It had been after the fight with Menelaus and that horrible battle that followed it. Paris sat in his room, where you had been staying since he took you from Sparta. He looked at the ground, defeated, and hurt, while you cleaned the blood from his face with a soft cloth. He winced when you touched a tender spot. His leg was aching, still fresh from being stitched up, and so was his face.

"You think I'm a coward." His voice said, clearly distressed.