NOTES: This is a story based on Helen's life, from her point of view. It's first person (meaning it's as if she is actually telling it) and it will take place during her life, pretty much the entire thing. For the first few chapters I'll be skipping through a bunch of years. Meaning in once chapter she might be seven and the next she might be twelve. I want to take this right up through the movie Troy, which would pretty much be all the scenes she's in from her POV. Now, I know every person has their opinion on what Helen was really like. Historians have different views also. Some say she was malicious and manipulative, others say she was an unwilling participant, and still others say she just got caught up in events. Her existence isn't even fact, it's more legend. I'm basing my story just as if she was an actual person with her actions being pretty much what a normal person would do. So if you hate Helen, this isn't your type of fic. If you adore Helen, this also isn't your fic. If you're a cross between the two, then I think you'll enjoy it. I won't say more because I don't want to give the plot away, but I've known women like her (the Helen I portray) and this is a perfectly realistic possibility.
IMPORTANT: If you read the previous paragraph, you'll know that I'm going to do some of the scenes Helen was in during the movie Troy. If anyone has a script, that would be great. I'm not going to do the scenes otherwise, because it's just this pet peeve of mine to get the dialogue right. So if anyone knows where I can get one, or has one themselves, just let me know in a review and I'll get in contact with you. It'll be a BIG help, so thanks ahead of time.
Rating: It's PG-13, as are all my fics. So if any of you are hoping that I'll write exactly what went on with her and Paris, you're going to be disappointed. It'll be exactly what the movie showed, nothing more.
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If people were to ask me what it's like being the most beautiful woman in the world, I wouldn't know how to answer them. And they have asked, many times. So many times that I cannot even name them all. But I remember the first time…
I was seven and my sister Clytemnestra was preparing my hair. She was ten years older than I was, and we were preparing to meet the arrival of Agamemnon. I did not understand what was happening, for no one had thought to inform me. I must have been wiggling, for she chastised me as she carefully curled my hair with the heating iron.
"It's too hot for a heating iron," I complained.
She sighed and put the offending object down, opting instead to just pin my hair with two combs. Her handmaidens had spent hours on her own hair, curling it and pinning it into place.
"Amazing, Helen," she murmured softly, smiling at me in the mirror. "You waste no thought on your appearance and yet you outshine us all."
I was young and naïve, and I studied her admiringly. "You look beautiful, Clytemnestra. I like when you curl your hair."
"I like it as well," she said, studying herself. "But there's no comparing the two of us." She looked at me and there was a pause. "What is it like, Helen?"
"What is what like?" I asked, confused.
"Being you. Possessing beauty so great that people look upon you and think they are viewing Aphrodite herself. Wasting no thought to appearance or apparel and yet still striking men speechless. And all this when you are still just a child, not even a woman." There was a faraway look in her eyes, as though she wasn't even paying attention to me.
I squirmed uncomfortably. "No mortal outshines the gods," I said firmly, not wishing to offend them.
She noticed my discomfort and quickly shook her head, warding off whatever thoughts had occupied her mind. "I'm just being silly, Helen, pay me no mind."
"Why did you curl your hair today?" I asked, crawling into her lap.
She wrapped her arms around me. "You're almost too big for me to do this, Helen. And I curled my hair because soon we are to go meet Agamemnon."
"Who is he?"
"He is a great king who comes to make me his bride," she replied.
"Is he nice?"
"I've never met him, so I wouldn't know," she had answered me. That was a lie, she knew his reputation, but in her kindness she wished to protect my innocence as a child.
"Then why do you wish to marry him?"
There was a pause. "Helen, I never said I wished to marry him," she answered softly.
"Then why must you?"
She shook her head. "Because Sparta needs the alliance. King Agamemnon is a powerful man, our marriage will mean Sparta shall remain safe from all enemies."
"Will you be happy?" I asked, as I leaned against her.
She did not answer for a moment and I glanced up to see her eyes shining with tears. "Clytemnestra?"
She quickly stood up and roughly set me on the floor. "You're too old to be held, Helen. I expect you to join me within the next few minutes." And with that, she quickly left the room, shutting the door firmly.
I stood there, bewildered. Her sudden mood change had confused me and I couldn't figure out why she was so upset. I turned and glanced into the mirror where she'd fixed my hair.
I saw a regular girl staring back at me.
She had long, blonde hair that waved slightly down her back. Two blue eyes set evenly above a slightly upturned nose. A mouth was below that, and her eyes caught mine in the mirror.
I did not know what Clytemnestra was talking about; I had the same features that every other person had. But something was different about me, though I couldn't figure out what. I looked the same as everyone and yet I was treated differently. I would come into a room and the conversation would quickly cease. When I went into the sun a servant was always there to hold a shade over my face. I was not allowed to play with the other children of the palace and I had never ridden a horse.
But I had the same features as everyone else.