#did the Minotaur ask to eat the youth of Athens? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nyxshadowhawk · 3 years

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The Lady of the Labyrinth

My entry for @dionysia-ta-astika's City Dionysia contest! I'm very proud of myself for having finished it in a week, and I thought I'd share it here on my own blog.

Hail Dionysus!

*** Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.

I was also stranded on a deserted island. I stared out at the vast, empty expanse of the sea. The sunlight on the waves winked at me with a thousand eyes, as though diamonds had been scattered across the surface of the water. Anyone would find this beach tranquil, I suppose, if they were here under different circumstances than mine.

My brother’s name was Asterion.

Most people didn’t know his name, or even that he had one. To most people, he was the Minotaur, a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull that eats people. Asterion was a monster, and he did eat people.

Beneath my father’s shining palace, he prowled the twists and turns of the Labyrinth that my father’s genius architect built. The Labyrinth was mine, once. Daedalus made it for me as a dancing path, when I was a little girl. But now it is a dark, disorienting maze of seemingly endless passageways, and I was still the only person who knew how to navigate it. When I could have time alone, I would go to the Labyrinth. I felt my way through its pitch-black corridors, memorizing the nicks and cracks in the rough stone, trying to calm my thoughts. I spoke to Asterion through the walls: “You have never seen the sun,” I said to him. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like in the outside world? Or do you like it down here?” I received no answer from the surrounding darkness. If I did hear something — a snort, or hooves on stone, I would have to run as fast as I could away from the sound. Even I couldn’t go too near Asterion — I wouldn’t want to run the risk that he might attack me.

“Why do you go down there?” My sister, Phaedra, asked me. “What could possibly be appealing about that dark, dismal place?”

“I like it down there,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I could. “It is peaceful. And I don’t mind the dark.”

She looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted bull’s horns myself. “You know you risk your life every time you enter the Labyrinth, right?”

“He’s our brother,” I said. I don’t know what I intended to explain by saying that. I felt like I had a responsibility to him that extended beyond simply being his sister. I tried to see a man in him, although he sniffed and bellowed and charged like a bull. He could gore me to death like a bull, but I did not fear him. “I can’t say I love him, but I feel something.”

“You shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’s a freak of nature. The gods cursed us with him for our father’s arrogance. He is a shame upon our kingdom.”

She was right, of course. The gods gifted us a beautiful white bull that we were meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, but my father decided to keep it instead. And Poseidon cursed us… Asterion is the unholy offspring of my mother and the bull. And it gets worse. Every seven years, seven young men and seven young women from the city of Athens were brought to the Labyrinth to be fed to my brother. This was because my other brother, whom I was too young to remember, died while in Athens. Athens pays for this slight with the lives of other young people.

I suppose it’s no different than war, or at least, that’s what my father says. All cities send their youths to die for the polis. How was this any different? I could hardly bear the prisoners’ wails of desperation or their pleas for me to help them. When I heard they were coming, I begged my father to set them free, asserting that it was wrong to sacrifice humans to anything. If the gods had cast Tantalus into Tartarus for feeding them his son, then why should we knowingly feed humans to a monster? He laughed at me and asked why I had no pride in my family.

I hated the thought of the fourteen young people being fed to him, but I also couldn’t imagine killing my own brother, even if he was a monster.

I was too young to remember the last time the prisoners came to the Labyrinth. They had come, and my brother had gorged himself on their flesh, and I was none the wiser. This time, I knew, and the horror of it struck me silent as the tributes were paraded through the city like animal sacrifices to the gods, so that we could all see those who were doomed to die. I could hardly bear to look at them. Some of those girls were barely older than me. It felt wrong to sit by and watch as they were brought to the Labyrinth. But what could I do to save their lives? Supplicating my father would not work, and the only other option was helping them to escape, somehow. How could I do that?

In spite of myself, I caught sight of one of the young men. He was handsome, and he had a defiant, blazing look in his eye. He looked straight at my father on his throne. “I am Theseus of Athens!” he declared. “I have come to slay your monstrous son!”

My father had laughed at him, but he consumed my thoughts. That may be because he was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also because if he succeeded at killing Asterion, he would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t have to take my own brother’s life, but he would devour no more innocent lives. And, if this youth survived, he might take me away with him. I knew the Labyrinth better than anyone. Even if he did survive, he could never make it in and out without my help.

Forgive me, Asterion.

The prisoners were held in two dank cells near the entrance to the Labyrinth. The women were kept in one, and the men were kept in the other. Many of the prisoners were crying — not just the women, but the men, too. In my familiarity with the Labyrinth and its inhabitant, I had forgotten just how terrifying both would be to anyone else. The Labyrinth’s darkness and maddening complexity would intimidate anyone, and the prospect of being eaten by a monster within its depths was horrific.

Only Theseus seemed calm. His boldness in front of my father hadn’t been an act. His jaw was set, and he still had raw determination in his steely eyes. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He actually meant to kill Asterion. He shone like gold in the gloom of the dungeon — he could have been Apollo. If our circumstances were different, I might have wanted to stroke his chest. “Who are you?” he demanded when I approached the cell, as though I were the one behind bars, and had requested an audience with him.

“I am Ariadne,” I said, “daughter of Minos, princess of Crete.”

“I am Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens,” he returned.

Prince of Athens. That explained his noble bearing and proud mien, not to mention his handsome features… and yet… “There is no way the King of Athens would have sent his own son to be fed to the Minotaur,” I said. “Why are you really here?”

“I said, didn’t I? I’m here to slay the Minotaur. I volunteered as tribute.” He smirked. “I promised my father that I would return alive. No more of our people will be sacrificed to the monster!”

“You speak with a lot of confidence for someone who is currently in a prison cell,” I said. “What are you going to do, Theseus? Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan!” he said, a little defensively. “I am going to break out of this cell. And then I will conquer the Labyrinth—”

“How? You’ll be dead of starvation before you even reach the Minotaur, assuming he doesn’t find you first.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you taunting me?”

I leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes. “No. I was actually going to offer to help you. I know the Labyrinth. I go into it all the time.”

“No, you don’t. You’re trying to get me to sleep with you. Or trying to deceive me on behalf of Minos.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find anything to say in response to that. For a moment I just stared at him. Was he always this self-assured, even in the worst of circumstances? If he wanted to sleep with me, I certainly wouldn’t complain, but why would he assume that I would deceive him? Well, perhaps it was his right to be suspicious, in a strange land where he was kept as a prisoner. “I… no,” I finally replied. “I’m being serious. I’m here to help you.”

“Why, then?”

“I think it is very noble of you to want to save the other Athenians, and I agree that no more innocent lives should be lost.”

He smiled slightly, but still looked suspicious. “You have no loyalty to your father?”

“My father is cruel and selfish. Why else do you think my mother gave birth to a monster, anyway?”

“The monster is your brother? What was his father, a bull?”

“Yes.”

That seemed to have stunned him into silence. I felt some satisfaction at that. “Listen to me. Without my help, you will not get through the Labyrinth. If you want to kill the Minotaur, you need me.”

“What’s the catch?” he asked. “You’re going to want something in return, aren’t you? What?”

“Take me off this accursed rock,” I said. “I am sick of Crete, I’m sick of my father, and I don’t want to have to put up with whatever punishment he might give me for helping you.”

“Well, you are a princess, and I suppose you would make a fine bride for me.”

My heart leapt at those words, and I felt myself blushing. Perhaps I should have known better. “Really? You would marry me?”

“If you help me to slay the Minotaur, then yes, I will marry you.”

“Deal.”

Theseus remained in my thoughts from that point onward. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, and I imagined the feel of his skin. I’d never seen a man like him before, and oh, if I married him… would I be happy? Happier than I was here, at least? He seemed like the kind of man that Phaedra and I dreamed we would marry as young girls — strong, brave, handsome, and willing to put himself on the line for the sake of his people. All such admirable qualities.

I returned to Theseus when the prisoners were locked into the Labyrinth’s abyssal maw. “Everyone else, stay back!” he ordered, as though he were directing troops. “I will go into the Labyrinth and kill the Minotaur. Stay here, and you will be safe.” He suddenly turned to me. “What have you brought to help me?”

I held out a humble ball of yarn. “This.”

He took it from my hand and raised an eyebrow at it, looking as though he might throw it into the dark. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Daedalus gave it to me when I first started exploring the Labyrinth.”

“Daedalus? I’ve heard of Daedalus. He is supposed to be the most brilliant architect in the world, right?”

“He built this Labyrinth, and he gave me the yarn. All you have to do is tie the end here and carry it through the maze. Then you can follow it back out.”

Theseus looked impressed. “He must be a genius to have thought of something like that!”

He may have been a genius, but I was still intelligent enough to figure it out on my own. All Daedalus had done was hand me the ball of yarn, and I immediately understood what I was meant to do with it. But I didn’t bother correcting Theseus. “Do you have a weapon?”

“No,” said Theseus. “I’m not worried. I’ll kill the beast with my bare hands.”

I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I suppose if anyone could do it, he could; he was almost as musclebound as the bull-man. But still. Only an extremely impressive hero with divine lineage could hope to kill a monster bare-handed, that or a total idiot. “You are going to die.”

“Nonsense!” He smiled. “Haven’t died yet! And I have faced many deadly trials before.”

I smiled back. “I’m sure you have, but, well, it’s your funeral.”

“Do you want this monster dead, or not?” he demanded.

“Woah, I wasn’t being serious, I…” To be asked that question point-blank was unsettling. It threw my whole dilemma into focus. But seeing the terrified faces of the other tributes huddled naked in the entrance to the Labyrinth gave me my answer. “Yes.”

“I shall go then.” He tied the yarn to the gate and strode with it into the dark. I admired his confidence, even if the odds were against him. He turned the first corner, and was gone. I stared into the darkness for a moment.

One of the girls gripped the hem of my dress. “Please,” she whispered. “Please help us, my lady. We did nothing to be here. If he dies, will you help us escape?”

I didn’t look at her. I kept staring into the Labyrinth’s depths. “I will do what I can,” I said slowly. Then I followed Theseus. I heard her gasp behind me, as if her last hope had just walked away.

I overtook Theseus quickly. He was moving slowly, blindly hitting walls and getting disoriented by the serpentine turns. He jumped when he heard me behind him, turned on his heel and braced for attack, staring me down with the intensity of a bull about to charge. Then he softened. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here? I don’t need your help.”

“I know this place better than you do,” I said matter-of-factly.

He huffed in response. “Get back to the entrance. The Minotaur could arrive at any moment.”

I walked ahead of him. “I know. Every time I explore the Labyrinth, I risk death.”

“Why would you explore this place?” he asked, following me. “What could it possibly offer a girl like you?”

“Peace. Solitude. Time away from my father.”

“This Labyrinth is maddening!” His growing frustration echoed off the walls. “How are you not mad? Perhaps you are mad, with the things you say.”

“I’ve never considered that I might be mad.”

“Only if you were mad would you willingly choose to be in this dark prison.”

“You willingly chose to be here.”

He had no response. We walked in silence for a while, dragging the thread behind us. It was almost impossible to see the thread in the dark. I could tell that Theseus was starting to get agitated. The twining paths of the Labyrinth must be making him feel like we were making no progress. The grim silence and high stone walls made us feel completely cut off from the outside world, like there was no world at all beyond the Labyrinth. “Do you think this is what Hades is like?” he asked. “A deep cavern, under the earth, where there is nothing to do but walk endlessly?”

I couldn’t tell whether that was a sincere philosophical question, or whether he was asking indignantly. “I don’t know. The Fields of Asphodel are supposed to be open, and full of the white flowers… Not quite like this.”

“It makes no difference to me anyway. I will assuredly go to Elysium when I die, and it is the most agreeable part of Hades.”

If Hades is exactly like this, I thought, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. There are worse things than this.

Eventually, we passed the point where I usually turned back. I had never gotten this close to the center before. And then we heard it — the unmistakable sound of hooves. Cold terror gripped me. I did not expect to feel this afraid, especially not of my own brother, but the reality of the situation sank in. We were in a Labyrinth with a flesh-eating monster, and the exit was too far away for any chance of escape. Why did I follow him? Why did I think that was a good idea?

“Our quarry is upon us! You should leave,” said Theseus sternly. “The monster eats the maidens first, so I hear.”

The instinct to run left me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Suit yourself, but you will not be able to fight against the Minotaur.”

“You will protect me, will you?” Being with him felt safe, like he was a bodyguard.

“I will.” As soon as he said that, my fear was banished, and my confidence restored.

A few more turns, and we reached the center of the Labyrinth, a place I figured I’d never enter. In the gloom, I couldn’t actually see much, but I was able to see the hulking shape of my brother with his huge bull’s head and wicked-looking horns.

“There is the beast!” A light suddenly blazed to life beside me, and I cringed away from its brightness. It was a torch.

“Did you have that the whole time?”

“I was saving it!” He handed me the torch and the end of the yarn, and I took them, nonplussed. I saw the floor of the Labyrinth’s center, full of human bones. “Wait there, I will make swift work of this!” Theseus took a fighting stance, muscles tensed.

Asterion looked at me. I felt blind panic grip me, but he did not attack me. Perhaps he recognized me. He must have been familiar with my presence and voice by now, enough to know I wasn’t a threat. I stared into his black bull eyes. They were soft, not fiery and enraged. This was my brother. “Asterion… I’m so sorry, Asterion.”

“What are you doing? Get back!”

Theseus’ yell attracted Asterion’s attention. He roared and rushed forward with his powerful legs, horns lowered and ready to gore him to death. Theseus grabbed Asterion’s horns and hurled himself up onto the Minotaur’s back, holding him in a chokehold with both arms. “I shall send you to the pit of Tartarus, fiend!” Asterion thrashed and bucked and slammed Theseus against the wall, but soon enough, it was over. Theseus had strangled the Minotaur. Asterion lay dead.

Theseus picked himself up, looking exhausted but triumphant. “Victory! No Athenians will die today, or ever! This monster will never claim another human life!” He grinned at me. “See, I told you I could do it with my bare hands!”

I stared at the mass of Asterion’s body. “I killed my brother…”

“Nonsense!” Theseus took the torch back from me. The bones crunched under his feet as he walked. “It is hardly your fault that you are the sister of a beast. We have done a good and heroic thing today. Look, look at the bones! Why are you crying, Ariadne?”

I suddenly looked at him instead of the Minotaur’s corpse. I don’t think he’d said my name before. Even in the dim torchlight, he still looked bright, with clear eyes and golden hair and bronze skin slick with sweat. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Ariadne.” He smiled at me. “Thank you. Together we have saved many lives.”

He kissed me, and the torch went out.

The following events were a blur. After we had successfully followed the thread out of the Labyrinth, Theseus triumphantly announced to my father that the Minotaur was dead, and demanded me and my sister as prizes. My father was furious — of course he was. He had essentially just lost all of his children, and all because one had died in Athens before I was old enough to remember. I, however, was elated, and so was Phaedra. Phaedra was as eager to leave Crete as I was, and she seemed just as taken with Theseus’ handsomeness. She didn’t seem distressed that Asterion was dead, and why would she? The grateful Athenians went back to their ship, many of them sobbing with relief. I didn’t look at my father as I followed Theseus to the ship. I never wanted to look at him again. We passed by Talos, and I left Knossos and the Labyrinth behind me.

Crete faded into the horizon, and before me was sunshine and new possibilities. Theseus glowed with triumph and pride, smiling at me and kissing me when he announced to the other Athenians that he would marry me, and that I would become their queen. They fell to their knees and showered me and Theseus with gratitude for having saved their lives. I felt almost as if I were a goddess. Wine flowed freely in celebration, and I took more joy in it than I had in a long time.

It did not last long. Soon after the first few hours I was, if possible, even more miserable on Theseus’ ship than I had been in Knossos. I quickly became tired of his boasts about how he had strangled the beast, without crediting me at all, or so much as mentioning the ball of yarn, even though the other Athenians had seen me give it to him and seen me follow him into the Labyrinth. Every time he told the story, it got further from the truth, and emphasized his own heroism over mine. Is this how it would be when I was queen? No matter what I did, I’d be shunted to the side? Then, Theseus seemed to be doting on Phaedra. She usually attracted more attention. She was prettier than me. She had blond hair that shined in the sunlight and the bright eyes of our mother Pasiphae, the daughter of Helios. My hair and eyes were dark, like the Labyrinth.

I left the celebration, finding a quiet spot on deck. I sat by the edge of the ship, staring out into the open waves and trying not to think about Asterion, but the image of him lying dead in the torchlight haunted me. “Are you okay, Ariadne?” Phaedra asked me. “What is wrong? We are finally out of there, all thanks to you! No more Minotaur, no more tributes having to die, no more Father… We will have a new life in Athens.” I stayed silent. “You look despondent. Something’s wrong.”

I looked up into her eyes. “It’s like you said, Phaedra. Asterion is dead.”

“Do you… mourn him?”

“He was our brother, and I killed him!”

“Theseus killed him! You did nothing!” I knew that she meant to reassure me, but it touched a raw nerve.

“He would not have if I hadn’t led him straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”

“Ariadne…” Phaedra put her hand on my shoulder. “You… you’re… you’ll be okay. You are just a little bit disoriented.” She left me alone.

I looked at the Athenians, who laughed and danced and celebrated their lives. I didn’t feel like dancing. I already missed the Labyrinth. My guilt drew my thoughts back to Knossos. I wanted to hide in the Labyrinth forever, like Asterion had, or else throw myself into the sea for my guilt. The brightness of the waves was glaring compared to the soothing darkness of the Labyrinth.

Theseus approached me from behind. He had been ignoring me until now, maybe because I was so sorrowful. I could feel that he was angry at me, and my skin crawled, but I didn’t turn. “What cause do you have to weep, Ariadne? You should be happy!” he said.

“I am sorry, Theseus. Part of me still mourns for my brother.”

“What is the matter with you? All you have done is sit and stare at the water! If you loved that Labyrinth so much, perhaps you should have stayed there! Now please, put this sorrow behind you. You have no cause for it.” He sighed, softening. “When we arrive in Athens, we shall marry, and there will be much rejoicing.”

“Leave me alone.” The bitterness in my voice rang louder than I’d intended.

He scowled at me.“You are joyless, passionless, and thankless,” he spat, and stalked off. The word useless went unsaid; I could tell he was reconsidering making me his wife.

“Theseus, wait!” I yelled, suddenly sounding desperate.

I stood up, and he turned back to look at me, and I felt as if I were naked under his gaze and that of the others on the ship, which had all quieted and turned in my direction. His eyes were cold, and his nostrils flared just as Asterion’s had. “What, Ariadne? You have shown me neither gratitude nor pleasure, you have not acted like a princess. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Shamed, I said nothing. I sat back down. Then, as he was about to turn away again, I suddenly found my voice. “Why are you being cruel?”

“I am not being cruel. You are being difficult.”

By the time we reached Naxos, I was feeling heartbroken as well as grief-stricken. Theseus was giving me the silent treatment. I think he expected me to come running to him begging for forgiveness. We stopped on the island to rest, primarily because Theseus had dreamt that he would stop here during his homecoming.

I took off my sandals and walked along the edge of the surf to clear my thoughts. The beach was bright and wide and open, the exact opposite of the Labyrinth. Even in the sand, I felt his heavy footsteps approaching behind me. “Ariadne, we need to talk.”

I continued to face away from him. “What?”

“Ariadne, I find your attitude disagreeable.”

I turned on my heel to face him, planting myself in the sand. “I’ve found your attitude disagreeable! All you have done since we left Crete is boast about your heroics, and you’ve barely given me any credit—”

“Credit! You want credit for having slain it, when all you have done is cry over the hideous thing?”

The disdain in his voice stung me like arrows. “You don’t care at all for me or my feelings, do you?”

“If you were to become my queen, I would expect better behavior from you.” He sounded like he was lecturing a child.

“Well… I don’t want to be your queen! You are almost as bad as my father!”

“Good. I have already decided to take your sister Phaedra as my bride instead.” I didn’t reply. “You may still return with us to Athens, but we will have to make other arrangements for you.”

Forget Athens. I didn’t want Theseus to do anything for me. “Oh, forgive me for having been such a disappointment to you! Go ahead, go back to Athens and marry my sister! By Zeus! I’ve had enough of you!”

And I ran. I turned away from Theseus and ran down the beach until my legs gave out, falling in the sand to sulk and wonder where it all went wrong. I regretted having ever met Theseus, or helped him to kill my brother. If I could undo it all, I would. No. Then innocent people would have died. Oh, gods, why am I so wretched?

And then, as I was just beginning to calm down, I saw that the ship was sailing away over the waves. I was stranded on the island. Despair and panic crashed down upon me. Oh gods, gods, why? Had I somehow been forgotten about, or left behind on purpose? Had Theseus doomed me to die? “CURSE you, Theseus!” I screamed at the distant ship. I watched it go until it disappeared over the horizon. I could do nothing but hopelessly stare at the wine-dark sea as the sun set.

“Excuse me, why are you crying?”

I had been sitting with my head in my arms, weeping despondently, and I was startled by the sudden voice, soft though it was. I was certain the island was deserted, but now, a young man stood before me. He was silhouetted against the sky, the sun shining behind his head like a halo. Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him come. It was though he’d simply stepped out of the sea.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked from crying. “I thought I was alone.”

“May I sit with you?” the man asked. “You look like you could use a drink, something to soothe you, hm?”

“Yes… yes, thank you.”

He sat down in the sand next to me, languidly stretching his legs out in front of him like he was sitting on the plushest couch. With the sunlight on him, I could see him properly — he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. He easily put Theseus to shame. His eyes were leafy green, warm and kind. He was lithe, and his skin looked as pale and smooth as a girl’s, and his lips looked so soft. I couldn’t place the color of his hair — it seemed to be dark brown, but it could have been as dark as the Styx, and when the sun caught it, it looked honey-gold. It fell over his shoulders in loose curls. He wore nothing but a fine purple cloak draped over one shoulder, a golden leopard skin around his waist, and a wreath of ivy on his head. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a bright, easy smile. He was so lovely, so breathtaking, it almost hurt to look at him. With delicate hands, he offered me a kylix brimming with wine. “Please, tell me what has made you so upset.”

I blinked at the kylix, and the leopard skin, and the ivy in his hair. “Are you… a Bacchant?” I’d heard of them. They worshipped a mad and savage god with drunken orgies in the woods, and were said to be able to rip animals or even people limb-from-limb in their frenzy. Not unlike Asterion, I suppose.

He flashed a devious smile. “Maaaaybe.”

I took the kylix and drank deeply. The wine was sweet, and somehow, I felt immediately calmer. Slowly, amid my lingering sobs, I told the story — about Asterion, and my father, and the tributes, how I’d decided to help Theseus, how we’d found our way through the Labyrinth, how Theseus had killed Asterion, how Theseus had been so heartless, and how he had apparently left me to die on a deserted island. By the time I finished talking, the kylix was empty.

“How do you feel now?” he asked me.

“Better… I think. But I’m still devastated, and… guilty. My brother’s death… it was really my fault, and I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. Do you think it’s wrong for me to grieve for my brother? I mean… he was a monster…”

“No. I don’t think it’s wrong. It is perfectly understandable that you would mourn your brother.”

“If I had let the Athenians die, I would have mourned for them, too.” I sighed.

“Yes. There must be blood; one sacrifice was traded for another, Asterion, the worthy bull. It is okay to grieve, for as long as you need to, but do not wallow in despair.”

“I tend to do that. I don’t remember the last time I was completely happy. I thought Theseus would make me happy, but… then… I wish I had my Labyrinth back! It was at least soothing down there.”

“It pains me to see people sad,” he said. He handed me the kylix again, and it was once again full of wine. I hadn’t seen him fill it. “Pleasure is a state of mind. The best way to rid yourself of sadness is to focus on things that make you happy. There is always something to take pleasure in! Like the beauty of the sunset, or the sound of the lapping waves. Or wine!”

“Not when you are abandoned to die, with no way off the island,” I said. “How did you get here, anyway? I don’t see a boat.”

“I have my ways,” he said cryptically, with that same mischievous smile. That smile and the teasing sparkle in his eyes were so adorable. His beauty is something to take pleasure in, I suddenly thought, and his company, and kindness…

I took another draught of the wine. “Why are the gods so cruel to me?” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

“The gods are not cruel to you.” He stated it with complete confidence, as though it were an undeniable fact, not as though he were trying to convince me.

“It certainly seems that way,” I replied.

“Life can often seem that way, but then, it gets better, and you will find that the gods favor you,” he said.

“Well… I suppose that must be true, if handsome strangers pop out of nowhere to comfort women.”

He beamed. “Exactly!” He took the kylix back from me, threw his head back, and drained about half of it in one gulp. “You know, I was stranded on a desert island like this one once.”

“Wait, what? You were?”

“Yes! It was a long time ago now, but I was just as pretty back then, and just as fond of wearing purple. Purple is the best color, you know.” He winked. “Anyway, so I was lying asleep on a beach and—” he took another swig of the wine, “a pirate ship rows by…”

“Are you drunk?”

“Always, darling!” That roguish grin of his was really starting to win me over. “Anyway, the pirates saw me sleeping on the beach, saw how pretty I was and saw my fine purple robes, and thought I was a prince. Well. They weren’t wrong… I technically am a prince of Thebes, on my mother’s side.” He laughed like he had just told the most hilarious joke and had another sip of the wine. The amount of wine in the kylix never seemed to get any lower.

“Does that mean… you’re a bastard?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yes, yes it does! I’m such a bastard. I mean… I was born out of wedlock. And my father’s wife, oooh, she hates me.” Another sip of the wine. “Never get on her bad side if you can help it.” He pointed at me as if this was the most important information I could ever learn, and I laughed. “She can’t touch me now, but she drove me mad when I was younger. Literally. Anyway, so these pirates kidnapped me. Thought I’d make a damn cute catamite, and I certainly would, but that’s beside the point. You don’t and kidnap boys no matter how pretty they are. I tried to tell my dad that, but it didn’t go over well.” Another sip of the wine.

“You are slender, but I bet you could take Theseus in a drinking contest.”

“Oh, I could take aaaaaanyone in a drinking contest! Never lost one yet!” His face was glowing, not just with blush from the wine but also with infectious joy. I slowly forgot about my misfortunes as I listened to his story. “So they tried to tie me to the ship’s mast, but found they couldn’t do it. I only tolerate bondage on my own terms. And then…” There was suddenly a mad gleam in his green eyes. “I covered their ship in grapevines, and ivy, and flowers, and the delicious smell of wine. I can’t imagine why such delightful things frightened them so. But I thought I’d scare them more, see, because it was funny. So I turned into a lion! And they flung themselves overboard in fear!” He laughed, and his laugh sounded as musical as flutes on a clear morning, but it had a maddened edge to it. “But I pitied them, y’know?” he continued. “Just as you pity your brother. So I changed them into dolphins. So they wouldn’t drown.”

“You changed… you turned into… did… did your god give you those powers? Or… are you just… really… drunk?” But I knew. I think that intuitively, I knew the whole time.

“Easy,” he said, once again raising the bottomless kylix to his lips with that knowing smile. “I’m really drunk.”

At this, I burst out laughing, and my laugh sounded almost unfamiliar to my own ears. I felt light, carefree, replenished. And then it sank in, that I was speaking to a god. I hastily knelt, and dropped my head before him, although he was still sitting next to me. “Lord Dionysus! Son of Zeus! Lord, lord, thank you for coming to me, for talking to me, for relieving me of my pain, for freeing me from my suffering…”

“You’re welcome, Ariadne.” He lifted my face, so that I was staring up into his eyes, which were now vivid reddish-purple, the color of ripe grapes. A richly purple aura surrounded him, proclaiming his divinity. In his hand was his staff, a fennel stalk topped with a pinecone that dripped with honey, twined with ivy and purple ribbons. And he had horns, bull’s horns just like my brother’s, magnificent and deadly sharp. They curved up above his brow, as much his crown as the wreath of ivy in his hair. The imposing horns created a striking contrast with his delicate features, but they looked right, somehow. Like this was how he was supposed to look.

I didn’t know what to say. My mind had gone suddenly blank. “I’ve never known great Dionysus to have horns,” I blurted.

“Not many get to see them,” he said, his voice suddenly slow and solemn. “Ariadne, will you dance with me?”

Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not that. “Wh—what?”

“Dance with me!” He stood up and twirled off across the beach. His hair floated around his shoulders, the ribbons on his thyrsus arced through the air like the rainbow, and his expression was one of elation. He screamed in ecstasy, and it was an inhuman sound, like the crowing of some unearthly bird. At that, the air filled with cacophonous music — flutes, drums, cymbals, rattles, castanets.

A command echoed inside my head. No, not a command — a compulsion: DANCE! DANCE!

So I danced with the bull-horned god. “Dancing” barely even begins to describe what I was doing. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling, like I didn’t fit in my own skin. Like I was about to be lifted out of my own shoulders! I moved like my body was doing everything it could to express this ineffable thing inside me that was so much bigger than me. I spun, I leapt, I ran, I stamped my feet in the sand, I moved wherever the feeling took me. It burned like fire. And Dionysus was all I could perceive. I screamed with both intense rapture and pure, genuine worship: “EUOI! EUOI! EUOI!”

I met his eyes, and there I saw all the raw ferocity of a bull or a great cat, as well as chaos and lust and debauchery and pure mania. All the forces strong enough to tear a person apart! I desperately thirsted for something I could not name. It was more than wine, more than flesh, more than blood. Dionysus took me in his arms, and kissed me on the lips. Passion overtook me.

Maybe I fainted in exhilaration, or maybe I was simply too drunk to remember. All I know was that I was eventually awakened by the sunrise and the sound of lapping waves. And Dionysus… was still there. He hadn’t disappeared into the night, he was still sleeping there in the sand, looking blissful and alluring in his sleep. His tousled curls tumbled over the sand, his soft hand was upturned beside his head, and his lips were parted invitingly. He lay on his purple cloak, and was using the leopard pelt like a blanket, though it was only carelessly draped over his waist.

“Lord… thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.

His long eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, once again appearing vine-green. “Mmmm… sleep well?”

“Yes.” I desperately wanted to kiss him, and the seductive look in his eyes tempted me. “May I… touch you?”

“Darling, you may touch me anywhere you like,” he purred. Ravenously, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his, and our lips met. He still tasted like wine, and I drank him in the way I would wine. We lay there for a moment, entangled in each other’s arms like grape and ivy vines, idly caressing each other’s skin and hair.

“M’lord…” I whispered, “perhaps it might be impertinent to ask, but… what am I going to do now? I can’t go home. I don’t really want to go to Athens. And I still have no way off this island.”

“Why, Ariadne,” he gave me a teasing smile. “If I may be so bold, I hoped you would join me! In fact… I hope you might marry me.”

I was so taken aback by this that I immediately sat up. “You… you’re serious? Marry you?” I knew that gods frequently took mortal lovers, but this was unimaginable. “Actually marry you?”

“Yes, Ariadne. I love you.” He said it with the same sweetness and sincerity that he initially approached me with. Theseus had said no such thing. “You are not destined to become queen of Athens, but perhaps you might be my queen, if you are willing.”

I burst into tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness this time. They were tears of overwhelm, the same kind of overflowing sensation that I’d felt while dancing. “You love me?”

“I am absolutely besotted, my darling! I have had many lovers, but I had not fallen so madly in love since Ampelos, my first love, my darling vine.” A grapevine appeared between his fingers and twined up his arm. “Perhaps something in me is inclined towards mortals over gods, which is understandable, given my parentage. But, that should be no problem. I will bring you to Olympus, and love you for all of time.”

“How… why me?” I sputtered. “What have I done to deserve this?”

“Ariadne, you are letting your human mind interfere, and convince you that you are not worthy to be in my presence. Did you feel unworthy last night, while we were dancing?”

“No… I felt… there was no such thing.”

“Ariadne, do you love me?”

I struggled to find any word that could properly describe how I felt about him. “You are… utterly intoxicating.”

He giggled like a shy maiden. “I get that a lot. And, if you could be worthy of having me as a husband, would you have me?”

Yes. My body and soul ached and burned with wanting. And he made me extraordinarily happy! I’d never dared to believe a god would love me enough to marry me, but that disbelief was only getting in my way.

He looked me dead in the eyes. I nearly flinched away from the intensity of his gaze, and the shimmering madness behind it. “You are more than you realize, Ariadne, guide in the dark, guardian of the gates of initiation. You are intelligent and witty and brave, and you fear no darkness or madness or savagery, do you? You faced them all in the Labyrinth. You would make an excellent addition to my thiasus, even if you decide not to marry me. Ariadne, the most holy and pure, Lady of the Labyrinth.” His words reverberated deep in the labyrinthine pathways of my own mind and soul, like he had revealed an ancient truth that I had known once, but forgotten.

“The Labyrinth is a holy place, of contemplation and transformation. Isn’t it? Not of death.”

He smiled that gorgeous, winning smile again. “Yes! You understand! And even where there is death, it is not absolute.” His eyes shone with feverish excitement. “Oh, I have so much to teach you!”

“Lord Dionysus, I would be honored beyond imagining if I were to become your wife.”

“So is that a yes? You will marry me?”

Something about him felt right in a way that I could not put words to, like the Fates had done all they could to bring me to this moment. This god loved me, more than the other gods love their conquests, more than I could comprehend. “Yes! I will marry you!”

At that, a cool wind blew across the island, swirling his dark hair around his face and making all the vegetation appear to shimmer. It was like the island itself was affirming my decision. “Then, Ariadne, we shall rule the revel together! In honor of our engagement…” A magnificent diadem appeared in his hands, sparkling with seven gemstones like stars. He placed it on my head, and gave me a warm kiss on my lips. “Ariadne, my bride, may you never thirst. May your lusts never go unsatisfied. May your heart always be light and joyful.”

“Thank you. Thank you, m’lord!”

“You can stop calling me that. If we are to be married, you can simply call me by my name. Or, call me what pleases you. Now, come with me!” He stood, offering me his hand. “Unless you would rather spend some more alone time together, I should finally take you off this island! I will take you home to Nysa, or perhaps to Arcadia, and we will have to throw the most spectacular bacchanal in celebration of our marriage!”

“How will we travel?”

He led me down the beach like a child eager to show something to their parent, and gestured toward a golden chariot drawn by two gigantic panthers. The chariot itself was decorated in images of swirling grapevines and serpents and satyrs making love, and the cats’ pelts gleamed. “Oh, gods… I mean… wow. Does it move over water?”

“It flies, silly!” He stood inside it and beckoned to me. “These cats can run on the wind. Hermes gave them to me.”

I climbed into the chariot and held on for dear life as the panthers bounded into the air with great strides. Soon the chariot was blazing through the bright air, and Naxos was far behind us. Dionysus laughed into the wind, which blew his long hair back from his face. As radiant as he was, I was more than a little terrified of speeding through the air high above the sea in a chariot, and felt like I would fall off at any second, although not even my diadem was dislodged from my head.

“You look terror-stricken, Ariadne. Would you like me to tell you another amusing story? That seems to have cheered you up the last time!”

“That depends on whether you can drive a chariot and get incredibly drunk at the same time.”

He laughed uproariously. “Oh, I love you so much! I can do anything and get incredibly drunk, if you were wondering. So, anyway, the story… Mortals have mixed opinions of me. Most love my parties and stories and love my wine, but they seem a bit put off by the madness and violence and lust it brings out in them… Not sure why, it’s not as though all of that wasn’t there to begin with… Mortal kings do not like this, and some of them can be quite unkind to my worshippers, testing the limits of my mercy… but one of them allowed my mentor, Silenus, to sleep in his garden. So kind of him! So of course I offered him any reward he might wish for, and… he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold.”

“Ooh. Let me guess, it backfired?”

“Oh, did it backfire! His food turned to gold and he nearly starved, and even his daughter turned to gold! Hardly my fault, of course. I promised to give him what he asked for, and I did, he just happened to be an idiot. He had the chance to wish for anything in the world, and he chose something as shallow and pointless as gold. Not to mention, he clearly had never heard of inflation, which makes me worry about his kingdom’s economy. Oh, well. He learned, and I changed everything back. I always let humans indulge themselves, but I am not a god of excess. Either they are satisfied by their pleasures, or they learn their lesson fast. The moral of the story: Know your tolerance. Also, if you want to turn things to gold, you have to do it the hard way. Hermes and I were just discussing how to turn lead to gold, in fact…”

His soothing voice and hilarious tales put me at ease, until we were traveling over beautiful mountains and verdant valleys. I had never seen mainland Greece, but the view of it from the flying chariot was incredible. I was no longer afraid of falling. As we flew, I felt as if the wind stripped me of the cares and sorrows of my former life. Dionysus had set me free. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me as the chariot descended into the lush, hidden valley where a throng of Maenads and satyrs waited to welcome home their lord and his queen.

Dionysus helped me out of the chariot, and I stood before the thiasus, their maddened eyes all turned upon me. “I am the bride of Dionysus,” I proclaimed. “I am Ariadne of the Labyrinth.”

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dionysia-ta-astika · 3 years

Text

The Lady of the Labyrinth

For Dionysus.

Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.