Hesione Speaks: A Trojan Princess on Survival, Betrayal, and the Price of Endurance

The Sherpa: Welcome, Hesione, daughter of Laomedon, princess of Troy, and a name that often gets lost in the great myths of old. I’m honored to have you here today.

Hesione: Thank you. It’s not often I get to speak for myself—most people only know the fragments of my story, the parts where I am, perhaps, more object than person.

The Sherpa: That’s something I’d love to explore. You are remembered primarily for being a “pawn”—a princess bound to the rocks, waiting for a monster to devour you, only to be saved by Heracles. But before we dive into those details, I’d like to know how you define yourself. Who is Hesione, in her own words?

Hesione: That’s a powerful question. Who am I? I have been called a princess, a sacrifice, a prize for a hero, and a woman given away in marriage without a choice. But I suppose who I truly am is… someone who has lived in the shadow of men—of my father, my brother, and Heracles. I’ve been used, perhaps, more than I have been understood. If I had the power to define myself, I would say I am a survivor. A witness to the whims of both mortals and gods, a woman who endures.

The Sherpa: There’s a deep sense of endurance in your words. It feels as though you’ve lived through the consequences of choices that were never yours to make. Your father, King Laomedon, made many decisions that shaped your life—chiefly, his refusal to honor his debt to the gods, Apollo and Poseidon. How did you feel about the way your father handled his affairs? Do you think he valued you, or were you merely a piece in his game?

Hesione: Laomedon was proud—too proud for his own good. He was a king who believed his power was supreme, who thought he could deceive gods and heroes alike. Did he value me? I think he valued his kingdom more than anything else. My life, my body, was just another asset he could use to bargain with the gods. When he chose to expose me to that monster, he wasn’t thinking of my suffering; he was thinking of Troy’s survival. In his mind, I was a necessary sacrifice, a cost he could afford.

The Sherpa: I imagine that must have left scars. To know that your own father, in a sense, traded you for the survival of his city. Did you ever question why you, Hesione, were chosen for the sacrifice? Or did you feel that it was inevitable because of your position as a royal daughter?

Hesione: It wasn’t until much later that I began to ask those questions. At the time, I was filled with fear and resignation. As a royal daughter, I was always aware that my life wasn’t my own. But there was a part of me that thought, “Why me? Why must I, an innocent, pay for the sins of my father?” I began to wonder if it was my fate to be sacrificed because I was a woman. Had I been a son, would he have been so quick to offer me to that monster? Or was it simply easier to dispose of daughters?

The Sherpa: The tragedy of it all, isn’t it? That even in royalty, a woman’s value is often tied to the political needs of men. And when you were fastened to those rocks, waiting for death, I can’t help but think that time must have stretched endlessly. In those moments before Heracles arrived, what was going through your mind?

Hesione: Fear, certainly. And an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. You see, when you’re tied to the rocks, naked and exposed, you become nothing more than a symbol—an offering, not a person. It felt like the gods themselves were watching me, indifferent to my suffering. I wondered if this was justice in their eyes, or if they even cared. I remember the sound of the waves, the salt in the air, and the horizon that seemed so vast, and I thought, “Is this it? Is this how I’ll end?” I didn’t think of myself as a princess then. I was just a girl, afraid to die.

The Sherpa: Then Heracles appears. This larger-than-life hero. You were about to die, and suddenly, here is this man who slays the monster. What was that like for you? To be rescued but also immediately transitioned from being a victim to a “prize”?

Hesione: It’s complicated. There was relief, of course. When I saw him, I felt hope where there had only been despair. But almost immediately, that hope was tempered by the knowledge that this wasn’t a rescue for my sake. Heracles didn’t kill the monster out of kindness or empathy for me—he did it for the reward, the horses my father had promised him. I was simply part of the bargain. So, yes, I was grateful for my life, but in the same breath, I knew I had been passed from one kind of ownership to another. From the monster to Heracles’ will.

The Sherpa: Ownership. That’s a word that hangs heavy. Your father betrayed Heracles by refusing to give him those prized horses. Heracles returns, sacks Troy, kills your father, and gives you away to Telamon, one of his companions. That’s another moment where your fate was decided by men. Did you ever have any say in your life after that?

Hesione: No, I didn’t. My life with Telamon was just another chapter of passivity, where decisions were made about me, but never by me. Telamon was a good man, as men go, but it was never a question of whether I wanted him. I was given to him. Like spoils from a war, like something to be possessed. I had no voice, no agency in that decision. The strangest thing is how quickly I had to accept it. That’s what women are taught from birth—we are to endure. So I did.

The Sherpa: There’s an unbearable weight in that acceptance, isn’t there? That endurance you speak of. But I wonder, Hesione, after all you’ve endured, did you ever experience moments of rebellion in your heart? Were there times when you resisted, even if silently, the fate that was imposed upon you?

Hesione: Silently, yes. I can’t pretend I didn’t long for a different life, a life where I could choose my own path. There were nights when I looked at the stars and wondered what it would be like to be free. To leave Troy, to leave Telamon, and to simply exist as myself. But where would I go? In this world, a woman without a man is nothing—or so we’re told. My rebellion was internal, a kind of resistance in my heart that no one could see, but I always felt it burning, that wish for something more.

The Sherpa: That yearning, that internal rebellion—it must have given you strength, even if it couldn’t manifest outwardly. But let me ask you, do you resent Heracles or Telamon? These men who shaped your life, whether they intended to or not?

Hesione: Resentment… it’s an emotion I’ve tried to avoid. There’s no use in hating men like Heracles or Telamon—they are who they are, products of a world that allows them to do as they please. Do I wish my life had been different? Yes, of course. But to resent them would be to dwell in the past, and I’ve learned that doing so only brings more pain. My father is the one I could never forgive. He chose my fate, while Heracles and Telamon simply played their roles.

The Sherpa: It’s striking how much of your story seems to revolve around men deciding your fate. But the Trojan War, in a sense, was partially ignited by a decision that wasn’t yours either. Your brother Priam demanded your return from Greece, and the refusal to bring you back became one of the many grievances that led to war. How does that sit with you, knowing you were a part of the very tensions that fueled such a catastrophic conflict?

Hesione: It’s a strange feeling, knowing that in some small way, my life was part of the cause of a war that claimed so many lives. But in truth, it wasn’t me they were fighting over—it was honor, pride, and the complex web of alliances and betrayals that had been brewing for years. I was just another excuse, another piece in the game. The real tragedy is how often women become the reason for war, even though we never have a say in the matter. My story, Helen’s story—it’s all the same in the end. We are the spark, but we never choose to be.

The Sherpa: Helen’s story, yes. Another woman blamed for the war, another woman who had little say in her fate. Do you ever think about Helen, about the parallels between her life and yours? How do you view her and her role in the Trojan War?

Hesione: I think of her often, yes. Helen and I were both used as symbols. She, the face that launched a thousand ships, and I, the sister who was never returned. Helen was painted as a traitor, a seductress, but I don’t believe that’s fair. She was taken by Paris, yes, but how much of that was her choice? How much agency did she truly have? In many ways, we are the same—women caught between the desires of men and the whims of the gods, our fates twisted by forces beyond our control. I feel for her. I wonder if she, too, lies awake at night, questioning why her life unfolded the way it did.

The Sherpa: It’s heartbreaking, this pattern—women at the center of grand events but without control. But I have to ask, with all this reflection, do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you had been given a choice? If you hadn’t been sacrificed, if you hadn’t been given to Telamon? What would Hesione’s ideal life look like?

Hesione: I do wonder. I dream of it sometimes. In my ideal life, I wouldn’t be a queen or a princess. I wouldn’t be married off for the sake of alliances or handed over as a prize for heroism. I’d live quietly, perhaps by the sea—ironic, I know, considering my past. I’d have a small house, maybe a family of my choosing, people I love and who love me not for my name but for who I am. It’s a simple dream, but simplicity is often the greatest freedom, isn’t it?

The Sherpa: It is. Freedom in its purest form—the ability to choose one’s path, no matter how modest. You’ve spoken a lot about endurance and acceptance, Hesione. But what about forgiveness? Do you think you’ve found a way to forgive those who wronged you, who shaped your life without your consent? Your father, Laomedon, especially?

Hesione: Forgiveness is… difficult. I’ve come to terms with many things in my life, but forgiving my father—that’s something I still struggle with. He didn’t just betray me; he betrayed his entire family, his kingdom, and his people. His pride led to the destruction of Troy, not once, but twice. I understand that he was human, that he made mistakes, but the cost of his actions was too great. Can I forgive him? Perhaps one day. But that day hasn’t come yet.

The Sherpa: It seems like forgiveness, for you, is tied to healing—and healing is a process. It’s not linear, and it’s not easy. Do you think that, through everything, you’ve found a way to heal from the wounds that were inflicted on you?

Hesione: Healing is… ongoing. It’s not something that happens all at once. I’ve made peace with parts of my story, but there are still pieces of me that feel broken. My life was taken from me in so many ways, and while I’ve learned to live with that, I don’t know if I’ll ever fully heal. But I do know this: I’ve survived. And in a world where so many women’s stories end in tragedy, survival is its own kind of victory.

The Sherpa: Survival. It’s the word that echoes through this entire conversation. You’ve survived so much—sacrifices, betrayals, wars. But what do you want your legacy to be, Hesione? When people tell your story, what do you hope they remember most?

Hesione: I hope they remember that I wasn’t just a victim. Yes, I was used, manipulated, and cast aside, but I endured. I wasn’t just a woman tied to the rocks, waiting to be saved. I was someone who lived through the chaos, who bore witness to the rise and fall of kingdoms, and who, despite everything, survived. My story is one of resilience, not just tragedy. And if that’s what people remember, I’ll be content.

The Sherpa: Resilience. That’s a word that encapsulates your journey so well. You’ve shown incredible strength in a world that offered you little control. Before we end, I want to ask you one final question: If you could speak to the young girls who hear your story, who might feel as though their lives are shaped by forces beyond their control, what would you say to them?

Hesione: I’d tell them that life is often unfair, and there will be moments when they feel powerless. But I’d also tell them that their worth isn’t determined by the choices others make for them. They are more than the circumstances they’re born into, more than the roles they’re forced to play. And even if they cannot change the world around them, they can find strength in themselves. Surviving, enduring—that is its own form of power. They are never as powerless as they may feel.

The Sherpa: That’s a powerful message, Hesione. Thank you for sharing your story with such openness and honesty. I believe your words will resonate far beyond the myths that define you.

Hesione: Thank you for giving me the chance to be heard. It’s not often I get that opportunity.

The Sherpa: It’s been a privilege, truly.