Paris sighed. “Thank you for coming,” he said just as Hera stepped forward. “Young shepherd,” Hera said, “I am the fairest,” and she whirled to show him how lovely she was. “Award me the apple, and you will have wealth and power. You will rule over the Earth. This I shall bestow upon you.”
Paris lighted up with pleasure at the thought. As a boy he had been abandoned. Now he could seize the power he once had thought was forever lost to him.
As he dreamed of himself upon a throne, Athena walked forward. Her gray eyes and quiet beauty were gentle and soothing. “Award me the apple,” she said softly. Paris could not take his gaze from hers. “If you do, you will win every battle you fight, whether by strength or cunning. Glory will be yours. Everyone will admire and fear you.”
Paris imagined men standing before him in awe of his knowledge and others quivering at the very sight of a man with such strength as his. And as he dreamed this dream, Aphrodite approached him. Her face was aflame with the blush of her beauty. Her body was as smooth and pure as ivory. Her hair glowed like a halo. Paris gasped at the sight of her, and when she spoke, he thought her voice the sweetest he had ever heard.
“Give me the apple,” Aphrodite said. Paris’ heart leaped. His head swam. “I will give you the gift of love,” she whispered. She stood so close, he could smell her heavenly scent.
Suddenly Paris was deaf and blind to all others. “You will love and possess the most beautiful woman in the world,” Aphrodite promised. “She will be a woman equal to me in perfection.”
“Impossible,” Paris gasped, and intoxicated by the thought, he handed the golden apple to Aphrodite.
Before Paris could stop to think of what he had just done, Hera and Athena flew into a rage. “You will be sorry,” they said, and they departed Mount Ida, swearing to be the shepherd’s enemies forever.