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when he died, my love, a part of you died too.
you mourned so brokenly, i forgot you were a hero.
what did the gods create
when they kissed paris with helen's name?
breaking the traditions
all for their selfish games.
you fought their wars,
so valiantly,
and i fear we've met the limits of what we'll be.
when he died, my love, i knew you would die too.
for wherever he goes, you always followed.
- briseis (to achilles, patroclus' lover)
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And when they speak of Troy, they speak of Helen who fled with Paris for love, and this inspires verse.
Not Briseis, who lost all, all she ever loved and was used as barter in a war that wasn't hers.
Not Cassandra, who tried to warn them but was called liar because of a Gods curse.
Not Hecuba, who was forced to give all her children to this cruel beast she knew would never be satisfied.
Not Andromache, who lost her beloved husband Hector to a battle he should not have had to fight, and her baby to the ruthlessness of the victors and their spite.
I suppose as a woman your value in war is simply casualty if your face isn't synonymous with devastating beauty, that powerful men wish to possess and claim so much, that they will launch a thousand ships in their own misplaced honour,
