Disclaimer: It's not mine. The characters belong to Homer and the movie rights belong to Wolfgang Peterson and Warner Bros.
SenatorSolo: Thank you! I'm so glad you liked the part with Hector…it was super fun to write. Harry Potter in like a week…woot woot!
Kerowyn: Aw, yes, the brotherly love runs deep. Paris and Hector are just incredibly awesome. There's no other way of putting it. Thanks for reviewing…it means a lot.
Orli's babe: Merci beaucoup…I'm glad you liked it. Keep reading!
Sara: Thanks for the sweet complements and for all of your encouragement. I hope you like this one!
Ch. 8: Larissa's background
Back in Troy, the ever charming Prince Paris sailed for Sparta with several guards, General Glaucus, and twenty other Trojan boys who were participating in the Foreign Exchange Program. Although he was thrilled to finally be given his first real assignment that he'd be held responsible for the outcome, Paris' thoughts rested on his lover. He hated every second spent away from her. But by every stroke of the rows, he was one length closer to his bride to be. Paris inwardly smiled – Helen was going to be so happy when he proposed to her on the voyage home. He only hoped that things were going well for her, and that no one had discovered her secret.
Unfortunately for the young couple, the servant of Menelaus that Odysseus and Penelope had banished had returned to wreak havoc. That night, Darius found his way to the palace and found Menelaus immediately. The King of Sparta scowled at him.
"Where have you been?" Darius shrugged at his old master.
"Never mind that… I just have to tell you something that I know to be true. Your wife is alive and well - and hiding from you…" Menelaus loudly interjected,
"That's preposterous! My guards found Helen's dress in Aegean yesterday. There's no way she could've survived that fall." Darius shook his head.
"No, my King. Last week, I heard her say that she was going to fake her own death so that she could run away with the Prince of Troy. He should be arriving to take her home with him very soon."
"This cannot be!" Menelaus angrily roared, his face turning purple. "If my wife was still alive, I would know about it!"
"Nevertheless, you might want to see if any ambassadors from Troy are arriving this week," Darius cautioned. "If not, than I'll drop this whole thing." Menelaus' curiosity got the better of him.
"Guard!" he ordered. "Get me my schedule; find out who will Sparta this week."
"Yes m'lord." The guard sprinted away and returned moments later. "Here it is…a late delegate from Thebes is coming to discuss the peace treaty, and the younger Prince of Troy is arriving with the Trojan boys for the Foreign Exchange Program."
"Damn!" Menelaus swore.
"I told you," Darius said smugly. "Didn't you notice how much time those two were spending together?" Menelaus nodded slowly.
"Now that you mention it…" The king pounded the table with his fist in frustration. "That little weakling Prince will burn for this! And my wife shall watch."
"I'm sorry you had to hear this from me, my lord, but I thought that you had to know," Darius apologized to his master, wanting to get on his good side. Menelaus shook his head in disbelief.
"It's not your fault my wife is a whore - I'm very glad you told me. You shall get a reward for being such a faithful servant."
"Thank you, O wise king," Darius flattered, inwardly celebrating the thought of his reward.
"Guard!" Menelaus bellowed. "Tell my men to search the city for my wife…but keep it quiet. I don't want those who are aiding Helen to hear that I'm looking for her." The guard nodded and went on his way. Menelaus turned to his manservant once more. "Now tell me, who prevented you from sharing this information with me earlier? Who is helping Helen?"
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"Callista, can we take Telemachus on walk? Pleeeeeeeeease? I'm tired of being stuck inside all day," Larissa pouted. Helen had to smile at the girl's earnestness.
"Sure," she chuckled. "That's fine with me. He tends to behave better when he's out in public anyway."
For the past week, Helen spent her time solely caring for Odysseus and Penelope's son, with Larissa's assistance. One may not have guessed, but the girl was actually a big help in getting the boy to listen and follow directions. Helen was grateful that she could help Larissa through the difficult time of losing her mother, and that she'd get to take her back to her family in Troy when Paris eventually came for her.
Both Larissa and Helen had both learned a valuable lesson over the course of that long week; it can be extremely tiring to look after one very active and mischievous little toddler. Telemachus liked to go around pretending that he was King of Ithaca. This entailed him trying to engage Helen in mock battles with his blunt wooden toy sword. He also left behind a huge mess on the floor after he ate, and always fought to stay up when it was time for his nap or time for bed.
"Telemachus, would you like to visit the marketplace today?" Helen asked her young charge. Removing his thumb from his tiny mouth, he answered,
"O-tay!" and gave her a toothy grin. Helen tried to pick up her second cousin but he squirmed away. "Walk myself!" He stubbornly protested.
"Alright," Helen consented. "But you have to hold on to Larissa's hand." Telemachus beamed up at Larissa, who quickly took his small right hand in her left.
"Telemachus, do you remember the game that we've been playing all week?" Larissa asked the little boy, who nodded enthusiastically. He pointed at Helen.
"Callista." Larissa patted his head in encouragement.
"Very good. That's right, in the game her name is Callista. And what are we not going to call her?"
"Not Aunt Helen, that Callista!" He told her importantly. Helen smiled gratefully at Larissa over the toddler's head.
"You remembered," she murmured. Larissa grinned at the former Spartan Queen.
"Of course I remembered," she replied, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't want him to give you away." Telemachus, sensing that he was no longer the center of their attention began to tug on their arms.
"Let's go market!" he cried, trying to pull them towards the doorway. They gave in and led the little boy out of the sleeping quarters, down two flights of stairs and out the back entrance. Helen, Larissa, Telemachus wove their way through the bustling marketplace, dodging people and livestock alike. Soon they were overwhelmed by vendors trying their hardest to sell their wares.
Politely, Helen declined the offers of local merchants that were selling goods that ranged from food to cloth to jewelry. It feels so good to be outside in the fresh air, touring the marketplace without an escort. Now I truly have tasted my freedom. The woman masquerading as Callista gave her charges a secret smile. It quickly disappeared as she began to worry if Paris' ship would make it safely to Sparta – she'd heard that a storm was coming today. I mustn't think about that! It's out of my hands…
While leading her charges between the stalls, Helen noticed a pair of palace guards going from vendor to vendor asking them questions. Although common sense told her there was no way Menelaus was looking for her, an uneasy feeling began to materialize in the bottom of her stomach. Just then, Larissa tugged on her arm. Helen had to bend down to her the girl's question over the hubbub.
"Can we go see my old house? I want to see if my things are still there." Looking over her shoulder warily, Helen saw the guards coming close to them.
"Yes," Helen quickly agreed. "We can go see if your belongings still remain. But let's hurry – I want to return to the palace in time for the midday meal."
"Okay," said Larissa, happily as she grabbed Telemachus' hand. They skipped down the dusty street just ahead of Helen, where she could easily keep an eye on them. It seemed that the little girl knew her way around the city quite well – she led them down many twists and turns, through narrow streets and alleyways until they reached her rickety, decrepit house. Releasing Telemachus' hand, Larissa raced into her old home only to return a minute later. Tears streaked her disappointed face as she ran into Helen's waiting embrace.
"Larissa sad?" Telemachus asked. When she nodded he continued to push for answers. "Why?" She explained to him the best she could that her belongings were missing.
"If only I could just get my Lambie and my wool blanket back – they were gifts from my mother," she sighed wistfully.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie," Helen tried to comfort the distraught girl. "You are very brave - I don't know what it'd be like to lose everything that I own." Larissa smiled through her tears.
"Yes you do. You gave up everything; your title, your power, your beautiful clothes and jewelry just to be with the man you love." Helen shook her head.
"It's not the same. I did so knowing that it shall all be returned to me when I go to Troy; Paris will make sure that I have the best of everything."
"I'd like to go now," Larissa confessed. "This place brings back too many memories of my old life that I'd rather forget." Helen nodded and gathered up Telemachus, who for once, didn't protest. But before they could get very far, someone called out after them.
"Larissa?" The young girl whirled around, her brown curls swinging every which way.
"Megara?" she questioned incredulously. "Is it really you?" The small dirty-blonde haired girl trotted up to Larissa and gave her a friendly hug.
"What do you think, silly?" she asked, her green eyes twinkling with mischief.
"I've really missed you, Meg," Larissa admitted.
"Me too," the other girl agreed. "Where have you been for this past week? At first, we feared that you died too, but then these rumors started saying where you disappeared to. The strangest was that the king of Ithaca himself offered you a place to stay in the palace." Megara giggled. "Imagine that, living in the palace like we always dreamed of." Larissa beamed at her old friend.
"Well, imagine no more." Meg's mouth dropped open in astonishment.
"You – you mean…" she stammered.
"Yep," Larissa said smugly. "It's all true." Their conversation was cut short when Meg's mother stepped outside of their house.
"By the Gods – Larissa!"
"Mrs. Portocollus!" Not wasting any time, Larissa ran up the steps and into her open arms.
"We were so worried about you! Don't run off like that again without telling someone first, alright?" she gently scolded the girl who still clung to her. Helen could tell that Larissa looked to the woman as her second mother when her original one had been approaching death's door. Then Mrs. Portocollus looked up and noticed Helen and Telemachus for the first time.
"Larissa, dear? Who are your friends?"
"Oh," said the girl, her face reddening. "I didn't mean to be rude, I was so excited about seeing you and Meg again that I forgot to introduce them. Mrs. Portocollus, this is Callista." Helen warmly shook the older lady's hand.
"Call me Jocasta," the woman insisted. "There is no need to be so formal here." Helen smiled.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jocasta. And this is Telemachus." The toddler gurgled and waved his tiny fingers as Jocasta fussed over him.
"Your son is very beautiful," she murmured. Helen laughed softly.
"Thank you, he is, isn't he? But he isn't my son. His parents are King Odysseus and Queen Penelope of Ithaca – I'm only his nanny." Jocasta gasped,
"So the rumors are true, then!" Helen nodded solemnly.
"Please, do come inside and rest a bit while the children catch up." Jocasta ushered them inside her small but comfortable home. "I'm sorry it isn't cleaner, but I haven't had a moment to spare since my husband is hardly around this week. Not that it's his fault, bless him; it's the end of fishing season and he spends most of his time down at the docks trying to provide for us." Helen's thoughts turned to Paris and wondered if she'd ever be lucky enough to call him husband. Ah well, I can't dwell on that now. There are more important things, like finding out more about Larissa's background.
"Larissa, I have something to show you." Jocasta went into her bedroom, and came out holding a stuffed sheep and a faded indigo blanket with its edges fraying at the ends. She gave them to the ecstatic little girl who believed them to be lost forever.
"My Lambie!" she cried joyfully. "But how ever did you get it?" Jocasta smiled down at the little girl.
"My husband and I went over to your house after um, after you left, and took all of your belongings as well as those of your mother's, and brought them here for safekeeping." The woman lovingly ruffled Larissa's now messy hair.
"Why don't you take young Telemachus and go play with Meg and her brother and sister in the backyard while I talk to Callista for a bit?" she suggested.
"Yay!" Larisssa exclaimed. "Come on, Meg," she insisted, dragging her friend outside by the arm. Helen smiled as she and Jocasta watched the children play tag from the bedroom window.
"How is she adjusting to her new life? Does she ever cry for her mother at night?" Jocasta asked, concern written on her plain features.
"During the day, she does fine, but sometimes she does have nightmares about her mother's death," Helen admitted. Jocasta nodded in sympathy.
"It's to be expected. She's still grieving – as you know, she and her mother were very close. The nightmares should stop completely after a few months." Sighing, Helen confessed,
"I only wish I could do more for her. I couldn't imagine being orphaned at such a young age…" Jocasta comfortingly patted her arm.
"But you've already done a great deal for her. You've taken her in, and now you're the sole adult who is responsible for her – I can tell she really looks up to you right now. It's amazing how one positive role model can affect a child's life. But you aren't going to care for her forever, are you?" Helen hesitated, as she wasn't sure how much to tell the woman whom she just met about the trip to Troy.
"Well, eventually we hope to sail to Larissa's mother's home country of Troy to find her family, and then hopefully she can live with them. Did her mother ever speak of her relatives to you?" Jocasta frowned, trying to remember.
"As a matter of fact, I think she did mention being taken from Troy, before Larissa was born. Her maiden name was Vardalos…" Suddenly, Jocasta was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door.
"Oh I hope it's not those men again," she muttered under her breath as she moved to unlock the front door. But when she opened the door, she was greeted by her husband instead, who'd returned home early from work.
"Niko! What happened – why you're soaked to the skin!" She fussed over her husband while Helen awkwardly looked on, once again reminded of Paris' absence.
"It's good to see you too," he teased.
"What are you doing home so early?" He explained to his wife,
"I would've stayed later, but the approaching storm made it damn near impossible to catch anything. So I decided to come home and spend some time with you, to make up for what I've been missing these past few weeks." They stared lovingly into each others' eyes. Out of the corner of her eye, Jocasta spied Helen trying to inconspicuously leave the room.
"Oh!" said Jocasta, embarrassed that she'd forgotten to introduce Helen. "Where are my manners? Callista, this is my husband Niko. She's taking care of Larissa." Helen shook hands with the burly dark haired man with kind eyes. He reminded her of Paris' brother Hector, but without the royal grace.
"It's good to meet you, Mr. Portocollus," said Helen, smiling.
"Likewise," he rumbled. "Please, call me Niko." Helen nodded. Then he turned back to his wife. "
How was your day, love?" Niko asked his wife after he kissed her properly. Jocasta shrugged.
"It was fine, except for when two of the king's guards practically broke down the front door." The fisherman's easy-going demeanor hardened instantly.
"What did they want?" he growled. "Did they try to hurt you?"
"No dear, it was nothing like that," she soothed. "The guards asked if I'd seen Queen Helen, of all people. I looked at them strangely and reminded them that the Queen was dead. But they seemed to believe that she had faked her death somehow, and was hiding out in the city somewhere. I told them that I hadn't seen her and that they needed to be on their merry way…dear, are you alright? You look ever so pale – is anything wrong?" Helen smiled weakly.
"No, no, I just need to…a… sit down for a bit." Jocasta offered her a chair by the bed and she gratefully took a seat. Helen listened to the husband and wife talk, only vaguely listening to their conversation. So Menelaus knows that I'm still alive. But how? Ah well, It doesn't really matter…I just have to be extra careful when I return to the palace. I can still pull this off; I just wish I knew when Paris was coming so I could warn him. Then Helen had an idea.
"Niko, you work at the docks almost everyday, right?" The man nodded, wondering where she was going with this. "Well, do you know if any Trojan ships are supposed to arrive anytime soon? I'm trying to find out if any of Larissa's mother's family still lives there…" That isn't totally a lie; I really do want to find her family. I just need to find Paris first! Niko stroked his beard and shortly replied,
"I'm almost positive that the Trojan ship carrying the boys for the Foreign Exchange Program was approaching the docks right when I left for home." Just then an ominous clap of thunder sounded. Startled, Jocasta ran to the back door, opened it, and called,
"Kids! Everybody inside before the rain starts!" Sure enough, just after the last child dashed though the doorway, sheets of water began cascading down from the furious, black sky.
"I…I must go," stammered Helen, standing up in a rush. Paris had assured her that he would be on the next Trojan ship to Sparta, so Helen knew that he was currently in danger, being on the seas during a storm.
"Now!" Jocasta questioned her incredulously. "But it's storming outside! It's not safe…" Helen's bottom lip trembled and she almost burst into tears. Her Paris was on a fragile wooden ship in this nasty weather – she didn't ever know if he could swim.
"Yes, I have to go," she told them determinedly. "Do you mind if Larissa and Telemachus stay here until the storm passes?"
"Well, of course we don't mind, but can't I persuade you to stay here?" Helen shook her head no. "Then please be safe," Jocasta urged.
"I will," Helen promised, turning to go.
"Would you like an escort?" Niko offered. Helen debated his offer for a moment. What if Paris was hurt and needed to be carried back to the palace and she couldn't manage it herself? Yes, it'd be better if she had someone one with her who was strong.
"Are you sure you want to…" Helen trailed off, no wanting to endanger anyone else. He nodded firmly.
"Yes – and besides, I'm already wet." He looked at his wife as if that settled the matter.
"Alright, Niko," Jocasta agreed weakly. "But be careful! You too, Callista!"
"We will," they promised as they headed out into the pouring rain and howling wind. It was so dark out that Helen had to hold Niko's hand to keep from tripping while he navigated them through the deserted, muddy streets.
"You care for someone on that ship!" He yelled to be heard over the sound of the wind.
"Why do you say that?" she yelled back.
"Because," he shouted, "When I told you that the Trojan ship was out in the storm, the terrified look on your face reminded me of that of my wife's when she found out I was called to serve the army for a month five years ago. And why else would you brave the storm to go to the docks? Am I right?" Helen nodded, impressed at his perception.
"You are correct. But I cannot tell you who it is." They were chilled to the bone by now, as their clothes were plastered to their skin. He shrugged.
"Fair enough." Helen tucked her hair behind her ears and found to her dismay that the brown hair-dye was washing out. Luckily, Jocasta's husband didn't comment on it, if he even noticed at all.
"Can you swim?" he bellowed as they reached the port at last.
"Yes!" Helen yelled as they ran down the wooded docks. "I'm going to help those boys to shore if it kills me!" Niko glanced at her in new admiration and respect. She neared the end of the dock and jumped off, landing on the beach which cushioned her fall.
There were about ten Trojan boys clustered together, huddling close for warmth and protection against the biting cold and stinging rain. Frantically, Helen glanced at their faces, looking for her love. Stricken in fear, she turned back to Niko. He didn't need to ask her any questions - her terrified expression told him everything. Paris was not among the Trojans on the beach that had been rescued.
End Ch. 8
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