Cry of Cassandra

11 | Cassandra

EDITED

"Well then," my father, King Priam, called from next to Hector.  "Speak up, will you?  I don't know about everyone else, but I'm certainly not getting any younger."  There was weak laughter at his attempt at a joke by the courtiers.

I let out a quiet sigh.  He and my mother had been enthralled with Paris ever since his reappearance.  They were practically wrapped around his pinky finger.  I wasn't sure if it was due to guilt, relief, or something else.  I didn't care to be honest.

I couldn't stand him though.  There was just something about him that I didn't trust, something not tangible, something one felt.  He gave off a dark aura.

Everyone else might be under his spell but I didn't trust him.  My family had embraced him with open arms even as I became shunned more and more by the same people, the same family.

I had had a vision of him bringing ruin to Troy when I first saw him after winning against my brothers at the games. It was clearer than any vision I had before.  Yet when I tried to remember any details, they stayed just out of reach, fading away and leaving me blinded from a debilitating migraine.

"Well...she wouldn't have to be the prettiest to have suitors."  Someone snorted from down to my left as I heard muffled giggles from my sisters.  Ignoring them, I continued, only to be interrupted.

"You almost sound jealous sister," Paris sneered.

I clenched my hand around my silver spoon as I  carefully keep my expression blank.  I take a deep breath, eyes closed.

"How could I be jealous of someone I have never met," I  say slowly, brows raised.

His eyes glint as he answers.  "I wouldn't know, would I?  That seems like something you'd be able to answer, not me," he finishes smugly.  The couriers muffle their laughter behind wine goblets and hands, if poorly.

I scoff at that.  "I've no reason to like or dislike her.  I like to base my feelings off of facts and---"

"Of course you would...ice princess."  He smirks at me as he eyes me speculatively.  "Only you would think the heart and brain are one organ."

The laughter and talk quieted at that.  "Brother," Hector warned.  "Don't."

"Don't tell her the truth?  Don't tell her what people think of her?"  He had kept his eyes on me even as he replied.

"Son, stop it," Priam said quietly.  My eyes widened at that.  People rarely stood up for me, never mind my parents.  Especially not against Paris.  Perhaps Hektor had influenced him, causing him to intervene.  I smiled warmly in my father's direction.

"Yes Paris, do stop teasing your sister," Hecuba added.  Teasing?  I suppose I should be grateful so many were standing up for me at once.

"You're taking her side after what I've been through," he cried.  His arms were folded, his lips in a pout.

My parents faces clouded with pain at his words.  Either he didn't notice or he chose to ignore it ad he continued.

"You said I was your son!  That I was welcome back, it was a sign from the Gods," he continued petulantly.

"We meant it!  We do," my mother said tearfully.  She pulled a handkerchief out from her sleeve and carefully dabbed under her eyes with one hand while she reached out towards him with the other.

His eyes glinted at that.  I gulped at his vicious look quickly sent my way.  Did he have a personal vendetta against me?  If so, why?

"I wasn't raised in the palace like her.  I was abandoned, left for dead.  If a shepherd hadn't taken pity on me, I would be dead.  Your own son, a helpless baby!  You wanted me left on a hill in winter.  Was I sickly," he finished sadly.

Hector eyed him with open distrust mixed with disgust.  Some of my siblings murmured to one another, eyes glued to his face.

"No, of course not!  You know of the prophesy though, we had no choice..."

"Prophesy," he scoffed.  "Those hags have nothing better to do than fill rich people's heads with lies for money.  We all have choices."

My father had tears in his eyes, my mother sobbed.  I sighed to myself.  Here we go again.  The one time they stood up for me and they were going to cave.  They had the look.

"I just wanted to have my family back" he said quietly.  "All I had was my sweet Oenone and little Corythus," he whispered as he vaguely gestured to a beautiful nymph with a cherubic baby on her lap.

She stayed silent, simply bowing her head towards Paris before continuing to feed their child.  As soon as he had moved back, he had brought his wife and their son with him, saying that if they weren't allowed to stay, neither was he.

My parents immediately welcomed them with open arms.

"You do!  Doesn't he Priam," my mother looked to Priam for confirmation, hand on his arm.

"Of course you do."  He gently patted her arm.  "You do.  What can we do to make it up to you?  We'll do anything."

My mother nodded rapidly at that as she wiped away her tears.

He hid a smirk at his words.  "Anything," he asked, lower lip trembling.

Had he been taken in by a shepherd or actor?  He was playing them like a fiddle.

"Anything."

He perked up at that.  "Well, there is one thing..."

I couldn't listen to this anymore.  I got up, the chair screeching loudly as it scraped against the stone floor.  "I think I shall take my leave now," I murmured.  "mother,"  I curtsied.  "Father," a slightly deeper curtsey.

Not waiting another moment, I took my leave.

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