Agarista of Troy: A Journey of War, Love, and Return

Chapter 2: Return to Sparta

Sparta was a strange land to me. Though it was where my mother had once been queen, I always felt like an outsider. The people whispered about Helen behind her back, calling her the "cause of Troy's ruin." They spoke of Paris, my father, with disdain, labeling him a thief and a coward. I would watch their eyes linger on me, their gazes filled with judgment.

But my mother was resilient. Helen of Troy—Helen of Sparta—was a woman of unmatched beauty and strength, and though the people resented her, they could not deny her power. She held her head high, and I followed in her footsteps, determined to do the same.

In Sparta, I met Cleathes, a prince from Crete. He was tall and kind, with a steady hand and a gentle heart—everything I had never expected from a Spartan ally. He came to visit our court often, speaking with my mother and King Menelaus, but his eyes always found me. And soon, our conversations became longer, filled with laughter and shared stories.

"Your eyes," Cleathes said to me one evening as we walked in the palace gardens, "they hold the sea and fire of your mother, but something else too."

"What is that?" I asked, amused by his attempt to flatter me.

"Strength," he said quietly. "A strength born from loss. I see it because I have it too."

I was silent for a moment, staring into the night sky. I had always thought my strength came from necessity, from the need to survive. But Cleathes made me feel as though it was something more—something noble.

It wasn't long before we were married, and I found in him a refuge, a love that was built not on war or tragedy, but on mutual respect and understanding. Together, we had a son, Euxander, and a daughter, Aeneia, and for a time, I believed that I could leave the memories of Troy behind.