Thread: The Handmaiden's Tale (Wander and Chanti)

Once again Sophie woke to the sounds of screams and cries in the street. She sat up against the door, blinking blearily into the moonlight streaming through the window. A faint rustling sound indicated she was not the only one awake, and then she saw the naked male form of Paris moving to the window. This time there were no strains of joy in the sound, and the screams were accompanied by the sounds of the clash of steel. Pariss bitterly sworn oath confirmed what Sophie suspected. The enemy attacked. Paris? Helens voice shook with fear, and Sophie knew why. Helens husband would kill her. Everyone knew Helen had gone with Paris willingly, forsaking her husband, her father, and her other former suitors in her lust for the young prince. We must flee, my love. The enemy has breached the gates. Paris hurriedly dressed, flinging a robe at his lover. Get up, girl. Paris aimed a kick at Sophie that she swiftly dodged. Help your mistress ready herself. We must be gone within minutes before they breach the palace. Flee? Contempt curdled Helens normally sweet voice. My husband comes to steal me away, and you wish only to flee? You will not fight for me? Paris barked a short, snarling laugh. I am no fighter, Helen. You know this. I am a lover. I cannot love you if I am dead, and I cannot fight off the armies of Greek by myself. Dress. As Helen and Paris argued, Sophie ran to the window. She stared out into the horror of the streets, uttering a soft cry and clutching at her breast. The vengeance of the long held off Greeks had no bounds. Sophie saw innocent women being dragged from their homes and raped and murdered in the streets. Pools of blood stained the streets of the city she had only recently begun to consider her new home. Trojan husbands fought valiantly, and were butchered in their nightrobes. Flames flickered from many houses, and in the dry air Sophie knew those small house fires would do nothing but grow. Sophie! Helens biting voice drew Sophie from the window. She wondered where the other handmaidens were only a brief second before she realized they were already fleeing or hiding. No others would come to attend Helen. Sophie, hurry, dress. Helen's voice was frantic. Sophie stumbled into the gown she had worn earlier, still smelling of wine and sunshine and joy and freedom. Here, hold still. Helen pressed something on her head, and Sophie reached up dumbly, feeling the slender gold circlet that Helen wore now resting on her own long golden hair. Tell them you are me. They will take you to Menelause and it will give me time to escape with Paris. Sophie felt a cold peck on her cheek a kiss of utter betrayal. Helen was handing her over to her death. There was no way the Greeks would allow her to live wearing Helens circlet, whether she was Helen or not. Cold steel at her throat replaced the kiss on her throat. Obey your mistress, Sophie. Or I will come back and take you apart piece by piece. You understand? Pariss normal laughing, friendly tone was replaced with a cold hardness that left Sophie trembling in her bare feet. She nodded mutely in the darkness even as a thud from below indicated the palace doors were now breached. Give me the dagger. Helens whisper was loud in the silent darkness of the room, and Sophie felt Paris hesitate. Give it! I am an unarmed, helpless woman! You would leave me that way even as my husband comes to seek my death? Helens voice was shrill with anger and fear, and Paris sighed and handed over the dagger. They were gone into the hallway before Sophie could even draw a ragged breath. She stood in the still darkness of the bedroom, despair clutching at her heart. She was going to die tonight. Whether here in this room when they found her wearing her mistresss circlet, or later when they dragged her before Helens husband and he denounced her. But she was a Greek noblewoman. She would not die cowering in fear and shame. When her door burst open, the incoming men were met with the sight of Sophie standing firm in front of the window, enveloped in moonlight that gleamed on her hair that draped over her shoulders and glittered on the circlet she wore. Her face was hidden in shadows, but the moonlight and flickering of the fires outside illuminated the gentle feminine curves of her body underneath the thin linen gown she wore. The elegant pride in which she stood, with slender shoulders thrown back and her chin lifted in silent defiance, was breath-taking. She shifted, and they all saw the steel dagger in her small hands, the sharp end pressed against her firm breast. I am a Grecian noble woman, and I will die before I am taken like an animal by a common soldier. The calm fury in her voice gave no doubt she meant every word.