In an effort to provide you with the most up-to-date information, Shmoop's crack team of P.I.s recently hacked into Cassandra's emails. Below, you'll find a fiery interchange between Cassandra and Apollo concerning the state of the awful curse he once put on her.
A Correspondence with Apollo
I'm writing to you in all humility to beg you to lift this curse off of me. I mean, come on, I'm dead now. Do I really still need to be punished? Do you realize just how awful you made my life? Do you truly know how terrible it is to foresee all the horrific things that are going to happen to the people I love, but for none of those people to believe any of my predictions?
No matter what I told any of them—my father, my brothers—they thought I was crazy. Everybody just looked at me thinking, "Oh, poor Cassandra. She's so pretty, but now she's nuts." When I was all like, "Don't bring that giant wooden horse in the city. It's full of Greeks who will kill us all," they just looked at me with pity. How could they be so STUPID?! Why, after ten years of ruthless warfare, would the Greeks leave a parting gift? And I'm supposed to be the crazy one...
Look, Apollo. I'm really sorry if I hurt your feelings, okay? I mean, you're a great guy and all. Any girl or nymph or goddess would be totally lucky to have you. You're super handsome; you know everything; you've got a steady job. What more could a girl ask for? What can I tell you, though? Sure, I was your priestess and all, and I totally appreciated you sending those snakes to clean out my ears with their tongues, giving me the power of prophecy... Well, okay, that was a little creepy, but it wasn't a dealbreaker.
What am I trying to say?
There just wasn't a spark, alright? I couldn't help that. I'm what the gods made me, and it's just not fair to punish me for that.
Anyway, I really wish you'd reconsider. Being dead is bad enough, without being cursed on top of it.
I can't believe you have the nerve to even ask me this. You're lucky I didn't take you out with a rain of arrows like I did with Niobe's children.
Look, little girl. You promised to be mine if I gave you the power of prophecy. You went back on your word. You deserve every bit of suffering that you ever experienced and will experience from here on out.
Be glad I don't get my uncle Hades to throw you in the Dungeon of the Damned. The Furies are getting bored with torturing Sisyphus all the time. They're in the market for some fresh meat. Watch yourself or their wish might be granted.
You know what?! Bring it on! I foresaw that you wouldn't be reasonable about this, but I just hoped against hope that you'd grown up a little bit over these thousands of years. I should've known you were still the same cocky god you were back in the day.
For the record, I never promised you anything. You and a couple sexist classical writers made up that version of the story. It's totally untrue! You just got your precious little feelings hurt, and you had to act like a spoiled brat.
So whatever. Go ahead and sic the Furies on me. You ought to remember, though, that one of their main pet peeves is crimes against women. Is there a woman who's had more crimes committed against her? Ajax the Lesser forced himself on me in Athena's temple. Agamemnon took me as his love slave. His psychotic wife Clytemnestra murdered me for no good reason. Call me crazy, but I think the Furies will be on my side!
How about one date?