A stranger in Troy

Author's note: hi everyone!

Rather than a story about the Trojan war, this fiction is a character study. The story is about Helenus, who, according to the myth, had betrayed his city telling the Achaeans that they had to take the Palladium in order to win Troy.

You'll probably find my Helenus out of character (first of all he's Artemis' priest and not a warrior here) and a very unpleasant person too, but that's how I imagine him.

THIS FICTION CONTAINS mention of abuse, self-harm and suicidal thoughts. However there are NO descriptions of abuse.

As usual, reviews are welcome (even bad ones, but be gentle :D )

I don't know if anyone of you, who sit by me in this megaron, understands what it means to feel complete alienation.

I was born a prince of Troy, together with my twin sister Cassandra. I was grown in a palace where I had food, a bed, clean tunics and a fireplace, which was far more than most of the Trojan children had at the time. I was educated by an old consellor of my father's, a privilege that only aristocracy could afford. I lacked absolutely nothing, nevertheless I couldn't help but feeling alienated, different, lonely, something I had always been ashamed of.

The sons of the peasants went to work in the fields by the age I was in schools, the sons of the merchants travelled by sea with their fathers, sleeping on the ship's bridge while I slept in a soft bed and yet I dared to complain and, even worse, I dared to envy them!

You will grow to dislike me very soon, if you don't already. So I wish to make clear from the beginning that I am distrustful, bitter, lonesome, a definite grim-reaper and one of the most unpleasant persons you'll have the chance to meet. I know that and I'm not telling you this in the hope that you will feel sorry for me; I hate it when someone feels sorry for me.

I will tell you about many bad things that happened to me and about many bad people I met in my life but don't think that I blame them in any way; it is my fault and only my fault if I am like this. Some people are even more unlucky than I but they manage to be lovely, thus it's my fault if I don't manage.

I will also tell you something I did, or better still something I nearly did when I was young, something horrible and shameful. And I will tell you about the horrible and shameful things that I thought and still think. But then again, don't think I'm searching for pity or for excuses: I take full responsibility and full guilt, now and forever.

OOO

I was a shy child, a ridiculously shy child. I was too scared to play or to hang out with my older brothers, too clumsy to engage in sports. I only liked running and swimming because at least I was alone and I didn't have to feel ashamed about my sorry figures. My mother often looked at me with disapproval, saying that it wasn't good for a boy to be so scared.

"Your sister Cassandra is so assertive, she behaves like a boy and that's inappropriate for a young girl. And you on the contrary are more shy than your sisters". My mother tried to force me to be more extroverted but that led me to be more shy than ever and then she would get angry and look at me with contempt. Cassandra, on the contrary, was everything I wanted to be: talkative, intelligent, courageous, and most of all, confident.

"We are lucky that this boy is meant to become a priest, my wife" Priam told my mother one day, not minding my presence at all "he wouldn't have made that much of a soldier or that much of a royal prince either". Don't look at me like that, I don't think my father has been cruel by saying so in my presence: he was simply right. I would've been an awful soldier and an even worse king. There was no reason to keep it a secret. And I definitely don't deserve your looks of pity.

Even if I was meant to become a priest, Priam sent me to Ares' temple to learn about military all the same. A royal prince couldn't avoid military training, it was unconceivable.

Zeritos, the priest of Ares who tutored me, was not only harsh but definitely brutal. He hated to see shyness and indecision and he punished us when we showed them, and of course he punished us when we made errors. I was shy, insecure and thus I was his favourite target. I still remember with a shiver his cane, his slaps, his kicks and his screams of rage, mixed with the laughter of the other boys at my stupid errors. I can see that you are pitying me again, and again I tell you not to: I know he was right. He had to form soldiers, strong, brave and capable soldiers like the ones who later fought in the Trojan war. It was not his fault that I was completely unable to fit into that role.

At first I tried my best. I tried to throw the spear but even if my arms were strong my aim was terrible and I always missed the target. I tried to fight with other boys but my reflexes were ridiculously slow and my technique was far from perfect, so most of the times they beat me up. Since I was the king's son, someone tried to let me win or at least to let me loose with dignity, which made me angry and ashamed more than anything else.

Some of the other pupils laughed at me, although discreetly, but some of them tried to be friendly with me. I was so convinced that they just felt sorry for me that I rejected them with arrogance, looking even more unpleasant that I already was. Many years later I realized that maybe some of that boys actually wanted to be friends with me. And again, don't think that I was never loved: someone tried to love me, it was I who didn't let them.

Of course Zeritos didn't love me; on the contrary he actually hated me but it's not his fault if he did. "You are a prince, your father is the king. Yet even the younger of your sisters would be braver than you. You should be ashamed of yourself, you are dishonoring your father with your behaviour!" he spat with contempt. Of course he was right, my father would be ashamed of me, my father was ashamed of me. Once he told me "you decided to become a priest because you would suck as a soldier", and even if that was incorrect (I had been destined to become a priest), there was no point in denying that I would've become a priest anyway, destiny or not, to avoid being a soldier and a prince.

When I made him very, really angry, he took me by the wrist, hurting me so much that every time I feared he would've broken it. He brought me inside the temple, where nobody could see us and he hurt me.

"I wouldn't do this if you didn't force me to punish you" he told me in the end "you do deserve it". And, even if I knew that, I couldn't force myself to ask his forgiveness or to speak, for that matter. I simply submitted. And I really don't want to ask myself if that was his fault of mine. It didn't matter, anyway, since thinking about it didn't stop him from hurting me.

Short after beginning my training with Zeritos, I started going to school together with Cassandra. Our teacher was Aesacus, Hermes' priest and one of my father's older counselors. He was so old that he could've been my grandfather and in fact he had saved Priam's life after an earthquake when my father was a child. Aesacus was short and very thin, with grey hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes which seemed able to see everything.

The first day I went to school I was terrified. I feared Aesacus would've been harsh like Zeritos was, that I would've made him angry with my dumbness, especially when compared with Cassandra's intelligence and confidence. To appear shy in front of other boys was one thing, to appear shy in front of a girl was another thing entirely, and I thought I was going to face the worst humiliation of my life.

Aesacus welcomed us very warmly in the temple's kitchen, a place that would've become my one and very harbor. He slowly carved symbols in the clay while we observed, fascinated by something we had never withstood before, then he started teaching us to read them. Later in the morning, he wrote some symbols on another piece of clay and said to Cassandra "Look at it for a while, when you feel ready you can start reading"; of course, she started reading immediately and without hesitation. As Aesacus rewarded her with a smile for her good work, I couldn't help from feeling a sharp pain in my stomach. With a swift movement, Aesacus blanked out the symbols from the clay and wrote something else for me. He repeated to me "look at it until you feel ready and then start reading".

I looked at the symbols. I could understand them and until the previous second I would've been able to read them but now something silenced me. I knew I was taking more time than Cassandra and I feared that Aesacus would've become angry with me even if he had been so gentle so far, and this thought further terrified me.

"I've never eaten a pupil, you know" Aesacus scolded me gently "you are entitled to make errors here, you are here to learn after all". I had thought he would've insulted me or slapped me, instead he was perfectly calm and smiling. Without even thinking I started reading, noticing as I went on that I was doing it right.

"Very well, young one!" he told me eventually with another smile "And remember, as long as you are willing to learn from your mistakes you can make errors, here or elsewhere". He wasn't furious at my shyness and he had actually complimented me, and that new experience affected me so much that, from that moment on, I tried my best to please him. In my room, I would write and write symbols on the clay until they were nothing but perfect, I would repeat the Cretan and Hittite words he taught us like a chant, wherever I was, until they were literally carved in my mind, and all of that to have him praise me; yet I couldn't bring myself to answer to his questions until he asked me directly. Cassandra, on the contrary, was always confident even if she probably studied less than I did.

I hated Cassandra, and that was just another side of my being a failure. I hated her because I was envious, I hated her because she was everything I wanted to be and most of all I hated her because she didn't hate me; she tried her best to chat with me while we went to school but I opposed bluntness, she smiled to me but I was so taken by my envy that I rejected her, like I did with everyone else. She even tried to understand why I was so nasty with her, like she used to say, but finally she got tired of me, so that after finishing our training with Aesacus we almost stopped talking with each other. And again, I couldn't blame her.

On the contrary, I couldn't bring myself to hate Hector and he has always been my favourite brother. He was older than me and so I couldn't feel the comparison with me both in Ares' temple and in Hermes' one. He was kind with me but he never tried to become close or intimate, so that I didn't need to reject him. His death affected me more than I could never tell, but I will tell about this later.

Getting back to Aesacus, I was trying my best to please him. I was convinced that he was gentle with me just because I was a good student and every time I made an error I was so scared that I almost burst into tears. He tried his best to explain to me that I didn't need to be perfect, that I was entitled to make errors, that he cared for me anyway, and he did it again and again and again, without losing his patience and without raising his voice or his hands. But I didn't understand, or more precisely I understood only many years later. Eventually I came to trust his affection for me, even if not completely, and I was able to relax at least there, at least with him.

One day, I thought "Should he despise me, should he be ashamed of me, I would spit on my very face" and I later stood by that sentence, even if it was difficult.

When Cassandra and I were twelve, at the end of his last lesson, he told us: "My dear ones, from now on I'm not your teacher anymore. But even if I'm not your teacher I still care a lot for you and I always will. I don't have children of my own and I love you as if you were my children. Remember that you can come to me if you need to; should you need me, don't feel ashamed and come here".

I thought back on that sentence many times during the following years.

OOO

After finishing my education with Aesacus, I entered Artemis' temple. I wasn't sure I had been called by the goddess and I supposed no one else was sure either; I simply thought that, since my sister had been called by Apollo and Artemis was Apollo's twin sister while I was Cassandra's twin brother, it was obvious that I would've had to serve the goddess. Anyway, my parents had always been convinced that I had to do so and I submitted easily, since that suited me more than anything else. The absolute chastity requested by the goddess never bothered me; physical relationship as much as romantic ones scared me to death. Living in the temple and giving up wealth, dresses and so on wasn't a problem either: I had always been austere in my habits and I didn't like living in the royal palace either.

In Artemis' temple I met Grymas, Artemis' high priest. He was middle-aged, short and very gruff. When I entered the temple I thought he was just cruel and hateful but as usual I couldn't blame him for being like that.

Grymas, like Zeritos, didn't like shyness. He mocked me saying that a shy priest is ridiculous, that I wasn't able to speak in public, that I looked "scared like a rabbit" and no one could take me seriously. And again, he was right; people want a priest to be confident like someone who is chosen by the gods. I didn't answer to him when he spoke like that –of course, I thought he was right- and he got even more angry: "If you agree with me, then change! Get better! Stop blushing like a stupid girl! Stop lowering your head like a child! And if you don't agree, find your guts, wherever they are, and tell me! Now speak, do you agree or not?"

"I agree with you… but I can't be different" I answered very quietly when he pressured me like that.

"That's because you don't try, that's because you are a weakling! Should you not be the king's son, you probably wouldn't be here!". And that was, as always, the most hurtful thing. I wasn't there because I deserved it but because I was the king's son and people were too respectful or too sorry to shove me away. I tried my best to be a good priest, to carry out my duties and I couldn't say that I did something wrong; I performed the rituals, I prayed, I cleaned up the temple but I couldn't help being me. And that was the wrong thing.

I thought I would've found my place in Artemis' temple but now I understood that wasn't my place either. Wherever I went, I was wrong. And again, don't look at me like that: it was not because my father was bad or Zeritos was bad or Grymas was bad, but just because I was unfit and still are, no matter what I do. I simply don't have the skills to live in this world and I managed to do something just because of my social position.

In Artemis' temple, my life got worse with every new day. I couldn't eat because my stomach didn't seem able to keep the food, I couldn't sleep because I was awaked by distressing nightmares, but I had to go on with my duties. I woke up in the morning asking myself why I was opening my eyes, I went to bed thinking that I would've liked to sleep forever, never waking up again. And sometimes, without a reason, I felt I was going to die or at least to lose my mind; my heart started beating furiously, I couldn't breathe properly, I felt that my legs didn't sustain me anymore. Again and again. I don't want to obtain your pity with that, I've never wanted and will never want pity.

While I was in this state, Patroclos went to visit the city. The war hadn't started, Helen wasn't even married to Menelaus at the time. Patroclos visited Troy's most important temples and of course he went to Artemis temple too, one day, a little time after the sunrise.

He entered prudently, almost shyly and I had to deal with him by myself because Grymas spoke a very poor Achaean. Patroclos spoke to me in a sweet voice, complimenting me for my pronunciation and my good knowledge of his language. I was very pleased, both because Patroclos didn't mind my shyness (he was probably a shy person himself) and because Grymas understood perfectly well that the prince was complimenting me, and looked quite annoyed by it.

I know it was childish to feel proud for that but I couldn't help myself. Grymas later made me pay for it: "don't feel so self-satisfied just because some prince tells you that you're a good boy, even you can't screw it up all the time".

Later, in my room, I thought about Patroclos who had been so kind with me, and about Grymas who was so unpleasant with me. I knew it was my fault but for a moment I realized I would've preferred to be in Patroclos' city than in my one. It's stupid, I know. Despising my city just because I had no place there and dreaming about a city where I would've had no place all the same because I would've been the same.

After a couple of years, Helen arrived. I can say that I wasn't at all attracted by her like my brothers undoubtedly were. She was a kind person and I highly doubt she was stupid and selfish like my sisters used to say, but physical desire wasn't really a part of me. Just before Helen's arrival, Cassandra had been affected by a terrible epilepsy crisis that had changed her: she was lonesome, distracted, worried and people began to murmur she was crazy. In all honesty, I couldn't feel sorry for her, on the contrary the fact that she was now isolated like me felt like a sweet revenge for me. Of, course, that was horrible, she had done absolutely nothing wrong to me and yet her disgrace made me almost happy. I felt hate and contempt for myself, I tried to bring myself to feel sorry for her but it didn't work. I avoided her fearing that otherwise she would've perceived my satisfaction and I couldn't let that happen. And I avoided Aesacus, because I knew he would've despised me more than I despised myself and I couldn't bear that.

When someone told me the Achaeans had arrived, my heart missed a beat. Of course, it was just a matter of time before they went to claim Helen back. From the first moment I had known that my family wouldn't have given up, thus the war predictable. And even its epilogue was predictable, unless someone really believed that we could defeat them with such a small army, even with our allies. One didn't actually need to have Apollo's gift of prophecy to understand that and I still ask myself why the Trojans were so sure that we would've prevailed.

That morning I went on the city walls and, looking at the Achaean ships, I knew we would've faced a war and a defeat sooner or later. I was surprised at how this thought left me completely indifferent, as if I was thinking about some foreign city I didn't even know. But in my heart –if I even have one- there was another feeling I was not able to understand at the moment.

That night, lying in my bed, I finally realized what it was.

I was happy.