Hector Of Troy - Blog Posts

You stand above your brother in his bed, occupied now by more than just pillows and blankets, for the woman at his back is fair and terrifying, even in sleep. You look between them, and you stand above your brother and think -

Is it too late to kill him now?

There are no ships on the horizon - yet - and if you present a body along with the stolen wife when the husband turns up, will that break the omen your mother dreamed?

Is it too late to kill him now?

You drop your hand down - perhaps to close around his throat, another already clutching one of those many, many pillows, and in the dark it'd be easy, wouldn't it? All you do is caress his cheek, your fingers digging stiffly into the pillow. He exhales, a tender shallow ease of breath, and there is this little smile on his lips.

You stand above your brother in his bed, there are ships on the shore, and you have cursed him for a plague, a bane, a cruelty raised by the Olympian to bring your house down, and -

it's too late to kill him now.

It'd be easy to do it, however. You carry a dagger at your belt even now, having left your own bed. Or you could perhaps stir up one of your other brothers, the city, some of your father's council. The baby was almost killed once, after all; what would it matter if it was realized now? Kin-blood believed to have been spilled is surely no less polluting than it being done in reality. The attempt might only have been in the handing over of a fragile infant into another's hands, handed over into the bosom of a mountain, wild and no place for such a tender little being.

But the mountain had been merciful, and nurtured instead of torn asunder, and now you're standing above your brother in his bed.

It's too late to kill him now, but would anyone blame you, blame anyone at all they might suspect, as much as they hate him, a hatred unsaid? Simmering. You don't know how he walks through the palace, the city, his life and not cower from the knowledge; he can't not know.

Your brother - pretty, soft, laughing, shining - doomed and dooming all of you from the start. What does an infant know of causing death? Your father tried to kill an innocent. Some of your brothers attempted it next, an innocent only wishing to reclaim what he thought belonged to him and them not knowing who the slave they felt so insulted by was.

Perhaps it's only fair he will kill you all, merely by existing, by batting those ridiculous lashes to lure the woman still sleeping at his back out of her home, her marriage, her life, and into yours.

You stand above your brother in his bed, and brush your knuckles down his cheek.

It's too late to kill him now, and no matter that you've cursed him and wished him dead - to his face, to your parents' faces, but never to anyone else's - with every angry word to spit at him there's always this echo of the wide, wide eyes, the trembling hand in yours as you help him up from kneeling next to the altar in your head.

Your little brother, that you failed to protect when he was born. And what are you if you don't protect? It's too late to kill him now, anyway. Was always too late.

You meet the gleaming whites of Helen's gaze in the darkness, watching her smooth her grip on your brother's arm into a stroke. Both of you can feel the relief staining the air as you turn away, pretending like she wasn't ready to help you.

You leave your brother in his bed.

I cry about Hector of Troy at least twice a month

achilles who was never human. hector of troy who was once human and becomes his dying city. ajax the great who was always human.

achilles killed by the easiest to blame for the war. hector killed by this semidivine being of rage and grief. ajax, seeing what became of them both, killing himself before he can be overcome by whatever it was that took their humanity and turned them into a holy weapon and a city's dying cries, respectively. he will suffer in hades if it means he died a human.

I DONT NEES TO THINK ABOUT THIS IT MAKES IT WORSE

when in just a man in epic odysseus like hesitates and cradles astyanax he was most likely thinking of telemachus because odysseus hasn't seen him since he was a baby LIKE THE WAY THE FATHER AND SON PAIRS PARALE EACH OTHER like odysseus doesn't get to see his son grow up any older then before he left but then gets to see his son as an adult while Hector gets to cherish and watch his son age but doesn't get to see him being an adult and Hector and his son reunite in death while odysseus and his son reunite in life

GIYS WHO WHEN ODYSSEUS DROPS ASTYANAX (I CANT SOELL HIS NAME) THE BABY FOESNT CRY BC

IN BOOK 6(?) (HECTOR RETURNS TO TROY) HE PLAYS WITH ASTYANAX HE THROWS HIM UP AND DOWN SO ASTYANAC ISNT SCARED OF HEIGHTS BC HE THINKD HECTORS GONNA CATCH HIM WASAAAAAAAAA

SO ASTYANAX GETS SCARED OF HECTOR WHEN HE WEARS HIS HELMET AND ASTYAMAX PROBABLY ONLY EVER SAW HELMEYS WHRN IT WAS HECTOR SO HE THIBKS ODYSSEUS IS HECTOR

IM SOBBING

"And down in Hades, your father will care for all the rest" -from Euripides' "The Trojan Women"

I will never be free of the Hector sadness. also Scamandrius was technically the last king of Troy which is something I think about sometimes and feel normal and sane.

Hector's death