Three more drabbles today, and the conclusion of last week’s storyline.
She watched the magic-conjured storms rage against the sea from the safety of her tower. Whisked away by loyal palace guards, she fled in the early hours of the invasion and now wondered about the city’s refugees; had they found a haven or were they lost?
She turned from the window. “He won’t stop sending his men to look for me. Not until he drags me back.”
Her bodyguard bowed his head. “We will not let that happen. We will protect you.”
“At what cost? And does it matter anymore? My love is gone. My reason for leaving is gone.”
The interrogator wiped the blood from his hands as his king approached, bowing to his liege. “He finally broke. She is alive, but gone from the city. Guards took her in the morning hours before we smashed the gates.”
The king snarled, “Where is she? Did he say?”
“Yes, sire. The remnants of the prince’s men retreated to a fortress in the mountains. Strong but not impenetrable, a few days’ ride north.”
“Excellent. The army rides north. Soon she will be mine again.” The king paused, and then added, “Torch this city as we leave. Burn it to the ground.”
Never Far Enough
She heard screams and knew more men died because of her. At the sound of footsteps, she faced him.
“You can’t run anymore, Helen. I’ve come to take back what is mine.”
“I was never yours, Menelaus. I never loved you, only Paris. I will never give you what you truly desire. Possess me if you must, but you will never have my heart.”
Helen strode past her erstwhile, furious husband, back into captivity with a sliver of satisfaction in her soul. She lost her bid for love, but she would drag Menelaus into her hell to suffer alongside her.