Deary Diary,

These past days have been like a giant nightmare. Everything has happened so fast I am in disbelief. I have lost everything! I no longer am a wife, nor a Queen! I have never felt such pain, horror, nor fear. I have been ripped apart from my children, my husband, and my city! I am writing to you aboard a Greek shi.  The horrible Odysseus' ship, to be exact. The filthy Greeks caught me..

When Priam was killed I knew my daughters and I were in trouble. I told them to run and hide and that if the fates allowed it, that we would reunite once again. And I ran. I ran past the gruesome fighting. I ran past the flowing blood. I ran past the screams full of pain and hatred. And I ran past the lifeless Trojans scattered everywhere I looked. I ran to the walls of Troy when suddenly I was grabbed and my mouth was covered. I tried with all of my might to scream, but the dirty, foreign hand muffled my call for help. I was dragged to this ship and shut away by myself under the deck.

    I haven't the slightest idea as to what they will do to me. Will they kill me, or keep me alive as their slave?  They sure are treating my like a slave, that's for sure. Have they no repect for a Queen? I am beginning to get very seasick and I don't know how much longer I will last down here. It smells terrible and I have barely eaten a morsel. Perhaps I will let myself waste away and die here, for I cannot bear to live as captive to the Greeks! 

Wait…What was that?! I thought I overheard a crewmen mentioning Thrace. Polymnestor's Thrace? Oh do I hope with all of my heart. King Polymnestor of Thrace and I have some business to attend to. Yes, business. Boy, he does not know what he is for! Now, not only am I overflowing with rage from Polydorus'n death, but also the new anger from the fresh murders of Polites and my dear, dear Priam! Revenge desperately hangs off of my fingertips and I cannot control my fury! Oh, King Polymnestor, here I come! 

Dear Diary,

There is no hope left! The oracle warned us of this, he must not die for the sake of my people! My city's fate rested upon my very own son's life, and he is dead. I remember the day the prophecy was revealed… 

Priam brought me, pregnant with yet another child, to the oracle. As is custom, we sought the oracle to find out what lay in store for our upcoming newborn. We entered her mystifying lair and I felt it. I knew that I was to bear another child of great significance. The oracle prophesized the destiny of our son to determine the fate of Troy. I shivered as the oracle's words, "Troy will not be defeated as long as this boy reaches the age of twenty alive" rushed through my whole body. I  left feeling the weight of importance and swollen with honor.

 Now I feel the weight of fear and I couldn't hate this wretched war more. Oh Achilles! My young Troilus is dead, and Troy is dying. My Trojans are doomed, and what will become of my city? What will become of me?! 

I saw Priam feebly gathering his cobwebbed armour and I told him not to go. I begged him not to go. My daughters and I huddled around the altar as we pleaded for sanity to return to his mind. I told him that even if Hector was here, it would be useless. I persuaded him to stop and I sat him down. But little did I know, he was hardly safe.

Suddenly young Polites appeared, with the furied Pyhrrus close behind. I saw the malice in Pyhrrus' eyes and shook with fright as I prayed Pyhrrus would let him go. I couldn't bear to watch the merciless Pyhrrus kill poor Polites, but the worst was yet to come. My Priam, my poor Priam. I screamed with horror as Pyhrrus dragged him by his hand through our son's blood and savagely killed my husband. My poor, poor husband… 

My heart feels as though it has been ripped out from inside of my chest and I convulse with dread. I have lost everything: several of my children, my beloved husband, and my city. Lost.

Dear Diary,   

    I knew it all along. I never trusted that backstabbing Polymestor from the beginning, even before Priam grew suspicious. We should never have sent my baby to that bastard's court. Safety? SAFETY?! We sent him with jewelry and gold in hopes that he would be in good care during this horrible war, and what did he do? That greedy, backstabbing, son-of-*itch took the gifts for himself and killed my poor baby.

    Oh, Polydorus, my dear son, how I regret my horrible mistake of allowing you to be sent into a deceitful trap! I cannot tell you how greatly I suffer every day for the worst mistake a mother could make. A mortal mother is not supposed to live to see her own child die; it is against the forces of nature. The death of a goddess’ child is painful just the same. It is not natural for a mother, mortal of divine, to live with such deep regret and horrible sufferings.

     I will forever mourn for the loss of my youngest, poor Polydorus. And Polyxena! Oh, my sweet Polyxena! The mere sight of Polydorus’s lifeless body on the beach and the unmoving Polyxena was too much to bear. Oh, Polyxena, you too? How awful to think that my young girl experienced the wretched blood bath between the Greeks and the Trojans, who risked everything to protect their city. I cannot even imagine the look of horror on her sweet face when he innocent eyes were corrupted with the evils of this war! It pains me to even think of her fear. Why, oh why!

     Oh, the pain of my two beloved children. But I will not merely accept my pain. I will not let Polydorus get away with this! If it is the last thing I do, I will avenge my youngest, dear Polydorus, and my beautiful Polyxena, in whatever way it takes. Whatever way it takes…