This is story was made for Yuletide 2012. It's a modern AU, about Paris and Helena.
Hope you all enjoy and review!
Disclaimer: Greek Mythology belongs to the Ancient Greeks. And the Illiad belongs to Homer (if he indeed existed).
for marketchippie
Victory
She knew there was some purpose to the making of that rug, but she just couldn't put her manicured fingers on the reason why. Those images she was slowly placing on her work… She didn't know them at all. So, why those scenes were so strongly placed on her mind?
A woman fleeing away with her lover, the huge walls around a beautiful and exotic city, a goddess with golden locks and stunning smile, a wooden horse and, finally, everything disappearing amidst the fire.
She contemplated her finished work, so troubled she wasn't even able to enjoy the efforts of days and days of hard working. Her brows were close together and her head hurt as she tried to explain to herself the doings of her own hands.
"Ah, never mind." She mumbled, irritated.
"Did you say something, honey?" her husband asked her.
"No, I didn't." she answered right away, getting even more irritated.
Why had she married him in the first place? Oh, yeah, her father made her do it, because he was some important business man, or anything like that. Her marrying him was supposed to make her family even more powerful. She couldn't care less, though. However, she had been so young she didn't find inside of her the power to tell her father "no".
But she was different now. At least, she liked to think so. She was no teenager anymore. She had it all under control now, even her infuriating husband. Sighing, she just got up and away from her rug on the making. She never thought she would ever do something as trivial as a rug, but something compelled her and before she could explain the reasons, those scenes were forming themselves on the finally finished piece. After all, she had another boring party to attend with that dear husband of hers.
The cocktail party, as ever, was tiresome to no end. There were some couples dancing, but her husband never had been one to dance. Maybe the fact he was twice her age had something to do with that. Her face already hurt of so many fake smiles and laughs she was forced to plaster to all the wives of the business's associates.
"If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back." She apologized and ran to the rest room, where she could stop faking everything.
Looking at herself in the mirror, she couldn't really find anything to fix on her face. Her skin was perfect, her make-up still well fixed and her blonde locks were just as they were supposed to be.
She returned to her husband sooner than she would have liked it.
"Oh, Helen, good, you've returned. Let me introduce you to this young man. His name is Paris Priameus, do you remember his father, who passed away last year? Great loss.."
He kept talking but she wasn't listening to him any longer. Helen needed one whole minute to completely apprehend Paris's figure. Quite the handsome man, that one was. He had dark brown curly hair and eyes of the same colour. His smirk was just intoxicating and his suit fitted him to perfection. However, it wasn't just all that. There was something else. Something about him appealed to her in a mysterious way.
"It's my pleasure to meet you, mister Priameus."
"Please, call me Paris."
His hand shaking wasn't as firm as the ones other acquaintances of her husband had given her, but she figured it was all the better. She was tired of all those men that looked exactly the same to her.
"I was just asking your husband if he would allow me to ask you for a dance."
"Did he agree?"
"Indeed, he did."
She smiled to him.
"Feel free to ask, then."
His smile got wider as he did a small courtesy while asking:
"Would you care to join me for this dance, my lady?"
Helena couldn't help but laugh. A real gentleman, or was he just mocking her? Her husband, however, took her by the arm and whispered on her ear:
"I will have to go back to the office. You stay here on the party until is over, okay? I hope I'll be back home today."
Oh, how many times had she heard that kind of excuse during their married time? Did he really think she was stupid, or did he just think she was blind?
"Sure, honey, take your time."
She would have rather killed the man, but what could she do? Her father depended on her to keep the contract that kept his business from bankrupting.
When did I become such a good daughter? Shouldn't Clytemnestra or Castor be the ones to carry such a burden? Or at least, share it with me?
She watched her sorry excuse of a husband go away, but soon got bored by his vision. Paris was still waiting on her answer.
"Yes, I shall dance with you."
"Good."
He took her by the hand and they went to the dance floor together. They danced all the songs the band cared to play, staying glued to each other for the rest of the night. Helen couldn't remember the last time she felt so alive. What was it that made him so special? Why did they share this weird connection, as if they had known each other since they were born?
The party, however, was getting emptier at each passing second.
"Don't really want to let you go just yet." He whispered on her ear, as they moved on a slow song's pace.
"Then, don't."
He pushed her a little bit, seeking her blue eyes with his dark ones.
"What can you possibly mean with those words?"
"I meant exactly what I said."
"What if your husband gets home to an empty house?"
"I tell him I went to my mother's. Where is exactly the place you will leave me before the sun rises again?"
"Wasn't really expecting you would agree with this."
"Well, it's not every day we find someone that interesting." She tried to say it as if it wasn't a big deal, but she knew she was failing miserably.
He smiled, though.
"Let's make it happen, then."
He took her by the hand to his sport car and drove as fast as the engine would let him. He thought she would be scared by the high speed, but she just opened the window to enjoy the blowing wind. The image made him smile. He had always loved the sensation of the wind while racing through empty streets – it made him feel like he was still a child just about to open a Christmas' present.
They started kissing the minute he parked on his building's garage. If his life depended on it, he wouldn't be able to explain how they found their way to his apartment, and after that to his bed.
Helena gave herself to those lips that kissed her so hungrily, and that was when the images begun pouring in her mind. Delicate sheets in a room that smelled like fragrant oil and incense. Escaping a palace, hidden by a dark and heavy hood, and going to a boat. The most beautiful woman whispering encouraging words on her ears. The strong hand of a man that rushed her towards the boat.
"You will love Troy, I'm sure." The words were not in English, but, somehow, she managed to understand every single one of them, as if they were a part of who she was.
She looked into his dark eyes and saw confusion on them, just like she imagined hers would have too.
"Did you see that too?" she asked.
"Yes." He answered shortly, as even more images ran like whole movies on his head. "You… You're the Helen."
"What?"
"Aren't you familiarized with Ancient Greek's mythology?"
As she moved her head in a "no", his eyes got wider with shock.
"Really? It's so famous."
"No, I don't think I ever heard anything about it. But I made a rug with these scenes I've been seeing."
"Helen, queen of Sparta, was the most beautiful woman of Greece, and that was why Paris, the prince of Troy, with the help of the goddess Aphrodite kidnapped her from her husband."
"Menelaus."
He nodded in agreement.
Even though she didn't remember hearing about this story, it made perfect sense to her. The goddess loved her, they were sisters, after all, and she helped free herself from her awful husband, letting her found her true love – even though she was very aware he wasn't the bravest of men.
Slowly, she covered his face with her hands, locking their eyes together.
"You are the prince of Troy. The one my sister brought to let me out of that living hell."
"Yes." He was completely hypnotized by that deep ocean that was her eyes, just like the first time he saw it, so, so, so long ago.
"My real father didn't want to let me out of that awful marriage, but she didn't like seeing me so sad. So, she sent me you."
"Yes. It was my prize… For choosing her as the most beautiful goddess of Olympus. For that, Athena and Hera got their revenge, ruining Troy and everyone who lived in it."
"But we can change this now. We can end up together in this life."
"Yes! It'll be a new war, one that involves our father's companies, but no one will die this time."
"Because death is not a social practice on this culture.
"But… Is that what you really want, Helen?"
She smiled and he felt his heart skip a beat. How could a woman be so completely irresistible?
"Even after everything that happened… I love you, Paris."
"You loved me when I was a prince, I'm not one anymore."
She ran her finger through his hair, messing up with his perfectly shaped curls.
"I agree that this changes everything, but it changes for the best, can't you see it? We are both completely human now. The gods won't meddle this time, they seem not to want to have anything to do with this world. The fight will be fair now."
Paris nodded and kissed her deeply, changing their positions to trap her beneath him.
"More importantly, this time is fair between us."
She smiled warmly.
"You're right. It's fair between us too."
He kissed her again, silencing both of them, and let himself explore her body slowly, enjoying every little part of it. Even though he couldn't remember, he had been searching for her this whole time. For all his life, he had been searching for that amazing woman, the only one to ever make him feel really alive.
He caused a war for her once, and he was definitely prepared to cause another. However, this time he wouldn't hide behind his brother Hector. This time he would fight for her, like she truly deserved. He would fight with all he had and he wouldn't lose. He wasn't an unprepared boy now. He was quite aware he knew his business well enough to prevent any move from Menelaus that could try to ruin his father legacy. This life had him prepared. This life was the one he was meant to end up with Helen – and he was definitely not going to ruin it.
"I can fight now too." She suddenly said, as if she could read everything going through his mind as if it was an open book.
"What do you mean?"
She laughed.
"He thinks I'm stupid, but I learned a lot with my father and I pay close attention to everything he does with his company. We can fight together, Paris. I'm not waiting on bed while you go to the battle field."
He kissed her softly, trying to show her all his love, all his care.
"We're not losing this time, Helen."
"No. It's our time to burn them."
Smiling to each other, they once again silenced one another with passionate kisses and burning touches. This time, Troy would survive – victorious.