would do that every time," he says, not even sure why. Bringing back memories only causes more pain. But Andromache only nods.

"My brothers used to do that too. "

She almost never talks about her brothers or about her life before coming to Troy. 

The silence that follows is suffocating, defeating over the ruckus in the courtyard. Helenus turns his gaze away.

“We should go back.”

The mistress of the household, princess Hermione, doesn’t see eye to eye slaves wandering around without having something to do and she seems to harbour a deep hatred for Andromache

Helenus has heard the maids whisper. The princess is apparently sterile and loathes how his husband’s concubine already sired him three healthy children. 

Helenus would very much like to slap some sense in that spoiled girl, if he could.

He follows Andromache through the corridors leading to the women’ quarters. 

“Why are you here?” she asks, walking briskly, head low. 

“Neoptolemus sent for me. I still don’t know why.”

The letter only demanded his presence at the palace, calling for him from the town Neoptolemus had allowed Helenus to establish with a little group of other Trojans, specifying no further. 

The prince meets him in the evening, courteous even offering him wine from his table. Helenus stiffly accepts one goblet, only wetting his lips. 

"Is there anything?" 

He can’t stand to look at this man. 

He threw a child down the wall. 

"Yes."

Neoptolemus, Helenus has noted, when speaking doesn't have the accent of around here, the same his father used to have. 

“I’m going to Delphi,” Neoptolemus continues, “to the oracle there. To make Apollo accountable for my father’s demise.”

Apollo, a god Helenus knows well, too well. The scars from the numerous times the god touched or healed him have long faded but not completely. He still shivers at the memory of the god’s touch, when he would slip into his bed and make love to him.

“I want you to stay here till I return and take care of my children and their mother.”

He could almost sound tender if Helenus believed him capable of any tenderness.

In the corner of Helenus’ eye a crow has perched onto a branch outside the window

One he would have known its meaning. Once he would have understood its secret message. And if he did, would he care?.

"Is there anything else?"

"No. You are dismissed,” Neoptolemus says, curt. He returns to his dinner, as Helenus slowly backs to the door.

He'll stay at Andromache's side, forever. He’ll protect her as long as he lives. After all he’s done, it's truly the minimum he can do. He’ll make his having survived worthwhile.