𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔

𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐑 🐴

As the colors of autumn deepened into shades of burnt orange and gold, I sat on the edge of my bed, wrapped in a soft shawl. The sunlight filtered through the window, casting a warm glow that danced across the floor. I placed my hands gently on my slightly rounded belly, feeling the reassuring flutter of life within me. A sense of joy bloomed in my chest, a lightness that filled the heavy air of war with sweetness, if only for a moment. Chapheris sat beside me, her long, spiraled ginger-red hair catching the light. She was always a source of energy and laughter, but today, there was something different in her eyes—a softness that mirrored my own. I couldn't help but smile as I looked at her. "Can you believe it? A little one, growing inside me," I whispered, my voice a mix of awe and excitement.

"I can!" she exclaimed, her laughter bubbling like a brook. "You'll be the most wonderful mother, Sabryna."

I smiled, but my thoughts drifted as I looked out the window, where the sounds of battle echoed faintly. "Sometimes I wonder what it will be like for my baby," I mused, my heart swelling with both hope and concern. "Will my baby hear the songs of our people—the lullabies of love and joy? Or will they only know the harsh sounds of war outside our walls?"

Chapheris leaned closer, her eyes shining with encouragement. "Why not let your baby hear your voice now?" she suggested, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "Sing to them! Fill their world with the music of your heart instead of the drums of battle."

Nodding, I took a deep breath and let the words flow from me. I began to sing softly, allowing my love to pour into the melody. "Oh, little one, wrapped in dreams, may your days be bright like the sun's golden beams. May laughter fill the air, and joy be your guide, as you grow in this world, so full of pride."

With each note, I felt the warmth radiating from my belly as if my baby was dancing along with the music. I looked at Chapheris, her smile illuminating the dim room. Tears glistened in her eyes, mirroring the love I felt swelling inside me. As I sang, I envisioned my baby growing strong and carefree, knowing nothing of the war that raged outside our sanctuary. I imagined laughter echoing through our home, sweet moments filled with love and tenderness. The chaos of Troy felt distant, almost non-existent, as I poured every ounce of hope into my song.

Eventually, I finished, and a peaceful silence enveloped us, thick with emotion. Turning to Chapheris, I felt a surge of warmth in my chest. "Do you think my baby heard me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh, absolutely!" she replied, her excitement bubbling over. "Your baby will know your love, Sabryna. And one day, they'll sing along with you."

The thought made my heart soar, envisioning a future filled with love and song, a mother and child creating harmony together under the vast sky. But just then, a deep, resonant horn blasted from the city walls, cutting through our tranquil moment like a knife. I turned sharply, the sound reverberating through my body, its urgency sending a chill down my spine.

"What was that?" I asked, my heart racing as I approached the window.

Chapheris stood beside me, her brow furrowing in concern. We both leaned closer, peering out toward the horizon. As I squinted into the dimming light of evening, my breath caught in my throat. A colossal wooden horse loomed just beyond the city walls, its massive form casting a long shadow against the sunsetting sky. I could hardly find my voice, the reality settling over me like a thick fog. "The Greeks," I murmured, a sinking feeling in my stomach. "It must be a trick."

My heart pounded in my chest, drowning out the lingering echoes of my song. The beauty of the moment we had just shared faded into the backdrop of looming danger. "What do we do?" Chapheris asked, her voice trembling.

I turned away from the window, desperation creeping into my thoughts. "We must warn the others. This could mean disaster for Troy."

I grabbed Chapheris's hand, urgency propelling us down the stone corridors of the palace. "We must warn King Priam," I said, my heart racing with a mixture of dread and determination. Each step echoed like the beating of war drums, the sound of impending danger thrumming in my ears. As we neared the grand hall, we caught sight of Paris in the courtyard, his silhouette framed against the fading sunlight. He stood tall, an imposing figure with a bow in hand, effortlessly nocking arrow after arrow with precision. I hesitated for a moment, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over me.

"Paris!" I called, stepping forward. "You must come with us. There's a—"

But he didn't hear me. He released an arrow, its sharp whistle slicing through the air, striking true against a distant target. With a quick exhale, he turned to retrieve another arrow, seemingly unaware of the chaos unfolding around him.

"Let's go," Chapheris urged, tugging at my arm. I nodded, and we continued toward the king's chamber. The hallway opened into a vast chamber filled with nobles and council members gathered around a long table draped in purple cloth. King Priam sat at the head, his wise eyes scrutinizing the gathered assembly.

"Your Highness!" I exclaimed, stepping forward with Chapheris at my side. "You must listen! The Greeks have sent a giant horse to our gates. It's a trick, a trap—"

But before I could finish, a councilman scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "What nonsense is this? A horse? Surely it's a gift, a sign of peace!"

Chapheris and I exchanged glances, disbelief flashing in our eyes. "No! You don't understand!" I implored, my voice rising. "We need to prepare for an attack—"

Another councilman interrupted, dismissively waving his hand. "Enough of this folly. We have more pressing matters to discuss. The horse could be a peace offering. Let us not dismiss it so quickly."

Paris stepped into the hall, bow still in hand, an arrogant grin on his face. "What's this? A gift from the Greeks, surely!" he declared, striding forward with an air of confidence that made my stomach churn. "I'll show you all how it's done. Perhaps we should welcome this offering."

"But Paris—" I tried again, desperation clawing at my throat. "You don't understand—"

"Stand aside, ladies," he said dismissively, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The council seemed to rally behind him, murmurs of agreement rippling through the gathered nobles. They turned their attention toward the looming figure of the horse outside the walls, their fascination overpowering any concerns I had raised.

Feeling the weight of their disregard pressing down on me, I stepped back, my heart sinking. Chapheris squeezed my hand, her expression mirroring my shock and fear. "They're making a grave mistake," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I know," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "But we can't give up. We need to find a way to warn the city."

As the council continued to discuss their plans to bring the horse inside, my resolve hardened. I couldn't let my baby be born into a world of ruin. We had to find a way to stop this madness. I would protect my child, even if it meant standing alone against the tide of ignorance.

Finally, King Priam rose, his voice booming through the chamber. "Let us not waste time. We shall welcome this gift into our city. It is a symbol of peace from our enemies."

A murmur of agreement rippled through the council, and my heart sank further. "No! Please!" I cried, stepping forward again, my voice trembling with urgency. "This horse is not a gift! Athena warned me—she said it would bring ruin to Troy!"

But my pleas fell on deaf ears. The king turned to his guards. "Open the gates!"