Captivated

Chapter 17: Finesse an Innocent

Paris didn't carry the fear he bore last time he tugged on his battle clothes. The butterflies of death and doubt were long gone. Every solider of Troy felt it. Now that Achilles was gone, there was nothing to fear from the Greeks who were powerless without him.

Helen got ready in a pure white dress that brightened her eyes, crowned with a circle of golden leaves that framed her head; placed perfectly with her blonde hair. She wished to watch her handsome husband fight heroically in battle. In some ways Helen wasn't much different from every silly girl. The thought of a strong warrior fighting for her sake made her giddy, bringing a silent smile in her heart.

Again the Trojan archers were placed along the wall first early in the morning. This time Paris was among them, adding his talent for the arrow to them. It gave them hope and strength, knowing that such a godlike prince was with them this day as one of them. The clashing armor of the Greeks came sooner after the archers were placed. Once their presence was well announced, the rest of the Trojan army filed itself along the walls in their military rank.

As all the pieces were finding their position, the royal court took their seat to watch over the battle. Among them was Helen, ignoring all the surprised stares and only caring for her beautiful lover. Paris was getting ready his arrows, staring intently into each position that it made Helen chuckle at his seriousness.

She now noticed all the archers bend their bows, waiting for Paris' call. The war was starting, and the first screech of the arrows whistling through the air startled Helen. She set herself away from the gory war scene to the chair next to Praim; knowing Paris is alright. Meanwhile, Paris was mechanically shooting arrow after arrow into the distance; knowing it will strike a Greek. Everyone was absorbed in the battle, that no one noticed the dark goddess standing on top of the hills, watching the Greek farmer move his way through the battle. Like a snake in the grass, he slivered closer to the walls.

The Greek archers were now striking back at the Trojans. Helen broke free from her chair to the edge of the wall to watch Paris. He was in no danger yet which calmed Helen down a bit. But the thought of a sneaking arrow coming towards him kept her there. Paris was running out of bows, so he paused his fighting to gather so more. Helen jumped up wildly to get his attention, helplessly waving her arm.

He noticed her and was flattered entirely of her admiration towards him. Paris straightened up waving back at his precious love. It was that simple. He thought to himself. I love this woman, and she does me. A warm smile stretched over his lips after seeing his wife giggle knowing he waved back. And then it happened.

The thrust startled the off guarded person. At first Paris thought something poked him abruptly in the center of his left breast. But when he looked down a thick stern arrow prod out of his chest. Paris didn't know whether to scream first or fall down. He knew if he fell down, then everyone would think him dead, so he stood up. Yet the strength of is legs gave out beneath him and he fell.

It all happened before her eyes. Helen was seeing Paris smiling at her, then she closed her eyes, and when she opened he was standing weird with a stick coming out of his chest. Without knowing what happened her instincts demanded her to scream and she did. Louder then any siren or harpy, her wails pinched every Trojan's and Greek's ears. The nearby archers gathered their wounded prince and led him out of the fight.

Helen pushed her way down the wall to meet Paris behind the city's gate. Following her was Praim and the rest of court. The archers laid the broken prince down gently because breath was well in him. Helen gathered his head to be placed on her resting lap. The tears came relentlessly and she violently stroked Paris' face for him not to fall asleep on her forever. "Paris..paris?" her words were broken under the sobs and pain she felt.

Every time Paris' breath skipped a beat so did hers. Praim kneeled on the dirt floor not as a crushed king, but as a devastated father.

"no, no, no, no. Not my Paris! Not my beautiful boy! Not him too." He said to himself. Eris was now well in the crying crowd, bellowing the loudest of them all, but none of them would reach the mortals' ears. Now seeing her love, her heart lying bent and broken like a bloody nameless doll she always saw in battle; and couldn't believe that it was Paris who was dying. Logic and sense was gone for a short while from her mind, and she paces viciously for some way to save him.

Her blood was well into his system now, disintegrating his life before her eyes. Some form of magic must save him, if not there was nothing else. That was when her name came up. "Oenone." She first said but no one listened. She then raced towards' Praim's hear, shouting for her voice to reach his mind in time.

"Take him to Oenone, the nymph who knows how to save him!!"

The voice came as one of his own thoughts and he spoke it like his own.

"Take my son to Oenone! Quickly!" The archers carried Paris on a carrier, racing to this nymph that knew how to cure him. When the carriers of Paris were long gone Helen continued screaming and shouting at Hera and Athena for cursing her. The superstition drove the men to force her away from the battle and dragged her to her rooms with a gag.

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