Many of my old readers are most likely going to hate me for this, but it has been nearly 3 years! since I last updated my Troy: Gift of the Raven story. Well...after much debate (and finally buying the movie) I've decided to rewrite the entire story...again. Only this time, I'll be adding more and changing the language - because my freshman English was horrible! Well, now I'm a senior and my command of the English has changed vastly, so I hope you enjoy the changes made to a story that many of you loved in the past. Also, I will warn you there have been many changes made to my old story. Some who lived in the first story, die in this one. So expect surprises, just like last time!
To new readers: This story uses imagery from the movie, Troy, as well as lines from the original script. I have removed Briseis, who I hate dearly, and replaced her with my OC Adonia. This story is purely fan made and has not been created for any type of profit. Please enjoy.
Comments and constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged.
I remember, standing on the beaches, the sand beneath my feet, the salt of the sea on my tongue and the wind in my hair. I remember all the times I stood upon that beautiful site, my eyes drinking in all that she had to offer. And I could remember each feeling that had washed over me. I remembered feeling happiness, loneliness, fear, hopelessness, pain, passion and love. And I remember each soul, each set of eyes, that looked into mine and showed me that there was more to life than the high walls of the palace. They showed me that I was not the only one suffering, or the only who had forgotten what it felt like to feel alive. All that is gone now. Now I stand, looking down upon the flames and the ashes of the place I once called home. The city of Troy had burned before my eyes, and as I watched I saw the shadows of the life I had led. It had been empty – he had filled it. He had shown me what life truly meant, and as the wind whipped about me and the other survivors, tearing at our cloths and hair, stinging our already burning eyes, I turned my back on Troy and on my past. All that remained was my future.
I
The wind softly rustled the frail curtains in the balcony's doorway, forcing them to ripple like iridescent waterfalls as a young Trojan princess rushed past them, the long skirts of her gown gathered in her small fists as she hurried to the edge. Quickly, she leaned over the edge of the broad stone railing that protected the balcony, her stark obsidian hair falling about her face as it caught up to her movements. Dark spirals fell before her brilliant eyes as she gazed out upon the city that had forever been her home. She leaned heavily on the stone railing, the feeling of rough stone beneath her soft palms as she looked down the six story descent. Adonia was in no way concerned for her safety, as young children normally never were. At nine years old, Adonia was the youngest of King Priam's legitimate children, but she was already called the prettiest. Her raven black hair was nearly elbow length, and was currently braided back with silver and golden ribbons. Stray tendrils of her naturally spiraling hair fell about her face in a way her other found most displeasing.
"Hektor!" Little Adonia called over her shoulder as she leaned even more heavily upon the railing, "Come look! I think I see Papa!" She braced herself against the stone, trying to get a better look at the long line of horses that were heading through the city towards the palace, especially at the man who road at the head of the column in a glittering chariot pulled by dazzling white horses. She was partly holder herself up on the railing as she leaned hard of the edge, trying to see the sight below more clearly. Suddenly, her left hand slipped out from underneath her and she pitched forward dangerously, she cried out in pain as the stone bit into the flesh of her hand and arm, as well as in shock and in fear. She squeezed her eyes shut, as if the action would make the scene disappear entirely and put her safely back on solid ground. But before the thought of falling far could cross her mind a pair of strong arms held her tightly, preventing her from either colliding with the stone or the ground far below. When she dared open her eyes Adonia found herself in Hektor's strong embrace, far away from the balcony's edge. She looked up into her eldest brother's eyes and saw a hint of faint fear and a flash of amusement in their blue depths.
"Please be more careful Adonia," he said softly as he held his sister, "it would break my heart to lose you in any way." At eighteen Hektor was the oldest of Priam's children, and he was already strong from riding horses and training with swords and spears and arrows. Adonia enjoyed spending mornings sitting with her mother, watching the young men train and learn the craft that would make them heroes and defend her father's kingdom. Adonia was no fool though, she knew that he didn't like fighting, but he was good at it, and as the oldest son he would be a general and even a King one day. It was the fear lingering in his eyes that had put fear in Adonia's young heart. Normally Hektor was calm, a source of peace and happiness always between his squabbling younger siblings, but to see him afraid frightened her more than any action ever could. She nodded in response, unable to find her voice at that moment. His usual smile slowly spread back across his lips and he kissed her forehead as he released her from his arms and gathered himself from the floor.
"Of all my sisters Adonia, you are my favorite and most dear to me," he said as he lifted her from the ground and brushed a spiral strand of hair from her eyes, "any you must never forget that."
"I won't," Adonia said, a meek smile spreading across her lips. Internally she glowed with pleasure, hearing her brother say such things always brightened her day, even if it was already bright. As the youngest daughter of the King of Troy, Adonia received little attention, and much like her siblings, idolized her elder brother. He was the pride of the Kingdom, and the pride of their father. Those who did not love him were fools, and to be loved in return would bring joy to even the coldest of hearts.
"Now," Hektor said with an impish smile on his face, "why don't we go down and greet father? I'm sure he'll be happy to see us."
"You mean he'll be happy to see you. He'll always be happy to you," Adonia pointed out rather indifferently as he looked down at the city once more, though more carefully. She'd learned her lesson the first time, and not worrying her brother again was certainly a top priority of the small princess. Hektor smiled sadly at the truth she spoke. She was only a child, and yet she was wiser than someone twice her age. There were times when she would make queer comments, or whisper something to him that would occur days later. She was odd child with many gifts, but above all else he adored her innocence. He prayed to the gods that she'd always be this safe, this innocent, for he was learning all too quickly how terrible the world could really be, and how beauty and innocence were so easily reduced to ash.
II
It had only been a few years since her almost accident on the balcony, and only a handful of times had she seen her beloved brother. One of those occasions had been his wedding, and while at first she'd been jealous of her new sister Andromache, but in turn she'd learned to love the woman. She was kind and gentle, always with a soft word or comforting gesture for Adonia, who was finding life in her father's care harder and harder to bear. There was not a day that passed without him making a cruel comment to her, claiming that he'd never be able to find a suitable husband for such a rebellious child. He had brought her to tears on many occasions, and she'd always found solace in Andromache's arms. Despite her optimism and cheer, Adonia saw the truth in her sister's eyes. She was scared, scared of failing of provide the heir her new family so desire, scared of losing her husband whom she barely knew. Adonia liked to believe that Andromache had learned more of Hektor from Adonia, than from Hektor himself.
"Adonia, look here!" Andromache called from shoreline, her long mahogany hair trailing out behind her from the strong sea breeze, her eyes bright and skin tanned from the many days she'd spent under the sun's rays. Adonia smiled and splashed through the water to her sister. She came beside the woman and both peered down at the starfish that lay on the sand, dried by the sun. It was an off thing, looking smooth, but feeling rough to the touch. Both ladies laughed a sound that passed across the wind like the sound of small silver bells. Andromache continued across the shoreline while Adonia turned back into the sea, wading past her knees as she searched for pretty shells and rocks to decorate necklaces with. She turned and looked out over the sea at the horizon line as she had done many times before in that day, but the smile that had been spread across her face fell slowly. She felt tired, as if all the energy she had had was suddenly drained from her body, and her vision lost focus as reality was replace with what looked like a dream.
The smell of smoke reached her, the sound of oars beating against the waves, the call of the count as the boson pushed the men. Fear suddenly welled up in her heart, a great fear that she found almost unbearable.
"Adonia?" Andromache called loudly against the wind, "Adonia? What is it?"
"Nothing," the princess replied, shaking the image from her mind as she turned to her sister, a reassuring albeit fake smile spread across her face. "I believe the sun's getting to me."
"Alright," Andromache called, "come, let us go back then. We will find another way to the pass the time until our Hektor returns." Adonia nodded and waded back to her sister, slipping her arm through the one that was offered. Servant girls rushed to cover them with sun canopies as the guards that had accompanied them fell behind. Despite being out of the cities walls and feeling the touch of the sea and being lured by her freedom, Adonia knew she would never be free. All her life she would be followed and protected, by servants and guards at her father's orders. She was, after all, a precious jewel that could be traded for gold or alliances. But, there was also a shadow in her mind, the shadow of ghosts of men and women that lingered in the back of her mind. They were the kind of ghosts, or memories, which only ever showed their faces and told their stories in her dream. Dreams that turned to nightmares, that turned to whispers that she soon forgot as she drifted back to sleep. Troy was a prison for her. It always had been, and it always would be.
III
At seventeen she was the most beautiful of all the women in Troy, next to her sister-by-marriage, as the gossips said. Tall and regal, thin and pale, mysterious and dangerous, all these things and more were the stories and rumors that circulated around the no-longer-so-young Princess Adonia. The year before she had lost her mother, and the sadness had gripped her very soul, not even the presence of her beloved brother could lift the weight. For she left broken, not only because she'd lost her mother, but she'd lost someone who should have loved her, should have adored her, and should have taught her all of the things that Andromache was struggling to teach her. Her heart was filled with anger and bitterness and loneliness, for when Hektor was home from war and battle and peace gatherings he and Andromache were consumed with each other. While she was happy for them both, she was utterly alone without either one of them.
Nights were filled with her wondering the palace halls, consumed in her thoughts. Her every effort was centered around avoiding sleep, for she found no rest in them, only confusing jumbles of images and words that she couldn't comprehend or separate. But for all their lack of clarity, and all the confusion they caused her, Adonia would awake with a sense of fear and foreboding. Something was coming, and every time a Eastern wind blew she would tense and stare at the horizon, expecting something she did not know.
"Awake again Princess?" The aging voice of none other than King Priam reached her ears. She turned to face him and curtsied slightly to him. Though their interaction had become friendlier, she kept them formal. After losing his wife, Priam had become kinder to all his children, but that did not diminish the resentment she harbored towards him. He tried many times to get close to her, but she was pull away, knowing that friendships were pointless, for one day she would be traded away to some far country. She would be forced to leave the home and the people and the places she loved because of men. In her heart, she hated them. She hated how so many women were destroyed by men, and if she could choose, she would never marry.
"Yes my lord," she said quietly, his shadows flickering menacingly against the walls of the hallway, "sleep brings me not comfort."
"Adonia I am your father. You need not be so tense around me," he said gently as he stepped forward. His sky blue robes were painted red and his face was shaded heavily, even his white air appeared black. In that moment she could imagine her father on the battlefield, swinging his sword, taking life. When she was a child, war and fighting and killing and heroes had seemed so romantic to her. She'd always told Hektor that he'd be a great hero, but then she'd learned and she'd seen just what war did to people. She'd seen men, women, and children scarred by war. She'd seen her brother bleed, something she'd never dreamed could happen, and she hated it. She detested it, and she never again wanted to see any of it.
"You may be my father," she countered, "but you are still a King, and I am still nothing but a girl."
"Please Adonia, no man shall ever find your somber soul attractive. Come, won't you smile? Laugh, as you used to when you were small," he coaxed, but she would not be lured by his devilry. She grew stiff at the word attractive. In itself the word was hideous to her, for she desired no man to find her attractive. All she could hope for was that whatever man her father sold her to, she might find the same type of happiness that Hektor and Andromache had. It was a dream, and a foolish one, for she knew it was quite unlikely to happen.
"I am no longer small, my lord. It is growing late, and I do not wish to take any more of your time," she said as she curtsied again and began to walk away, ending a conversation that she wished had never started. Priam simply stood where he'd been standing and watched as his youngest child walked away. He sighed and prayed to Apollo that there was a man out there who would find her defiance and stubbornness tolerable, let alone loveable. For he knew, with souls like Adonia and his poor deceased Hekabe, that love was hard to find, but not impossible. It was why he had not already given her away. He was taking his time, waiting, hoping, praying that she would grow out of this, but perhaps, Apollo had other plans for her. Priam shook his head and turned back the way he had come, and the palace was filled with a deafening silence, one that would return for good only a few, short years later.