Nothing I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,
It is the last light, to fade into the rising sun
I'm with you
Whenever you tell, my story
Remember, I will still be here
As long as you hold me, in your memory
I am the one voice in the cold wind, that whispers
And if you listen, you'll hear me call across the sky
As long as I still can reach out, and touch you
Then I will never die
Remember, I'll never leave you
If you will only
I am the one star that keeps burning, so brightly,
A/N: First troy fic. I really wanted to do one with someone who's life had been destroyed who we never met in the movie. I've taken the Name of Cassandra, the seeres they took out of the film and given it to a girl who knew Paris and Hector when they were younger. This is totally movie orientated since I still haven't managed to finish the Iliad(believe me I've tried numerous times, it makes my head ache...). Please leave me a review as I love getting them! Cheers!
The cold wind carried the scents of the burning city across the countryside. A small figure stood looking back across the river to the place which the night before had burned as brightly as the sun. Soft sounds came from behind her. In a deep gully behind her were the last of her people. Or rather the last free men women and Children of Troy, the city that was no more. A stray tear was winding down her cheek. She sighed. She had not though she had any tears left. She thought her pathetic shame had burnt away any more tears she could shed.
Paris slipped out of Helens arms. Slowly he raised himself up and stepped past other bodies lying upon the ground. Slowly he made his way up the gully's slope. He paused at the top. A guard should have been on duty, instead a small figure sat on a boulder. Her golden hair shining in the moonlight. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. Few Trojans ever had hair like that, and only one of the survivors had it. He swallowed again.
When just a boy he remembered he had told her that he thought no other woman could be as beautiful as she was. No other he had told her would he love as much as he, she was the sister he had always wanted, the sister of his heart. He had not seen her in years. He thought back to the last time he had. She had been standing gin the gardens of Troy. Her sword triumphantly held at Hector's throat while Hector laughed at her playing warrior. Much later Hector had told Paris she was as good as he was, though of course far less strong. Paris walked closer. He stepped up beside her. He felt tears rise to his eyes. Upon the wind was carried the scent of Troy, burning, burning.
"It's a beautiful night." The words were no more than a whisper. A bitter inflection mad him wince as though struck. He looked towards her. She seemed very pale in the moonlight.
"Yes... yes it is…" he said softly. His chest seemed to be aching. "Cas-"
"Don't say it!" she said in a fierce voice. She seemed to be holding back more tears. "I don't want to hear your words." she whispered bitterly.
"Don't!" she interrupted again. She turned towards him. He saw her unusual eyes glinting in the moonlight. She had tracks of tears running down her face.
"I've lost everything because of you… everything." He felt tears gather in his own eyes. "I… I was married Paris. He died in battle. I loved him… I loved him so much…" she whispered brokenly. Sitting back on her rock she hugged herself. She was rocking gently. "And he died." She moaned softly. She looked up at him, her body stilling. "He died for you Paris, so you could have another man's wife for your bed." She spat the words. He stepped away from where she sat. Her grey eyes gazing up at him with tears reflecting the moons light back at him. He felt tears brushing down his cheeks.
"I- I didn't know." He told her softly. She laughed bitterly.
"What didn't you know Paris?" she hissed at him. "That I was married? You were too busy bedding anything in a dress." He flinched at the harsh words. "That I was happy?" He felt the tears on his cheeks and a soft sob escaped his throat. "Of course you didn't, you never saw me and you never asked where I was. You didn't care." She paused and looked upwards at the moon before lowering her face to the distant place where Troy had been. "That I was pregnant?" The words were a soft whisper; he felt a dawning horror rising from his burning stomach and contracted around his chest like a snake wrapping its coils around him. "Hector knew. He came too see me when he returned from Sparta, but you Paris. You my best friend, my protector, my brother in all but name… I waited for you too come. But you never did. You never came." She whispered. He brushed a hand through his hair.
"As we waited for the Greeks I thought 'this is Paris, he will come and see me.' But you didn't." she added after a few moments. Tears were falling down her face. "And then the Greeks came, and my husband rode out with the rest of the Apollonian guard. He fought and returned from the beaches. And I thanked the gods that I had been granted another night with my love." She sighed as she looked up again to the stars. "And I prayed I would have another. I was not greedy, I knew he would not live forever, I knew that tomorrow he might die." She hiccupped slightly with her sobs. "But the gods… They would not grant my wish." She looked downwards, a frown creasing her forehead. "I watched you Paris. I watched you when you fought." She paused and looked over to him. "When I thought you would die my heart broke Paris." She told him brokenly. "Never have I known such pain. I felt as though I was shattering… splintering into little pieces, as though my heart was made of crystal and someone had hit it with a hammer." She was holding herself gently, hands wrapped around her throat. "Yet to the outside world I stood by Andromache, the perfect image of a Trojan maid." She whispered bitterly.
Slowly he knelt by her side, a gentle hand brushing her coppery locks. Though dirty with dust and something that he thought was dried blood matted it the strands were still soft as silk. He brushed his other hand over the soft pale skin of her arm.
"And then they brought him in. My husband… That brute… That giant had killed him with his hammer. And I felt so little." She sobbed. She looked over at him, her dove gray eyes meeting his. "My heart had already been broken; there was nothing left in me. And so I cried. And I could not stop." He brushed her hair back from her face as she took her eyes away from his. "Hector walked past as I cried. He held me for a few moments. But then…" she looked away, towards Troy again.
"You were alone…" his words were soft and full of sympathy. She looked at him with startled eyes. "I know. I saw you in the distance. I saw you weeping over his body I saw Hector holding you… I saw it and I…" he broke off and looked away as tears filled his eyes. "I felt so guilty. I had not been to see you I did not know who this man was that you wept over… I was afraid he was your lover, I was afraid that you would despise me." His words hung in the cold night air. He looked back up at her timidly. Afraid of what he would see in those gray eyes.
"Despise you?" she asked softly. "I could not despise you if I tried Paris. Dear Paris." She whispered as a tear fell down her cheek.
"You don't hate me, Cassandra?" he asked, afraid he was mistaken about her meaning.
"Paris… You are the brother of my heart…" she whispered, her gray eyes softening as she looked down at him. "When… when I curse you, with my next breath I forgive you. It's always been that way Paris… Always will… My King." He looked away as her words resounded in his mind. Cursed and forgiven. Hector had said something similar."Sometimes the gods bless you in the morning and curse you in the afternoon."
He felt pain anew at his brother's memory. "How…" he began. A hand brushed at his tears.
"How do you go on?" He looked up at her; she was stroking his dark curls as his mother had when he had been but a small boy. He leaned upwards into the soft pressure. His slight nod beckoning her to go on. "How do you become a good King? How do you forgive yourself for all the things you should have done?" The last seemed almost for herself as well as for him. She looked back out towards Troy again.
"Often I wondered whether fate does not give us what we want and steal it away because the gods curse us. Yet if the gods curse us why do they give us what makes us happy, for even a short while?" she smiled as she looked back down at him. "All I can think is that the gods both love and hate us, as they love and hate each other. We are them Paris, we are the gods in mortal form. And so we are both blessed and cursed." He frowned. Hector would have far enjoyed this conversation. Hector had enjoyed reading and poetry, while Paris had disliked his lessons, any of his lessons. As a youth Hector would spend his hours studying fighting or strategy, or sitting in the garden with the old men and talking of the world and the seasons… He had been a great warrior and a great man. Finally her words came through. Hector had been all that was good about the gods, graced with handsome features by Aphrodite, brilliant skills with a sword by Aries and Apollo had made him as wise as he was the others. Paris looked into her eyes and smiled softly.
"Do you understand?" she asked quietly, with a hint of amusement.
"I'm not sure I understand but perhaps one day I will, dear friend." she smiled back.
"Paris, the day you understand philosophy is the day you cease to be Paris." She said with a slightly sarcastic twist to her words.
"Do not mock me." he told her softly.
"Paris," she began softly. "I do not mock you. I mock myself… I mock the gods for placing me in a woman's body. I curse them for making me weak…" she said, her bitterness returning. "I curse my being human and I long for the day when this world is past and I have gone on to the next…" she looked back over at him with a faint smile. "Besides dearest Paris, I have nothing but my child left." She turned her eyes back towards Troy. "Nothing left."
A final tear traced its path down her cheek.