Paris lay on a bed of straw, with rags to cover him. He was cold and uncomfortable. He had never had to endure less than exquisite conditions and this change shocked and severely dismayed the former prince.

As he attempted to find sleep, memories of his brother Hector's final moments haunted him, as did the screams of the Trojans as fire broke out all over the city. Paris had risked and sacrificed all he had for his love; how could it be that she was back with Menelaus? How could she act as if she had never cared for him? Was all the suffering and loss meaningless? Paris had lost everything, right down to his own father and he didn't even get Helen. How could he have been such a fool?

"Before you came to Sparta, I was a ghost. I walked and I ate and I swam in the sea…I was just a ghost." Helen spoke softly, looking with deep pools of sadness into Paris's eyes.

"You don't have to fear tomorrow. Come with me!" Paris had proclaimed.

"Don't play with me, don't play." Helen pleaded, downcast.

"If you come, we'll never be safe. Men will hunt us, the Gods will curse us, but I'll love you! Until the day they burn my body, I will love you!" Paris promised comfortingly.

Paris woke with a start. The touch of Helen's skin was so vivid… "I KEPT MY PROMISE!" Paris shouted in a fury, running his hands through his matted hair in grief. "I SAID I'D LOVE YOU AND I STILL DO!"

"Shhh…if you wake up the 'all mighty ones', there'll be hell to pay," Ayrnessa whispered, running into his room, if you could call it that.

"Where did you?" Paris asked.

"The slaves all have sections in this area, I sleep just over there," she explained. "I am pleading with you, do not raise your voice, if you do they will punish us all."

Paris grunted in response and rubbed his tired eyes dispiritedly.

"Many of those like you, those who were not always slaves, have nightmares of their past lives. I wish I could tell you the pain lessens but I think I'm better off not knowing the luxuries some of you have had." Ayrnessa spoke quietly. "Did she die? The woman you dreamt of?"

"No. She left me to die and snatched glory for herself," Paris answered bitterly. "I gave up my world and everyone and everything in it for her and she left me. I nearly gave up my own life to save hers and she doesn't even pay heed."

"Seems as if you are better off without her." She said.

Paris stood up and glared at her. "I was with my wife for ten years! She left me for another man!"

"I mean no offense, but do you truly mean to tell me that you were faithful for the entire span of ten years?" Ayrnessa questioned, raising her eyebrows.

"What a man does and what a woman does are completely different!" Paris roared.

"Quiet," Ayrnessa muttered hastily. She gave a slightly wry smile before continuing, "It is amazing how some people believe that a man may bed multiple women every night while still being a wonderful husband to one, while a woman, the moment she so much as embraces a man she is unrelated to, is considered a whore."

Paris gaped at Ayrnessa. "That is the way things are!"

"Lovely. You're one of those men." Ayrnessa rolled her eyes. "It is doubtful you will sleep well, but nonetheless, I wish you a pleasant night and all of that which is polite."

"How dare you speak to me in such a fashion!" Paris exclaimed.

"We're both slaves right now, Paris. I can address you in any fashion I please. It matters not if you were of high class in your previous years," Ayrnessa told him, taking her leave.

Paris gaped angrily after her and threw himself back down on his makeshift bed. He had never in his life been spoken to in that manner. A slave girl showing him such little respect…! No woman had ever treated him any worse than they would a God… Even if he was no longer a prince, wouldn't his looks help him keep that treatment?