Beautiful War

Chapter 16 Sparks of Hope

Two months have been past since I killed Menelaus, but the war did not end that day. The war still continues on, Agamemnon claiming that he would now avenge his brother's death by burning Troy to the ground. Anyone who truly knew Agamemnon and his ambition, knew that he did not really care about Menelaus and his need for a son. He certainly did not care about getting me back. He only cared about Troy, and getting Troy to submit to his will. If it did not, Agamemnon would burn it to ash. And everyone inside the city too. So, as the days turned to weeks. The war waged on. We were lucky that the Greeks had yet to discover the tunnels and how we were getting the provisions and men into the city. But they were attacking our allies, and nearby cities. They were attempting to isolate us from everyone who had ever given us aid, but as one city fell. Another two would rise up against the Greek invaders. They saw the Greeks as invaders, invaders that needed to be sent back across the Aegean. Andromache's father had returned with Aeneas to fight alongside his son in law and the Trojan army. His son, the general of his forces, was launching surprise raids against the Greeks camped on the beach. These surprise raids were to keep the Greeks from discovering the tunnels. But many in the Trojan court felt that it was only a matter of time before the tunnels were discovered and we were truly cut off from the aid we needed to win this war. I often prayed to both Zeus and Aphrodite to bring an end to this war, yet as the days wore on. My prayers went unanswered and I was beginning to wonder if even the gods were growing weary of this war.

Paris and I grew closer to one another in the last two months. Since he sustained his wound the day he challenged Menelaus, Paris was given the role of leading the archers on the walls. A role which he did exceptionally well in. Paris had a skilled hand in archery, a trait no doubt he learned while hunting as a shepherd and protecting them from wolves. While he was up on the walls commanding the archers. Hector and Pollux were leading the army on the ground. Both choose to fight in the front lines. Since the fight between Menelaus and Paris, and my intervening. Pollux had yet to truly speak to me. He was still angry at me for intervening. Even though it was the right thing to do. He still thought it was reckless and could have led to my death. I chose to not allow his anger to affect me. And while our men fought on the plains and walls of Troy. Andromache and I could sit idly by in the palace while so many of the Trojan people were suffering. As more and more wounded poured into the city. Physicians across the city decided that the courtyard of Asclepius was a perfect place to tend to the wounded. Not only was it the closest temple from the main gates, where most of the wounded would come. But Asclepius was the god of the wounded, and to have them under his watchful eye could bring about healing. Andromache and I would travel down with our handmaidens and help the physicians tend to the wounded soldiers the best we could. Many of our own handmaidens had husbands and sons fighting in the war. We wanted to make ourselves useful. I would sometimes read or recite poems of my childhood to the wounded. Other times I would just sit and hold their hands and listen to them recount stories from their childhoods, or what their cities were like if they were not from Troy. Most men knew they were dying, and would often ask us to pray for their souls. I felt nothing but sorrow for these men, some were more boys than men. They had grand notions of fighting in a war, and they soon learned the hard reality of war and what it did to a man. It was a sorrowful time in my life, and I would not forget the faces of the soldiers I watched die. The way the light would fade in their eyes. Every night upon returning to the palace I would immediately go to the nursery and hold Hermione in my arms. To feel her warm body against my chest. Hermione and the other royal children were the only hope we had for a future for Troy. They were the strength we needed to fight this war.

In my time at Troy, I learned that Paris was the complete opposite of Menelaus. He treated me not like an inferior but an equal. He would show me unconditional love and support and often would seek my guidance in matters of politics. Soon after Menelaus' death, I ceased to be Helen, queen of Sparta. But Helen, the princess of Troy. Consort to the prince Paris. In solidarity of this, my daughter Hermione was betrothed to Hector's son as a sign of good faith between myself and the royal family of Troy. I was very grateful that even after months of fighting the Greeks, the King and queen of Troy would not send me back to end the war. They knew that it would not do any good, but they also knew my deep love and affection for their son. I was willing to kill for him, and I am willing to die for Paris. That was how much I loved him, for a long time I did not think myself capable of love. Menelaus took that from me the day he and his brother murdered my father. But Paris showed me that there was a way to heal and to learn to love again. With each passing day I was in Troy, I was learning how to become myself again. Which included training, which I often did in the evening. Though Pollux and I rarely spoke, he did continue to train me. And with each passing day, I was getting better and better.