Author's Note: I have published two chapters in a very short time. Make sure you read Chapter 9 before reading this!
The song "hurt" by Johnny Cash came to my mind several times while writing this chapter. I think it is an adequate musical accompaniment for this chapter and for Helenus in general.
WARNING: In this chapter, Helenus hints at suicidal thoughts and self-harm. There is nothing descriptive or graphical. Still, if these topics make you feel uncomfortable you might want not to read this chapter.
-O-O-O-
Helenus couldn't sleep.
It happened more and more often lately.
He went to bed and spent hours rolling over. And when he could sleep, he often awoke in a cold sweat.
He kept having disturbing dreams. Sometimes he was chased by a wild animal, other times he fell of the city walls. But there was one recurrent dream that tormented him. There was a religious feast of some kind and his father banished him from the city, in front of everybody.
When Helenus woke up, his heart was beating so wildly that he had trouble breathing.
Yes, he could have gone to Hermes' temple, he was the god of dreams. But then he would have to talk to Aesacus, and he didn't want to. Hermes' priest might look all nice, but Helenus knew better. Aesacus could be very persistent, he would somehow make him spit out everything. And he didn't want anybody, especially Aesacus, to know what he was thinking.
It had all begun about a year before.
His sister Creusa had visited the temple with Aeneas, whom she had married the year before. She was pregnant and had come to offer a sacrifice.
Before leaving, she took Helenus' arm ad whispered: "Cassandra is still not doing well. Maybe you should pay her a visit".
Helenus looked at her, not understanding.
"Still not doing well? What does that mean?"
Creusa gaped at him. "Don't you know?" she asked, shocked. "She had a terrible epilepsy crisis almost a month ago"
"What?"
"Yes. Everybody thought that she would die. And… she hasn't been her normal self ever since. She is sad, she never talks… she looks… we fear that she might have gotten crazy. I thought you knew" she explained.
"Of course not. Nobody bothered to tell me!" he replied angrily.
She almost jumped back. "Well, it is not my fault! And if you want to know things, you can visit sometimes! And you should visit her, too" she answered just as angrily.
She left without another word.
He wondered whether he should visit her, but he decided not to. Since they had concluded their education, they had barely spoken to one another. What was he supposed to say to her?
A few weeks later, however, he saw her in the market square. He was really shocked. She looked like a shell of herself, her eyes lost as if she were thinking about something else. He saw that people around her were whispering to each other, but she seemed not to notice, let alone care.
He wanted to greet her, but somehow he didn't dare.
That evening, in his bed, he was kept awake by a feeling he could not name.
Then he understood:
He was smug.
Now Cassandra was an outcast, too. Now she had to stand people whispering, laughing behind her back and avoiding her. Now she would quit being cheerful and talkative and everything she had been before!
Helenus shivered. How could he feel glad that Cassandra was in such a state? They had never gotten along well, but still… when had he become like this?
But there was no way he could pretend otherwise. He felt smug.
Another thing had happened a few months after Cassandra's madness: his brother Paris had joined the family again.
His parents had welcomed him warmly, seeing his return as a sign from the gods. But word had reached Helenus that his brothers were much less impressed. The last time he had seen Hector, at Demeter's feasts, his older brother had been complaining that Paris was impulsive and quick-tempered.
Deiphobus had brought him along while serving for the Hittite king, and Paris had allegedly made several enemies among the other warriors. And then, surprisingly, the king had sent Paris on a mission to Salamina.
Helenus didn't know what to think of this new brother. He had never talked to him – he had never visited the palace since Hector's wedding three years before, for that matter. But Paris soon proved to be indeed impulsive: he kidnapped the wife of the king of Sparta and brought her to Troy.
Her husband immediately tried to get her back, to no use. After that, the Achaens tried several times to sack the city and to burn their ships and their harbor. On the following spring, they put up their tents not far away from Troy and stayed there. Helenus had a feeling that they would not give up. Their relationship with the Achaeans had always been tense. It was no mystery that the city of Troy disturbed the Achaeans' trade.
And the idea that Troy could prevail was just ridiculous.
The Achaean lords were many and powerful. Troy only had a small army and a handful of allies on the coast. The Hittite king was too busy with his wars in the east to help them as he would have done once. The Achaeans wanted to see the city fall, and the city would fall.
And Helenus couldn't care less.
This realization shocked him. How could a son of Priam think that the city was doomed and remain indifferent? But again, there was no way he could pretend otherwise: he didn't care.
He often felt a malicious glee. He had tried for so long to gain his family's approval, he had felt so bad for not meeting their expectations. Well, not anymore! Now he couldn't care less about them. They had treated him like a renegade for years: well, now he was one!
But then he was overcome by shame.
Enjoying his family's misfortune was all he was able to do. He was just a filthy little coward.
He didn't know what was happening to him.
It was becoming more and more hard for him to keep control. Once he had been able to keep his mouth shut, except from when he was really angry. Now he had to force himself not to snap at people, and he didn't always succeed. Sometimes, the bitter words were out of his mouth before he could think. It was like there was something ready to catch fire inside him. His discomfort with worshippers was becoming even more evident: it was growing more difficult to conceal his stuttering and his blush.
He didn't know what to do. He wished that there could be a way to fix it.
But there was.
He turned over in bed with a sigh. He didn't want to think about that, but the thought kept coming back...
There was a simple way to fix it all. There was a way to stop being petty and coward and miserable and everything else.
Everything would go away. And it was not like he could expect anything good from his life, anyway.
But he didn't dare.
He wasn't scared of the pain, he knew that it wouldn't last long. And besides, the pain was a relief. It worked when nothing else did.
He just couldn't bring himself to make that decision.
The last thing he wanted was anybody to know about it. His family would find him ridiculous. Grymas would tell him to just deal with his problems. Aesacus would be terribly disappointed.
No.
He would keep everything to himself.
-O-O-O-
In the megaron there was complete silence.
For a long time, Molossus didn't even move, covering his mouth with his hand.
Finally, Helenus broke the silence.
"You are beginning to see why I haven't told you anything about myself until now" he said flatly.
Molossus finally turned to look at him.
"I don't believe that you didn't care about your city and your family. You care for this city, and it's not even yours. I'm not even your son." he said defiantly.
"Don't make me look better than I am" Helenus replied in a warning tone.
"You are doing that again! I say something nice to you and you snap at me!" Molossus said, raising his voice.
He expected his stepfather to get angry, but Helenus shook his head.
"You are right. Sometimes I can't help it" he whispered.
There was another long silence.
"Did you... did you really almost take your life?" Molossus asked hesitantly.
"I came close a few times" his stepfather answered tersely.
"And what made you change your mind?"