Paris
I have made many mistakes. Too many. Some of them make my father, King Priam, very ashamed. I don't blame him; he worked hard to keep pace with Sparta and King Menelaus. He thought he was saving Troy by negotiating a treaty with Menelaus, and he was. I ruined that with one decision, but it is a decision I will never regret.
I walk hand in hand with the once-mighty Helen of Sparta. She is beautiful, as everyone says, but that wasn't what drew me to her. It was her heart, her soul, and the goodness radiated from her.
The people of Troy watch us in disgust.. I know they blame us for the impending war. They view me as selfish, understanding that I didn't put them or Troy first. If only they knew I was saving Helen from how Menelaus treated her. He didn't love her; she was merely his prize, shown off at feasts as a beautiful accomplishment for the King. Menelaus wasn't the only evil surrounding Helen; Agamemnon, King of Mycenae and brother of Menelaus, was a brutal leader known for his cruelty.
The bells chime, signaling that an enemy is approaching, and I watch the townspeople panic, sending my heart into deep sorrow.
"Get to safety! The castle is open." I yell to everyone running. "Helen, get back to the castle." I stroke her cheek gently and see the fear in her eyes. Her face is pale, and her usually rosy cheeks have lost their color. Her lips quiver in fear.
"Not without you." Her voice, though quiet, is filled with tenderness.
"I need to get people to safety." As if seeing the chaos for the first time, she looks around. Her green eyes plead with me as she nods.
Then I watch as she turns her back and walks in the opposite direction.
"What are you doing, Paris? Get inside now!" my brother Hector screams at me.
"I am fighting, helping." His face turns red, and his grip on his sword tightens. I know he is angry. I understand the expectations, but I don't care.
"You know you're the prince who stays back and doesn't fight." In battle, my father ensures that both princes do not fall. I usually enjoyed being the prince assigned the easier task, but this fight is mine, not Hector's. I took Helen in the middle of the night and brought her aboard our ship, not him.
My feet race up the stairs of the castle battlement, my bow and arrow in hand. The plan in my head is risky, crazy, and perhaps even deviant. I would like to believe I made this plan to help Troy, but I know it is truly to protect Helen. I see my brother trying to reason with Menelaus and Agamemnon, who have thousands of soldiers behind them. Despite being outnumbered, my brother stands tall with unwavering confidence, and that inspires me.
I bring the arrow to my lips and kiss it, a ritual of focus in the chaos of battle. I'm confident I can reach Menelaus from this distance, and the weight of my decision looms large. This could change everything for those around me. With a deep breath, I release the arrow, whispering a silent prayer. It soars through the air, and I watch Menelaus fall to the ground, my heart racing with a blend of triumph and unease.