troy: menelaus's Amazone queen

the way home

The shore braced the horizon as the boat gently sways from side to side. Helen gazes out towards the sunset. She could feel her husbands gaze in her back. She was in shock. Paris her lover was dead. There was nothing else. She just felt empty. Like her 'husband' had reached in and ripped out her heart.

A single train of thought ran around her mind. No matter what! She would never allow menelaus to touch a single hair on her head. She shivered in disgust as the mental scene of his hands roaming her body filled her mind.

No! It must be done but not on the boat, she could not jump overboard, they would save her. She must do it when she was alone. She needed to join Paris.  Felt it in every fibre of her being. She ached and need to join him even in death.

She glanced over her shoulder and once again caught him staring at her. She scrunched her nose up at him in disgust and a look of sadness passes over it. Giving him the cold shoulder she turns away and continues to gaze out at the sea.

In the distance the palace comes into view. A small skinny figure, dressed in a white dress stands still on the shore as if waiting for whomever was on the ship. She smiles softly. Hermione. Her daughter was growing into a woman each day.

The ship hits the docks with a thud. All the passengers clamour off the ship like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Helen and her maid was the last to leave. Hermione is talking intently with her father. Her gaze cuts to her mother, she frowns deeply and moves off towards the palace.

I deserved that. Helen thinks. She follows her daughters lead, menelaus reaches for her but she swerves and keeps her distance. She makes it to her room in silence. Her maid undressed her and fills a bathtub up. Afterwards she collects the dirty clothes and leaves Helen alone to her thoughts. 

She sinks down into the bathtub. In her hand is a clean sharp razor. She caresses her wrists with the blade. Her mind wanders to Paris, her intention is clear and her mind is made up. She slices both her wrist. The pain shooting up her arms.

The pain is searing, her body absorbing it and setting her skin on fire. The image of Paris remains clear. He bends down at the tub and caresses her face. "I'll see you soon my queen, not long now." She closes her eyes, a smile on her face. A eery sort of peace settles amongst her features. She inhales deeply and let's out her final breath.......