I know this isn't what I usually write, but it was an assignment for class, and I'm rather proud of it. It was challenging for me to write in first person, especially. Most of the references come from the Illiad, but there are one or two from the Odyssey and Seneca's Trojan Women. Hope it's enjoyable!
As I am writing this, the world is passing me by. It no longer stops and takes notice of me. Men no longer stop and stare in the streets. Women no longer take an almost instant hatred to me. I am normal, invisible. I like it this way. I do not regret what I have lost, for it only caused me problems. Who am I, who revels in anonymity?
I am Helen, of Sparta by birth, of Troy by legend. But I am no longer the girl from legend, whose beauty launched a thousand ships and caused many more deaths.
After I returned with Menelaos to Sparta, my life hung in limbo for a long time. No one trusted me, and yet Menelaos could not quite bring himself to destroy my beauty. I did everything in my power to regain my former position. After all, it hadn't been my fault the goddesses had stolen me to give to Paris. I hadn't wanted to start a war. I wept, and begged, and pleaded for hours on end. I flaunted my looks constantly, taking especial care to always look my best. I flattered Menelaos at every opportunity, playing the doting wife to perfection. Nothing was beneath me, as long as I got back my former station in his household. Eventually, I did. Menelaos gradually forgot his mistrust, and gave me back my position as his beloved wife.
My life resumed the regularity it had before the war. Time passed. Eleven years went by. Long enough for the immediacy of the Trojan War to fade from everyone's mind. Except for mine. I was plagued by nightmares. Nightmares of everyone who had died in that accursed war to bring me back to Sparta. The faces of the dead floated through my dreams nightly.
The night that changed my life began much as a typical night would. Menelaos lay beside me, asleep, his thick arm draped across my waist. I stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep without having visions. I did this most nights, whiling away the long hours until I finally dropped into an uneasy sleep.
That night however, before I could even begin to fall asleep, I was suddenly gripped by an unseen force. Immense pressure squeezed my insides until I couldn't even begin to draw a breath. The edges of my vision faded into blackness and I suddenly felt pulled. Suddenly I tumbled onto a floor. I lay there panting and waiting for my vision to clear.
The first thing I noticed was that the floor I was on was pure white marble. The second thing I noticed was the voices. There was a male voice speaking, and I couldn't make out the words. Then I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.
"This shall be your reward, Palmeides, if you will do this for me."
Aphrodite, my patron goddess.
I had heard her voice before, on the night I was given to Paris, and again during the battle, when she had ordered me to comfort him.
My vision clear, I looked up. The place was different than the other I'd seen, but it was clear I was on Mount Olympus. The floor, the walls, the decorative pillars, all were pure white marble, and the room itself was bigger than human hands could have made.
The goddess herself was reclining on a couch piled high with cushions in the center of the room. She looked absolutely perfect, lounging on the cushions with a languid air. As befitted the goddess of love, she radiated an aura of sensuality that I could feel where I lay on the side of the room. It certainly affected the man kneeling in front of her. I could see that his eyes were slightly glazed and had not a doubt that this Palmeides was completely under her spell.
Slowly I pushed myself to my feet. I could feel my heart pounding loudly. Not again, I thought, please, I can't go through this again. Suddenly the same unseen force gripped me again and slid me across the floor to stand beside the goddess' couch. By the time I reached it my clothes had completely changed. I was now wearing an elaborate robe. Bracelets suddenly gripped my arms, and I could feel necklaces around my throat.
Evidently my hair and face had been transformed too. The warrior's eyes widened as he looked upon me and he turned back to Aphrodite.
"Is she—" he hesitated.
"Helen of Troy," the goddess finished smoothly.
I didn't understand the warrior's incredulity or the goddess' smugness. Although I was still beautiful, I was no longer a young girl. My beauty had faded slightly in the years since the Trojan War. I hadn't had this much of an effect on men for years, and yet this warrior was practically drooling.
Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection on a golden platter beside Aphrodite's chair. My looks had been restored, the years melted away, until I once again looked to be in my early twenties. My eyes widened and my jaw dropped a little.
My gaze snapped to meet Aphrodite's. She arched one delicate eyebrow, and then turned back to Palmeides. "Yes, my noble warrior," she practically purred, "You just have to do this one thing for me. Kill Kastor."
Palmeides looked troubled for a moment. "He's my kinsman," he said, "how can I— Why do you…"
A hard light glinted in Aphrodite's eyes for an instant. "He's favored of Hera," she said. Then her mask came back on and she smiled at him. His eyes glazed over a little more. "Think of it," she whispered, "one small task and the legendary Helen is yours."
Through this I had remained rooted to the spot, my mind unable to quite understand what was happening to me. It would all happen again. I saw Hektor, who had always been kind to me, being dragged behind Achilles' chariot. I saw Polyxena going bravely to her "wedding," even though we both knew what awaited her. I saw the broken body of Hektor's son, and I heard to wails of the captive women. I would be put in the middle of another such situation. No…
I didn't realize I had spoken out loud until both Aphrodite and Palmeides turned to look at me.
"What did you say?" Aphrodite asked.
My eyes widened, and I looked from one to the other. I almost answered, "Nothing." Why protest against a goddess? Why fight inevitability? It wouldn't do me any good; whatever came out of this wouldn't be my fault. My only responsibility was to keep myself safe and come out of this alive.
But I would be the one blamed for everything, I knew it. I would be the one that was hated. I would be the one to bear the guilt for the consequences of this. I had only just begun to get over my part in the Trojan War.
So I said again, "No. I don't want to be a part of this."
Aphrodite drew herself up, her eyes sparking dangerously. "You dare refuse me?"
No, I didn't dare. My courage fled out of me, leaving my knees weak. It would be so easy to say it was a mistake, that I'd do anything she wanted. I didn't dare, and yet I couldn't go along with what she wanted. It would destroy me. I stood as straight as I could, although I couldn't make myself meet her eyes, looking instead at my toes. My voice was a mere thread of sound. "I won't be used like this. I c-can't—"
The goddess cut me off with a cruel, "You will do as I say, little fool. I can use you as I wish, and you cannot stop me. Look at me." I couldn't raise my eyes. "Look at me." An order I could not resist.
Reluctantly, I dragged my gaze up to meet her eyes. The room faded to just the two of us. Palmeides was forgotten. It was a contest for dominance between the divine confidence of Aphrodite and my fast-crumbling resistance. I was unable to look away, or move at all. If I backed down, submitted to her will, she wouldn't do anything to me. The gods were capricious; my minor rebellion would be forgotten, and I would live out my life embroiled in her schemes, with my earlier beauty restored to me. But if I didn't back down, who knew what she would do to me. "Why me?" I whispered.
"You are my tool, my creation. I gave you back the beauty of your youth. I can take it all away again, Helen, if you defy me." She was no longer reclining on the couch. Instead, she was standing in front of me, mere inches away.
I was standing on the edge of a precipice, with the ground crumbling out from under me. I had to make a choice, and either way I chose I could not win. If I backed down, I would be physically safe but would have the bear the guilt of whatever happened because of me. If I continued to hold out, Aphrodite would take away my looks, my best tool for making sure my fortunes stayed on the rise, but I would have a clean conscience.
"You will do this, Helen. You will do this or I will take away every gift I ever gave you. You will be ugly. Men will never look at you again. You won't be given preferences, won't ever be a favorite again. Your life will be gray and you will curse the day you ever decided to cross me. So you will be quiet and go where I tell you." Aphrodite's voice was hypnotic, luring me into complacency.
I was almost lost, but fought my way through the fog her words produced in my mind. I would not be used. I took a small step back, shaking my head. "No," I said, "no! I won't!"
The goddess' expression changed in an instant. She became great and terrible. She was still beautiful, but with a beauty that terrified rather than seduced. I could feel the power gathering around her. Tiny lightning bolts played through her hair, and her eyes glowed.
I backpedaled, absolutely terrified. Tripping, I landed on the floor and tried frantically to scoot away, finally coming up against a column.
Thunder rolled through the room as Aphrodite pursued me. Standing over me, she raised her arms above her head. I shrieked and held up my hands in a futile effort to defend myself. There was a bright flash of light...
When I woke up, I was laying on my back in the front hall of Menelaos' palace. Slowly, I got to my feet and almost fell over. My body was…different. One of my legs seemed to be slightly shorter than the other. Alarmed, I stumbled over to where a polished metal platter sat on a table near the side of the room. Peering into it, I gasped. My face was totally changed. It was…ugly. Not horribly deformed or scarred, just changed slightly from what it had been so that everything was off, wrong.
The platter started to glow, and I jumped back. Aphrodite's face appeared in it.
"I was going to kill you, but I thought this would be more fitting." She smirked, "It will certainly be more entertaining watching you go through the rest of your life stripped of everything you were." With a cruel laugh, her face disappeared and the platter returned to normal.
What happened afterwards, I am afraid I do not exactly recall. I went into a sort of shock, I think. I do remember frantically thinking they could not think that "I" had been stolen again. I had scribbled out a false suicide note and planted it next to window. Our palace was built on the cliffs; it was not unheard of for people to throw themselves off of them. Then I had retreated into a form of delirium. When the rest of the palace woke up and found me, I was unable to tell them what had happened, though I did have the presence of mind not to tell them my real name. They would have thought me crazier than they clearly already did.
The minor excitement caused by my discovery was nothing compared to the uproar when "I" was discovered missing. The note was duly discovered, and all suspicions of my having "run away" again were laid to rest. It was assumed that Helen had killed herself for some unknown reason.
I was given work as a servant. It was tough at first, working in the place that I used to rule, but I became accustomed to it. For the first time since I had met Paris, my conscience was clean.
I am nearing the end of my life now. When the goddess changed my looks, she also returned all the years she had taken away. I am old now, and I do not want my sacrifice to be lost. I do not want to go down in history as the woman who caused a city to fall, whose capriciousness caused the deaths of thousands. I am writing everything down for the first time. I will leave this in my things, to be found after I die. I can only hope it will be believed. I did not want to cause the Trojan War. I did not want people to die for me. I do not regret my choice, even though it has cost me dearly. Most importantly, I do not die a pawn of the gods. May those I have wronged forgive me.
Helen