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A/N: This is kind of angsty and very AU. It has major OCness, but I hope you like it anyway!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't even own Cassandra.
They could not.
That had been a special trait of hers; she could very easily hide her emotions. She could be furious at someone and still laugh with them and pretend to be confidantes, should the need arise.
Now, not one person in the room could read her perfectly sculpted face. Priam slowly rose to his feet, and the babble died away at once as the men who had been sitting rose quickly.
“Cassandra,” Priam boomed in his deep voice that reminded his daughter so much of the sea. “This is your decision. You can stay here in peace and comfort while we wage this war, or you can exchange Helen’s hand for your own and be forever imprisoned to Menelaus. Which will it be?”
Cassandra slowly got to her feet, elegantly, gracefully, causing most of the men in the room to shiver. Something about her was almost frightening; of course, the rumors gave rise to many beliefs about the young princess.
“I can only be in peace and comfort if Troy is safe. Hector has always said that Troy is mother to us all, and we must fight for her. You have done your part; now it is time for me to do mine. I will go to the Greeks in the morrow and offer my hand to Menelaus. If that does not appease him, then I will return to Troy, and you may continue your war.”
All of the men in the room, save the two princes, were at least thirty and were only in the room because of their experience; however, her voice still gave them a sensational quiver as if they were young schoolboys hearing a ghost story from an old sailor.
Her voice was a mixture of many things; it was soft, like the lapping of waves against the shore; it was dangerous, like ominous thunder; it was commanding, like an experienced general calling his men to battle; it was refreshing, like a cool breeze on a sultry day; and it was sad, like the baying of a wolf. It was, in essence, beautiful.
Priam sighed heavily and nodded. “So be it. Hector, tomorrow morning, you and Paris will escort Cassandra outside and negotiate with Agamemnon. Avoid war at all costs, whether they take Cassandra or not.”
The men bowed as he and his children took their leave and left.
The door opened moments later to reveal a handmaiden of Cassandra. The girl had very light auburn hair that was held back loosely, though a few ringlets had escaped and framed her face. Her eyes were a very light shade of green, and she averted them quickly when she recognized the visitor.
“Good evening, Princess Helen. Can I offer you my services?”
“I need to speak to Princess Cassandra now; I don’t care what she’s doing, just let me see her!”
The servant bowed deeply and used a skinny and lightly freckled hand to beckon Helen inside. Helen followed and the girl held up her dainty hand again. “Please wait here while I summon the princess.”
The servant girl bowed again and left with a swish of her white servants’ robe. She returned mere moments later and bowed, backing away as Cassandra appeared. She smiled at Helen and reached forward, lightly resting her hands on Helen’s shoulders as she kissed one cheek and then the other.
“Helen, what is it I can do for you? You seem troubled.”
“Oh, don’t play coy with me! Cassandra, I know what you are doing, and I simply can’t let you!”
Cassandra sighed and looked at the servant girl, who was standing against the back wall, head hung as she had been trained to do.
“Galatea!”
The girl’s head whipped up; her eyes met with Cassandra’s before she quickly averted them. Helen looked at her appraisingly; the girl couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, and it was apparent she had been born and raised in the palace to serve.
“Bring some tea for Princess Helen, and then proceed packing my things.”
Galatea bowed deeply and strode purposefully out the door, her robe swishing lightly as she walked.
Cassandra turned back to Helen. “Galatea is used to my many moods. She knows never to expect one emotion from me. She is my most trusted handmaiden and knows this.”
Helen was surprised; it was as if Cassandra had been reading her mind. Cassandra smiled faintly and turned as the door opened. Galatea set a tray of steaming tea on a small table before them and bowed, backing away to pack.
“Thank you, Galatea.”
Galatea smiled at her mistress and left.
“Now, I believe you were trying to dissuade me from going to Menelaus?” Cassandra asked good-naturedly as she poured Helen’s cup. Helen accepted it without really noticing it.
“Yes, I was! Cassandra, you can’t possibly do this! If anyone should go, it should be me! He is a cruel man, and he will kill you!”
Cassandra shook her head sadly, her pale golden curls swaying. “We all know what will really happen if you return. Agamemnon has been looking for a reason to attack Troy for years now, and this was the perfect opportunity. Menelaus wants to kill you; I have seen it. If the Greeks gain a queen who is not only the link between Troy and Greece, but a Seer and beloved of Apollo, then they will be much more relenting. Even if they refuse our offer, we will wage war against them, and you will remain here.”
“I can’t—“
“Do not try to dissuade me, Helen. I am set on this, and by refusing my decision you are insulting me.” Cassandra said coldly. Helen was in shock for a moment before nodding wearily.
“If you think it’s best.” Helen rose, Cassandra following with a rustle of robes, and Helen departed, tears pooling in her eyes.
Behind them was a litter, carried by four Ethiopian slaves. It was high, so even if it was on the ground, the owner would have to step up to get in. White silk curtains fell down, and only a seldom few knew who was in the litter.
The Greek army marched forward, their footsteps creating thunder in the earth. They came to a pause before the Trojan army, and Hector and Paris dismounted, walking forward slowly as the Greek kings followed suit. The litter came a few paces behind the Trojan princes.
“I see you’re not hiding behind those high walls of yours. Valiant of you. Ill-advised, but valiant.” Agamemnon said, smirking.
Hector remained steadfast. “We have a proposition for you. Instead of taking Helen back, we offer Menelaus a new bride.”
Agamemnon and Menelaus exchanged glances before Menelaus nodded gruffly at his brother and waddled forward.
“What treachery is this? Take my wife and try to saddle me with a new one? No one can replace Helen; she is the most beautiful woman in the world, and I want her back.”
Paris’s fists clenched, but he said nothing.
“Helen has willingly chosen Troy; we offer you a new bride. A Trojan princess and a Seer. She would be a great commodity to the Greek army. She is also the most beautiful woman in Troy; she would be the most beautiful woman in the world if she had ever ventured from these walls.”
Menelaus’s curiosity was piqued; what woman could this be?
“Where is she?” he growled.
Hector and Paris turned to the bearers and nodded; two removed the curtains and bowed while Hector held out his hand and handed Cassandra down.
Menelaus’s breath caught in his throat. This was no princess; this was a goddess. Her fair face was sculpted by Hephaestus. Sapphire-like eyes flitted to his face momentarily before quickly averting themselves in respect. Her beautiful face was impassive. She was clad in a silky white gown lined with gold. The sleeves fell down below her elbows and opened at the top of the arm, held by golden pins every few inches. Her hair was adorned in a head ornament of pearls bound by gold, and a few spirals of pale-gold hair framed her gentle face. At her neck was a thin gold chain that held a golden sun embedded in pearls.
“This is Cassandra, daughter of Priam of Troy and a Seer. She was once the beloved of Apollo, and he gave her the gift of foresight before she refused him. Our father has sent away all her suitors and had arranged for her to serve in the temple of Athena; however, he wishes for you to have her so that you may leave Troy alone.” Hector said in a business-like tone.
Menelaus stared at her for a moment longer before turning to his brother. The two men stepped away so as not to be heard.
“I want her, brother.”
“A moment ago you wanted Helen; now you want this child?” but even Agamemnon could not deny her splendor.
“I wanted Helen to kill her; I want this girl to bed. Troy will submit to you, and she can foresee things. She can show you how to remain immortal and how to strengthen this empire so that it will be stronger than even the gods.”
Agamemnon considered this and nodded, turning back to the Trojans. “We accept your offer, but on one condition; your foolhardy brother and Helen are never to leave Troy; is that understood?”
“Yes.” It was the first time Paris had spoken. Agamemnon smirked.
“Good.” He jerked his head and the kings prepared to depart. Cassandra turned to her brothers.
“Hector, you will become King of Troy one day, and you will lead the people well. Do not come for me; if I am to return, I will do it myself.”
Hector nodded and embraced her tightly. She smiled at him and turned to Paris.
“Paris, Helen is with child. She will give birth in seven months to a son.”
Paris smiled sadly at her and held her tightly; they finally broke apart and she allowed her bearers to help her in and carry her to the Greek camp.
Directly after her arrival at Menelaus’s ship, she was handed off the litter by a hungry-looking Menelaus and led up the gangplank to the ship. Only a few soldiers had glimpsed her as she followed her new husband up the plank. The wedding would take place that night, just before dusk.
Agamemnon sent his two new servants to attend to her. They would be her servants until they reached Sparta, where she would be received into the household and given a whole legion of servants. The two servant girls would be Agamemnon’s concubines in Mycenae.
Cassandra sat before the vanity, staring at her reflection lifelessly, when the flap opened.
“King Agamemnon has sent servants to attend to you.” The soldier said a brusque voice.
She gazed impassively back through the mirror as he stepped out and two women entered. Cassandra whipped around and cried out, “Briseis!”
“Cassandra!”
The two women ran at each other and embraced warmly.
“Briseis, we feared you were dead!”
“I’m fine, but how are you?” Briseis said, wiping her eyes hurriedly.
Cassandra sighed. “Cousin, I am being exchanged for Helen. If I marry Menelaus, Agamemnon will leave Troy and Helen alone.”
Briseis bit her lip. “I’m so sorry.”
She seemed to recover herself and turned to the other woman, who was waiting patiently. “Cassandra, this is Chryseis, the only other priestess of Apollo. Chryseis, this is my cousin, Cassandra, Princess of Troy and future Queen of Sparta.”
The two women had nothing much to do to Cassandra; she was already adorned as prettily as could be, so they sat around talking.
“Well, at first, I was taken to Achilles’ tent to be his slave while Chryseis was taken to Agamemnon. Agamemnon, however, was not content with just one slave, so he took me from Achilles. He hasn’t touched me yet, which is why I’m still wearing these robes, but it’s only a matter of time.”
Cassandra opened her mouth to respond when a guard entered.
“Princess Cassandra, they are ready.”
She bowed her head. “Thank you.”
She rose and Briseis and Chryseis, both of whom had been raised in the palace and knew the proper etiquette, followed suit. They followed the guard to an altar outside where Menelaus was waiting, decked out in his finest robes. Cassandra repressed the urge to throw up.
She seemed dead on her feet during the ceremony. The priest put the ceremonial cloth over their bound hands and blessed them. He anointed them with sacred water and then pronounced them married.
The celebrations dwindled on for a long time. Cassandra and Menelaus sat at the head of the table of kings and nobles while the foot soldiers celebrated outside. Cassandra looked at all of the men. To Menelaus’s left was Agamemnon, then Nestor, then Odysseus, then Achilles, his cousin Patroclus, Ajax, Triopas, and other kings whose names she couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anyway; it wasn’t as if she would need to know them.
After seemingly hours of drinking and laughing raucously, Menelaus deemed it time to retire for the night. Cassandra took his arm hesitantly and followed him meekly. Patroclus, the young cousin of Achilles, watched curiously. He had never seen Helen before, so he had no comparison for Cassandra’s beauty, but so far, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. And she was being married to that pig.
Not that Patroclus resented Menelaus; Menelaus was just a normal king whose older brother happened to be the commander-in-chief of the Greek forces. But Patroclus couldn’t help feeling that this was wrong. Agamemnon told a joke and the other kings laughed loudly, bringing Patroclus out of his pensive state.
“Are you all right, cousin?”
Patroclus turned to see Achilles watching him with some amusement.
“Yes. Why?”
Achilles shook his head, drinking from his goblet, his azure eyes watching Patroclus over the rim. “That look. It could be your downfall.”
Patroclus furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the way you were staring after the princess. Queen, now, of course. It’s no use; she’s his now, and she will be until he dies. And when he dies she will either be too old for you to love or she will be a nurse to the next child of royal birth.”
“I, I don’t love her! I’ve never even spoken to her! I was just looking at her is all!”
Achilles chuckled. “I’m not a fool, cousin. You are like me; you’ve been bedding women since you were twelve. You look at maids with lust, not love. But that was a look I’ve never seen on you before. I never want to see it on your face again unless it’s directed at a young, unmarried or unpromised maiden.”
Patroclus made a face and sipped from his wine.
“You’re a very pretty girl, you know. Maybe even prettier than Helen. But pretty or not, you will serve me better than that bitch did. You will do whatever I tell you to. You will be at my beck-and-call. You will bear me strong sons and teach them to love me and rule Sparta. If you should fail me, I will punish you for your impudence. Do you understand?”
Cassandra managed a nod. Menelaus smirked at her fear. “Good.”
He removed the outer-layer of his robe and hoisted himself onto the bed, crawling towards Cassandra, who was scooting back, inwardly praying to the gods for help.
Menelaus was on the floor, dead. His hands were soaked in red blood and they were held up to his throat, which was still spilling blood. A mangled expression of agony was on his face. Cassandra stood, shaking, by the bed, a knife in her hand that was still dripping blood. She let out a dry sob as they stared at the sight, and two of them gently took her by the arms, leading her to Agamemnon’s tent.