Thank you all for your reviews, I'm glad you're liking this story. Just as an update, I'm hoping to have Paris come into the story around chapter fifteen, but not before. Might be a LITTLE bit after that, but sometime around then. So hang in there, it'll get happier soon.
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Every year we would attend the Festival of the Gods. The celebration would last for seven days, though I only attended the first day. Menelaus didn't like me outside the palace and would limit my reasons to leave until very few remained. But my obligations as Queen mandated that I accompany Menelaus for the commencement.
I donned a white dress and a veil that both protected me from the harsh sun and the prying eyes of others. My face was still visible- for even though he was intensely jealous, Menelaus still enjoyed showing me off- though most of it was cast into shadow by the veil. Since I was married I no longer had to cover my face, but since I kept my head lowered most of the time the effect was the same. Very few were able to clearly see my features, but every so often I'd look up and gaze into the people's faces.
The men gazed on me in a lustful awe, the women in amazed adoration. I could see wonder in their eyes and knew what they were thinking. If only I were that beautiful.
I would lower my face then, allowing my veil to cast me into shadow. Do not long to be me. One does not envy a whore, who is used and unloved, so make not the mistake of envying me.
Menelaus and I would spend a few hours at the celebration and then he would take me back to the palace before returning to the party himself. Those were my favorite times, for the palace was nearly empty of servants and it was rare that I would see anyone.
I'd take advantage of my freedom- small though it was- and wander the palace. I liked the walls, most of all. No guards patrolled them- for they were all at the celebration and only two remained at the gate- and I was free to travel there unaccompanied.
It was a treasure as rich as it was rare. It is impossible to truly describe my feelings at those moments, because no one can imagine the relief of just one drop of water to a person trapped in a vast desert. No one could see me, for I was at the top of the highest watch tower, and I would dispose of my veil. Those were the only times I would see the world through my own eyes and feel the sun shining down on my head, warming me through. I never felt truly warm, not in the palace. It was always cold inside- perhaps because of the stone walls- but up there it was like paradise. The palace was situated on a cliff, with the city being further inland, and I could look straight down and see the waves crashing against the rock, hundreds of feet below.
That sight always cheered me, the knowledge that I could both end my misery and deprive Menelaus of his "perfect" wife. But something always stopped me. I would gaze down at the deep, blue sea and it always looked so peaceful. In some, unexplainable way, it soothed me. The blue waves would turn white with foam as they violently flung themselves against the rocks, but it would still looked peaceful. I would turn to gaze at the sun setting into the water and dream of the faraway lands across that sea. Many consider the sea a barrier, a dangerous wall not to be crossed unless one is forced, but I didn't mind it. Everything else around me was a wall. The stones of the palace entrapped me, the commands of Menelaus forbade me, the people in Sparta watched me. I'd learned to live with walls- there was not a moment in my life that I didn't have any- but the sea was the first wall that ever looked beautiful. Perhaps I was the only one who could appreciate a beautiful wall.
That was the only place that I loved in all Sparta. I'd close my eyes and entertain thoughts of sailing into the horizon, running barefoot through the woods, or flying with the birds. I was a little girl again, not a grown woman, and my heart rejoiced in the carefree person I became.
I could release my hair and feel the wind teasing back the strands. I could kick off my sandals and let my feet caress the cool, smooth stones under me. I could look out and see nothing but water, dazzling in the sunlight.
I could pretend that I was free.
That place was my gateway to dreams, one that I was permitted to visit once a year for a brief, sweet moment. That moment would pass in the blink of an eye but I desperately clung to every second of it.
For one carefree, priceless moment, I could pretend that I was loved. With the sea sparkling in front of me and the sun kissing my face, I could not only pretend, but- for just a moment- actually believe it.
But it would end, as did everything that was good. I would slip on my sandals and cover my head, and quietly return to the palace. No one knew of my escapade, and no one ever found out. I carried no happiness on my face and no extra sparkle in my eye. But the joy I felt at that moment, I would lock deep away in my heart, where no one could see it but myself. I would feed on it hungrily, diving down into that hidden lagoon where I was special. I'd go there when I'd lose my desire to live. And that moment would sustain me, though just barely, until the next year when I'd replenish my soul all over again.
Because those moments of love- though imagined- were the only moments I had.