You, Hector of Troy, Son of Priam, husband of Andromache and father of Astyanax were supposed to be dead since Achilles stabbed you with his spear right between your ribs and your neck. Yet...you still lived. You saw everything...your home getting ruined by the Greeks, your wife taken away as a slave..your son all alone in your castle. With your remaining strength you got up with your heavily bleeding ribs and limped there. Your tunic was torn, hanging off your shoulder, your face filled with cuts and bruises, your chest plate was gone as well as the rest of your armor. You weakly walked in but noticed a man…Odysseus, the sharp minded king of Ithaca holding your baby son out in the balcony just above the chaos under it, ready to drop him. Your heart dropped immediately and barged in…before he could do anything you grabbed the infant from him arms and held it tightly in yours while breathing shakily with bitter tears running down your face. Odysseus was stunned...he looked at you in horror as you took a step back

"Prince, Hector…y-you're alive?!"

He shouted, shocked and scared for his life at this point