Sorry for the long break, school has overtaken me and our computer broke. Anyways, this is the last chapter before Paris, comes (yay!) so here you are. Enjoy.

As the years of our marriage went by, Menelaus stopped pestering me for another child. Any tenderness he had ever shown me was lost, replaced by the cool façade of withdrawal. He still called for me, though not as often. I suppose I was just as distant as he was, and a distant wife does not make for a good lover. He took his pleasure in my handmaidens, mostly Polydora.

I rarely went out anymore, not even for festivals. I had grown tired of being stared at, and I'd finally made peace. For some reason, the gods would neither allow me joy nor death. I had fought them too many times; I would do so no longer. I could never win, they were too strong.

Polydora and I grew apart. We no longer shared conversations, especially after my daughter had passed away. As Menelaus grew apart from me the two of them grew closer, or as close as a slave girl can get to a king. He showered her with fancy jewels and fine apparel, but she in turn was forced to give herself to his companions. It was an endless cycle. She reveled in the pleasures of life; I had experienced them for too long, and I knew they held no joy. I watched as she went off with different soldiers and advisors every night, pitying her. It might bring temporary satisfaction, but it never satisfied in the end. The heart was still left longing to be loved, tenderly and sweetly. But what did I know of that; I had never experienced it.

It was just after the anniversary of our ninth year of marriage that Menelaus called for me, announcing that I would be playing hostess to a prince and his wife, the daughter of a foreign king. "She's a Hittite," he explained.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Is he?"

Menelaus shook his head. "He lives in the Northern region, but he's Greek. I'm not quite sure how he ended up picking a Hittite for a wife."

Perhaps they fell in love, I thought but did not say. "Will there be a feast?"

He shook his head. "They're not prominent enough, there is no need."

I nodded and quickly finished eating, then left to begin the preparations. The rooms must be aired, the furnishings sewn again or replaced, and the servants to arrange.

Their stay was but another of the many visits that accompanied my role as queen. I can no longer remember all of them, and this one was no exception. However, one memory from their time with us still remains in my mind to this day. If I was to be asked of their names, I could not say. If I was to be interrogated as to their appearances, I could not answer. But one evening, their last in Sparta, I was entertaining the queen while the men kept company in the hall.

I took her up to the walls of our citadel to look at the view of the ocean. I had heard Hittites were fond of the ocean and it was no discomfort to indulge her in this area.

"It is beautiful," she murmured softly, gazing out onto the water. I nodded, not answering. This was one of the few times I was permitted onto the walls and I was not about to waste it in conversation.

"Do you come here often?" she had asked me.

"Not often enough," I answered vaguely.

"I have always loved the sea," she continued, apparently oblivious of my desire for silence. "It is the gateway to faraway lands, the bridge over a vast expanse that prohibits our seeing great treasures and beauty."

"Mmm," I murmured politely, not at all sure where she was going with this conversation.

"Do you like the sea?" she asked me.

"I suppose so," I answered shortly.

"You do not know?"

I sighed, this woman particularly grated on my nerves. "Sometimes I am favorable towards it."

"I should think you'd always be favorable towards it."

I glanced at her, my mouth set. "I am sure I do not know what you're talking about, highness."

"You do not know what you want, Helen."

How dare she address me with such familiarity. "And you are so certain of my desires?"

"I am," she answered.

"Then what are they?"

"What everyone wishes for. Contrary to popular opinion, you are mortal, Helen, not divine. Your needs and desires are the same as any other woman."

I could have told you that. "Observant of you."

She suddenly laughed. "Come, Helen, I'm your senior by at least ten years. We could have been sisters. Listen to my advice, for I've learned it from many years of toil. It is not a sin to long for love."

At this statement, I bristled. I knew it was true, but the fact that a strange woman was pointing this out to me offended my sense of propriety. "And you are an expert on love?"

She smiled but did not reply for the longest time, instead staring out at the sea. I glared at her but turned to watch the stars as they climbed higher in the sky, as the moonlight danced on the water.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "Love the sea, Helen, for from it will come your salvation." She looked at me, her eyes bright. "As assuredly as I stand before you now, a gift from the gods will be carried to you."

I cannot describe the feeling that came over me at that moment. A chill ran up my spine and a flame of hope flickered in my heart for a moment before it was crushingly put out by my emotions. Our eyes locked and I stared into hers, but if my life depended on it I could not tell of their color. Her face was well lit in the night sky but its features have been lost in my memories. She silently slipped from the walls and returned to her quarters, and that was the last I saw of her. She and her husband departed early the next morning, before I had emerged from my chambers.

But the memory of standing on the walls with her remained with me. At that moment the oddest sensation had crept into my mind. I'd spent a week with her, but I could not remember anything about her. I visited that same spot the following night, trying to stifle the haunting image burning in my mind. It was at that moment that the suspicion first crept into my mind.

By all that is sacred, I believe I just entertained a goddess.

Naturally, I had no proof and I spoke of it to no one. But unbeknownst to me, the proof was sailing towards me at that exact moment, the sea bridging the gap between us.