The room is warm. Her brother is speaking. It is nothing important, just slow evening talk, some story from his childhood when he used to sneak out of the palace in the night and go by the river to fish there. He told this story many times before but Cassandra doesn't mind. She prefers to speak about the past more these days.
Hector's voice is calm and peaceful, there is almost no signs of today's battle in it. Cassandra doesn't really pay attention to the story, her eyes can focus only on the long spear sticking out of his throat, the blood is running down his neck and all of his chiton he put on after removing the armor is already wet and dirty. She almost calls for a slave to bring Hector clean clothes and to quickly scold her for not noticing that her master needed it earlier but manages to stop herself from this. She is too tired to confront another confused and pitying look. Not from her brother. Not today
Hector rises his voice for a moment, and Cassandra hears a loud gurgle of blood in his throat. She shivers from this sound. Hector gives her a short laugh, probably assuming she is reacting to the dangerous part of the story he finally started to tell and ruffles her hair with his hand how he used to did when she was a little child. His palm feels heavy and warm on her head. If she closes her eyes, she can even pretend there is no blood running down her face.
Then, the child's voice sleepily interrupts them, and Cassandra only now remembers that they are not alone in this room. Hector says something short to his son, who woke up in his arms, Cassandra can hear Scamander's big yawn before he's going silent again seemingly falling asleep again on his father's chest.
Cassandra tries to avoid looking at her nephew these days. But there is still glimpse of the picture of him in the corner of her eye. She quickly turns her head around trying to erase the image of her brother in soaked through with blood chiton holding his barely recognizable son, whose head is cracked open and red liquid keeps dripping from it on the cloth, floor and already red hands of her brother. She shuts eyes so tightly that it almost hurts, but it's never darkness that welcomes her.
Sometimes she is able to close her lids and caress the child's soft skin or to run her fingers through his hair or when she is brave enough she holds him in her arms feeling his small heart still beating against her chest and ignores burning feeling in her eyes telling her to open them and look at the future of the kid in her arms. Usually she starts crying and Andromache with deep wrinkles on her face and soft so tired and way too old eyes has to take her son out of Cassandra's trembling hands to give him to the maid and hold Cassandra tightly in her arms while she proceeds to fall apart, crying asking for forgiveness and mercy from the gods.
(She knows they won't listen. She knows they won't stop anything. She sees how this would end. She sees that her prayers won't change anything. But she also knows that she can't stop and that she won't stop praying even on her walk to her death names of the gods will fall from her lips in the hopeless attempt to change something.)
But today is not one of these brave days, today she just wants to close her eyes and crawl into her brother's arms, hear his heart beating in his chest so loud she could ignore all the blood on him, to listen to his voice so steady and confident that she can pretend there is no spear right in his throat and tell him not to go to battle tomorrow, tell him to stop war, tell him that she knows how and when he's gonna die, knows how and when his son's gonna die, and how long and from what his wife will suffer, maybe even tell him what happens to her, tell him how much she is afraid, tell him he needs to remove this spear from his throat because she hates how it makes his voice sound so he would finally hear her and somehow save everything, so he would tell her that he will protect her from anything and anyone like he used to tell years ago. But she bites her tongue and feels tears burning in the corners of the eyes. It will not work. He will simply say her that her mind is clouded with fear, that she is just too afraid and everything's gonna be okay that after all he is the strongest among the Trojans because he will not die this easily and that she needs to rest.
Hector looks at her like he knows what is going on in her head. But instead of asking he simply places quick kiss on the top of her head and stands up, caring completely sleeping Scamander in his arms. He says some words wishing her good night and heads to his and Andromache's bedroom, leaving red footsteps behind.
Cassandra remains at her seat, watching old maid with bleeding cut throat remove wine her brother drank. Couple of drops of the blood from her neck fall in the jug, Cassandra frowns and makes a short rebuke to her. Maid looks at her with a confused expression, Cassandra notices a big bruise on maid' face and simply tells her to continue with quick hand gesture.
Maid leaves the room, taking with her remaining wine and some plates with glass, Cassandra slowly stands up and goes to the place maid stood for a while. There is a big puddle of blood on the floor. She is able to catch her own reflection in liquid in the lights of candles, there is a line of blood on her face, running down from the big cut on her head, dividing it in to halves, something she sometimes almost forgets about; drop of her own blood breaks off from the cut and lands in the puddle, making it go with circles and washing away her reflection.
"My lady?" returned maid stands behind her with some fruits in her hands. Cassandra heavily sighs and heads to her own room, denying food maid brought. She almost leaves but stops right in the doorway turning her head to the maid.
"Clean the floor, someone spilled wine there"
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