They Should Sing To His Name (Hector of the Worthies)
Title: They Should Sing To His Name (Hector of the Worthies)
WC: 2164
Characters: Helen, Hector (various others from Troy and Sparta)
Rating: PG
Summary: Home was outside her doorstep and she did not know which way she wanted to go.
Notes: Hokay. So, Helen doesn't go to Troy willingly. Title references the Nine Worthies. And yeah, those are the only notes you get.
She came screeching, her hands tightly bound. She was beautiful, the fairest of the fair and Hector could not take his eyes off of her.
"Who is she?" Hector asked quietly, standing next to his father. "Paris, dear brother, what have you brought back from Sparta?"
"A wife," Paris said simply, smiling. "A wife promised by the goddess Aphrodite."
"You have stolen more than you should," Hector chided. "I hope she serves you well."
He strode from the room, furious with his brother. Furious for daring to steal a wife from Sparta, and furious that she was so beautiful.
Paris kept her hidden for several months, for which Hector was grateful. He did not want to look upon her face, to have his heart twist with tempation. It was the sound of crying that drew him to Paris' quarters. There he found the captive alone, weeping.
"My lady?" he asked. She looked up, her eyes glowing. She launched herself at him, clawing and tearing where he could. He held her firmly, until her anger gave way and she fell upon him, sobbing.
"My lady," he said again.
"Today," she said softly. "Today my daughter will be ten."
Hector nearly dropped her, looking at her in horror, "Paris did not take a maiden?"
"He said I was promised to him by Aphrodite- I am merely the spoils of a childish game between the gods," she said simply, looking at him with now-cold eyes. "Menelaus is my husband and Hermione my daughter."
"Menelaus … the king?" How could he have not known this in the four months she had been here. Why had no news come in?
"He will come," he said quietly. "Until then, there's no reason for you to hide."
"Paris has forbid-"
"I am heir to the throne, I forbid you to be shut up here alone. Now come, it's only fitting you get a proper tour of the city." Showing her the city would give him time to process his thoughts before speaking with his father. The queen of all of Sparta had been taken.
There was a buzz in the air as they stepped out. Soon the streets were flooded with people looking at the beautiful captive.
She stepped back, shy and unsure, "I- I can't."
"It is only fitting," Hector whispered to her. "For now, you belong here."
*
The weeks faded into months, which faded into years, and still there was nothing from Sparta.
"Perhaps he is not coming," Helen told him softly. "Perhaps Paris is just the latest in a long line of thieves, stealing from Sparta without consequence."
"If you were mine," Hector started. "If you were mine, I'd fight the gods themselves to have you back. They say there are ships coming, that Agamemnon is leading them."
She stood quickly, "Why then, are they not here? Will Troy go to war with Sparta? That is all Agamemnon brings, war. You are not his and he would capture you and sell you off to claim your land. He will take the ladies of your land as concubines and Troy shall burn." She looked proud of Agamemnon in that moment, proud to be of Sparta. "I am a daughter of a god- what protection can your city offer? What will happen to me, Hector, when they show up outside the gates?"
"They say Agamemnon has angered Artemis and she leads them astray. The gods are on no-one's side. Hera will not bother herself with your consequence, will she? We will pray to the gods for protection. It is the fate of the gods what should happen to us all." Hector smiled at her, took her gently by the shoulders, "As for your fate when they demand you at the gates? You belong to Paris, fair one. You are his to do with as he pleases- as he sees fit."
"I could be home soon," she whispered, falling to his arms. She pressed her face tightly into his shoulder, "I could be home soon." She pulled back, smiled at him, "Let it never go unsaid that you are a kind man, Hector."
More years passed, but still there was nothing. Perhaps it had only been a myth from Hector, a myth to put her mind at ease. No longer did her heart ache for Sparta. Hector had demanded the people accept her, and they had. He had also ordered Paris to stop treating her as a captive. While he was still cruel in the bedroom, she was free to roam Troy.
Two more years passed, marking eight years since she had been taken. Eight years and now the rumours of Agamemnon and all her previous suitors were creeping back up. Ships, Troy was whispering about. Ships could be seen on the horizon.
Hector was practically giddy as the ships sat on the shore.
"The gods have prophesised death- they are to scared to land! The gods look with favour upon Troy and the kingdom of Priam!"
She watched from her room as Cycnus fell to a gold breasted warrior and the Trojans fled.
Then started the screaming for her head. It was Hector, not Paris, she noted, who spoke the crowd outside.
"She has lived in the land of Troy for eight years now! She has lived under the protection of the house of my father and I will not allow that protection to fall! She is the wife of my brother, Paris, and as one of ours, we will defend her; we will defend Troy itself against Agamemnon and his thirst for power! Troy shall not fall! Who will stand with me!"
The crowd roared and she huddled back in her room, pulling the duvet around her. Home was outside her doorstep and she did not know which way she wanted to go. She did not know which outcome she preferred.
He came to her, many weeks later, "My fair lady, how are you holding up?"
"What is the price, Hector? What is the price of all this madness? Am I worth it?" She spun to face the window, face the sea. "Achilles, and Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Menelaus. All my suitors, sworn by oath. They number over a thousand ships strong, and they are here to fight to the very last child! My fate- it is the hands of men! Do I not ever get to decide for myself?"
"What, my lady, would you have me do?" Hector's voice was sharp, his hands on either edge of the window, boxing Helen in. "Say the word and I shall plead with my brother on your behalf to return you."
She hesitated, and that was enough.
"Be well, Helen," Hector said, turning from the window. "You are of Troy now and we do not let ours go."
"I don't know where I belong."
"Here," Hector said simply. He waved his arm around the room. "To Paris and to Troy and we shall defend you."
She heard Paris on the stairs before Hector. "What will he think?" she whispered, finally turning from the window. "If I have dishonoured him?"
Hector strode from the room, slamming the door shut. She crept to it, listened to the fight among brothers.
"I hope, brother, for all of our sakes, that she is worth it."
"And what were you doing in our bedchamber?"
"She hides there. From Troy. From her family. From you." His voice dropped low and she put her ear to the crack at the bottom of the door to hear. "-And I disapprove. Father knows this. When that day comes, Paris, I hope for the sake of Troy you hand her back. I was there at your birth. I know the prophecy of Cassandra."
She backed from the door, Hector done. She heard the clattering of boots going down, then, after a moment, the clack of Paris coming up. She shrank to the bed, pulling the duvet over herself once more.
"What does Cassandra say?" she asked.
"She was only a little girl, begging for attention. "Is that all you are, Helen? A little girl, begging for attention? I shall not give Sparta anything!"
*
Years passed; the siege was a nominal siege as relief came from Asia by way of the land. Achilles took land and cities, yet Troy still held. She wanted to see her sister, her mother, even Zeus. She wanted an answer she would not hesitate on.
She was present for the wedding of Hector and Andromache, a celebration in the midst of all the violence. Soon Andromache was with child and Helen found herself attending to her, thinking of her own Hermione, grown by now, likely with a husband and children of her own.
"You are lucky," she said to Andromache. "To have him, to have Hector. He is a man of honour and valour. Your son will be fine indeed."
"Aye. I am amazed myself, to be his wife, with you around."
"He does not look at me like that-"
"And yet he goes to your bedchamber often- as he has for the past 17 years."
She thought for a moment, "That he has. But he has more compassion than Paris. He has more integrity. Whatever the outcome of this war, they should sing to his name."
"Troy will never fall," Andromache declared. "Not under Hector will it. We will be at this siege for eternity."
But Paris avoided Menelaus and Hector screamed. Then, after nine years of siege, it was about her. To the victor go the spoils, always, but this was hand to hand combat. All of Troy stood at the gates to watch.
Hector held her back from running to the arms of Menelaus, who could not see her. "He is yours to do with as he pleases. And now he fights for you. You must obey that."
She nodded, watched the battle with him. Priam stood behind them. Menelaus was going to win, she could tell from the first blow. Hector knew as well; with each blow by Menelaus, his hands tightened their grip on her shoulders.
She wanted to go home- home was only a few blows away, but neither did she want Hector to lose his brother. It wasn't fair, in the world of war, that it was possible to be on two different losing sides. No-one would win if she stayed. No-one would win if she went.
"All this for one person," she murmured. Andromache, with a suckling infant, took her hand. Together they stood, the House of Priam, watching the final stages of an 18 year battle.
It could never be that easy; Aphrodite herself entered the battlefield, taking Paris with her.
"Let me go," she begged Hector, who held her tightly. "Let me go!"
"I'm sorry-" he started, but she kicked at him.
"Menelaus is the winner! You are bound to let me go, Hector!"
"My brother has not yet conceded," he said softly. "I am bound by that."
"There is only bloodshed to follow!" she begged. "Break the honour and end the war!"
He considered it; she felt his heart quicken. He considered it, in the silence. The court watched; Paris, from the side also watched. He made no move to defend her, no move to call for her release. He had placed her fate into Hector's hands.
"Helen belongs-"
There was a cry from the sentry, "Menelaus is wounded! Menelaus has been shot! The war continues! For the gods! For Troy! We fight!"
Hector sprang into action, ordering ever able-bodied man to take arms.
"Troy will burn," she told him softly.
"Aye," he agreed. "Troy will burn. Until it does, I shall defend it. All those years ago, when we first met, your daughter would have been ten. I pray to the gods you find her again. I pray to the gods my protection lasts you to the end. Be well, my fair one."
"Am I just to watch?" she cried. "I belong where my heart does, Hector. I belong in two places. Am I just to watch?"
"Go to my house, to the room underground. You will be safe there; it is secure. I shall send my wife and son there as well. I pray to the gods that you make it out alive." Hector said. He looked conflicted, then added, "Protect them, Helen of Sparta- Helen of Troy."
It was the last she saw of him. She did not watch his battle with Ajax, but admired that he had brought truce, if only for a day. She listened to the tales of his bravery, hidden in his house. She ventured from her hiding when news of Patroclus' death reached her. Achilles was back, so the rumours inside the walls went and she fled to the palace, to the outlook, to watch.
There was none who could defeat him, Troy would burn.
Alone on the outlook, she watched Hector fall.
Alone on the outlook, she wept for the fall of Hector, for the fall of Troy.
WC: 2164
Characters: Helen, Hector (various others from Troy and Sparta)
Rating: PG
Summary: Home was outside her doorstep and she did not know which way she wanted to go.
Notes: Hokay. So, Helen doesn't go to Troy willingly. Title references the Nine Worthies. And yeah, those are the only notes you get.
She came screeching, her hands tightly bound. She was beautiful, the fairest of the fair and Hector could not take his eyes off of her.
"Who is she?" Hector asked quietly, standing next to his father. "Paris, dear brother, what have you brought back from Sparta?"
"A wife," Paris said simply, smiling. "A wife promised by the goddess Aphrodite."
"You have stolen more than you should," Hector chided. "I hope she serves you well."
He strode from the room, furious with his brother. Furious for daring to steal a wife from Sparta, and furious that she was so beautiful.
Paris kept her hidden for several months, for which Hector was grateful. He did not want to look upon her face, to have his heart twist with tempation. It was the sound of crying that drew him to Paris' quarters. There he found the captive alone, weeping.
"My lady?" he asked. She looked up, her eyes glowing. She launched herself at him, clawing and tearing where he could. He held her firmly, until her anger gave way and she fell upon him, sobbing.
"My lady," he said again.
"Today," she said softly. "Today my daughter will be ten."
Hector nearly dropped her, looking at her in horror, "Paris did not take a maiden?"
"He said I was promised to him by Aphrodite- I am merely the spoils of a childish game between the gods," she said simply, looking at him with now-cold eyes. "Menelaus is my husband and Hermione my daughter."
"Menelaus … the king?" How could he have not known this in the four months she had been here. Why had no news come in?
"He will come," he said quietly. "Until then, there's no reason for you to hide."
"Paris has forbid-"
"I am heir to the throne, I forbid you to be shut up here alone. Now come, it's only fitting you get a proper tour of the city." Showing her the city would give him time to process his thoughts before speaking with his father. The queen of all of Sparta had been taken.
There was a buzz in the air as they stepped out. Soon the streets were flooded with people looking at the beautiful captive.
She stepped back, shy and unsure, "I- I can't."
"It is only fitting," Hector whispered to her. "For now, you belong here."
*
The weeks faded into months, which faded into years, and still there was nothing from Sparta.
"Perhaps he is not coming," Helen told him softly. "Perhaps Paris is just the latest in a long line of thieves, stealing from Sparta without consequence."
"If you were mine," Hector started. "If you were mine, I'd fight the gods themselves to have you back. They say there are ships coming, that Agamemnon is leading them."
She stood quickly, "Why then, are they not here? Will Troy go to war with Sparta? That is all Agamemnon brings, war. You are not his and he would capture you and sell you off to claim your land. He will take the ladies of your land as concubines and Troy shall burn." She looked proud of Agamemnon in that moment, proud to be of Sparta. "I am a daughter of a god- what protection can your city offer? What will happen to me, Hector, when they show up outside the gates?"
"They say Agamemnon has angered Artemis and she leads them astray. The gods are on no-one's side. Hera will not bother herself with your consequence, will she? We will pray to the gods for protection. It is the fate of the gods what should happen to us all." Hector smiled at her, took her gently by the shoulders, "As for your fate when they demand you at the gates? You belong to Paris, fair one. You are his to do with as he pleases- as he sees fit."
"I could be home soon," she whispered, falling to his arms. She pressed her face tightly into his shoulder, "I could be home soon." She pulled back, smiled at him, "Let it never go unsaid that you are a kind man, Hector."
More years passed, but still there was nothing. Perhaps it had only been a myth from Hector, a myth to put her mind at ease. No longer did her heart ache for Sparta. Hector had demanded the people accept her, and they had. He had also ordered Paris to stop treating her as a captive. While he was still cruel in the bedroom, she was free to roam Troy.
Two more years passed, marking eight years since she had been taken. Eight years and now the rumours of Agamemnon and all her previous suitors were creeping back up. Ships, Troy was whispering about. Ships could be seen on the horizon.
Hector was practically giddy as the ships sat on the shore.
"The gods have prophesised death- they are to scared to land! The gods look with favour upon Troy and the kingdom of Priam!"
She watched from her room as Cycnus fell to a gold breasted warrior and the Trojans fled.
Then started the screaming for her head. It was Hector, not Paris, she noted, who spoke the crowd outside.
"She has lived in the land of Troy for eight years now! She has lived under the protection of the house of my father and I will not allow that protection to fall! She is the wife of my brother, Paris, and as one of ours, we will defend her; we will defend Troy itself against Agamemnon and his thirst for power! Troy shall not fall! Who will stand with me!"
The crowd roared and she huddled back in her room, pulling the duvet around her. Home was outside her doorstep and she did not know which way she wanted to go. She did not know which outcome she preferred.
He came to her, many weeks later, "My fair lady, how are you holding up?"
"What is the price, Hector? What is the price of all this madness? Am I worth it?" She spun to face the window, face the sea. "Achilles, and Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Menelaus. All my suitors, sworn by oath. They number over a thousand ships strong, and they are here to fight to the very last child! My fate- it is the hands of men! Do I not ever get to decide for myself?"
"What, my lady, would you have me do?" Hector's voice was sharp, his hands on either edge of the window, boxing Helen in. "Say the word and I shall plead with my brother on your behalf to return you."
She hesitated, and that was enough.
"Be well, Helen," Hector said, turning from the window. "You are of Troy now and we do not let ours go."
"I don't know where I belong."
"Here," Hector said simply. He waved his arm around the room. "To Paris and to Troy and we shall defend you."
She heard Paris on the stairs before Hector. "What will he think?" she whispered, finally turning from the window. "If I have dishonoured him?"
Hector strode from the room, slamming the door shut. She crept to it, listened to the fight among brothers.
"I hope, brother, for all of our sakes, that she is worth it."
"And what were you doing in our bedchamber?"
"She hides there. From Troy. From her family. From you." His voice dropped low and she put her ear to the crack at the bottom of the door to hear. "-And I disapprove. Father knows this. When that day comes, Paris, I hope for the sake of Troy you hand her back. I was there at your birth. I know the prophecy of Cassandra."
She backed from the door, Hector done. She heard the clattering of boots going down, then, after a moment, the clack of Paris coming up. She shrank to the bed, pulling the duvet over herself once more.
"What does Cassandra say?" she asked.
"She was only a little girl, begging for attention. "Is that all you are, Helen? A little girl, begging for attention? I shall not give Sparta anything!"
*
Years passed; the siege was a nominal siege as relief came from Asia by way of the land. Achilles took land and cities, yet Troy still held. She wanted to see her sister, her mother, even Zeus. She wanted an answer she would not hesitate on.
She was present for the wedding of Hector and Andromache, a celebration in the midst of all the violence. Soon Andromache was with child and Helen found herself attending to her, thinking of her own Hermione, grown by now, likely with a husband and children of her own.
"You are lucky," she said to Andromache. "To have him, to have Hector. He is a man of honour and valour. Your son will be fine indeed."
"Aye. I am amazed myself, to be his wife, with you around."
"He does not look at me like that-"
"And yet he goes to your bedchamber often- as he has for the past 17 years."
She thought for a moment, "That he has. But he has more compassion than Paris. He has more integrity. Whatever the outcome of this war, they should sing to his name."
"Troy will never fall," Andromache declared. "Not under Hector will it. We will be at this siege for eternity."
But Paris avoided Menelaus and Hector screamed. Then, after nine years of siege, it was about her. To the victor go the spoils, always, but this was hand to hand combat. All of Troy stood at the gates to watch.
Hector held her back from running to the arms of Menelaus, who could not see her. "He is yours to do with as he pleases. And now he fights for you. You must obey that."
She nodded, watched the battle with him. Priam stood behind them. Menelaus was going to win, she could tell from the first blow. Hector knew as well; with each blow by Menelaus, his hands tightened their grip on her shoulders.
She wanted to go home- home was only a few blows away, but neither did she want Hector to lose his brother. It wasn't fair, in the world of war, that it was possible to be on two different losing sides. No-one would win if she stayed. No-one would win if she went.
"All this for one person," she murmured. Andromache, with a suckling infant, took her hand. Together they stood, the House of Priam, watching the final stages of an 18 year battle.
It could never be that easy; Aphrodite herself entered the battlefield, taking Paris with her.
"Let me go," she begged Hector, who held her tightly. "Let me go!"
"I'm sorry-" he started, but she kicked at him.
"Menelaus is the winner! You are bound to let me go, Hector!"
"My brother has not yet conceded," he said softly. "I am bound by that."
"There is only bloodshed to follow!" she begged. "Break the honour and end the war!"
He considered it; she felt his heart quicken. He considered it, in the silence. The court watched; Paris, from the side also watched. He made no move to defend her, no move to call for her release. He had placed her fate into Hector's hands.
"Helen belongs-"
There was a cry from the sentry, "Menelaus is wounded! Menelaus has been shot! The war continues! For the gods! For Troy! We fight!"
Hector sprang into action, ordering ever able-bodied man to take arms.
"Troy will burn," she told him softly.
"Aye," he agreed. "Troy will burn. Until it does, I shall defend it. All those years ago, when we first met, your daughter would have been ten. I pray to the gods you find her again. I pray to the gods my protection lasts you to the end. Be well, my fair one."
"Am I just to watch?" she cried. "I belong where my heart does, Hector. I belong in two places. Am I just to watch?"
"Go to my house, to the room underground. You will be safe there; it is secure. I shall send my wife and son there as well. I pray to the gods that you make it out alive." Hector said. He looked conflicted, then added, "Protect them, Helen of Sparta- Helen of Troy."
It was the last she saw of him. She did not watch his battle with Ajax, but admired that he had brought truce, if only for a day. She listened to the tales of his bravery, hidden in his house. She ventured from her hiding when news of Patroclus' death reached her. Achilles was back, so the rumours inside the walls went and she fled to the palace, to the outlook, to watch.
There was none who could defeat him, Troy would burn.
Alone on the outlook, she watched Hector fall.
Alone on the outlook, she wept for the fall of Hector, for the fall of Troy.