Title: The Realization of a Wrong Choice
Written By; LegolasLover2003
Rating: PG
Genre: Romance / Drama
Summary: Prince Paris of Troy realizes the mistake he made by bringing Helen to his city. When Hector learns of his brother's first wife, things begin to take a turn for the worst. This is a one-shot short story that I wrote for a Creative Writing assignment, thus it's not very long or, in my opinion, perfectly done. Based on Homer's "The Iliad" and the film "Troy".
Long ago, during a time remembered only in myth and legend, there lived a powerful family. King Priam, ruler of Troy and all its outlying provinces, was a just king. He had many sons. His most famous, perhaps, were Hector and Paris. As the legend states, Paris was the bane of his father's kingdom. They had thought he was dead, left to die on Mount Ida as a babe, but he was rescued. He grew and found his way back to the home of his birth. However, Paris had been the judge in a fate altering contest of beauty. Choosing Aphrodite over the goddesses Athena and Hera, Paris was promised the love of the most beautiful woman in the world. That woman was Helen of Sparta. Thus, on a trip to Sparta, Paris stole Helen away with him and they returned to the great walled city of Troy. This action sparked a ten year war over one woman… and the greed of the kings of the Aegean.
Now however, Paris will come to realize that his choice for Helen as his wife and his love, may have been the biggest mistake of his life.
"Paris!"
The young man sighed, setting his quill down. He was careful to make sure it did not touch the parchment, as he turned in his chair to stand.
Immediately, he was pushed back down into the seat.
"What are…?"
His elder brother shoved a crumpled piece of parchment forward. Doing so caused it to impact with the other's chest.
Looking down, Paris shook his head.
"And this is?" he asked, acting as if his brother were accusing him of some crime.
Hector's eyes narrowed, "What does it look like, little brother?"
The younger man took the parchment from the other's hand, looking over the writing carefully.
"A letter." Paris' eyes widened as he read.
Quickly he skimmed over the words until he was at the bottom. The signature was of one whom he had long forgotten.
"Oenone…" looking up, Paris' eyes locked with those of his brother. "Where did you get this?"
Hector took a step back, "From a messenger. I read it already, brother. Care to explain?"
Paris did not know what to say. He sighed, leaning back in his chair as he starred at the letter once again.
"She is my wife." He replied, not looking up to meet his brother's piercing gaze.
The other glared, "Your wife?"
Paris nodded, "Yes, brother, you heard correctly. Oenone is my wife. I married her before becoming a Prince of Troy."
"And you neglected to mention this before?" Hector stated, advancing on his brother. "Do you mean to tell me you left your wife, all because of your fascination with another man's beloved?!"
Paris stood, slowly backing away from the elder man. "Helen was promised to me, brother. Do not speak ill of the gifts the gods give us."
"She was no gift, Paris!" the older prince shouted, "She has brought nothing but grief and misery to this land! This war will not end until you give her back!"
"She belongs to me!"
Stepping around his brother, Paris strode from the room.
"Paris!" Hector called after him, but the younger prince would not listen. "That fool will kill us all."
Outside, Paris leaned against one of the palace's many halls corridors. He closed his eyes, feeling tears threaten to spill from his cheeks. In his hand, was Oenone's letter and, as he read it, he realized the grand mistake he had truly made.
"He is dead." Paris whispered, refusing to look at the woman who stood by his side.
Helen shook her head slightly, "There was nothing you could have done." She replied, trying to comfort her lover.
A long moment of silence stretched between the two. Standing atop one of the Trojan palace's grand balconies, they looked down upon the funeral games which were being held in honor of the deceased Hector.
"I should have left you in Sparta." Paris replied coldly, turning and leaving the scene.
He could take none of the joy that the games were meant to bring. Even worse perhaps, Paris could no longer feel any emotion in the presence of the beautiful Helen. Even love was lost to him now.
His whole world was crashing down around him, all for a choice that he had made. Cassandra had tried to warn him, as had Oenone herself. Now, his people would die for his own selfishness.
"Quickly! Get the prince inside!"
Paris felt himself being lifted from the battlefield. His bow was torn from his grasp, as he was carried away. Long moments passed, seeming more like hours to the Trojan prince, as he awaited the judgment of his fate.
"We can do nothing for him, my King." One of the priests reported, once they were safely back inside the palace.
King Priam looked away, his gaze drifting over the battle which was being waged just beyond the city's mighty walls. "Is there anything you can supply for his pain?"
The priest shook his head.
"The gods have taken too many of my beloved sons." Priam whispered, turning back.
His own eyes lingered on the form of Paris. Sweat beaded the prince's brow. Blood seeped down his legs, staining his leather armour and the lush blankets beneath him.
"Oenone…"
Priam's eyes widened at the words. He would have rushed to his son's side, but Helen beat him there.
"Oh, my love!" she cried, gently running her hands over his face soothingly.
"Oenone, please… help me." The prince cringed as pain shot through his body.
Helen turned, her eyes imploring the king to do something. With a slight nod, Priam bid the priests and healers to do all that they could for his ailing son.
However, Paris found no reprieve. All throughout the night, his moans of agony ripped through the palace's sturdy walls. Nothing seemed to aid him, and still he cried out to be taken to Oenone.
In the morning, Priam found a grieving Helen kneeling at her husband's beside. Paris however, was nowhere to be seen.
"Have mercy, dear wife." Paris begged, having not the strength to look up into the face of his first love.
The Prince of Troy had traveled through the day. His horse was winded and tired, but the poor animal bared its burden well. Now, Paris lay upon the grasses of Mount Ida, groveling at the nymph's feet.
Oenone looked down upon the man with scorn, "Why should I help you, son of Priam? Why would I care what happens to the man who has brought me more grief than I can stand to bear?" kneeling, she took the prince's chin in her hands, tilting his head up. "Go back to that Greek beauty of yours." She spat, anger glowing in her fair eyes, "Seek for healing in the arms of your new lover."
Turning, Oenone meant to leave the prince there. Paris however, was distraught.
"Merciful wife, I beg of you. Your knowledge of healing and herbs is great beyond compare. Please, for the love we once shared, take this affliction from me." The man looked up at her, his dark eyes sparkling with the last of his hope.
But the woman never turned back to him, go great was her hatred.
Pulling himself to his feet, Paris mounted his horse and rode back towards the city of Troy.
Helen stood atop the city's gates, seeking for any sign of her missing love. The day passed by quickly, but by nightfall, the sentries rushed to the palace.
"We have news." One said, bowing before the King of Troy.
Helen, not far away, listened intently to that which they spoke.
"Paris has been seen to the west of here. An armoured escort has ridden out to bring him back to the palace safely."
Priam closed his eyes, "The gods have heard my prayers."
"Is he well?" Helen asked, coming fully into the room.
One of the sentries shook his head, "We know not."
Rushing from the hall, Helen headed towards the city's gates. Not long later, the armoured escort arrived. Paris sat atop the mount of one of the warriors, supported by the steed's rider. His visage was pale and he appeared to already have passed from the world. Quickly, the rider's dismounted, lying Paris upon the ground before his wife.
"My love!" Helen cried, cradling his cold form against her breast as she wept.
Paris' eyes fluttered open, "Forgive me." He whispered, looking upon her beauty for the last time.
Shaking her head, Helen's tears fell ever stronger, "For what, my love?" she asked.
"For everything." Paris replied. "Forgive me for my foolish and naive ways. Forgive me."
Helen nodded, "I forgive you, Paris. I forgive you."
With a smile on his lips, Prince Paris of Troy passed from the world.
She felt it keenly. The pain of his death tore through her body like the arrow wound which had plagued him so recently in life. Falling to her knees and tearing at her hair and clothes, Oenone cried.
Long did the nymph morn the loss of her husband, of her love.
The funeral of Paris meant many things for the people of Troy. They wondered if King Priam would hand Helen back to her rightful husband, and if the horrid ten year war would finally be over and done with. Those who looked upon Paris' funeral pyre however, would never have expected to see such a display of utter love and devotion.
From out of the crowd rushed a maiden, nearly rivaling Helen in her own beauty. Tears streaked her face and her continued sobs could be heard by all. Without so much as a word, she jumped upon the funeral pyre of the Trojan Prince and there, enveloping his body in her embrace, she burned.
"Oenone…" Helen whispered, her own face streaked with tears.
She was shocked at such a sight, as were many around her. King Priam himself closed his eyes and prayed to the gods for the maiden who had loved his son so deeply.
Thus… the lives of Paris and Oenone came to a tragic end.
The city of Troy continued its war, yet was soon overwhelmed. The people were destroyed, their homes burned, their women and children taken as slaves. All for the choice of one prince who lived not to see what horror his choice would bring to his own people.
THE END