Queen of Sparta, Helen of Troy (An Erotic Retelling) by Thalia Singer

Author:Thalia Singer [Singer, Thalia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-24T22:00:00+00:00

***

We could hear the activity in the banquet hall well before we rounded the last corner. It reverberated off the marble. Two servants opened the heavy doors.

The loud groan of the great oak doors announced our entrance over the boisterous conversations of drunk soldiers and advisors alike.

“Helen!” Menelaus called over those left speaking. He stood and a hush fell over the men and dancers in various states of undress, still lingering from their entrance in the throne room. Every man in the room stood out of respect for my husband and in reverence of his queen. “My beautiful wife.”

I smiled meekly as I walked toward his elevated table, feeling everyone’s eyes on me as I approached. Hector sat to my husband’s left and Paris to my right.

Menelaus kissed me surprisingly chastely on the cheek before I sat. Everyone in the room settled back into their seats.

I did everything I could not to look at Paris. The tension between us felt incriminatingly tangible. Luckily, other than blatant jealousy toward inferior men, my husband paid little attention to me.

“Greeks and Trojans,” he said, launching into his lengthy monologue on the power and strength of a union between the Greeks and the Trojans.

As he concluded with a lofty thanks to the Gods, servants and slaves alike brought out platters and platters of meats, cheese, and fruits, while more women brought out carafes of wine to fill the empty goblets at each man’s place.

I picked a grape off the platter in front of us and watched a servant carefully fill my goblet with wine. I smiled at the young, pretty woman and nodded in thanks, she bowed and moved toward Paris.

“Thank you,” he said to her as she filled his. She blushed and smiled, bowing as she had to me.

As he turned to watch her, I felt his hand brush my thigh.

My eyes widened briefly before I realized how on display we were. The cloth over the table hid his hand as he touched me, moving his hand further up my leg. I felt as rush of warmth in my belly as he worked my skirts up.

“King Menelaus,” he said, shockingly unfazed. I turned toward him as naturally as I could, pretending the only reason I looked his way was because he addressed my husband rather than hiding him massaging the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh.

“Young Paris,” Menelaus said. He slurred slightly, having already consumed enough wine to lay out a lesser man.

“I want to commend you on the reach of your reign. Between you and your brother, there may be one day where our alliance unites the Aegean. I thank you for your generosity and thank Athena for your wisdom and strength.”

Menelaus let out a drunken laugh. “You have much to learn, Prince of Troy. Maybe one day, the Gods will bless you with a woman as charming and fine as my wife.”

I was startled out of the reverie brought on by his intimate caress in time to look at my husband as he spoke.

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