The truly noble are often said to walk the fine line between bravery and madness and that, in my opinion, was where Hektor tread as he stood by his brother's side. His face was perfectly polite and he smiled and nodded at all the right times during the lengthy ceremony but I knew him too well to be fooled. Beneath that calm facade, the lion of Troy was alternately fuming and fearful because of the possible consequences this marriage would have for his people.
I, on the other hand, was bored stiff. At first, I'd preoccupied myself with Astyanax until the baby fell asleep in my arms, leaving me with no other choice than to pay attention to the proceedings. After hearing, for the tenth time, the high priest praising Helen's beauty and how she was a gift to us from Apollo, I followed the baby's example and took a brief nap. A grinning Briseis nudged me awake when the ceremony finally ended and I handed the baby to his mother, not bothering to hide a final yawn as I rose to follow them out.
"You slept through the whole thing" the priestess chided, with a soft laugh, and I turned my head back and forth to work the kinks out of my neck. Sleeping upright definitely had its disadvantages. "No, I was awake long enough to get the general idea of what was being said and I'm sure my cousin can fill me in on the rest, if need be" I replied, returning her smile.
"Will you be going to the temple this evening before or after the reception?"
"Before, of course" we exchanged smiles again in the manner of those who knew each others routines as well as our own. Briseis knew even before she'd asked that I would be attending the evening ritual but I appreciated her attempt to both make conversation as well as remind listeners that I, too, was a chosen and had duties to fulfil outside the royal household.
In preparation for said duties, I spoke all the necessary formalities and promised Hektor that I would be back in time for dinner before making my way back to my rooms to bathe and change.
Two hours later with my head bent in reverence, I knelt at the feet of my Goddess and placed my offering before her. I had been freed from one set of duties to tend to the other, turning from lady-in-waiting to priestess in the space of an hour. Only the most perceptive knew the difference between the two but, to me, both were second nature. It was therapeutic for me to help sweep the temple and wash then change the hunting dress on the main statue of our Lady. We did, however, perform the bathing with our eyes downcast, in memory of the unfortunate end that had befallen the last poor soul to see her unclothed.
It was rumoured that the sculptor who had carved the statue was the only one who had known what she looked like and had been sworn to secrecy for the rest of his life. I suspected that he had, in fact, remained silent voluntarily because he feared being either mauled to death or turned into a girl child. Our lady had quite the temper when she was riled but it was mainly due to her morality. She was far from the spoiled brat that the texts written by men made her out to be.
While Apollo was lofty and sublime, there and yet out of reach, Artemis was very real. She was isolated in her own way, by methods of her own making, and yet one could touch those who lived by her rules. Not that it was recommended - especially during hunting, feeding, or mating season- but her influence could be seen everywhere outside of the city and in the eyes of every woman and she deserved every bit as much respect as her twin brother.
Contrary to popular belief, chastity was a choice in our sect and not a requirement. Many of us were virginal but there were also several married women who served Artemis with equal devotion. This was logical because several animals and birds alike took mates for life and also, as was required, these women had, at nine years of age, 'played the bear' for the goddess at the temple. Something I, myself, had also done on the advice of my late mother, who had not been comfortable with me becoming a vestal and had hoped for grandchildren while she was alive.
At the time, having just attended a ceremony that made me feel as though I was swimming against the current in the river Styx, marriage and children were the last things on my mind. I should have known then that, by being so blithe, I was tempting both Aphrodite and the Fates but my foresight was not as keen as Cassandra's and I was not immune to the occasional foolishness of youth.
I sang with my sisters that evening, taking comfort in the familiar hymns to the goddess, before leaving a gift of fresh Amaranth blossoms upon her altar while praying for the strength I would need in the days to come. Then I bid the others farewell and returned to the palace for the reception, which would hopefully be more entertaining than the wedding itself had been.
- Several hours later -
To say that I was drunk would have been an understatement of epic proportions.
In my defense, the other guests at the reception weren't much better off. Even Hektor, usually so responsible and solemn, was sitting next to me and chuckling to himself for no apparent reason. At least, none that I could see.
By that point, however, I could barely see the cup I was holding either.
Apparently, such things are common among the fated, those slated to lose something dear to them, and many thinkers and healers have spoken of the five states of grief: denial, anger, despair, acceptance, and, finally, healing. At this time, denial reigned and it was evident in every feature of our surroundings. The joking men, the giggling maids, the dances that had barely ended before someone hollered to the musicians and another song would begin, the unwed couples retreating into shadowy corners or outside to engage in more intimate arrangements that needed no music besides the beating of their hearts.
For one night, there was no imminent war, the blonde woman on the dais was not an enemy, and our lives and livelihoods were not in danger. That night, we were simply a city celebrating the marriage of our youngest prince.
Dinner had been a cheerful and civilized affair then the dancing had begun and the wine had come out. Only an hour afterward, Briseis and my cousin had left the increasingly rowdy gathering for the quiet of their rooms and taken the little one with them so I was left to my own devices.
Which proved to be a bad idea.
Hektor and I sat together and refilled each other's wine cups until we'd both drank at least two casks each and had begun to find absolutely everything funny. I was leaning so far over that I was perilously close to sitting in my companion's lap when Paris approached and invited me to dance.
I squinted up at him, grinning like a village idiot, but still had enough of my wits about me to refuse on the basis that I probably couldn't even walk, much less dance. Needless to say, Hektor found this extremely amusing...especially when I nearly fell out of my chair.
Paris, surprisingly, was almost completely sober and caught my shoulder, leaning me back against his brother who grinned at me and I wondered how he managed to stay in one place while the room was moving around in lazy circles.
Vaguely, I heard him say something to one of the servants, who I could only guess was female, that I was to have only water from now on. The part of my brain that wasn't soaked in wine wondered why he cared about how much I drank while the drunk part actually experienced an appalling moment of gratitude. Thankfully, I was prevented from overly analyzing the situation by the sound of Hektor's head hitting the table and then it was my turn to laugh.
"He's out cold. He'll be needin some of the master healer's awful brew in the mornin" I giggled, patting the side of his head for effect and Paris looked vaguely concerned "perhaps we should get you to your rooms before you join him. I have no idea why he drank so much tonight. It is not his way" he muttered.
There was a barely perceptible ripple in the air, a cold whisper speaking of destinies and the end of life, and a chill went through my body, making the hair on my neck stand on end. Without even thinking about it, I squinted up at him again and said "because he is going to die. Why else?".
Paris blanched and fell silent, looking to his unconscious brother then back at me as if trying to register what I had said. At that same moment; sharp pain erupted in my head, blurring my peripheral vision, and I had to blink several times to clear my eyes.
"Ouch" I said belatedly, rubbing my forehead to try and dispel the pain "good gods, what was that?"
Whatever it was, it succeeded in sobering me enough that I was able to get to my feet without falling and Paris caught my arm when I wobbled then slipped one arm about my waist to steady me before motioning for a couple of soldiers to follow behind with his brother.
"We should get him to his chambers first" I managed to say "my cousin will take care of him"
The younger prince only nodded, his face unusually solemn, and we made our way into the family wing of the palace.
I tipped my head to look at him, noting the flush in his cheeks, the warm grip of his hand on my waist, and his increasingly erratic breathing. Signs that were puzzling because he had not drank nearly as much as Hektor and I nor did he seem to be exerting an immense amount of effort in dragging me along.
"Why are you helping me?" I blurted suddenly, unsure of why I needed to know the answer. Surely he had better things to do on his wedding night than look after a drunken priestess? Then again, the man had bedded so many women that he made a brothel owner look chaste by comparison and this was certainly not his first time with Helen. So it was probably not an abnormal night for him.
Paris stopped dead and only the hand on my waist kept me from falling forward. His dark eyes bore into me and he smiled bitterly "because you are impudent and stubborn. You were the only one who kept me at arms' length, never showed any feelings for me whatsoever, and thought I could do nothing right no matter how hard I tried. My looks and words fail to sway you because you see right through them and you do not hide your disdain for both myself and Helen, no matter what protocol calls for"
I cocked an eyebrow at him and he sighed heavily "in a city where people are practically willing to sell their souls to get in my family's good graces, you have kept both your honesty and your innocence and earned your place in our hearts. I respect you, even though you despise me, and I hope you never change. That is why I help you"
Words failed me as he urged me forward and so neither of us said anything more until Hektor was safely in his rooms and we stood at the doorway of mine. I unlocked the door with unsteady hands and Paris grabbed a torch from its sconce on the nearby wall then we went in together. He did a brief patrol of my rooms to make sure there were no intruders while I stood in the middle, a warm wine-induced haze tempering my discomfort at having him in my room. Satisfied that we were truly alone, he lit two of my candles to give me enough light to disrobe then shook his head at me "go to bed and get some rest, Ismena" he directed.
I glared at him indignantly and replied, equally bluntly, "go to your wife, Paris".
Suddenly I was pressed up against him, with his free hand tangled in my hair to hold my head still, and he was kissing me hard enough to bruise my lips. Warmth spread through my entire body from head to toe and my knees nearly buckled when he pulled his head away. "You should be grateful that it isn't you" he hissed into my ear, his hot breath causing the sensitive flesh to tingle, then he released me and stalked out of my room.
Despite my shock, I somehow managed to bolt the door and barely made it back to the bed before collapsing onto it and realizing what had happened.
Paris had kissed me. In my own rooms. And I let him.
My lips and scalp still tingled from the contact as I threw my jewelery onto the vanity in a fit of anger and confusion, cursing under my breath, and blew out the candles. I then fell back onto my bed and yanked the covers over myself, too cross to care that I was still in my dress, or that my hair wasn't braided for the night.
He had kissed me on the night of his marriage to another woman. I groaned in frustration and beat my pillow with one hand, hating both what he had done and that my body had betrayed me by responding.
Needless to say, sleep was a long time in coming that night.