Hello! It was late when I wrote this, and was I was very tired, so the story might be weird... It doesn't matter though. I'm French, so sorry if they are grammar mistakes or misspellings.

Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan obviously or we would have had more thaluke.

She's looking at him, her beautiful face pale with shock. He had heard poems about her beauty, heard about all the men that had wanted to marry her, and he hates that he couldn't have been here sooner, because he might have been the one standing next to her right now. He doesn't know her, but he already knows he loves her. She was promised to him by a goddess, they were meant for each other. He can read in her eyes that she already knows the last part. He took a step toward her and gently takes her hand in his before leaving a soft kiss on the palm of it.

"I've heard many tales about your beauty. None of them were close to the truth…"

"You are too nice. My husband and I are very happy to welcome you here."

He knows what she's doing, trying to remember him that she is already married as his eyes can't leave hers. But can he be blamed? Her electric blue eyes make him shiver slightly as he thinks that no, no one could be blamed for admiring her startling beauty. He manages to tear his gaze from her and glances at her husband, who nods at him. His eyes quickly find hers again and a slight smile appears on his lips.

"It is an honor to be here, and even more one to be the guest of Helen of Sparta."

"Do you know a lot about her, Thalia?"

"Who, Helen?"

"She was your half-sister. Her soulmate was Paris, he would have died for her.

"But they caused a war."

"No, no. Helen was just a pretext, Sparta and Troy would have been under the weight of a war sooner or later. But when he took her away, Paris didn't know that, he only knew he loved her and wanted to be with her, no matter what."

She raised an eyebrow, obviously annoyed, as a slight yawn escapes her lips.

"Why do you even care about their story?"

"I don't know. I just do."

He whispers as he stares into her beautiful blue eyes, as electric as ever. She's about to fall asleep, he knows her well enough to see that. He sighs and gently tucks a strand of black hair behind her ear.

"I would do it.

"What?

"Go on war for you. I would do it."

She remains silent, considering him for a moment, as if she was thinking about a very old memory, and he secretly hopes she does.

"And who would you be, Menelaus or Paris?

"I'm surprised you even know the name of her husband. I would be Paris, you know it already.

"I do have some knowledge about Greek mythology, thank you very much. I do not agree though, I would want you to be Menelaus."

He frowns slightly at her, the idea of her running away with someone else making his heart clenches in his chest.

"Why on Earth would you want that?

"Because she doesn't live happily ever after with Paris. He dies. Menelaus lives. They end up together again, he forgives her. And I would want you to live. But we're not them, aren't we? So stop whining and let me sleep."

She turns around, and he sighs. He wishes he could tell her, but he can't. Hal made him promise to keep the secret. He was destined to make war for her again, just like he was destined to lose her. Just like millennia again, when they were Helen and Paris. Demigods could have three lives, but he seemed to be the only one to remember. He didn't mind though, he didn't want her to stop believing in their story, because if she knew she would run away from him, to be sure he would live. Her beauty had caused a war ages ago, and soon it would be her death. Except that this time, he would be the one to seek revenge. She was right on one point, he would be Menelaus, the one to make war for her, the one to have his happily ever after with her. Or that what he thought, because Aphrodite had always had others plans for them, not matter in which life.