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Oh by the gods..
If there was one man in Troy who would still run out to spend time with horses while being sick, it would undoubtedly be Hector.
Not like Andromache did not like horses, she loved them as well. But her husband really had the audacity to ignore her warnings. He had a high fever, for Troy's sake!
Andromache sighed heavily as she came into their bedchamber with a bowl of warm oats in her hand, only to find the bed empty. She slowly settled the oats on a stable surface, and made her way to the Trojan stables.
And to no one's surprise, Hector was there, brushing the mane of his favourite horse, Sparkle, while whispering to it in child-like excitement.
“My dear, godlike Sparkle,” Hector said softly, as if talking to a young child, and not to a full grown war horse that could send men to their deaths. “I missed you so much while I was resting in my room. In my state of slumber, you appeared to me and motioned me to feed you. I knew it was a sign. That is why I came to you.”
The horse neighed in reply, nuzzling into Hector's palm.
Andromache blinked twice; what did her dear husband just say?
She walked towards him in slow, quiet steps. “Beloved,” Andromache said. “..did you just say that a horse - your horse came in your dream and told you to feed it?..”
Hector was slightly startled, perhaps because he was too indulged in ‘talking’ with his dear horse. He turns, and his hazel brown eyes soften as he sees Andromache.
“Yes indeed, dear.” Hector said in a completely serious tone. “My sparkle came to me in my dream and told me to feed it. That is why I hurried out to the stables as soon as I woke up. I'm sorry for not informing you before leaving our bed, beloved.”
“..well-I-” Andromache said, still flabbergasted by the fact that her husband had such dreams, and not only that, he took them quite seriously. “Maybe I shouldn't have expected something less from you, love.”
Hector tilts his head like a curious bird at her reply.
“Why?” He asks softly. “You don't think this was meant to be? That the dream was a sign?”
“I didn't mean to say that.” She justifies. “It’s just..well..you can say it's -”
“NEIIIGHH!” The horse protested before Andromache could even muster up some confidence to call her husband's dream a bit ridiculous. She had given up at this point; she was no match against this intelligent horse or her husband that loved this intelligent horse.
“Have you fed it?” She asked.
“Yes. But it would be unfair to not feed all of them; if I have fed one horse, even if it is my favourite, I should feed all the other horses as well.” Hector, ever the justice-bringed of the horses, said righteously.
Andromache had no argument to make against her husband, probably because nothing could change his stubborn mind either.
“Fine then,” Andromache gestures at the pile of hay behind her. “Feed them, dear husband.”
“Wouldn't you join me?” Hector offers.
“Not that I can deny a good time feeding horses with you.” Andromache said, finally cracking a little smile at the silliness of all of this.
So they fed their precious horses with affection, laughing together at the silly things that the little foals did. One tried to chew on Hector's cloak, the other loved Andromache's curls so much that it tried to eat them.
“Let us go inside now,” Andromache said, reaching for Hector’s hand. “or did you think that you could distract me with horses and make me forget that you are sick?”
Hector sighed dramatically, like a child denied sweets. There was quite the duality in his personality towards Andromache; sometimes and only in front of her, he acted like a clingy, spoiled child. Most of the time, however, he remained guarded, serious and the honourable prince of Troy that he was to everyone.
But it seemed like his sickness had melted away his serious side.
“Very well.” Hector takes her hand. She flinches, caught off guard at how warm it was.
“Hector, dear!” She said worriedly. “Your hand is too warm, your body’s temperature is too warm! Come with me and rest this instant.”
Hector shrugs as if that is the most normal piece of information that was said to him. Andromache drags him by the hand to their bedchamber anyways; like an obedient child who did not wish to be scolded any further, Hector resumes his position in their comfortable bed, settling in the furs.
“Let me prepare you a cold bath,” Andromache said, hurriedly beginning to prepare the bath before Hector could even say anything.
“You worry too much, darling.” Hector hummed casually. “It is nothing serious. I am not an infant whose life is endangered by some little seasonal changes.”
“If sickness only implied to babies, husband, then the gods wouldn’t have created the concept of sickness for all and every age of mortals!” Andromache snaps, still preparing the bath.
“As if all mortals are the same?” Hector said. “They're not, of course. A youth has more strength than an old man with greying hair.”
“And you're a man who is around twenty summers old, and has a high fever.” Andromache said. “You're not helping your argument.”
“Fine, I will be quiet to keep some peace for now..” Hector sighs, defeated. He slumps back into the furs, muscles relaxed.
“Good.” Andromache said, concentrating on her work fully now.
A while later, when the bath was prepared, Andromache turned to Hector, who had fallen asleep, though he'd never admit that he was exhausted.
“Wake up, dear.” Andromache said. “Take a cold bath.”
“Hmm?” His eyes opened, slowly blinking. He then sat up, with half lidded eyes, he looked towards the bath. “Oh, that looks quite nice, sweet Andromache.” He rubs his eyes.
“Shall I help you undress?” she offers quietly.
“I'm sure that I can do that myself.” Hector smiles affectionately, though for some reason he felt the need to prove that he could be independent in a state of sickness. However, Andromache did not mind at all.
Hector shreds himself off his tunic, and sits in the bath. Andromache, satisfied with the quiet compliance, walks to her loom and begins to work on a beautiful tapestry that she has been working on since the morning.
—------------------
[After bath.]
“Wear this, dearest.” Andromache said, presenting a fresh, crimson green tunic with its edges embroidered with fine patterns in golden.
“Doesn't it look too loose for my size?” Hector asked, sizing the tunic up.
“Loose fabric may help you cool down your body.” She said, touching his shoulder and his forehead to feel his temperature. “It has relatively cooled down too, I see.”
“I told you, dear, I wasn't that sick.” Hector said, wearing the tunic.
“Mhm, sure you weren't.” Andromache said sarcastically.
“Now, should I go to the training grounds and-” He began his sentence, which would rather be a declaration before he disappeared from sight, but he was interrupted.
“No.” She said, “You’re not going anywhere. You're not well enough to presume your duties. Get back to our bed.”
“What?” Hector said, horrified. No dutiful, respectful crown prince stays in his bed longer than required. What blasphemy was dear Andromache telling him to commit! “No, beloved! What are you saying? I cannot just leave my duties aside for this small of a problem.”
“My dear husband,” Andromache sighs, taking Hector by the hand gently and drawing him closer. “It is not a small problem, and Troy would not collapse if you choose to rest for a day.”
“But-” Hector's protests are silenced as Andromache reaches to kiss his cheek gently. “This is not fair.” He said mildly sullenly, but was melted away by her affection. He frees his hand from her grip and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close to his chest in a gentle embrace.
“You smell quite nice.” Andromache said, her lips near his ear.
“Well, well, must be the cause of the cold bath set up by my lovely wife.” Hector smiles. Andromache chuckles and shakes her head.
“Quite the amusing way to compliment, love, but I appreciate it.” She said, “Now, now, don't try to swarm me away with your shameless affection. Lay on the bed and rest.”
Andromache frees herself of his grip, and begins to walk towards her loom. But Hector gently grasps her wrist and pulls her back.
“Am I the only one deserving of resting?” He asked, tilting his head in feigned curiosity. “You too deserve some rest. Come now, and rest with me. Or do you plan on rejecting that idea of mine as well?”
Andromache sighs, but at the same time, she is tired. Perhaps some rest with her beloved husband would not prove to be so bad after all.
“I will join you.” She said. Hector smiles and pulls her in an embrace again.
—-------
It has been hours since they had been asleep. Andromache is the first to wake.
Her half lidded eyes flutter lazily, before opening properly after she had them rubbed them.
Her eyes land at Hector's sleeping form right next to her; one hand tangled in her hair, face buried in her neck as he softly breaths.
The spectacle of him at so much peace fills her with a loving sense of warmth and joy. She leans in to kiss his forehead.
“My love,” She said gently, tapping his cheek. “Wake up.”
Hector's eyes slowly open, and he yawns.
“Have I been sleeping for too long? Has the moon risen already?” He murmurs.
“No it hasn't.” Andromache said. “But it will soon.”
“Oh gods, I have slept for long, haven't I?” Hector said, rubbing his eyes. “I have become quite the selfish prince.”
“Oh please, my husband, there is no man in all of Troy who is as selfless as you are...” Andromache rolls her eyes.
“Oh but there probably are.” Hector said with a lazy smile, his hands finding way to her waist to pull her into an embrace again.
“Now I must ask if you're too fond of embracing me, my prince.” Andromache chuckles.
“You can say that.” Hector said, nuzzling her neck like a horse nuzzles with its mare.
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