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Thirstily, I drank two glasses of lemonade. After only half a cookie, I was suddenly so sleepy that I staggered yawning tothe bed, snuggled into my comforter, and fell straight asleep contrary to every expectation.
"My Queen!" Aelia came dashing into my chamber. "My Queen, a prince, has just arrived from Troy and wishes an audience."
Lost in thought, I looked up and put aside my comb, with which I had tried to tame my long blond hair. I was sitting in a light white robe embroidered with golden threads at my dressing table. Two young girls were fanning me with giant palm fronds. I had just been thinking about what surprise I could give my husband, Menelaus, upon his return. But now he and his journey were forgotten.
“A prince from Troy?” I asked, brightening up.
"Yes, that's right. He introduced himself as Prince Paris of Troy, my Queen," the maid babbled on, picking up my comb and finishing what I had started. But I was already paying no attention to her. My thoughts were whirring, and panic was rising in me. Once again, I heard the voice of the oracle I had visited as a little girl. Since the prophecy was revealed, I always hoped this fateful day would never come. That the oracle would be wrong this one time. As a child, this divination had frightened me. A fear that now strengthened deep into my bones. Stronger than ever.
"The day will come when you will be queen of Sparta, and you will have to leave your husband for another man. You will follow him to a foreign land, and there will be a war. A war greater than the world has ever seen before. Do what fate asks of you. It is of paramount importance to the course of future history. Follow the Trojan prince,"echoed the voice of the oracle and the source of my endless nocturnal torment. I had become queen of Sparta, even though I had tried to avert this, fearing that I would thus never be able to end the prophecy. But fate was not to be challenged. It went inexorably its way.
With trembling hands, I put on my bracelets, the rings, and finally, the magnificent necklace Menelaus gave me for our first wedding anniversary. Sadly, I slid my fingers over the stones that were worked into the piece of jewelry. I loved my husband, and he loved me. A happiness that was granted to only a few women in my circles. It had not been a love marriage, but the affection grew with each day and had now matured into love.
Reluctantly, I stood up and had my overgarment put on. The delicate blue-gold fabric emphasized the green of my eyes.
They called me "the beautiful Helen," and Menelaus never tired of praising my beauty. But unlike the other Spartans, he didn't just mean my appearance. No, he knew about my inner beauty and alert mind and often consulted with me on matters of state.
"My Queen, shall I tell the royal advisor he may announce you to your guest?" asked Aelia, looking at me anxiously. “Or are you not well?” she added doubtfully.
“No, Aelia. I am all right. Tell Phileas to lead the Trojan prince to the throne room. I will follow any moment,” I tried to reassure the girl and forced myself to smile.
"Will do, my Queen." Dutifully, she bowed and disappeared from the room shortly after.
Wistfully, I looked around my chamber. I would have to miss it for a long time. I knew that.
With staggering steps, I entered the long corridor, where the palace guards welcomed me. With each step with which I approached the throne room, the attraction became stronger. A higher power seemed to drive me there into the arms of the unknown man, the Trojan prince.
I paused momentarily in front of the massive double door, entangled in the inner struggle of powerlessness against the prophecy. Then I gave the order to open the door. Lookingonly at my throne, I walked through the Great Hall, where the official receptions were held.
Even when I took my seat, I kept my gaze down at my lap. I didn't want to look my fate in the face.
"Prince Paris of Troy," the highest advisor's voice announced the unwanted guest's arrival.
Confident light footsteps were heard on the marble floor, followed by the rustling of clothes, indicating a bow. Swallowing hard, I took one deep breath. The scent of salty sea and tart pines assaulted my nose, breaking my restraint altogether. Curious, I looked up, and my heart tightened when I discovered the man who would change my life so abruptly.
In front of me stood a tall, strikingly handsome young prince. His body was not slight but testified to hard work. His face was framed by black, curly hair. He stared at me with sea-blue eyes, aroused by desire and a simultaneous realization that now also rested deep in my being. The realization that this encounter was no coincidence but prepared by the Moiren, the fate spinners, for a long time.
A charming smile settled on Paris' lips, and the sparkle in his eyes seemed to dazzle me.
“Queen Helen, before you stands Paris, Prince of Troy. I come on behalf of my father, King Priam of Troy. I am to retrieve what was stolen from him," my guest told me confidently.
Caught by his gaze, I cleared my throat and tried to collect my thoughts. Why was I so attracted to this prince?
“Welcome to Sparta, Prince Paris of Troy,” I completed the traditional greeting ceremony. “I hope you had a comfortable journey. Let me invite you to my table as my guest. Then, over dinner, we can happily discuss the reason for your journey.”
What had I just said? Had I invited him to dinner? The royal advisor's gaze swung reproachfully in my direction, and Parisalso raised an eyebrow in surprise. Despite these apparent astonishments, I remained outwardly calm and sat stiffly on the throne with my back pressed through.
Paris smirked and bowed, and when he looked at me again, I knew I would follow him to the ends of the earth.
"I gladly accept your invitation, Queen Helen," he said, and when he spoke my name, it was like honey wetting my tongue.
I felt his presence deep into my loins. Electrifying waves made their way down into my womb.
Menelaus was a good husband who fulfilled his marital duties even in my bedchamber. However, he lacked the passion that now fueled my heartbeat to soar to unimagined heights and ignite a fire inside me that would make me burn. For this man, for the touch of his hands on my bare skin, his kisses on my lips, and his manhood deep in my being.
His face reflected this same longing.
It was a dangerous game imposed on both of us with the prophecy. The oracle spoke of a war more significant than any battle the world had ever seen. Many people would die. And yet, this realization blurred with every second we faced each other.
