The delegation from Troy arrived with minimal ceremony. Aneas, cousin of the sons of Priam, had come as well, accompanying Paris, prince of troy. His pale red-blonde hair making him easy to spot. As I looked out at the party of mostly soldiers, and slaves baring gifts, looking them over and finally coming to rest on the one unfamiliar face I had not known before this moment.

This must be Paris. He's a little scrawny and not very princely, and a little effeminate.

I looked him up and down. From his puppyish half smilf and his curled brunette hair hanging to his shoulders, I was unimpressed. His dark, expressive eyes stared up at me, mouth parted in awe.

I frowned, Turning to my husband, Menelaus. He looked at me, grey eyes as calm as the sea. Then, turning to our honored guests He rose and smiled, raising his hands.

"Welcome, trojans, to mycenae, Sparta. We will hold a feast to commemorate your arrival, and the peace that will bring between the houses of Atreus and Illios! But," He turned to me, holding out his hand. "May I present my beloved wife, and queen, Helen, the most beautiful woman in all the world!"

I took his hand, rising as elegantly as I was able, smiling despite my distaste with the epithete.

"Husband, There is no need for that silly epithete." I laughed, patting his arm good naturdy. He brought the arm I held out of my grasp and around my shoulders, covered only by a whisper thin, sea blue palla, pulling me to rest on his chest. I am blessed by the gods.

"Nonsense, Helen. I want all to know of Sparta's greatest treasure." I sighed, reluctantly pulling away from the warm shelter of my husband's well muscled chest.

I smiled down at the Trojan delegation, happening to catch on the princeling, still staring into my soul. My smile faltered and for a moment I felt a chill blow over my whole body. Wrapping my palla more tightly around me as discreetly as possible I spoke.

"We welcome you to our halls, prince of troy. Let there be peace everlasting between our houses." I felt a sickness roil in my stomach, making me shiver.

Paris came forward, stepping onto the dias and grasping my hand as he knelt on a knee. He dragged his almost too long slender nose across the back of my hand, and then pressed his lips in a trail of kisses going from my knuckles to my wrist and on the way back down, I felt something small and wet trace a path along the back of my hand. I did my best to hide my disgust.

Ilthy little heathen. Does he have no shame?

When he brought his face to look at me, his eyes were dark with desire than seemed almost manic and all consuming. I felt a wave of fear claw at my breast, connecting to the roiling sickness and nearly knock me over.

"Fair Helen, Child of High and mighty Zeus, queen of these great lands..." The princeling pressed another slobbery wet kiss to the back of my hand, and I shuddered in revoltion, unable to keep the frown from my face.

"I am honored to be accepted in your mighty kingdom." His eyes never left me. I wrapped my arm around my husband's sturdy one, hoping to present a united front.

"Cousin! We have gifts for our gracious hosts." Aneas said, his voice drawing Paris back down beside him.

The ornately carved doors opened, and across the blue and white checkered floors many slaves carried in trunks and boxes filled to bursting with gifts of cloth, pottery, jewels, weaponry, money, amphora of wine, olive oil, and trojan honey.

Aneas looked back, turning to us with a smile.

"And there are fine trojan horses and a dozen white bulls, as well as trained slave women for your pleasure."

"Excellent." My husband murmured. I nodded. Perhaps they have a young son, fit for my hermione. Menelaus directed a slave standing behind him to bring in other slaves and start taking the chests to the treasury.

"There shall be a feast in your honor! In the name of peace!"

I stared at myself in the polished silver mirror. My gold hair was styled artfully in a knot of venus with the handing locks framing my neck on either side of the slender pale column, the wavy strands contrasting with my sea blue peplos made of finely woven silk..Delicate curls framed my forehead and face. A rope of creamy sea pearls nestled above my hairline, a medium lapis lazuli bead in between each. At my waist lay a gold chain, inlaid with mother of pearl, a wedding present, cinching it in and leaving the full expanse of the skirt to fall at my ankles, whispering like wind as I moved.

I stood, smoothing down the peplos and checking my appearance one more time in the mirror. The sandals on my feet tied up to my knee with silk cords in the color of pale sand. I had been well oiled with rose oil so that I gleamed like pearls in the full moon.

Tucking my spider thin, white silk palla over my arms, I leave my chambers. The torchlight illuminated glistening pale and red marble along the floors and halls.

The noise is noticeable even from around the corner, which is a long way from where I now stand, between the stairs and the great hall made specifically for entertainment. My stomach quivered with fear.

There is naught for it. In a week or two, this boy prince will be gone from our shores and I will never have to see his childish face again.

I adjusted my palla, covering my shoulders and brought one end over my shoulder. Bringing my head and shoulders back, and schooling my features into a pleasant smile, as though I carried a secret, I made my way to the doors with the stately grace as befits not only a queen but a child of mighty, thundering Zeus.

The banquet hall was lively and bountiful with laughter and merriment. The doors groaned as they closed, and all eyes turned toward me, their faces ranging from shock, to awe, to lust and happiness.

I am merely a woman. There is no need for this fuss. Let them drink until they cannot see my face. Let them drink until they cease to understand that I am 'beautiful'. Would that it were that I am not the most beautiful. Wh ever claimed that was a fool.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself from their hideous attentions, and looked only to the dias, where my husband, faithful, kind, steady, red haired menelaus, waited for me with a private smile on his lips. I made my way up the steps and took my rightful place beside him, smiling when he took my hand, squeezing it softly.

I swallowed a laugh of merriment, not wanting the light and eyes of the room to draw to me and for their laughter to die. Lowering my eyes demurely I took a drink from the mercifully full cup between my husband and I, nearly draining half of it.

"Helen." His whisper was insistent. I looked at him through my lashes. Don't you understand? The only way I can tolerate their stares and comments is to be wholly in the embrace of dionysus.

I set the cup down, licking the last of it from my lips. Menalaus motioned for a slave. The slave brought the amphora of wine in a silent question. My husband shook his head.

"Water for my lady." I glared at my full plate and clenched a fist. He knows I cannot stand their half whispered comments and admiring glances. Let them treat me as a woman.

The party moved as slowly as a slug on a dirt road. There were many libations not only to the gods but the fine food and both menelaus and I. What wine I could get my hands on I gulped down with wild abandon.

The room was blurry. A voice like a cracking whip, jubilant, dragged me from my wine delirium.

"A toast! To the bosom sister of Aphrodite! The lovely, rosy cheeked queen of Sparta, Helen!" The voice was like shattering an important piece of artwork, with all the accompanying dread imposed.

I brought my eyes up, trying to stop the swaying of the room to lock eyes with paris. A headache throbbed behind my eyes. My mouth formed a snarl, and as I stood, wine made my lips loose. The room tilted, bringing me with it. I was cradled against a warm chest and could feel my feet dangling. It was blessedly quiet after the door shut, the night air blowing across my hot face like a much welcomed friend.

I felt the softness of silk bedcovers and a warm wool being draped over me. A calloused hand, gentle, and had I not known those hands to belong to my husband, and been more in command of myself, I might have startled, stroked the side of my overly flushed face.

"Oh, my wife. You don't deserve to feel so stressed at their stairs. They only admire you because you are a treasure in more than looks and bridal dowry. You are a boon to all who know you."

I fell into darkness with my husband's footsteps following me into a dreamless sleep.