To Menelaus

I pledge you, in the name of the mighty and omnipotent Zeus, leave me be. For years that we have been together, I found naught but a chain binding me to you. Perhaps you might say that the chain was gentle and caressing, but a chain it was, with an iron grip of steel. I have finally broken free, Menelaus. I will go my way to attain my happiness that was denied to me in the years of our marriage. The only way out for me is Paris…so young and beauteously handsome…he is the only one who knows how I am feeling right now. Menelaus, my mind begins its confused revelations…Paris is the one I want, yet why…why do you still tug the corners of my depressed heart? Why? When I know I have never found happiness with you? But if you ever did love me, swear to me, Menelaus, you will let me go. Let me stay with Paris, and don't attack Troy. It is my last wish of you. Goodbye.

Helen

Menelaus crumpled the piece of parchment in his hand, his fingers flexing and twitching uncontrollably, shredding the accursed letter to pieces. His heart was the same, crumpling to dust, and being torn apart by the words of his wife. It took what little self-control he had left to stay sane.

Indeed, it was ironic, that it should be his own wife who drove this bitter "knife" into his darkened heart. Every time he tore off a piece of the letter multiplied a thousand times more painful for his heart. "Oh Helen…why? Haven't I been good to you?" he asked in an anguished whisper. "What haven't I done?"

And in that instant, he knew, and the revelation struck a chord deep within his heart, reverberating over and over again. It was because he never got to show his love for her. Yes, he did love Helen, almost painfully, because he always knew, deep down, that Helen would never love him back of her own accord. Menelaus never showed her the love stricken side of him, never attempted to woo her with romance.

Still, it wasn't exactly his fault. He had known that he wasn't handsome, so the only way to guarantee a chance of winning Helen as his wife, were his riches. And when he married her, dazed in a stupor, as if moving in a dream, for the first time in his life, he was truly happy. He recalled with a blushing smile, that Helen had smiled at him shyly on the night of their wedding. She had never smiled at him the same way again, in fact, hardly smiled at him at all. Menelaus nearly sobbed. He was the reason that led to her elopement. He had been too blind not to realize that what she wanted weren't all goods and trinkets, but love and happiness. And now it's too late.

But hadn't he provided a home for her? Hadn't he provided everything she needed? Everything she wanted? She never actually asked him for his love, which he would've gave to her whole-heartedly. It's selfish of her to leave me like this, he thought angrily, to bestow such a great hurt on me when I've never hurt her. "Curse her! Wretched, ungrateful wench!" Menelaus growled, building it into a shout. "Curse that despicable Trojan! Curse him, with his perfect face, for stealing Helen away from me!" he screamed. He knew what he had to do. He would march his armies to Troy, burn it down and kill Paris, maybe even Helen with him. This was the point of no return. Let the Trojan War begin, he thought grimly.