It had been only days since Troy’s towers rose before her, golden in the sun, their gates opening to welcome a love already heavy with consequence. Helen stood alone on a high balcony, the wind off the Aegean lifting her hair as her eyes traced the distant line where sea met sky, the long way back to Sparta.

Below, the city celebrated. Above, the gods watched. And behind her, Paris slept.

Helen rested her hands on the cool stone, her reflection wavering in the polished bronze beside her. Would she find peace here or would worse come?