Disclaimer: I do not own Greek Mythology. I originally wrote this story for a challenge of my friend's to write a story exactly a thousand words long using one of a few prompts and I thought I'd post it on here for Valentines Day. My prompt was My senses were running amok, I awoke in the middle of the night too... If you would like to participate in this challenge go to .com, Click Forums, click Chat, and click Writing Extrafaganza (I know it's spelled wrong). Happy Valentines Day!

The end is a little corny.

Of Love, Anger, and Longing

My senses were running amok. I awoke in the middle of the night to the still and quiet of the Trojan palace. Paris lay beside me, the light from the moon shining on his bare chest and thick, dark curls.

My heart sank. He was not who I wanted to wake beside. The dream I had just had... I had almost convinced myself it was just a dream, but it wasn't of course. It was a memory.

I remembered how Paris had come to my room that night, back in Sparta, a predatory smile on his lovely face.

"Come with me, my lady" he had said,

"I have something to show you" I had been afraid but I had followed him. He led me to Hermione's room, then turned to me with a cold look on his face,

"You will come with me to Troy and be my bride." he had said,

"If you resist or try to call for help, I will go into this room and rape your daughter, and then kill her." His voice had been so cold, so unfeeling and remorseless.

I remembered how my heart had frozen in terror.

"Alright" I had whispered, as tears filled my eyes,

"I will do whatever you say, just please don't hurt her"

I shook myself out of the memory. It would do no good to think about that now. I rose from the bed and took a pen, an inkwell, and a sheet of papyrus from a table. I sat down in a chair and began to write. This would probably do me no good either, but I could not help myself.

My dearest love,

I know you will probably never read this, Menelaus. I have no way to get it to you and even if I could you would probably throw it away without even a glance at it. I know what you must think of me. You think I left you for him. That I ran away with Prince Paris of Troy without a thought for you or for our dear daughter.

I wish I could tell you how wrong you are. I had to leave, my love, to protect our little girl. He threatened her, you see. What else could I do? I could not let him hurt her. And so I left.

I do not know what will become of us now. Even as I write these words the ships of you and your allies fill the harbors, as you wage war on the city of Troy. I fear for you greatly my love. I fear you will perish in this war. I fear I will never see you again.

And if I do? If you are victorious in this war and I am returned to you? What then? Will you be able to forgive me for the wrongs that you think I have committed against you? Will you allow me to explain the truth? Will you believe me?
Your men no doubt expect you to kill me, but this I do not fear. In truth, my love, I cannot imagine you ever physically harming me, or indeed any woman, no matter what they may have done. It is simply not in your nature.

No, I do not fear physical harm from you, but I do fear what will happen when and if we are reunited. I fear you will never forgive me. That you will hate me. That I will never again feel your arms around me. I fear I will never again feel your lips against mine or simply sit and talk to you for hours.

The thought is unbearable. I almost think it would be less painful to never see you again than to be with you once more, and yet never truly be with you.

I miss you, Menelaus. And Hermione. So much that sometimes it hurts to breathe. So much that sometimes I just want to die, to disappear forever if that is what it takes to end the pain.

Sometimes I dream of you, and then I wake up and I weep because you are not here. Silently, so Paris does not hear me.

More than anything I wish I could be home now. I want to sit on the grass with you and watch Hermione run and play. But that is not to be. At least not at the moment. Perhaps not ever again. And so I sit and I write this letter you will never read. I think of you and wonder if you are thinking of me. If thoughts of me troubled your dreams and left you as restless as me this night. Is it wrong for me to wish that that was so? If so, then I am in the wrong. For I cannot help but wish it.

I could write for pages and pages more, but I would only be repeating what I have already told you, so I will stop. I love you, Menelaus. Even if you do not know it. Even if you no longer love me.

Forever Yours,
Helen

I got up, folded the letter, and hid it in a box of jewels. Just as I did this Paris stirred on the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asked groggily. I turned around and forced a smile.

"Nothing, my lord" He rose from the bed and smiled, holding out his arms to me.

"Come here, my love" I suppressed a shiver of anger and disgust at the endearment, (How dare he call me that?!) and allowed him to take me in his arms.

He began to kiss me. His hands moved to the front of my sleeping gown and untied it. The gown fell to the floor. Still kissing me, Paris laid me on the bed. I closed my eyes and tried to pretend he was Menelaus.

When he was done with me he drifted to sleep once more. It took longer for Hypnos to reclaim me, but eventually I slept and drifted in dreams of my husband and daughter, and happier times.

Menelaus lay in his tent, trying and failing to sleep. Restless he got up and slipped out of the tent. Grief and anger warred in his heart.

How could she leave me? Especially for him? The thought circled in his brain.

He had thought she was happy, that she loved him. She had never seemed discontent with her life. Could she really have just left like that? He pushed the thought away, because if she hadn't run away, if the Trojans had forced her to go with them... who knows what they were doing to her. It was so much easier to be angry with her than to be frightened for her, so much less painful.

There was another ache in his heart as well. He closed his eyes and saw the small face, so very like Helen's, framed by ringlets as fiery red as his own. Hermione. He wondered if he would ever see his precious daughter again.

"Are you thinking about her again?" his brother's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Yes" Menelaus admitted, turning to look at Agamemnon as he came to stand beside him,

"and Hermione"

"What will you do to her?"

"To Hermione?"

"No, you fool!" Agamenon rolled his eyes,

"To Helen!" Menelaus stared blankly at his brother.

"Do to her?"

"If she was my wife I would kill the slut!" Menelaus flinched. Angry as he was, he could not imagine raising a hand against Helen, let alone a sword, yet he knew this was exactly what most of his men expected.

Agamemnon gave him a hard stare,

"You will punish her, will you not, Menelaus? You will not just let her get away with this?" his voice was dangerous.

"My daughter died for this war! My daughter died..." His normally hard voice was choked by grief.

Menelaus' heart twisted with sorrow at the memory of his young niece. Artemis had demanded her sacrifice. At first, Agamemnon had refused but the men had forced him to comply. He shook his head.
"I am so sorry. I would never have asked you to..." his voice trailed off. Agamemnon's face grew closed off. He turned on his heel and stalked away from his brother back into his tent.

Menelaus sighed and stared into the low-burning fire. Random memories of Helen drifted through his mind. One in particular drew him in.

It had been a short time after they had gotten married. It was one of the few days that he had few kingly duties to trouble him and so he had wanted to spend the day with her. She had been so young then, only thirteen years old, yet already radiantly beautiful. He remembered how she had smiled shyly and taken his hand,

"I want to show you something" she had said, leading him into the woods that grew within the palace grounds. She had led him to a small, beautiful green clearing. In the center of it lay a quiet pool.

"I come here when I am upset or sad or just want to get away from the palace" Helen had said, with another shy smile,

"I have never shown it to anyone before"

"I am honored my lady" he had said in a half-teasing, half-serious way, with a tender smile. They had walked together to the edge of the pool, then she had waded into it, heedless of her fine clothes. She had given him a playful smile. And then pulled him in!

"Hey!" he spluttered, laughing,

"Why you little..." She giggled. He grabbed her gently.

"I'll get you!" he kissed her lightly, then pulled her against him,

"You will never escape me!" She struggled futily, laughing helplessly.

He sighed as he came out of the memory. They had gone to the clearing many times after that, had taken Hermione there a few times.

"I miss you" he whispered, aloud,

"I miss you so much and I would do anything to get you back" He began to weep, his face in his hands.

When he had more or less regained control of himself, he went back to his tent. He lay down on his pallet and closed his eyes. He drifted to sleep and dreamed of Helen.

In his dream he searched for her, but he did not remember why she was gone. He searched long and hard, for years it seemed, until at last he came to the clearing, their clearing. Even before he stepped into the clearing he knew what he would find. And sure enough, there she was. Sitting by the pool in a beautiful gown the exact same shade of blue as her eyes.

She seemed to sense his presence, for she turned around and smiled, gesturing for him to come to her. His breath caught in his throat at the look of joy in her eyes. His dream self felt no anger towards her, only an answering joy leaping in his heart. He hurried toward her and sat down beside her.
"I have searched for you for a long, long time, my lady" he said. She shrugged and gave him a soft half- smile,

"You should have known I would be here"

"I have missed you so much" he whispered, reaching out and tenderly caressing her cheek.

"And I you" She leaned forward and kissed him. His arms wrapped around her; her fingers tangled in his hair. They fell back on the soft, green grass, still kissing. At last he broke away and lay beside her in the grass, breathless.

"I love you"

He pulled her close to him and began to nuzzle her neck.

Menelaus sighed and turned over in his sleep, a soft smile on his face.

Across the city at almost the same moment, Helen also rolled over with a similar smile.
And so in the midst of a war, Helen and Menelaus found peace in their sleep and in their dreams of each other.

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