Novel & Cerita Paris In The Iliad

Atlas' POV Paris, the city of love. The night street light glowed on Lilith's face as she stared up at the Effie Towel. "How can it still look so pretty... Even after three months of being here, I still can't believe how beautiful Paris is," She said to me with a soft smile on her face. I love her with everything in me... But this version of her, happy, carefree, and full of life is my favorite part about her. She turned around and looked into my eyes with those gorgeous ones.

(Paul halts the car and Paris gets down from it along with Paul) Paris: Where are you taking me to? Paul: To Woodland Hills, I want us to start afresh, just me and you, and start a family and... Paris: Oh my goodness, Are you cr@zy? Do you have any idea what you're about to do, you'll anger and humiliate your family Paul: It'll be worth it when we start a new life together Paris: (hits her head) What was I thinking? Why did I accompany you in the first place? I'm so stupid!d!!!

What made it hurt the most was that, I knew that Dante would never allow me to be away from him if he knew about the things that were happening. If he had his memory, Dante would never let me out of his sight, which was comfort enough for me. I knew for sure that his mind belonged to me, whenever he remembered me and our memories, he would definitely come looking for me. Paris wasn’t the city of lights and romance I’d read in books and watched in films, it was a city of stone and rain, of hurried footsteps on slick cobblestones and a language that swirled around me like a dense fog, isolating me in my own bubble of grief.

"You've been through hell, and you've survived. Now, you have me, your Venus, I will protect you with everything I have, do you understand me?" Paris closed his eyes, as if he was letting the words sink in and the next moment he opened them, his eyes were clear, with only one emotion remaining. Believe. Paris led them now, though his hand remained with Marcos, and as they got closer, the music grew louder as well. It sounded sad, and yet it wasn't all at once. It was slow, and it wasn't at the same time. Like the sound of someone singing another to sleep, a dreamless one that was peaceful, and serene.

** Love and War** Paris, France – The Final War Begins The sky was still dark when Isabella and her team moved into position. The air smelled of rain, the streets damp from an earlier storm. It was quiet—too quiet—as if the city itself was holding its breath. Across from them, Marcella’s penthouse loomed, its windows glowing like the eyes of a beast waiting to strike. Armed guards patrolled the perimeter, but they had no idea what was coming.

Adrexa inquires. "Helen left her husband King Menelaus of Sparta, whose older brother is King Agamemnon of Mycenae. Both kings will take this as an insult and an excuse to attack Troy for its riches," I inform them. "The Greeks will not attack our city," the older boy Pallus states angrily. "Our walls were built by Poseidon himself and are impenetrable. No army would dare insult the god Poseidon," Pallus says defensively. Not wanting to get into a heated debate with a pre-teen, I simply state, "You're right. I apologize for worrying you all needlessly. I'm going to walk around for a little bit."

Paris explained. "Yeah, look how it turned out." Addie replied. "Because of that, now I am very sorry I interfered. If I had known he would have done you that way, I would never have even suggested it. I never thought in a million years he would do that to you. It doesn't make sense. I saw how in love with you, he is." Paris replied. "Obviously not. Or it was all an act to get in my pants. Or because of who my father is. Maybe he wanted to be able to say he had the club princess first?" Addie retorted.

She snapped her hands, and the man was gone. Guilia forced a smile on her face, welcoming her best friend while trying to forget their last encounter before graduation and how Paris had sex with the guy she had a crush on, just because Guilia was with Mateo and Paris could get anyone. “You look lost, baby girl,” Paris said, snapping a finger in Guilia’s face. “It’s good to see you, Paris.” She said, wrapping her hand around her. The moment she pulled out, Paris grabbed her bag. “So, where is it?” She asked.

Achilles is a menace. A charming, loud, dramatic menace. And somehow, against all logic and reason, I am enjoying myself. I’ve spent nearly three centuries in this world, drifting through time with the same predictable routine. Nothing ever surprises me. But Achilles—Achilles is unpredictable. A whirlwind of sarcasm and chaos wrapped in a too-thin frame, wearing my clothes as if he owns them. And now, I am taking him into the city. Paris at night is a sight to behold—cobblestone streets glistening under the glow of gas lamps, the murmur of voices spilling from cafés and carriages rolling down the avenues.

"Delilah, please be on the lookout for Everlee if she's here before anyone returns home," said Paris grabbing her purse to meet her mom at the clothes store. "Yes, Miss Paris," answered Delilah. Paris coachman was outside waiting on her. He opened the carriage door as he saw Paris leaving her home. The door closed as she entered, and the carriage drove off. Paris took a deep breath in and exhaled heavily, nervous that the time to meet the stranger she was arranged to be married to was drawing near, close for her to being rejected by him because of her unattractive appearance, she thought negatively.