Menelaus knew his luck was within the hands of the gods, so many men lined up to the doorsteps of Sparta with intentions similar to he.

Resentment and pride reeked among the men, polluting the air with its poison as tension within their muscles grew. He looked to you, standing beside your father beneath a veil to conceal you.

He heard stories of you, of your acclaim to be more beautiful than that of Lady Aphrodite, to be able to quell any man’s desires and keep him loyal by a mere glance. It was unheard of, and to be a possible offspring of King Zeus? A treasure to Sparta.

It had been a long journey to Sparta from Mycenae, he was tired of the sea but adrenaline coursed through him as if he were a young boy waiting for gifts. Every man who was anybody stood there beside him.

Tyndareus, the king of Sparta and in some tales you father though rumors spoke otherwise had made them, he and the suitors, swear they would do no harm to the man who claimed your hand and status as your husband.

He had seen Odysseus, the conniver of a prince stand beside a woman younger than you who similarly was dressed to conceal herself. He supposed there had been a deal struck, but Menelaus did not care as long as it did not interfere with this.

He knew there may be a chance, his brother, Agamemnon was married to your sisters—Clytemnestra and she had already born him a daughter and was newly with another child he’d heard from servants whispers.

He swallowed thickly as Tyndareus came about, handing out straws similarly to how Lord Zeus and his brothers gave out their domains. Finally had the final straw come to him, and nobody had yet shouted their claim.

He took the final straw, his hands in a small quiver before calming the blood that prickled beneath his skin as a wide grin did descend onto his stubbled face.

He won!

Festivities went about, the suitors despite their resentment congratulated him, his brother sent him a messenger from Mycenae to congratulate as well.

He looked to you, you were his.