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

κ′θ′ - Eikosieneah

Twenty-Nine

 Rain fell in sheets, driving everyone into their homes. Even the markets were closed, much to Helen's dismay. She stared out the window of her room, the cold scent of fresh water drifting in through the curtains billowing inwards. The sky was heavy and no amount of rainfall seemed to lighten the burden, meaning it would continue raining for the rest of the day at least.

She twirled a strand of golden red hair between her fingers. Since she was confined to her quarters for the day, she kept her hair down, the strands curling from the crushing moisture in the air. Boredom seeped through the initial excitement of venturing to a new place. The weather was not unlike Sparta's, yet the air and the smells carried along it were different. Everything was like that, if she thought about it too long. They prayed to the same gods, yet their worship didn't follow Greek traditions. The food had sharper spices that tickled the back of her throat, and the buildings, though similar in style to Greek infrastructure, were more square. Sturdier.

The wall surrounding the city was the biggest difference. In Sparta, Helen had never felt so confined. She was used to seeing the open lands of her people and was free to roam where she wished. If anyone dared attack, the Spartans would quickly show how strong and fierce they were. They didn't need a wall to defend their city. Not like Troy. Troy needed the wall if they were as soft as she'd come to discover.

And the language. Helen had learned a handful of phrases when she hosted the Trojan princes, though hearing their language spoken with fluency and ease made it difficult to keep up.

Over the few weeks she had resided in the Trojan palace, Helen had come to regard the kingdom less like a foreign kingdom and more like a reflection of her home. There were many similarities, yet the minute differences made everything so stark. They were not Greeks. They did not have the warrior mentality but instead a luxurious state of mind. They coveted their riches, turned their city into a prosperous and undefeated fortress. They welcomed Helen without a blink, as if it was commonplace for a man to whisk a married woman away. As if they couldn't grasp the ramifications of her and Paris' actions. Of what the prince and queen would bring to their doorstep.

Helen watched a rivulet of rain slide down the glass and sighed. Whether it was a mistake to come to Troy or not, she was there now. Actions and consequences aside, she could not return to Sparta with her head held high. She wondered if her husband thought of her as a whore or as a damsel who needed rescuing. Perhaps he was rallying his men, preparing to set sail to rescue her. Or, he was coming to end her life for destroying a gift given to him by the gods.

Paris had given her a way out, a way to be who she wanted to be without Zeus' blessings hanging over her head. Paris was the first person to see her more than just a pretty face. With Menelaus, she was a trophy. With Paris, she was a woman on the precipice of something greater and more exciting.

Those thoughts, however, cracked through her resolve, and doubt started to trickle through. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe she should have stayed in Sparta and figured out another way out.

A throat cleared behind her, and Helen glanced over her shoulder to find a veiled woman standing in her doorway. Her outfit had a fine, rich cut, meaning she was of noble birth, but with elaborate folds and sleeves draping over her shoulders. A priestess, then. Such a reassuring presence, Helen realized.

"I hope I'm not intruding," the priestess said.

Helen dipped her head. "No, of course not. Please, come in. I wasn't expecting company, much less the company of a priestess, otherwise I would have had refreshments prepared."