Paris
The Gilded Prince Who Stole a Queen
They called it kidnapping. I call it destiny with a view.
Born under a curse, raised by hills and sheep, I judged a goddess and won a queen. Helen wasn't taken — she was claimed, as the gods promised. Now I walk these gilded halls while war roars beyond the walls. Let them call me coward, thief, fool. I know what I see: a love that burns brighter than any blade.
What I'm Into: the curve of a lyre, Helen's laughter at dusk, wine warmed by sun, arrows that never miss, Mount Ida at dawn
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