Chapter 12 (I could not use syn. today): Imprisoned(1)
The ship moved slowly through the waves.
The sound of the waves hitting the ship was the only thing Helenos could hear. He stood at the front, watching the land get smaller.
Mycenae was just a grey line now. He was fourteen years old.
Menelaia stood right next to him.
She pointed at the water.
"It’s deeper," she said. "We are in Spartan waters now. You don't have to worry anymore."
Helenos nodded. He tried to smile because she was being nice.
…
Strange
...
Inside his head, he felt a surge of panic.
Why?
He tried to think.
…
Yes.
He remembered something.
The smell of the horses and the dirt.
He tried to remember the woman who taught him how to fight.
Lysandra.
The name felt thin in his mind. He tried to see her face. He remembered she had grey eyes. He remembered she was missing fingers. She was the one who saw him as his own self. She maybe the reason he was even alive right now... was she?
Her face started to fade.
He knew she was important. He knew he owed her something. He remembered a dark room and water on the floor. He remembered her staying behind so he could run.
"Are you okay?" Menelaia asked. Her voice was soft.
Helenos jumped in surprise.
"I'm okay," Helenos said. "I was just thinking about someone. A person from the stables."
Menelaia’s face didn't change, but her eyes got a little harder. "A teacher? Your mother told me about your tutors. The ones who taught you music. They don't matter now. In Sparta, you will have better teachers."
"No, it wasn't music," Helenos said. He was trying hard to hold onto the memory. "She helped me. She stayed in the cells so I could get out."
Menelaia laughed a little. It was hearty. It felt hearty. "Helenos, you shouldn't worry about the slaves. They are like the rain. They do their job, and then they are gone. But you, youhave a kingdom to think about. You have me."
She put her hand on his shoulder with a tight grip. "Look forward. Don't look back. The past is for people who are weak. Your life is in Sparta now."
Helenos looked back at the sea. Mycenae was gone. He tried one last time to think of the woman in the stables, but he could not remember her name anymore. He knew he had forgotten something very important, yes he had forgotten…?
No…
No. He hadn't forgotten anything.
The air was warm. Menelaia was smiling at him. The guards were all looking at him with respect. He felt safe, but he also felt empty.
"We will be home soon," Menelaia whispered.
Helenos didn't say anything. He just watched the waves.
He forgot the woman with the missing fingers.
Yes.
He was Helenos, the one married to Menelaia.
***
Far away in the palace, Clytemnestra was siting alone in her room. It was quiet.
Yes. She had made a choice.
She had talked to her, and the deal was set.
Yes. She couldn't talk to Helenos. She couldn't go near him. That was the price.
It hurt. It hurt…
It hurt to think about him leaving, but she kept her face still.
She had to wait.
She promised she would get him back in the end.
She just had to stay away for now.
‘…’
She watched the horizon from her window, knowing her son was on that boat, moving further and further away into the dark.
She didn't cry.
She waited.
Waited…
***
On the ship, the sun began to set. The orange light hit the water and turned it the color of fire. The light hit Helenos's face, making his skin look like gold. He looked like a statue, something perfect that a god had carved.
The sailors stopped working for a second. They leaned on their oars just to look at him. They had seen many things on the sea, but they had never seen a boy who looked like the sun itself.
Menelaia saw them looking. She saw the way their eyes stayed on him a little too long. Her jaw tightened. She stepped in front of Helenos, using her tall body to block their view. She didn't like the way they looked at him. She didn't want the world to see what she had.
In her mind, Helenos wasn't a person who needed to see the world. He was a treasure. He was something that needed to be kept in a box, away from the dust and the sun and the eyes of common men. She wanted to wrap him in soft cloth and hide him in a room in Sparta where only she had the key. She would feed him and talk to him and keep him safe from everything.
"Come inside," she said, her voice a bit sharper than before. "The sun is going down. The wind is getting cold, and I don't want you to get sick."
Helenos followed her without a word. He didn't look back at the water again. He didn't look at the stars that were starting to peek through the purple sky. He walked into the small, dark cabin of the ship.
As he stepped over the threshold, the last memory of the stables flickered and died. He forgot the feeling of a sword hilt in his hand. He forgot the sound of someone telling him to stand up and fight. He left the girl who had saved him behind in the salt and the foam of the sea.
He didn't even know he was lonely anymore. He just knew that the cabin was warm and that Menelaia was there. She sat him down on a soft pile of furs and began to tell him stories about Sparta. She told him about the high mountains and the green trees. She told him about how everyone would bow to him when he walked down the street.
Helenos listened, his eyes growing heavy. The world felt small now. It was just this room, this woman, and the sound of the boat moving through the dark.
"You are mine now," Menelaia whispered, though she said it so softly he might have thought it was just the wind. "No one will ever take you away from me."
Helenos closed his eyes. He didn't remember Lysandra. He didn't remember the deal his mother had made. He only knew the rocking of the boat and the smell of the flowers.
The boat kept moving south, deeper into the dark waters, carrying the boy who had forgotten he was supposed to be a hero. He was safe, just like his mother wanted. But as he slept, he didn't dream of horses or battles. He didn't dream at all. He was just a body in the dark, waiting for a new life to begin in a city of stone.
***
Back in the wet cells of Mycenae, the water was rising. It touched the stone walls, cold and dark.
The woman who had called herself Lysandra sat in the corner.
She knew the rules. She had reached out to the boy. She had taught him how to be strong when the world wanted him weak. But she had come too close to breaking the Fates' boundaries.
To step in any further would bring trouble to the world.
She had called out to Mnemosyne. She had asked for a fog to be sent. It was a mercy, but a hard one. The memories of the stables, the wooden swords, and the grey-eyed woman had to go. .
"You must forget, little prince," she said.’v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;v;;v;v;v;;v;v;v;v;v;;very;v;v;;very;;v;;very;v;;v;very;;very;v
Her voice was different
Not like a stable hand, but something more
She watched him on the ship.
She saw the memories slipping away from him like sand through fingers.
He had forgotten her.
But it was enough to change the future.
***
Sparta was waiting.
Menelaia sat by his side in the dark cabin.
She watched him breathe.
She was the queen, and she finally had what she wanted.
She didn't care about the rest of the world.
The ship moved further into the deep water.
Getting closer and closer to Sparta.
***
I'm tired my brain hearts I don't want to do anything I don't want to write But Ill try to See you tommorrow Have a nice day tomorrow my head hurts. I dom’t want to do anything how do people able to do this daily?
