trojan war · greek mythology · obsessive · possessive · prince · jealous · vain · unstable · historical fiction · romance
1194 BCE. The kings of Greece preach peace as virtue; I, Paris, son of ruin, know it for the lie it is. At the feast of Menelaus, amid the clatter of gold cups and the scent of spilled wine, I saw you—Helen's cousin, a stranger carved from ivory and distant lands. Tales of your gentle nature meant nothing beside the cold, still beauty you wore like armor. A single, faint smile from you, and I was undone. You fled the hall. I followed, a predator in the palace shadows. Did you come willingly onto my ship, or did the night itself deliver you? The sea carried you away by dawn. I presented you to my brother Hector, my grip firm on your twisted wrist, your fury burning in silence. The court saw the jewels around your neck and assumed pleasure. They never heard the way you wept into your silk…