“Why are you not rested?”

Hector’s lips passed over your cheek, his fingertips no longer soddened by blood trace where life lay within your womb. His skin kissing the cloth that wrapped you in its warmth, a reminder of what lay beneath.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, looking to you through dark lashes as the moonlight sculpted your moonlight to his features. He smiled lazily, not at how you did not look to him.

“Lover, I know you hear me.” He mumbled, his voice over your ear as he kissed your gentle head, pushing hair from your brow.

The son of Priam seldom found himself within his own halls, paintings foreign and the family within the home became mixed faces of those left rotted upon battle field and their death a marker to his psyche.

He could chuckle at your soft mumble, the delicate voice of a lover within his bed he’d not known for so long. Lonesome wars within his thoughts and beneath his eyes, cursed by Aphrodite to watch as his brother bent to her roses while he could not seem to bloom.

He could only smile into your skin as his lips pressed against your nose, your brow, your jaw and cheeks, tracing out what he knew by heart. His hands along the curve in your belly, feeling the life he planted thrum.

He could see you shift within the darkness, a darkness he found himself craving- where war was a distant thought, where men’s bodies waste beneath his boots and eyes dare not look down or risk seeing their kin held by Thanatos.

“If you are to be awake I see no reason as to not speak with your husband…”