Thanks for your reviews, and to answer Monia's (hope I spelled that right) question, I will be keeping most of the dialogue in the movie. My idea for this fic is that it corresponds with her in the movie, so it's as believable that it can be. However, I do get to write their entire week together, since the scene that we have of them is on their very last night together. So hopefully that'll be good. And I do finally have the script, thank you to everyone who helped me out with that one. And I will be adding a few lines to their scenes, which some of you will recognize if you read the original script. Most of those scenes will be in my fics (this one and the one I'll be writing about H/A during the movie Troy.) However, that won't be happening for awhile yet. I want to have this fiction and the one about H/A corresponding together, and I can only do that if I write them at the same time. So I'm finishing my H/A fic pretty quickly while this one I'm taking my time on, so it shouldn't be too much longer. Probably not before the end of August, though. And as always, thoughts are in italics. Anyways, here's the next chapter, enjoy!
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One of my most vivid memories is when I first entertained company as Queen of Sparta. It was six months after my marriage and Menelaus wanted to form a treaty with a nearby village. It was a farming village, where the occupants lived peacefully with each other. All of them were farmers, and all of them aided one another. The village produced the largest supply of wheat in all Greece, and Menelaus wanted to bargain with them for it. We could have easily conquered the village, but that would destroy the crops and cause the occupants to be resentful, thereby not producing as much. So instead, Menelaus sent a message requesting them to send a representative.
They sent two.
It made no difference to Menelaus if a man chose to bring his wife, she was no trouble to house. But her coming changed me for the rest of my life.
She was dark, not at all pretty. Her lips were too small and her nose slightly crooked. Her skin was tough and leathery, proof of the many hours she'd spent under the sun. But she had something that I longed for, that which I desired from the deepest depths of my heart.
Her husband loved her.
It was obvious from the moment they stepped off the small carriage that had transported them. Her clothes were simple and her jewelry none, but he gazed at her as if she was the very image of a goddess. I felt a surge of jealousy rise up in me. Not of her, but of what she had.
But my duties as hostess were clear and I welcomed them with a smile. He paid compliments to my beauty and addressed my husband; she smiled humbly at me. Her attitude left nothing to be desired, she was sweetness from the soles of her feet to the top of her hair.
The negotiations were short and they stayed only one night. During dinner, I customarily rose from my place just before my handmaidens would come in to entertain, and she followed suit. I led her into one of the gardens, ordering a servant to procure us two glasses of wine.
"Please, my lady, why did we leave?" she asked, confused.
I looked surprised. She was older than I, and I would've supposed well familiar with the ways of the world. "The women always retire from the feasts early."
"For what purpose?"
I was suddenly aware of a very acute feeling of discomfort. The dancers had never bothered me before; they were a normal tradition in any wealthy household and the women were quite familiar of their doings. This woman, who was older than me by at least a few years, was now relying on me to describe exactly what her husband was watching.
I couldn't do it.
"It is customary for the men to dismiss their wives so the company is all male. This way they have their time, and we have ours." I felt no guilt for my lie, but I quickly changed the subject. "You are just married?"
She shook her head. "We have been married six years. I am four and twenty."
I tried to smile. How could a woman of that age be unaware of her husbands actions? It was unheard of, especially after six years of marriage. "I had thought you to be just married, you look of newlyweds."
She smiled. "We've often been told that. But I speak truth, I was married when I was but eighteen."
This conversation was very quickly discomforting me and I could think of nothing else to say so I retired for the night as soon as was possible. The next day, we escorted them down to their raggedy horse and their pathetic wagon, which would transport them home.
"Thank you," she whispered to me. "For trying to spare me. There was no need, though, my husband has never had a wandering eye. But your kindness touched me." She was referring to the dancers.
I was overcome at that moment. Not with jealousy, no, but with an intense longing from the deepest pits of my soul. It was at that moment that I truly witnessed love for the first moment in my life.To still be passionately in love, even after six years of marriage. To know that one's husband had shared his bed with no other than his companion for life. To be distinguished because you had been privileged to something that no other person had. To be loved tenderly and gently, and to be gazed upon with reverence and joy that did not grow any dimmer as the years flew by.
My heart truly broke at that moment.
That night, Menelaus sent for me. I was well familiar with the routine and I paid no attention to the pitying look of Polydora. A servant girl escorted me through the halls- for I was not allowed to go anywhere alone- and left me in my husband's room.
He was drunk, most likely from celebrating his new agreement that would bring riches to Sparta.
"Not bad, Helen, eh?" His eyes glittered but his speech was clear. He was not so drunk that I could outwit him this time.
"A wise decision," I replied dispassionately. I never called him my husband, though why I don't know.
"You seem out of humor," he complained, setting down his glass and approaching me.
He expected a response. I have just witnessed a loving marriage and compared it to ours. What have I to be miserable about? "I am just tired."
He narrowed his eyes. "Why are you tired?"
Deep, deep inside me, a spark of dry humor flashed. What if I were to tell him I was keeping a lover? He'd most likely kill me, I thought listlessly. "I haven't been sleeping well."
"Why not?" He was within arm's length of me now and his voice glinted dangerously. It was time to manipulate, just like Clytemnestra had told me.
"I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?" His voice was a little gentler, and he traced the outline of my jaw. I resisted the urge to slap him away.
"Strangers. My door has no lock and you give me no guards, I am left unprotected in the darkness of the night." He gave me no guards because he did not want to risk their looking upon me.
He seemed pleased with my suggestion. "Well, I shall alleviate your discomfort. I'll have a lock put in tomorrow." He toyed with a strand of my hair. "Are you pleased now?"
I sighed, there was no getting out of it. "Pleased, but still tired."
"Is there anything I can do to cure your sleepiness?" He was annoyed again and slightly drunk. I was treading on dangerous ground.
"Allow me to return to my quarters, I shall sleep better there. I will send one of my handmaidens over in my stead."
He frowned, genuine anger showing on his face. "But they cannot bear me heirs to my throne."
Marry them instead and they can. "There is time yet, we've been married but six months."
His hand lightly gripped my throat under my jaw. It left no mark but I could feel the strength in his hands. His message was clear. "Enough talk." His lips found mine, but the kiss was not tender. It was jealous and possessive as they traced their way down my throat. His one arm held me firmly against him as his other undid the clasps on my dress. I turned my head away from him, keeping my face away from his. He seemingly did not notice. As my dress dropped to the ground, I could see a mirror off to the side. I looked at myself, ignoring the figure of my husband pressed up against me.
There I was, beautiful and pale. The farmer's wife couldn't hold a candle up to me, and yet she possessed something I did not. Anger rose in me then, at the unfairness of it all. And once again, I was struck at how the beauty did not match the person within. It was almost as if it belonged to another person. The person in the mirror showed an ethereal beauty, the kind a husband would gaze on adoringly. The person in real life knew no such beauty.
My thoughts were ended then as he firmly guided me towards his bed, his rough outfit scratching my fair skin. I closed my eyes, wishing for it to end, and after a time it did. I waited for him to fall asleep so I could get up to leave. He'd no doubt be furious, but I did not care that moment. My heart was dead within me.
I waited until his breathing was even and he lay still, then I gently rolled over and stood up. Turning to grab my robe, a voice stopped me in my tracks.
"Where are you going." It was a statement, not a question.
"I was returning to my room, I thought you'd sleep better that way." It was a lie and we both knew it.
"Come here," he ordered, patting the bed beside him. His eyes greedily roamed over my body and I hurried to lay beside him, covering myself with the sheet. I turned my back to him but he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around me. "There," he said contentedly, closing his eyes. "Go to sleep."
I dare not move or try to leave again, for he'd surely awake at my movements. His arms around me prevented my leaving without his noticing, and it was then that my gaze was attracted to the same mirror.
There was a girl inside it, her fair body barely covered by the sheets. Thick, hairy arms were wrapped around her, a stark contrast to her soft skin. Her hair was like the golden wheat that waved in the breeze and her eyes- even in the darkness- sparkled brilliantly. Her figure was bathed in moonlight and if someone were to see her, they'd think they were beholding a goddess.
It was at that moment that I started to cry. It was silent, for I had no wish to awaken my husband, but the tears fell down my face and onto the pillow. The girl in the mirror was perfect, the girl on the outside was not. I longed to be the one in the mirror, the one without emotions or feelings. I remembered the couple I'd said goodbye to just that morning, their lack of wealth and beauty outshone by the love in their eyes for each other. I tried to remember Clytemnestra's words, to not long for something I could never have, but it was hopeless. My heart ached then, truly ached, because I had witnessed it firsthand. I sobbed my heart out, because I wanted that love with all my heart. I could hear the waves crashing in the distance and I longed to throw myself into their dark, murky depths.
Oh, Aphrodite, grant me love or strike me down.
But there was no answer, only the sound of the waves in the distance and my husband's breathing beside me.
I was alone and unloved.