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Chapter 20: Pain Stabbed Deep Inside
Not long after Harry's final statement, which no one contested simply because he was after all, the legitimate heir and was expected to take after the queen, Cassandra led the visitors over to the dining room for a morning meal.
Hermione stayed behind, and when Harry, who was the last to get out, finally made his way to the hallway, she took hold of his arm in a soft, soothing touch.
Hermione's touch sent shivers through Harry's spine and he found himself staring right into the
woman he loved seconds after. Her eyes were bright with tears threatening to stream down her face.
"What?" he snapped, his voice cooler than ice.
"Thank you," she replied in a whisper.
"For?"
"You know what I am talking about Harry." She managed to form a sad smile on her lips.
It did turn out that he did know. He just did not want to be reminded of the consequences of his decision, mainly finding out that Hermione could never be his.
"I did not take the throne for you, princess. There was no better candidate and I owe my father this much."
Harry did not even buy his own words. However, Hermione nodded, a tear finally escaping her composed features.
Did this mean she believed him? Did she even care the reasons he gave? She had gotten what she had come for in the first place after all, had she not?
"I think you will make a wonderful king Harry. I have nothing more to do here then."
"Wait."
Before Harry knew what he was doing, he had taken hold of Hermione's hand. She turned around, and he could detect a glimmer of happiness in her teary eyes.
"Hermie, get in here!" Ron called out in the distance.
Hermione looked at Harry again and sighed, gave his hand a tight squeeze and disappeared into the
hallway.
"I love you," Harry whispered.
****
"Oliver's girl? What do you know?" Agamemnon nearly choked on his food as he learned of Oliver's
and Fleur's new engagement.
"That is right. We leave tomorrow," Oliver announced while his hand sought Fleur's.
"Well, I must say Oliver. I did not expect you to settle for a thing like that," Ron admitted.
"Ronald!" Hermione shouted out, while Odysseus and Penelope gave Achilles' son a death glare.
"I believe I did not ask for your opinion, Ronald," Oliver replied angrily, "I suggest you be quiet if you know what is good for you."
"So, you said you are leaving during mid-afternoon?" Cassandra asked Agamemnon, trying to change the subject and prevent a possible fight.
Although she agreed with Ronald as far as Fleur was concerned, her decision was a diplomatically sensible one.
"That is what we said. The sooner we are in Sparta, the better," Ron answered, as if the question was addressed to him.
"Tomorrow," Hermione whispered.
"I beg your pardon?" Ron asked, puzzled. Nobody had ever dared to contradict him.
"We are leaving tomorrow," Hermione's voice became more audible. "If that is all right with the
Trojans."
"I do not-"
"Of course." Ron's statement was cut off by Harry's voice. He really did not want them to leave and the statement was out of his mouth before he realized it.
Ron glared at Hermione as she smiled thinly at Harry.
"Hermione dear, someone should teach you to keep your mouth shut when you are not spoken to," Ron
reprehended her.
"I was merely suggesting-"
"I did not ask for your suggestions!"
Hermione stood up, enraged. She was no one's puppet and she intended on letting her fiancée know that. The fact that this was not diplomatically feasible, both because men had power over women in the society she lived in and therefore, she was supposed to follow his orders without question and because she was in a public place, which was no appropriate place to bring out grievances, was nor even in the corner of her mind right now.
"What about what I want? Is that not important to you? Did you even ask me!"
"Why would I? We will do as I say and that is an order whether you like it or not!" Ron screamed at
her.
"You cannot give me orders! I am not a toy!"
"You are mine! That is enough!"
"I WILL NEVER BE YOURS, BASTARD!" Hermione shrieked. "I WOULD RATHER ROT!"
With those words, Hermione stumped out of the room.
Harry was tempted to stand up and go comfort her, but decided against it. It was not diplomatically appropriate and besides, she was not his to protect.
"She is just upset," Ron assured. "Nervousness is quite natural in young virgin women. I will tame
her."
Now Harry felt like gagging. The thought of Hermione with Ron was far too nauseating to say the
least. Besides, Hermione was no virgin; Harry knew that, since he himself had taken it from her. No,
she had given it to him.
****
"Hermione?" Hermione's room door was carefully opened by Fleur, who approached her sister's bed,
which for the first time, was not loaded with heavy books. Instead, there was a satin bag there,
already loaded with some of her garments. "I will help you pack."
"No," Hermione squeaked through loud sobs.
Fleur took a seat next to her, pulling her into a hug. As a result, Hermione's sobs became louder.
"Listen, I will go back to Sparta with you if you want to," Fleur offered.
It was the least she could do since Hermione had brought her here. If it was not for her, she would not have met her fiancée.
"No you will not. You will go to Ithaca tomorrow, where you belong now." Hermione tore away from
Fleur; forcefully cleaning the tears that covered her face.
"What about you?" Fleur crossed her arms.
"Me? What about me?"
"Do you know where you belong?"
"Of course. I am cursed with Sparta's throne." Hermione stood up.
"Why did you come to Troy then?"
Hermione turned to face her sister. What was she getting at?
"Menelaus made me. I had to choose someone worthy of the Trojan throne. It appears that
the task is accomplished," Hermione's voice was cut by a quiet sob once more.
"And what other task have you accomplished?"
"What?"
"You did not stay here so long to comply with just a duty."
"Your point being-"
"You know what I mean Hermione. It turns out that instead of finding someone worthy of the throne, you found someone worth loving."
****
"Congratulations on the throne, Hector."
Harry turned his head to see Agamemnon making his way through the dense palace garden.
"My name is Harry," he spat.
"So..." Agamemnon had the effrontery to sit down next to him, apparently not noticing or not paying attention to his mispronunciation mistake. Harry moved to the side angrily. "Never knew you had it in you."
"Had what?"
"Your aunt told me about your refusal to the throne during all these years, until a few days back. It
does not seem like you, or your father anyway," Agamemnon pointed out, making Harry's hands clench
into fists.
"You know nothing about me, or my father. Troy is mine now."
"But that is not all you want, is it?"
"Look, Agamemnon..." Harry stood up. "Why did you really come here? I know you do not fancy a talk
with the son of your brother's enemy."
"My brother does not matter to me."
"Nor to me. So, why are you really here?"
"I believe I am here to pick up my niece."
"And I believe she has a fiancée for that," Harry's voice was drenched with venom.
"Whom you do not like very much."
"And when did I get to have a say in this?"
"Since you took something that is not yours."
Harry tensed up as Agamemnon whispered in his ear:
"I know you have taken my niece."
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