The sun reflected radiance off the golden locks of Helen. She gazed off the balcony wistfully. The once boisterous streets had grown suddenly silent in the last few days, since her arrival. She sighed, and gazed down at the finery which adorned her already perfect form; the necklace from Paris, the gown of the finest silks, which shined as if adorned by one thousand tears.
He wrapped his arms around her, observing the pure white stone stillness of the cityscape beyond the balcony. She noticed the warmth of his body against her bare shoulder, but did not move closer to him.
"What is all of this...?" Helen turned to Paris, looking into his eyes imploringly. He tenderly cupped her cheek, trailing his fingers to her chin.
"Everything, all of it. All of it is for love, my d--"
"What are you saying?" Her eyes widened.
"You understand of course, that you are a remarkably, astoundingly beautiful woman."
"Paris, I..." She drew a breath sharply inward.
"But I want you to know I love you more than I ever thought possible. I love you more than any man has ever loved any woman, and that is why, my beloved Helen, that I know we cannot back away from anything, or anyone, who dares challenge this -- us."
Tears formed in the corners of her blue eyes. Her mellifluous voice began to tremble. The face that once stared pridefully over the leering eyes of the people of Troy was wrought into a frown. She winced slightly away from him, the realization finally piercing into her heart.
"Helen, wait. Please, do not doubt me. Do not doubt our love, for I have never felt anything more certain in the world than this destined entwining of hearts we have found." He stepped towards her, pulling her close and angling her face up to meet his.
"Your beautiful face, Helen, has launched a thousand ships. I do not know what will happen next, but I do know that I will persist for you to the very end. And I will give everything I've ever had for the sake of our love."
She breathed in deeply, as she felt the first tears trickle down her face. He wrapped his arms around her tightly as she fell into sobs.
"But what if we lose? Paris, what if we lose? Is this....how can this be worth such a wager? Paris, I..."
"Do you love me, Helen?" His expression became strong, and solemn.
Her heart sunk, and at last she understood that the world depended on the answer to this question.
"Yes. I do love you, Paris."
"Then never doubt that we will get through this, for if your only weapon were love, you should best hope it strong, to survive, Love." He leaned in, his lips meeting with hers, parting hesitantly to accept his kiss.
Her heart trembled as she looked back at him; he was merely a youth as he walked from her, simply a foolhardy youth.
Such blind faith in love was the rarest treasure in this world. If there was nothing left in the end, then at least she would die knowing that such an ideal thought and feeling could exist in this world, making every ache worthwhile.