Author: Dicey

Title: Love will try to get by. Did anyone try too hard? Well, I guess I did. I guess I did. And she'll break my heart. She'll break my heart.

Notes: Ha. Notes? Ha, I say, ha.

Love Will Try To Get By

Four: And She'll Break My Heart

The fair Thalia of the Muses came to me today. In her attempt to cheer me, she kissed me. Her lips were soft and she stuttered out an apology before returning to her sisters.

Moments after she left me, I found myself in the presence of a great Greek warrior and his wife. I had been lucky, I suppose, to have not run into them both yet, for it was an encounter I was not sure I was ready to have.

And so, I find myself in a bind. They have spotted me and I can see her beautiful eyes the shade of the sea watching my face closely for any emotion. The couple stop a few feet from me.

It's the first time I've heard her speak to me in years.

"Paris," softly, gently, as if I'm a child, "I am now married to Achilles," as if I am a simpleton and thus could not understand. She bites her lip in that adorable way she has of doing things.

So many words I wish to say to her. I wish to accuse her of her betrayal of me. Of our love. Of what we wrote off as love.

But I say nothing. Not yet, anyway.

Achilles, who was up until this point silent, says carefully, "Helen is now my wife."

I would cry, but I have no energy for it.

"I saw your wedding," I say simply and Helen goes rigid. "The orchids were nice."

Did you think you could elude me that easy, love?

My heart has turned cold since that day. I lost count of the years passing me by. So now all I have is this moment. And I shall seize it like she did my heart. Because this moment will never come again.

Before I can speak, however, Helen stutters out meekly, "You came?"

With a shrug, I say, "I'm surprised that even Menelaus and Agamemnon got invitations. Was I merely lost in the post?" That crooked smirk is gracing my features for the first time since I died.

She says nothing to this, but turns to Achilles and motions him to leave. He does so with a sigh and a warning glance to me so as I keep my hands to myself lest he be forced to cut them off.

Helen turns to me, those beautiful sea-blue eyes cautious. "Paris?"

I turn away from her, but do not leave.

I can't look at her like this. I cannot fall in love with her again.

I can't.

theend