A/N: This story is based on both the book and the movie, it takes parts of both so might be a bit confusing. Menelaus was not killed in this version, nor was Paris.

Paris survived the sacking of Troy, though his country and family were destroyed. He had fought bravely but it was in vain. Troy could not be saved. Paris was not killed; the Spartans thought it would be amusing to keep the former Prince around as a slave.

Paris was now 'owned' by a wealthy royal family. He fought against it but eventually caved, he decided his life was worth more than his freedom. Paris was never exactly an obedient person and the past events did nothing to alleviate matters. It made things much worse when Paris discovered an unpleasant fact: Helen was back with Menelaus. It turned out that the two were friends with the family Paris was forced to serve. On Helen and Menelaus's first visit, Helen had looked directly into Paris's eyes without registering any pity or love. She was all over Menelaus. It was revolting to watch…Paris couldn't refrain from spitting on the king.

The moment Paris unwisely spat on him, Menelaus roared and kicked him. One of the royals whom Paris served whipped him straight across the back and ordered him to fetch a drink. Paris looked upon the lot with contempt and spoke defiantly, "Fetch it yourself."

That got him another flurry of whips. By the time the royals had stopped, Paris could not stand up to leave.

"Ayrnessa!" called the cruel man of royal blood.

A petite girl, dressed in shabby robes, scurried out.

"Take him away," the man ordered.

The girl looked at Paris and bent down to help him up. With her help, Paris limped away, into the cramped quarters that had been allotted for them.

"You must be new," the girl said, looking upon Paris with pity. "We should clean those wounds." Paris nodded in assent as the girl helped him out of his dirty shirt. His back was covered with raw outlines of blood. "What did you do!" she exclaimed.

"I spat on Menelaus." Paris answered smugly. "And I told them to fetch their own drinks."

"I wouldn't be overly proud! Do that another few times and it'll be a dead body I'm sent to remove!" she said.

"You speak as if you've been a slave for a long time," Paris commented.

"I have been. I have never known freedom, as it is." The girl told him.

"You've been a slave your whole life?" Paris exclaimed.

"Yes. My mother died after giving birth to me, and my father lost his money so he sold my elder brother and me to make money. My brother is seven years older than myself and so we were kept together for six years so that he could take care of me. When I turned six, the family we served sold me to another family. I have not seen my brother since. I know not if he even continues to walk on this earth." The girl muttered with great contempt. She poured some water on his back, causing him to wince and recoil.

"That is horrible," Paris said sincerely, "I have had experience with parents who care more about their own well-being than their children's. It was prophesied that I would be the cause of my parent's downfall and so they sent me away to be killed. As chance would have it, I survived." He said, referring to his childhood trauma. "My name is Paris."

"Ayrnessa." The girl responded, putting bandages on Paris's back. "I suppose we all have to learn to fend for ourselves."

"How did you manage?" Paris asked her. "Being a slave for so long?"

"I've not known anything else. You get used to it. You learn to obey and keep your hatred to yourself, or you don't last." Ayrnessa stated. "You speak boldly as if you have never needed to obey before, where are you from? What were you before?"

Paris hesitated. It was obvious that this slave girl had no idea of what his heritage was and he did not want to change that fact so quickly. "I am from Troy." He answered simply.

"A prisoner of war," Ayrnessa spoke softly. She finished with the bandages and handed him a clean shirt.

"AYRNESSA!" the familiar royal voice yelled.

"Well, Paris of Troy, I shall see you shortly, I'm sure. In the meantime, take care which words you let slip by the whip holders and if you wish to live, do not insult another king!" Ayrnessa smiled, giving Paris a pat on the shoulder.


"COMING, MY LORD!" Ayrnessa called before disappearing out the door.

Paris watched her leave and closed his eyes. How did it come to be like this?