No One But You

Chapter Nine: So Beautiful

A/N : They're so Hot ugh
  For those who have watched the movie :
Tbh I wish that they survived the war instead of Paris and that Ho Helen who else agrees ?

'I heard that you were living well, but you don't look like your living to me
Though the sparkle is gone, the smile is in place so that everyone watching can see
You've got them all convinced, but I know it so well
That you could list your friends, but you can't count on them
Hold it now
You've got everyone convinced that your alright
When no one else is quite as vulnerable'

Dashboard Confessional, 'So Beautiful'

Briseis changed. She kept herself to herself, never turning visitors away, but hardly welcoming them either. Paris noticed her grow thin and gaunt, for she ate only when forced to do so, and hardly slept, until she had dark bags under her eyes and a haunted expression on her face.

Only Cassandra knew what it was that had killed the grieving Princess, and nobody listened to her, so Briseis suffered alone. It was as if she had given up. She no longer cared about her life enough to fight for it, and, left to her own devices, Paris had no doubt that she would have let herself starve to death.

He was walking down the palace corridors on the eight day of Hector's funeral games. The sun was streaming though the arches in the wall, bathing the stone of the walls in a golden light, and he smiled quietly to himself, remembering how he had left Helen curled up under the silk sheets in their bed, her tousled hair framing her face as she slept. Gods, Paris thought, but he loved her so much.

He paused outside Briseis' room, listening for sounds inside before raising one hand to tap on the door. It had got into a routine: he would stop by on his way to court in the mornings and make sure she ate breakfast. Then he would spend his day trying his hardest to fill Hector's shoes: listening to the various soldiers and priests argue about their strategy once the truce was over, settling petty discussions between citizens of Troy, organising money to be sent to the widows and orphans of soldiers who had been killed in the conflict. He did not know how Hector had coped with it all and still gone round smiling. Then, as the sun was setting, he would make his way back to Briseis' room to ensure that she ate once more, while trying to instil some enthusiasm for life in her, before finally returning to he peace and serenity that only Helen could bring to him.

Hearing no answer to his knock on the door, Paris pushed it open, stepping inside the room. It was so strange, he thought idly, looking about, that nothing in the room had changed since before the war, and yet where once it was the essence of everything that was Briseis: the white gowns, the statuette of Apollo, it no longer fitted its inhabitant.

Paris sighed sadly as he made his way to the balcony where he could see the figure of Briseis curled up.

"It is a beautiful morning," Paris commented to her, stepping onto the rough stone of the balcony, and looking out across the city. And it was a beautiful morning. The sun struck the stone, leaving the city basking in a gentle glow. The air was cool and clear, and outside the city boundaries a light mist was just rolling over the earth.

"Yes," Briseis agreed quietly. "It is."

"Come, Briseis," Paris said in an overly cheerful voice. "What will you have for breakfast today?" and he handed her some bread and fruit, which she ate dutifully while he watched on.

Briseis sat alone when he had left, curled up in a ball on the floor with her hands firmly clasped around her bent legs, her cheek resting against the railing of the balcony. The days had previously passed so slowly for her: each hour stretching out for an interminable length, the days and nights blurring at the edges and merging into one another until Briseis no longer knew how long it had been since her lover had left her bed. Each day now slipped away with unreasonable haste. Each minute brought her one step closer to the day when they would find out about her pregnancy.