Post by 123anon987 on May 27, 2022 18:36:29 GMT -6
Have part at end where nyph and her son
Agamemnon about giving no quarter
Paris was a young simple shepard, bathing in a hot spring upon sunny mount Ida. But this man was of a most grave and immense destiny, to decide the fate of the entire known world by his decisions. For to him unexpectedly came the 3 fairest of the immortal Goddesses—Olympian queen Hera, the warrior maid Athena, and lovely Aphrodite, all nude but for adorning blossoms, and sent hither by Zeus himself. Seeing him as fair among men, they set upon him who of the trio was most beautiful, for amidst a wedding banquet, strife had arisen as to whom was the fairest among the Gods. Unable to decide by beauty(for they were all of unrivalled divine looks), they persuaded him with gifts: Athena would grant warrior skill and wisdom, which don't sway Paris. Hera offers all of Anatolia as his reward for choosing her, but Paris is uncertain. And then, Aphrodite, Goddess of love, promises the hand of the Most Beautiful Woman In The World. And through divine workings was his prize shown, making her as lifelike as if she stood in flesh and blood right before him:
She had deep blue, almost purple eyes, like worlds unto their own. Divine, glowing white skin, veiled in parts by a translucent robe. Her breasts underneath the veil were heavenly white spheres, perky and pointing up and out with the pink tips of maidenhood. Lush gold hair flowed down to her navel. The perfect hips, waist and figure of a fertile young woman. She looked little less then the naked Goddesses before him.
Paris was stunned. Aphrodite had far beyond been the winner of his favour. All thoughts of his current wife, the fair nymph Oenone, and their son together, vanished from his mind. Cold anger was his gift from the other Goddesses, but from Aphrodite, she advised him thus: "Oh Paris, thou hast a great destiny before thee, broader than you could ever know. When you have discovered your lineage, set sail to Sparta across the Aegean, and there shall my promise be upheld."
And thus, she vanished. This young man would soon discover his lineage, that of mighty Priam's race as heir to great Troy; and destiny certainly boded stronger in he than the boy could ever comprehend, for he had been banished from his kingly lineage because his prophesized destiny was to become the downfall of Troy, and ruin of the Trojan race.
Menelaus was quite certain. His wife Helen was DEFINITELY the Most Beautiful Woman In The World. The sculptor Anticles had spent the morning making various statues and casts of Helen's divine form, and he had gazed longingly the entire time. Oh!—Just now, the artisan had finished and was removing the cast form his wife's heavenly bosom! She smiled happily at Menelaus(she knew what pleased him), and just as the cast was being removed from her chest the servants were all crowding around for a peak underneath. They "Ooohh"ed before Helen flapped back her robe over her chest.
"Awwwww"
Helen merely shrugged and smiled seductively at the onlookers, and then joining him left the room. It was full of statues and identical copies of Helen's figure from the best artists in all of Greece, but none could truly capture the unearthly beauty that was the living and breathing Helen of Sparta in the radiant skin of herself.
"Yes, my lord and husband?"
"Oh Helen, you are absolutely gorgeus as always." At 28 seasons, he was continously amazed at her eternal evergreen beauty. Most women around her age, especially after motherhood, had begun to develop fine wrinkles on once pristine skin, or hair which had dulled and started greying at the roots, or skin which was losing its glow, or had gotten loose sagging skin of motherhood upon their bellies. His friends complained to no end of their wives deterioration and new imperfections. According to Agamemnon, in addition to the light wrinkles around the eyes, Helen's twin sister Clytemnestra had also gotten a bit loose and saggy under the robe so-to-speak, since giving birth to their daughter. So sad. But Helen's skin was still as young, tight and radiant as a teenagers, her hair just as bright and golden as Apollo. He was such a fortunate man, to not only have the Most Beautiful Woman In The World as his wife, but also one who never aged. Every other demi-God had always aged as any other mortal, but perhaps the blessings of Zeus himself made age irrelevant.
"Do you think your form has changed at all since Adtineus sculpted you 10 years ago when we married?" He chided teasingly
"Oh Menelaus, you know my beauty hasnt changed. Not. One. Bit."
"Well, I am hoping you can use your charms at this dinner tonight. We will be entertaining diplomats from Troy.
The dinner went smoothly, the only notable feature being that effiminate prince called Paris loading bounteous gifts upon the lady Helen.
Amidst the banquet, the death of Menelaus's father bade him prepare immediately for Crete to see to the funeral.
"Helen, please furnish our guests with all they require till they must depart. I am sorry to leave like this, but my duty compells me to honour my father.".
Helen watched him leave.
Ah Menelaus. He was a bit plain, and . . . old-ish. His body had become soft in middle age, not the strong warrior she had married 10 years ago. She hadn't changed, so why was it fair for him to lose that handsome muscular figure of his youth? But still, she loved him. He was her rightful husband, and was good to her and their daughter. Hermoine just now was in a corner of the party writing a letter to send to her friend in Boeotia. She left this and came to Helen
"Mom, I want to sleep" The little 9 year old girl rubbed her eyes. She was Helen's own offspring, and destined to become a beauty much in the stead of her mother. Never to overtake her though, of course.
Helen ignored her servants and took her daughter to bed personally. When she returned, that young man Paris was staring unashamedly at her. Of course, Helen of Sparta was, to no ones doubt, the Most Beautiful Woman In The World, and she knew it. Courtesy of her father being the God king of all Olympians, Zeus, her looks were super-human, and she had reached the peak age of her womanly beauty at 28 years old. Before she married Menelaus, every king and prince in all of Greece had courted her, and each had promised to use all their means to uphold her rightful husband for as long as they lived, no matter what. The whole world had fought over her, and she was just a tiny bit proud of it.
And, Paris was rather comely himself. He had praised her endlessly all night, and bestowed lavish gifts upon her; bracelets, jewlery boxes, distaffs, all of impacable worksmanship in bronze, silver and gold like done by Hephasteus himself.
And just now, Paris grabbed a spare dish from the table and launched from his seat: He brought the white porcelain dish up all over Helen's fair skin, exclaiming every time:
"Oh Helen, this dish is of finest porcelain, from far off Babylon; and look at how it compares to thine beauteous snowy skin! Your fair flesh is the most pristine I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon!" It glowed radiant, and despite its snow white complexion, it was as clear as milk, with not a single mark from aging or the suns damaging rays.
"Oh stop, you flatter me!" She giggled. " I am blessed for such clear, smooth, pale skin, blessed by my father Zeus almighty". Paris leant in to kiss her soft, sweet hand—
It was at this moment that Cupid, immortal son of Aphrodite, struck beauteous Helen with an arrow of love. She immediately became utterly enamoured eith Paris, Menelaus forgotten. And being in deep infatuation, she did not resist Paris stealing her from her husband and child, loading much of the kingdoms treasure onto a boat with her, and sailing into the night. That night, the Most Beautiful Woman In The World had been stolen from right under the Greek's noses
Helen knew it was wrong to abandon her good, dutiful husband Menelaus, and her young daughter they had together. But Paris was so incredibly handsome, and near her age, unlike her simple middle aged Menelaus. Though she tried to resist and stay faithful to Menelaus, she simply found herself taken over with passion when he played his lyre and sung in his rich honey voice. "This must be what it is like for the men who see me." She thought.
The lovers stopped on the isle of Kranai for the evening, ready to sail to Troy tomorrow. Handsome young Paris wooed Helen with his lyre, and, despite knowing what she did was wrong, she dropped her robe and stood naked but for a girdle in front of him. Her illustrious golden mane whipped by the wind, her exquisite nose and chin without flaw cut against the gusting moonlight sea. Her pale heavenly skin shone, and her eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean, beckoned him. He squeezed the firm porcelain orbs on her chest, each with so ever a delicate pink tip. From those, Paris traced his fingers down her smooth tight stomach, sending tingles lower and lower. He grabbed her strong young buttocks, so large and protruding, pulled her in, and she let the girdle fall
It was morning, and he played with Helen's shining golden hair in the sunlit fingers of dawn. Paris knew that, without a doubt, that had been the best love-making ever. No man except Menelaus had had such an amazing experience or bedded such a spectacular woman in human history.
Where had she gone?
Menelaus was standing amidst the main hall of his palace, and no servant could find his wife anywhere.
"Father, where did mom go?"
How was he supposed to answer that?
Had she abandoned him, and their child. Or had she been stolen from their matrimony by the foreigner? The servant Siclyochus claimed he had seen Helen leave or taken by the prince Paris, along with his guards amd retinue. And, most of Sparta's gold for good measure. Regardless, this could not stand.
Menelaus sent envoys to every king of Greece. All of Greece had been insulted, and if Helen could be stolen, whose wife was safe? And most of all, every king and prince in Greece had courted Helen. And every one had sworn an oath to uphold her marriage to king Menelaus, no matter what. They could not deny their oath, and they could not allow Greece to be insulted. And so, for the beautiful Helen, Menelaus called all Greece to war.
The new couple made their way to Troy, to be made husband and wife. But, by Hera's hate against Paris, she stirs a storm which blows them away to egypt. There, she conjures an Eidolon, an exact likeness of Helen, to trick Paris. But, though identical in semi-divine beauty, Paris sees it for the empty soulless shell it is, and clings firm to the real Helen as they sail to Troy.
Paris's arrival in Troy came with a great celebration, for the couples marriage, and simply for the glory of having stolen the most beautiful woman in the world from those Greeks. "Wow! She really is the most beautiful woman in the world!"
"Beauty, terrible beauty"
"Can I look?"
The Trojan prince Hector however, was less impressed; "I don't see why we're making up such a fuss over this woman. Sure, she's the most beautiful of all no doubt, but she's already 28 years old, and in some years time she'll go past her prime like all women do, even those of partial divine heritage like herself. All except the Godesses who dwell atop mount Olympus fade in beauty. It would be wiser just to take a fairly beautiful one of 16 years. She would last longer, and we wouldn't start a war over it."
Wise Trojan councilman Antenor nodded and added "Young men seem to think the whole world is forever and permanent. But time changes all things but the Gods upon Olympus. What we must hope does not fade or fail is the glory of Troy, mother to us all."
Ignoring the elder Antenor's more ominous tone, they chided "Oh stop it Hector, she is THE most beautiful woman in the world. Even the Gods call her so."
"Now all Trojans can say we have the most beautiful woman in the world, and even better, stole it from the arms of those dirty Greeks."
"Yeah, you're just jealous she's not in your bed!"
"Suit yourselves, but mark my words. Her beauty will fade just like any mortal, and 10 to 20 years from now she won't be launching as many ships."
28 was quite old to be getting married, thought Helen. She had been 17 when she first got married, and many Greek girls married even younger than that. There definitely would'nt be another chance after this, for any normal woman anyways. But, today was a day of joy and a new beginning. She was atop the citadel of Troy, before the entire populace. Paris, old king Priam and queen Hecuba where on the other side, and Hector and the councilors were present, though with looks of disapproval.
And following the Trojan tradition for queens to give speeches of high importance with breas bared, she had agreed to orate her speech shirtless. And so, first she removed her head veil and formed her young, pale face and rouge cheeks and bright eyes into a cheery smile. The crowd stared at her mortal perfection enraptured. They had never beheld any beauty like it. She could probably have convinced them she was a Goddess come down to earth if she wanted to, she thought.
Then, she dropped her robe, and every eye in Troy was upon what would henceforth be the glory of Troy, the glory of them and their people. Helen looked down to admire what they did. Snow-white and rounded, despite their immense size, they actually curved upwards somehow, to the origin of her heaven-sent beauty.
Atop the palace, glowing radiant and divine in the noontime sun, Helen exclaimed to her new subjects
"Trojans! Today I am here to join you as a sister and daughter of Troy! I have found true love" she nodded to Paris. Her bare bust jiggled just slightly, and thousands followed its movement. "and as a new princess of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world together with the mightiest city in the world shall lead Troy to greatness!"
The crowd cheered wildly.
Agamemnon about giving no quarter
Paris was a young simple shepard, bathing in a hot spring upon sunny mount Ida. But this man was of a most grave and immense destiny, to decide the fate of the entire known world by his decisions. For to him unexpectedly came the 3 fairest of the immortal Goddesses—Olympian queen Hera, the warrior maid Athena, and lovely Aphrodite, all nude but for adorning blossoms, and sent hither by Zeus himself. Seeing him as fair among men, they set upon him who of the trio was most beautiful, for amidst a wedding banquet, strife had arisen as to whom was the fairest among the Gods. Unable to decide by beauty(for they were all of unrivalled divine looks), they persuaded him with gifts: Athena would grant warrior skill and wisdom, which don't sway Paris. Hera offers all of Anatolia as his reward for choosing her, but Paris is uncertain. And then, Aphrodite, Goddess of love, promises the hand of the Most Beautiful Woman In The World. And through divine workings was his prize shown, making her as lifelike as if she stood in flesh and blood right before him:
She had deep blue, almost purple eyes, like worlds unto their own. Divine, glowing white skin, veiled in parts by a translucent robe. Her breasts underneath the veil were heavenly white spheres, perky and pointing up and out with the pink tips of maidenhood. Lush gold hair flowed down to her navel. The perfect hips, waist and figure of a fertile young woman. She looked little less then the naked Goddesses before him.
Paris was stunned. Aphrodite had far beyond been the winner of his favour. All thoughts of his current wife, the fair nymph Oenone, and their son together, vanished from his mind. Cold anger was his gift from the other Goddesses, but from Aphrodite, she advised him thus: "Oh Paris, thou hast a great destiny before thee, broader than you could ever know. When you have discovered your lineage, set sail to Sparta across the Aegean, and there shall my promise be upheld."
And thus, she vanished. This young man would soon discover his lineage, that of mighty Priam's race as heir to great Troy; and destiny certainly boded stronger in he than the boy could ever comprehend, for he had been banished from his kingly lineage because his prophesized destiny was to become the downfall of Troy, and ruin of the Trojan race.
Menelaus was quite certain. His wife Helen was DEFINITELY the Most Beautiful Woman In The World. The sculptor Anticles had spent the morning making various statues and casts of Helen's divine form, and he had gazed longingly the entire time. Oh!—Just now, the artisan had finished and was removing the cast form his wife's heavenly bosom! She smiled happily at Menelaus(she knew what pleased him), and just as the cast was being removed from her chest the servants were all crowding around for a peak underneath. They "Ooohh"ed before Helen flapped back her robe over her chest.
"Awwwww"
Helen merely shrugged and smiled seductively at the onlookers, and then joining him left the room. It was full of statues and identical copies of Helen's figure from the best artists in all of Greece, but none could truly capture the unearthly beauty that was the living and breathing Helen of Sparta in the radiant skin of herself.
"Yes, my lord and husband?"
"Oh Helen, you are absolutely gorgeus as always." At 28 seasons, he was continously amazed at her eternal evergreen beauty. Most women around her age, especially after motherhood, had begun to develop fine wrinkles on once pristine skin, or hair which had dulled and started greying at the roots, or skin which was losing its glow, or had gotten loose sagging skin of motherhood upon their bellies. His friends complained to no end of their wives deterioration and new imperfections. According to Agamemnon, in addition to the light wrinkles around the eyes, Helen's twin sister Clytemnestra had also gotten a bit loose and saggy under the robe so-to-speak, since giving birth to their daughter. So sad. But Helen's skin was still as young, tight and radiant as a teenagers, her hair just as bright and golden as Apollo. He was such a fortunate man, to not only have the Most Beautiful Woman In The World as his wife, but also one who never aged. Every other demi-God had always aged as any other mortal, but perhaps the blessings of Zeus himself made age irrelevant.
"Do you think your form has changed at all since Adtineus sculpted you 10 years ago when we married?" He chided teasingly
"Oh Menelaus, you know my beauty hasnt changed. Not. One. Bit."
"Well, I am hoping you can use your charms at this dinner tonight. We will be entertaining diplomats from Troy.
The dinner went smoothly, the only notable feature being that effiminate prince called Paris loading bounteous gifts upon the lady Helen.
Amidst the banquet, the death of Menelaus's father bade him prepare immediately for Crete to see to the funeral.
"Helen, please furnish our guests with all they require till they must depart. I am sorry to leave like this, but my duty compells me to honour my father.".
Helen watched him leave.
Ah Menelaus. He was a bit plain, and . . . old-ish. His body had become soft in middle age, not the strong warrior she had married 10 years ago. She hadn't changed, so why was it fair for him to lose that handsome muscular figure of his youth? But still, she loved him. He was her rightful husband, and was good to her and their daughter. Hermoine just now was in a corner of the party writing a letter to send to her friend in Boeotia. She left this and came to Helen
"Mom, I want to sleep" The little 9 year old girl rubbed her eyes. She was Helen's own offspring, and destined to become a beauty much in the stead of her mother. Never to overtake her though, of course.
Helen ignored her servants and took her daughter to bed personally. When she returned, that young man Paris was staring unashamedly at her. Of course, Helen of Sparta was, to no ones doubt, the Most Beautiful Woman In The World, and she knew it. Courtesy of her father being the God king of all Olympians, Zeus, her looks were super-human, and she had reached the peak age of her womanly beauty at 28 years old. Before she married Menelaus, every king and prince in all of Greece had courted her, and each had promised to use all their means to uphold her rightful husband for as long as they lived, no matter what. The whole world had fought over her, and she was just a tiny bit proud of it.
And, Paris was rather comely himself. He had praised her endlessly all night, and bestowed lavish gifts upon her; bracelets, jewlery boxes, distaffs, all of impacable worksmanship in bronze, silver and gold like done by Hephasteus himself.
And just now, Paris grabbed a spare dish from the table and launched from his seat: He brought the white porcelain dish up all over Helen's fair skin, exclaiming every time:
"Oh Helen, this dish is of finest porcelain, from far off Babylon; and look at how it compares to thine beauteous snowy skin! Your fair flesh is the most pristine I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes upon!" It glowed radiant, and despite its snow white complexion, it was as clear as milk, with not a single mark from aging or the suns damaging rays.
"Oh stop, you flatter me!" She giggled. " I am blessed for such clear, smooth, pale skin, blessed by my father Zeus almighty". Paris leant in to kiss her soft, sweet hand—
It was at this moment that Cupid, immortal son of Aphrodite, struck beauteous Helen with an arrow of love. She immediately became utterly enamoured eith Paris, Menelaus forgotten. And being in deep infatuation, she did not resist Paris stealing her from her husband and child, loading much of the kingdoms treasure onto a boat with her, and sailing into the night. That night, the Most Beautiful Woman In The World had been stolen from right under the Greek's noses
Helen knew it was wrong to abandon her good, dutiful husband Menelaus, and her young daughter they had together. But Paris was so incredibly handsome, and near her age, unlike her simple middle aged Menelaus. Though she tried to resist and stay faithful to Menelaus, she simply found herself taken over with passion when he played his lyre and sung in his rich honey voice. "This must be what it is like for the men who see me." She thought.
The lovers stopped on the isle of Kranai for the evening, ready to sail to Troy tomorrow. Handsome young Paris wooed Helen with his lyre, and, despite knowing what she did was wrong, she dropped her robe and stood naked but for a girdle in front of him. Her illustrious golden mane whipped by the wind, her exquisite nose and chin without flaw cut against the gusting moonlight sea. Her pale heavenly skin shone, and her eyes, as deep and blue as the ocean, beckoned him. He squeezed the firm porcelain orbs on her chest, each with so ever a delicate pink tip. From those, Paris traced his fingers down her smooth tight stomach, sending tingles lower and lower. He grabbed her strong young buttocks, so large and protruding, pulled her in, and she let the girdle fall
It was morning, and he played with Helen's shining golden hair in the sunlit fingers of dawn. Paris knew that, without a doubt, that had been the best love-making ever. No man except Menelaus had had such an amazing experience or bedded such a spectacular woman in human history.
Where had she gone?
Menelaus was standing amidst the main hall of his palace, and no servant could find his wife anywhere.
"Father, where did mom go?"
How was he supposed to answer that?
Had she abandoned him, and their child. Or had she been stolen from their matrimony by the foreigner? The servant Siclyochus claimed he had seen Helen leave or taken by the prince Paris, along with his guards amd retinue. And, most of Sparta's gold for good measure. Regardless, this could not stand.
Menelaus sent envoys to every king of Greece. All of Greece had been insulted, and if Helen could be stolen, whose wife was safe? And most of all, every king and prince in Greece had courted Helen. And every one had sworn an oath to uphold her marriage to king Menelaus, no matter what. They could not deny their oath, and they could not allow Greece to be insulted. And so, for the beautiful Helen, Menelaus called all Greece to war.
The new couple made their way to Troy, to be made husband and wife. But, by Hera's hate against Paris, she stirs a storm which blows them away to egypt. There, she conjures an Eidolon, an exact likeness of Helen, to trick Paris. But, though identical in semi-divine beauty, Paris sees it for the empty soulless shell it is, and clings firm to the real Helen as they sail to Troy.
Paris's arrival in Troy came with a great celebration, for the couples marriage, and simply for the glory of having stolen the most beautiful woman in the world from those Greeks. "Wow! She really is the most beautiful woman in the world!"
"Beauty, terrible beauty"
"Can I look?"
The Trojan prince Hector however, was less impressed; "I don't see why we're making up such a fuss over this woman. Sure, she's the most beautiful of all no doubt, but she's already 28 years old, and in some years time she'll go past her prime like all women do, even those of partial divine heritage like herself. All except the Godesses who dwell atop mount Olympus fade in beauty. It would be wiser just to take a fairly beautiful one of 16 years. She would last longer, and we wouldn't start a war over it."
Wise Trojan councilman Antenor nodded and added "Young men seem to think the whole world is forever and permanent. But time changes all things but the Gods upon Olympus. What we must hope does not fade or fail is the glory of Troy, mother to us all."
Ignoring the elder Antenor's more ominous tone, they chided "Oh stop it Hector, she is THE most beautiful woman in the world. Even the Gods call her so."
"Now all Trojans can say we have the most beautiful woman in the world, and even better, stole it from the arms of those dirty Greeks."
"Yeah, you're just jealous she's not in your bed!"
"Suit yourselves, but mark my words. Her beauty will fade just like any mortal, and 10 to 20 years from now she won't be launching as many ships."
28 was quite old to be getting married, thought Helen. She had been 17 when she first got married, and many Greek girls married even younger than that. There definitely would'nt be another chance after this, for any normal woman anyways. But, today was a day of joy and a new beginning. She was atop the citadel of Troy, before the entire populace. Paris, old king Priam and queen Hecuba where on the other side, and Hector and the councilors were present, though with looks of disapproval.
And following the Trojan tradition for queens to give speeches of high importance with breas bared, she had agreed to orate her speech shirtless. And so, first she removed her head veil and formed her young, pale face and rouge cheeks and bright eyes into a cheery smile. The crowd stared at her mortal perfection enraptured. They had never beheld any beauty like it. She could probably have convinced them she was a Goddess come down to earth if she wanted to, she thought.
Then, she dropped her robe, and every eye in Troy was upon what would henceforth be the glory of Troy, the glory of them and their people. Helen looked down to admire what they did. Snow-white and rounded, despite their immense size, they actually curved upwards somehow, to the origin of her heaven-sent beauty.
Atop the palace, glowing radiant and divine in the noontime sun, Helen exclaimed to her new subjects
"Trojans! Today I am here to join you as a sister and daughter of Troy! I have found true love" she nodded to Paris. Her bare bust jiggled just slightly, and thousands followed its movement. "and as a new princess of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world together with the mightiest city in the world shall lead Troy to greatness!"
The crowd cheered wildly.