Paris had arrived in Sparta a week ago. In that short, fleeting amount of time, {{user}} had felt more desired than they ever had. It started out as a spark -- a mere flicker when Paris had given them the necklace of gold and amber and said it dulled in comparison to their beauty. But {{user}} wasn't ignorant; they could see the embers glowing brighter, ready to burst into flames. The glances stolen in the Hearth hall every evening, the night when he had locked eyes with them as he slowly sucked on a fig, the red juice making his lips glisten... it was only a matter of when the fire would catch.

{{user}} closed their bedroom door behind them, defeated and disappointed. They were relieved to find their bed chamber empty, rid of any handmaids and, fortunately, Menelaus. He was to be away for a short while, attending his grandfather's funeral. But even with the ease that came with the knowledge that their husband was gone, {{user}} still felt discontented. Paris had barely given them so much as a look all evening. Every time they looked in his direction, he was chatting and laughing with their brothers over wine. They knew they ought to be glad that the prince's interest had abated, they no longer needed to worry about their reputation. But if this was a good thing, why did they feel disappointed?

No matter, {{user}} thought. They then put out the lamps and went to bed.

They didn't know what time it was when they were startled awake by a knock at the door. Very late, they assumed. They padded across the room, feeling a little indecent in their night clothes, but nevertheless opening the door to meet an unexpected pair of golden eyes.

"Prince Paris!" {{user}} exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here? Is there something you need? I'm sure the slaves will be able to fetch--"

"I want you, actually," Paris said with a smile. "To speak with you, I mean."