Alexis of Sparta (Book II) - Unedited, first draft*

γ′ - Tesserah

Four

Sparta was unlike any other city in Greece. That was what Hector had told Paris as they travelled to the city. Other cities had similar values as Troy, but Sparta was more liberal. The older prince had tried to warn him about such things, though no amount of warnings could fully prepare Paris seeing it in person. For one, there was no defensible wall surrounding Sparta. It was open and vulnerable to any invasion, though everyone seemed at ease. They did have an impressive army, but it was bold not having a wall as an added defense. Yet it made its point: the Spartans were warriors and to attack was ill-advised.

Paris also noticed the women had more liberties and were more outspoken. They trained alongside their men, were educated and were able to divorce their husbands.

There were times that the women in Sparta reminded him of Alexis. Outspoken, fierce and independent.

Paris tried not to think about Alexis too much. The wound from losing her was still as fresh as the one on his arm. She had been a whirlwind upsetting his once peaceful life. Before he met her he had simply been a shepherd. A shepherd who dreamed of seeing the world, though that's what it was. A dream. He wasn't a merchant, he wasn't a diplomat or a soldier. Until Alexis came into his life. She was the one who encouraged him to go to Troy, to meet his blood relatives. Suddenly, he was a prince and then an ambassador.

She made him see the world in a different way and her kindness knew no bounds.

That was who Alxeis was. Caring, bold and a light in a dark world.

And she had been dragged to the depths of the Aegean Sea. Paris should have been more firm in telling her to stay. If he had insisted she stayed behind she would still be alive.

He finished off the last of his wine and balanced the cup on the railing beside him. It did little to numb the pain in his shoulder, though it helped muddy his thoughts. Little slivers of positivity outweighed Hector's scowl every time he looked at his younger brother.

"There you are."

Paris pulled away from the railing as a young woman drew up beside him. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair, the colour of flames, was carefully curled, cascading around her smooth, porcelain features. It was a cooler day, the sky weighed down with rain. At any moment it will burst and drown the city, so she wore a thicker chiton and a shawl. Her intelligent eyes were bluer than the waters of the Aegean Sea. It was as if the gods scooped out some of the sea's water just for her.

The woman plucked the cup from where it sat. "And I see you are already into the wine. I didn't realize how liberal the princes of Troy were. I don't think I've seen you sober since you've stepped foot in Sparta."

"I wouldn't say liberal, Helen. Though, I have my reasons."

Paris didn't elaborate as he grabbed the cup from her. He was more embarrassed he'd been caught drinking alone with unwatered wine than anything. It helped numb the physical and mental pain. And it helped him cope with the situation in Sparta. He'd only been a prince for a few weeks and only now he was seeing how out of depth he was. He may have been born a prince, but he couldn't be further from one.

"Ah, yes, that girl."

Helen leaned against the railing and gazed out at the city below. There was a training area where girls ran laps and boys sparred in the centre. An older man monitored the boys, barking orders and training strategies. Beyond that there was the agora, at the heart of the city. It bustled with Spartans looking for food, socializing and other goods. From where they stood Paris could hear the din of voices carried by the warm, humid breeze. He'd wanted to go and explore the market, though Hector was against it. Tensions were high between the Trojans and Greeks. Menelaus wanted to keep the peace, but that didn't mean every Greek wanted that as well.

"Yes, her."

He glanced at Helen. It was easy to see why she had a reputation for being the most beautiful woman in Greece. She was young, perfectly portioned, and flawless. Rumour was, she was the daughter of Zeus and a mortal woman. Her marriage to Menelaus had been built on an oath Odysessus had suggested. If anything were to happen to Helen, all her potential suitors would have to rally behind Menelaus. An oath so grand was humbling and Helen took it with grace. To Paris, it made her seem like the most powerful woman in Greece.

When they first arrived, Paris had almost gone to Hades. He'd heard the flowing rivers of the Styx and knew his time was almost up. The salt water of the Aegean had washed the infection from his wound, but not the poison from the serpent bite. He'd injured the giant snake to protect Alexis, injuring himself at the same time.

Helen stayed by his side and all but nursed him back to health. Whatever she used worked and his fever broke. The poison had been drawn out.

Once he was cleared to leave the room, she had an uncanny ability of appearing wherever he was. It was rather endearing to have someone look out for him. Hector was with Menelaus more often than not and Paris, alone in another country, was quite isolated. Having Helen around helped. And he was starting to think she felt better with him around as well. Perhaps it was the fact that they both had a burden thrust onto them when they weren't ready.

"How about we go on an adventure," she suggested.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I might have heard that you wanted to go to the agora. Perhaps it's time you see it for yourself."

Paris rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. Hector was adamant about us staying within the confines of the palace."

Helen's smile turned mischievous as she took his hand. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, you'll be with the queen. It's perfectly safe."

It was tempting. Paris had wanted to see Greece, not spend his time cooped up in another palace. Being bedridden for a few days only added to his restlessness. Hector was being too cautious. They were in a well-defended city—even without a wall—and, after everything, Paris deserved to do something other than drink his sorrows away. And, so far, Helen was a wonderful host. It would be in poor taste to deny her offer.

"Yes, let's go to the agora," he smiled. "It will be our secret."

Helen's eyes lit up and she tugged Paris away from the balcony. "I swear to you, you will not be disappointed."