into the labyrinth; an ariadne/theseus mythfic
(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another in my series of "mythfics", to borrow the term from my darling etzyofi. In order to fully appreciate these, be sure to at the casting picspams.)
CAST:
into the labyrinth, an ariadne/theseus mythfic, pg-13
She lives in a house of secrets; he's promised to slay the monsters. How many answers will she get? How many promises will he keep?
“How can you promise that?” She looked into his face, saw what she thought was heartfelt sincerity. But how little she knew people, how naïve she was when it came to trust… She yearned for this young man, body and heart; he had sparked something within her that she had never expected to feel. But she knew nothing about him beyond a name-and how could she believe anything he had said? (3,956 words)
Her father said it was a phase. That he was a phase. An act of rebellion. He said she would regret it.
It was the only bit of truth he ever gave her.
+++
She remembered as a child the crying in the night. The strange ship that slipped into the dock at the foot of the cliffs. The shadowy human-shaped cargo disembarking, fettered together like cattle.
When she asked her father about them the next day, he told her she had been dreaming. It had all been a nightmare.
Of course it was. What else could it have been?
+++
She had grown up in a house of secrets. There were rooms that were barred to her. Sounds that were never explained. She had never known a mother. And so many questions went unanswered.
There was a foreboding, an ominous sense of guilt and shame, attached to her family name. They were rich and that was obvious-the dozens of empty rooms full of statues and ornate furniture, the impressive yacht floating in the harbor, the expensive silks and leathers her father gave her to wear. But there was no joy or happiness that came with such wealth, and the house felt as if it belonged to ghosts. The empty halls seemed to whisper as she passed; the dining hall echoed.
Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like, if she hadn’t been an only child to a single father.
Later she discovered that she had never been an only child. And that had been even worse.
+++
There was a village beyond the rocks, huddled in the lees of the sheer cliffs. The day her last nanny disappeared she walked the nearly empty streets, a hopeful and tremulous smile on her face. She knew there were children her age in the village-she had heard their laughter on the wind. And what she wanted more than any hard candy or porcelain doll was a friend.
But the adults whisked their children away before she could call out a greeting. There was black suspicion on every face that turned towards her. Doors were closed, windows were latched, and every conversation was abruptly silenced as she passed.
She went home alone, choking back tears of confusion and rejection. And then she turned to her piano, her violin, her voice. If she had to be alone, she did not have to sit in silence.
+++
The night the next ship came she was old enough to know better. Old enough to know it was no dream. And old enough to sneak out of her room, down the halls, and through the side door without her father or the servants seeing her.
She crept down to the dock, hid behind rocks, and watched as fourteen young men and women her own age were led from the ship. The boys were in jeans and t-shirts, grubby sneakers. The girls wore sundresses, summer skirts, sandals. Many were crying, or their eyes were red from earlier tears. Some wore stony faces with tightened jaws, as if resigned to something terrible.
But one of the men stood apart from the rest. There was something glittering about him-a fierce light in his pale eyes. From that first look she was struck. And when his eyes caught hers she saw the same shiver run through him. She wanted to run from the rocks, to catch his hand in hers and tear him away from the sad processional she didn’t understand.
But a voice whispered in her heart, and she kept hidden until they had passed. And then? Then she followed after, and saw which door they were taken through.
+++
“What is this all about?”
“How can you not know?” a girl cried, hands clutching at her skirt. “You live here! He’s your father!”
“He tells me nothing-the house is all I’ve ever known.”
“Your father is a cursed man,” he said, the one who already had a finger on her heart. He spoke with such firm conviction, such confidence, that the others took strength from him. They stood straighter, and the muffled sobs stopped. “He angered someone very important years ago and now he’s being punished. Beneath us is a maze, a deadly prison, and at its heart is a monster. We’ve been sent to appease its appetite.”
“That’s utter nonsense,” she tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat. “What you say is madness.”
“This used to be a sunny place, full of beauty. But it’s been corrupted by greed and betrayal. Everything is blackened now, made dark and hollow. You must have noticed this.”
She shook her head as if to deny him, as if to erase the damning words. She turned to leave and he caught her by the wrist, staying her in midstep.
“What’s your name?”
“…Ariadne.”
“Mine’s Theseus. And I’ve sworn to stop all of this. I promised to solve the maze and destroy whatever lives at its center. You could help me, Ariadne-help us.”
“I…”
“What do you want, more than anything?”
She bit her lip, hair in her eyes. “To leave. To get as far away from this place as I can. I want to go somewhere where no one knows who I am, where I can start over from scratch.”
“If you help me, I’ll make that wish come true. I’ll take you with me when I go, and you’ll never have to return.”
“How can you promise that?” She looked into his face, saw what she thought was heartfelt sincerity. But how little she knew people, how naïve she was when it came to trust… She yearned for this young man, body and heart; he had sparked something within her that she had never expected to feel. But she knew nothing about him beyond a name-and how could she believe anything he had said?
And then she turned and ran, her arm slipping from his grasp, the heavy door thudding closed behind her.
+++
That night she dreamed-or was it remembered? She was a small child again, barely toddling, and weaving around many legs as she searched for her father. There was so much activity in the courtyard, dozens of men carrying stones and beams of wood and tools down into an immense hole in the ground. Her father was watching over all with a thunderous look on his face, and it had frightened her.
So she fled, running down to the rocky beach, away from her angry father and the confusing noises of construction. And on the beach she found him, sitting on the edge of the tide, feet splashed by the incoming waves. He had a huge spool of red string in his hands that he rolled between his palms. And all the while he stared out across the ocean, his shoulders slumped with an invisible weight.
She had never seen him before, but he looked kind and sad. His bushy white beard made her think of dandelions gone to seed, and she approached him with her usual childish fearlessness.
“And you would be the little princess,” he said with a bittersweet smile, as she came to stand beside him. “Ariadne, is it?”
She nodded, and thrust a well-suckled thumb into her mouth.
“My name is Daedalus.”
“Why are you here?” she asked curiously.
“I designed something for your father. Those men?” He nodded back where she had come from. “They are building it right now.”
“What is it?”
“A puzzle. It’s supposed to keep something dangerous locked away, to keep sweet little girls like you safe.” But there was a shadow behind his eyes, and even then she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth. It was the same look her father wore when she asked questions.
“Oh,” she said simply. “You look awful sad,” she added after a moment’s thought, and went back to sucking her thumb.
Daedalus sighed. “I am, princess. But I’m doing the best I can.”
He looked back out at the waves. She followed his gaze and saw how stormy the ocean was becoming. Each crest was topped with white foam, and the sky was turning a sickly green. There was a tempest approaching.
“Okay. Bye,” she said, giving the old man an impulsive hug around the shoulders, brushing her lips against his whiskery cheek. “Don’t cry too much.”
“Wait, princess,” he said suddenly as she turned to run back to the house. He held out the spool of blood-red yarn. “I think you should have this. You might need it someday.”
When she awoke the darkness was almost stifling, and the sea outside was deceptively silent. There was no storm coming-it had only been a dream. Or a long-forgotten memory. But she knew in her bones that the young man and his companions were no figment of her imagination. They were still downstairs, in that hidden room, waiting for something awful. Something in the maze.
She abandoned her bed and began opening drawers, rummaging through them with a speed born of an abrupt decision.
When her hands closed around the spool, she knew what she had to do.
+++
How her father knew, or suspected, she never quite figured out. But when she crept down the marble staircase, one hand tight around the wrought iron banister, he was waiting at the foot of it.
“Where are you going, Ariadne?”
She straightened her back. Lifted her chin. Slipped the hand that held the spool behind her hip and away from his prying eyes.
“I’m going to do something, Father.”
“You have no idea what you’re mixing yourself up-”
“No, I don’t. Because you’ve never been honest with me. You’ve never respected me enough to give me a single straight answer.”
“Ariadne, don’t meddle with this. Everything I’ve done has been to keep you safe.”
“Bullshit!” she screamed, and it was the first time she had ever raised her voice in anger. The heat of her outrage thrummed through her bones, lit her up from within like a terrible fire. “You’ve never cared about me. Not in the slightest! A real father would spend time with his daughter, would comfort her when she cried. He would encourage her talents. You’ve been a ghost to me, a mere idea of fatherhood. All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved, to have a friend, to share my thoughts with another-and you’ve denied me even that.”
“So what’s your plan then?” he asked, eyes shadowed, voice hollow. “You’ll kill yourself to spite me?”
“No, I’m going to help. I’m going to uncover this huge mystery of yours. And then I’m leaving.” Her heart was so loud in her ears, she spoke without hesitation. “Theseus has promised to get me away.”
“Theseus? He’s here?”
“Yes. Just arrived on your ship, in fact. The ship you told me was only a nightmare.”
“Are you a complete fool, daughter? I know about the man behind the name. He’s a scoundrel, a cad, a man who wants nothing but glory and fame. You know nothing about him.”
“I know him as well as I know you,” she replied, face set and calm. “And I’d rather take my chances with him.”
He never moved. Never called after her to stop, never spoke a word of apology. The last words her father ever said to her were quiet and distant, as if he were speaking to himself.
“You’ll regret it.”
+++
How she knew she never knew, but Theseus trusted her-and in that moment, that was all that mattered. He took the spool, tossed it before him into the winding labyrinth, watched as it unwound in an uncanny way, leading ever downwards.
“You said there’s a monster down there,” she murmured in that last hesitation.
“Yes. It’s a complicated story, but I’ll tell you everything once we’re away from here.”
“How will you kill it? If it’s truly so terrible?”
“I’m not an ordinary man,” he said, and while there was an air of a boast it was said with such conviction. “One of the few gifts my true father left me with. I’m sure this thing has never faced someone like me before.”
He took her hand. Lifted it to his lips. Pressed a chaste, knightly kiss across her knuckles.
“I’ll be right back, princess.”
He disappeared into the maze, straight-backed and firm footed.
She stood at the entrance for what felt an eternity, ears straining to catch any sound of victory or defeat. With each second that ticked by, she felt a cold pit in her stomach grow larger. She had laid all of her hope on Theseus’ shoulders. If he failed now, when she had severed all ties with her father, when she had dared to meddle in affairs she didn’t understand… What would the repercussions be? Would she ever leave this island?
The tension had become too much. With a single glance back at the worried men and women huddled in the corner, she followed the crimson thread into the labyrinth.
Her footsteps were painfully loud in her ears and she feared each twist and turn. Everything was echoes and shadow; each corner could contain a vision of horror. But she pushed on, driven by her need for answers.
After what felt like an hour, she finally saw a dim flicker of electric, yellow light. And then came the sounds of bellowing, of scraping and crashing and frantically gasped breaths. She quickened her pace, took the turns at a reckless speed.
What she burst into rocked her as physically as a punch. Theseus had not exaggerated when he’d called it a monster-taller than a man, heavily sinewed and a dark, terrible blood-red, covered in coarse hair and cords of muscle. It had a man’s chest, and a man’s arms, but the feet that scored deep ruts into the concrete floor were cloven, and its head… Above the shoulders it was hardly human. Misshapened, horned: it even snorted and wheezed like a furious bull.
And before it, the object of its enraged focus, was Theseus. His shirt was torn, his forehead gouged, and blood ran in thick streams into his shockingly blue eyes. He grappled with the creature, meeting it hand for hand, impossibly small and resilient in comparison.
His eyes flickered up and caught Ariadne’s. He dug his feet in and pushed with a roar of his own, and the beast actually took a step back.
But it was clear to her: this was a battle Theseus was going to lose. All of his spectacular strength was for naught. This bull-headed monster had untold depths of rage and power. Even if Theseus succeeded in killing it, it would take the last ounce of him-this could only end in a dual death.
Ariadne opened her mouth, threw all of her naïve hope and desire into her voice, and aimed it at the battle like a lance. The pure, shattering notes pierced the heated scuffle, and as her song reached its crescendo, the beast closed its torch-like red eyes and shook its head, as if to rid itself of a troublesome pest.
It was all Theseus needed. He leapt forward, arms closing around the thing’s barrel of a throat. And before it could fill its lungs again he had squeezed and twisted, wrenching upwards with all of his might.
The snap of bones reverberated from the walls in the sudden silence, her song spent. It had served its purpose. And she felt a glow of satisfaction and relief as the monster sank to its knees, tongue lolling from its gaping, foam-flecked mouth. Theseus released it with a grunt, pushing it away as he stepped back.
“S’pose I should say thanks,” he said, when they had both regained their voices. “Seems all I needed was the right distraction.”
“You can save the thanking, just so long as you keep your promise,” she said. Never had she felt this sort of elation. It was as if a door had stood before her, hidden in shadow and locked, and she’d only now discovered the key that fit. Everything felt new and thrilling; this was a turning point, an epiphany, just as she’d read in so many books. Tomorrow would be a new dawn for her, the start to a new life.
And she had finally done something worth the warmth of pride. Her father had only sought to contain this beast-but she had helped to kill it. She had done something worthy and heroic and she now knew how the knights of Camelot had felt in the aftermath of battle.
Then Theseus stepped closer, wet with blood and sweat but golden and gleaming in her eyes. He took her hand again, laced his fingers through hers, and smiled.
She had never felt so wanted, so appreciated.
+++
It was on the ship, out at sea, that she discovered the true nature of need.
The others were asleep below deck, exhausted by their previous terror and current relief, spent by their lavish praise and gratitude to the returning heroes. And she had been standing at the prow, looking out at the gentle sway of the waves, sea salt in her raven hair.
When he touched her shoulder, she knew with a shiver what would come next. It was as if she had always known it would be this way, on the chilled deck of a sailing boat, the spray of the ocean on their skin. And when he touched her, fingertips tracing hot circles across her belly, her breasts, she knew this was hardly the first for him as it was for her.
But she didn’t care in that heady moment of naïve desire and awakening. She welcomed everything, drawing it in greedily, drowning in him as if she had always been dying of thirst. This was real, this was what it felt like to live, this was something she had craved so long she had forgotten the name for it. He was the candle. She was the flame. And together they burned and melted, shifting into one being of stuttering breath and steam and heat.
There was pain, there was ecstasy, and as he thrust, stroked, bit, kissed, she was overwhelmed. The past was gone, the present was intoxicating, and the future became a heady potential of bliss. She wrote her name across his back with her nails, laid her claim to him as he did the same to her, and arched with yearning even as tears stung her eyes.
She finally felt something beyond empty loneliness, and she screamed it to the heavens.
After, lying in his arms, she traced the bandage across his forehead with one finger. He winced dramatically, the long-suffering hero.
“How did you hold your own against such a monster?” she asked.
“Like I told you, sweetheart: I’m no mere man. My father is a god.”
She laughed at that, but stopped when the laughter wasn’t echoed in his eyes. “…Truly?”
“Which makes me a demi-god. There are perks that have been useful. Strength, stamina…”
Later, even more breathless, she asked the question she had long wanted an answer to, yet had equally feared: “Why my father?”
“He angered my father, by going back on a deal he had sworn to uphold. In punishment, your mother paid the ultimate price. She died, heartbroken and shattered, but not before she delivered that monster into the world.”
Ariadne pulled away, sat up and clutched her dress to her chest. “You can’t mean that that… That was my brother in the labyrinth?”
“Not truly-it was a blight. It was barely even human.”
“I always knew my father was a hard man,” she said finally, allowing Theseus to draw her back down beside him. “But I didn’t know he could be capable of such cruelty. To keep something like that, hidden away and alive-to feed it… It’s too terrible to think about.”
“Then don’t,” he said firmly, kissing her neck. “Don’t waste any more of your time thinking about him. Think about what you’ll do next-what we’ll do next.”
She looked up at him and saw a dream come true. He had given her the answers she had always needed, the validation she had long craved, the companionship of the body, an ear open to her wishes and a hand that took her away from everything she had hated. She knew this had to be love she was feeling, that storied thing she had read about in hundreds of books, what all of the songs were ultimately about.
“Do you love me?”
He looked down at her, eyes glowing ice blue in the starry darkness. All of her hope and need was laid bare, glittering and brittle in her face. So he told her what she wanted, needed, to hear.
“Of course I do. And when we land, I’ll prove it to the world-marry me, Ariadne.”
Her heart leaped in her chest, full of wild abandon. “Yes!” She tangled her hands in his hair, kissed him with tears on her cheeks. Her joy was incandescent.
+++
The last thing he gave her was the bitter taste of defeat. The last thing he taught her was to never pin her hopes on the golden hero-that the fairy tales weren’t always happily ever afters.
+++
When she awoke she was confused. The air was dry and she couldn’t smell the sea; she was lying on a bed, not a rocking deck. Even the sunlight streaming through the window was a different shade, more yellow than slate gray.
She pushed back the sheets and her eyes landed on the bedside table. There were two things on it: a credit card and a black mobile phone.
Ariadne picked the second up, looked at the contact list. There was only one, and of course it said THESEUS. She selected “call”, fingers shaking.
It took an eternity for him to answer. His voice was calm, almost impersonal. “Hello, Ariadne.”
“Theseus, where are you?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to go. A hero’s work is truly never done.”
“When will you be back?”
“Can’t really say for sure.”
“…You will come back, won’t you?”
“Ariadne, remember when I asked you what you wanted more than anything? And you said you wanted to go somewhere new, start over fresh, make a different life for yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I promised you I would make that wish come true. And I kept that promise. Your father will never reach you again, and I’ve left you the money you’ll need to begin a new life. This is your chance-you should take it.”
“But, Theseus, I love you. You said you loved me.”
“Yeah, I did. But I’ve loved a lot of women, sweetheart.”
The phone clicked and he was gone. She sat for several minutes in stunned shock, a painful lump in her throat. She had thought she had known betrayal, thought that her life in that empty house with an absent father had hardened her to that pain. But this was the unexpected blow, and as such it hurt worse than anything else.
Slowly, in steady increments, reality began to seep back into the room. Somewhere outside on the busy street below a truck began to honk. Outside that window was a whole other world she had never seen before. People who didn’t know her face, her name, her past. There would be no doors locked on her any more.
She clenched her teeth and tightened her jaw. With the phone in one hand and the credit card in the other, she left the hotel room and stepped out into the sunlight of a new day.
CAST:
into the labyrinth, an ariadne/theseus mythfic, pg-13
She lives in a house of secrets; he's promised to slay the monsters. How many answers will she get? How many promises will he keep?
“How can you promise that?” She looked into his face, saw what she thought was heartfelt sincerity. But how little she knew people, how naïve she was when it came to trust… She yearned for this young man, body and heart; he had sparked something within her that she had never expected to feel. But she knew nothing about him beyond a name-and how could she believe anything he had said? (3,956 words)
Her father said it was a phase. That he was a phase. An act of rebellion. He said she would regret it.
It was the only bit of truth he ever gave her.
+++
She remembered as a child the crying in the night. The strange ship that slipped into the dock at the foot of the cliffs. The shadowy human-shaped cargo disembarking, fettered together like cattle.
When she asked her father about them the next day, he told her she had been dreaming. It had all been a nightmare.
Of course it was. What else could it have been?
+++
She had grown up in a house of secrets. There were rooms that were barred to her. Sounds that were never explained. She had never known a mother. And so many questions went unanswered.
There was a foreboding, an ominous sense of guilt and shame, attached to her family name. They were rich and that was obvious-the dozens of empty rooms full of statues and ornate furniture, the impressive yacht floating in the harbor, the expensive silks and leathers her father gave her to wear. But there was no joy or happiness that came with such wealth, and the house felt as if it belonged to ghosts. The empty halls seemed to whisper as she passed; the dining hall echoed.
Sometimes she wondered what it would have been like, if she hadn’t been an only child to a single father.
Later she discovered that she had never been an only child. And that had been even worse.
+++
There was a village beyond the rocks, huddled in the lees of the sheer cliffs. The day her last nanny disappeared she walked the nearly empty streets, a hopeful and tremulous smile on her face. She knew there were children her age in the village-she had heard their laughter on the wind. And what she wanted more than any hard candy or porcelain doll was a friend.
But the adults whisked their children away before she could call out a greeting. There was black suspicion on every face that turned towards her. Doors were closed, windows were latched, and every conversation was abruptly silenced as she passed.
She went home alone, choking back tears of confusion and rejection. And then she turned to her piano, her violin, her voice. If she had to be alone, she did not have to sit in silence.
+++
The night the next ship came she was old enough to know better. Old enough to know it was no dream. And old enough to sneak out of her room, down the halls, and through the side door without her father or the servants seeing her.
She crept down to the dock, hid behind rocks, and watched as fourteen young men and women her own age were led from the ship. The boys were in jeans and t-shirts, grubby sneakers. The girls wore sundresses, summer skirts, sandals. Many were crying, or their eyes were red from earlier tears. Some wore stony faces with tightened jaws, as if resigned to something terrible.
But one of the men stood apart from the rest. There was something glittering about him-a fierce light in his pale eyes. From that first look she was struck. And when his eyes caught hers she saw the same shiver run through him. She wanted to run from the rocks, to catch his hand in hers and tear him away from the sad processional she didn’t understand.
But a voice whispered in her heart, and she kept hidden until they had passed. And then? Then she followed after, and saw which door they were taken through.
+++
“What is this all about?”
“How can you not know?” a girl cried, hands clutching at her skirt. “You live here! He’s your father!”
“He tells me nothing-the house is all I’ve ever known.”
“Your father is a cursed man,” he said, the one who already had a finger on her heart. He spoke with such firm conviction, such confidence, that the others took strength from him. They stood straighter, and the muffled sobs stopped. “He angered someone very important years ago and now he’s being punished. Beneath us is a maze, a deadly prison, and at its heart is a monster. We’ve been sent to appease its appetite.”
“That’s utter nonsense,” she tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat. “What you say is madness.”
“This used to be a sunny place, full of beauty. But it’s been corrupted by greed and betrayal. Everything is blackened now, made dark and hollow. You must have noticed this.”
She shook her head as if to deny him, as if to erase the damning words. She turned to leave and he caught her by the wrist, staying her in midstep.
“What’s your name?”
“…Ariadne.”
“Mine’s Theseus. And I’ve sworn to stop all of this. I promised to solve the maze and destroy whatever lives at its center. You could help me, Ariadne-help us.”
“I…”
“What do you want, more than anything?”
She bit her lip, hair in her eyes. “To leave. To get as far away from this place as I can. I want to go somewhere where no one knows who I am, where I can start over from scratch.”
“If you help me, I’ll make that wish come true. I’ll take you with me when I go, and you’ll never have to return.”
“How can you promise that?” She looked into his face, saw what she thought was heartfelt sincerity. But how little she knew people, how naïve she was when it came to trust… She yearned for this young man, body and heart; he had sparked something within her that she had never expected to feel. But she knew nothing about him beyond a name-and how could she believe anything he had said?
And then she turned and ran, her arm slipping from his grasp, the heavy door thudding closed behind her.
+++
That night she dreamed-or was it remembered? She was a small child again, barely toddling, and weaving around many legs as she searched for her father. There was so much activity in the courtyard, dozens of men carrying stones and beams of wood and tools down into an immense hole in the ground. Her father was watching over all with a thunderous look on his face, and it had frightened her.
So she fled, running down to the rocky beach, away from her angry father and the confusing noises of construction. And on the beach she found him, sitting on the edge of the tide, feet splashed by the incoming waves. He had a huge spool of red string in his hands that he rolled between his palms. And all the while he stared out across the ocean, his shoulders slumped with an invisible weight.
She had never seen him before, but he looked kind and sad. His bushy white beard made her think of dandelions gone to seed, and she approached him with her usual childish fearlessness.
“And you would be the little princess,” he said with a bittersweet smile, as she came to stand beside him. “Ariadne, is it?”
She nodded, and thrust a well-suckled thumb into her mouth.
“My name is Daedalus.”
“Why are you here?” she asked curiously.
“I designed something for your father. Those men?” He nodded back where she had come from. “They are building it right now.”
“What is it?”
“A puzzle. It’s supposed to keep something dangerous locked away, to keep sweet little girls like you safe.” But there was a shadow behind his eyes, and even then she knew he wasn’t telling her the truth. It was the same look her father wore when she asked questions.
“Oh,” she said simply. “You look awful sad,” she added after a moment’s thought, and went back to sucking her thumb.
Daedalus sighed. “I am, princess. But I’m doing the best I can.”
He looked back out at the waves. She followed his gaze and saw how stormy the ocean was becoming. Each crest was topped with white foam, and the sky was turning a sickly green. There was a tempest approaching.
“Okay. Bye,” she said, giving the old man an impulsive hug around the shoulders, brushing her lips against his whiskery cheek. “Don’t cry too much.”
“Wait, princess,” he said suddenly as she turned to run back to the house. He held out the spool of blood-red yarn. “I think you should have this. You might need it someday.”
When she awoke the darkness was almost stifling, and the sea outside was deceptively silent. There was no storm coming-it had only been a dream. Or a long-forgotten memory. But she knew in her bones that the young man and his companions were no figment of her imagination. They were still downstairs, in that hidden room, waiting for something awful. Something in the maze.
She abandoned her bed and began opening drawers, rummaging through them with a speed born of an abrupt decision.
When her hands closed around the spool, she knew what she had to do.
+++
How her father knew, or suspected, she never quite figured out. But when she crept down the marble staircase, one hand tight around the wrought iron banister, he was waiting at the foot of it.
“Where are you going, Ariadne?”
She straightened her back. Lifted her chin. Slipped the hand that held the spool behind her hip and away from his prying eyes.
“I’m going to do something, Father.”
“You have no idea what you’re mixing yourself up-”
“No, I don’t. Because you’ve never been honest with me. You’ve never respected me enough to give me a single straight answer.”
“Ariadne, don’t meddle with this. Everything I’ve done has been to keep you safe.”
“Bullshit!” she screamed, and it was the first time she had ever raised her voice in anger. The heat of her outrage thrummed through her bones, lit her up from within like a terrible fire. “You’ve never cared about me. Not in the slightest! A real father would spend time with his daughter, would comfort her when she cried. He would encourage her talents. You’ve been a ghost to me, a mere idea of fatherhood. All I’ve ever wanted is to be loved, to have a friend, to share my thoughts with another-and you’ve denied me even that.”
“So what’s your plan then?” he asked, eyes shadowed, voice hollow. “You’ll kill yourself to spite me?”
“No, I’m going to help. I’m going to uncover this huge mystery of yours. And then I’m leaving.” Her heart was so loud in her ears, she spoke without hesitation. “Theseus has promised to get me away.”
“Theseus? He’s here?”
“Yes. Just arrived on your ship, in fact. The ship you told me was only a nightmare.”
“Are you a complete fool, daughter? I know about the man behind the name. He’s a scoundrel, a cad, a man who wants nothing but glory and fame. You know nothing about him.”
“I know him as well as I know you,” she replied, face set and calm. “And I’d rather take my chances with him.”
He never moved. Never called after her to stop, never spoke a word of apology. The last words her father ever said to her were quiet and distant, as if he were speaking to himself.
“You’ll regret it.”
+++
How she knew she never knew, but Theseus trusted her-and in that moment, that was all that mattered. He took the spool, tossed it before him into the winding labyrinth, watched as it unwound in an uncanny way, leading ever downwards.
“You said there’s a monster down there,” she murmured in that last hesitation.
“Yes. It’s a complicated story, but I’ll tell you everything once we’re away from here.”
“How will you kill it? If it’s truly so terrible?”
“I’m not an ordinary man,” he said, and while there was an air of a boast it was said with such conviction. “One of the few gifts my true father left me with. I’m sure this thing has never faced someone like me before.”
He took her hand. Lifted it to his lips. Pressed a chaste, knightly kiss across her knuckles.
“I’ll be right back, princess.”
He disappeared into the maze, straight-backed and firm footed.
She stood at the entrance for what felt an eternity, ears straining to catch any sound of victory or defeat. With each second that ticked by, she felt a cold pit in her stomach grow larger. She had laid all of her hope on Theseus’ shoulders. If he failed now, when she had severed all ties with her father, when she had dared to meddle in affairs she didn’t understand… What would the repercussions be? Would she ever leave this island?
The tension had become too much. With a single glance back at the worried men and women huddled in the corner, she followed the crimson thread into the labyrinth.
Her footsteps were painfully loud in her ears and she feared each twist and turn. Everything was echoes and shadow; each corner could contain a vision of horror. But she pushed on, driven by her need for answers.
After what felt like an hour, she finally saw a dim flicker of electric, yellow light. And then came the sounds of bellowing, of scraping and crashing and frantically gasped breaths. She quickened her pace, took the turns at a reckless speed.
What she burst into rocked her as physically as a punch. Theseus had not exaggerated when he’d called it a monster-taller than a man, heavily sinewed and a dark, terrible blood-red, covered in coarse hair and cords of muscle. It had a man’s chest, and a man’s arms, but the feet that scored deep ruts into the concrete floor were cloven, and its head… Above the shoulders it was hardly human. Misshapened, horned: it even snorted and wheezed like a furious bull.
And before it, the object of its enraged focus, was Theseus. His shirt was torn, his forehead gouged, and blood ran in thick streams into his shockingly blue eyes. He grappled with the creature, meeting it hand for hand, impossibly small and resilient in comparison.
His eyes flickered up and caught Ariadne’s. He dug his feet in and pushed with a roar of his own, and the beast actually took a step back.
But it was clear to her: this was a battle Theseus was going to lose. All of his spectacular strength was for naught. This bull-headed monster had untold depths of rage and power. Even if Theseus succeeded in killing it, it would take the last ounce of him-this could only end in a dual death.
Ariadne opened her mouth, threw all of her naïve hope and desire into her voice, and aimed it at the battle like a lance. The pure, shattering notes pierced the heated scuffle, and as her song reached its crescendo, the beast closed its torch-like red eyes and shook its head, as if to rid itself of a troublesome pest.
It was all Theseus needed. He leapt forward, arms closing around the thing’s barrel of a throat. And before it could fill its lungs again he had squeezed and twisted, wrenching upwards with all of his might.
The snap of bones reverberated from the walls in the sudden silence, her song spent. It had served its purpose. And she felt a glow of satisfaction and relief as the monster sank to its knees, tongue lolling from its gaping, foam-flecked mouth. Theseus released it with a grunt, pushing it away as he stepped back.
“S’pose I should say thanks,” he said, when they had both regained their voices. “Seems all I needed was the right distraction.”
“You can save the thanking, just so long as you keep your promise,” she said. Never had she felt this sort of elation. It was as if a door had stood before her, hidden in shadow and locked, and she’d only now discovered the key that fit. Everything felt new and thrilling; this was a turning point, an epiphany, just as she’d read in so many books. Tomorrow would be a new dawn for her, the start to a new life.
And she had finally done something worth the warmth of pride. Her father had only sought to contain this beast-but she had helped to kill it. She had done something worthy and heroic and she now knew how the knights of Camelot had felt in the aftermath of battle.
Then Theseus stepped closer, wet with blood and sweat but golden and gleaming in her eyes. He took her hand again, laced his fingers through hers, and smiled.
She had never felt so wanted, so appreciated.
+++
It was on the ship, out at sea, that she discovered the true nature of need.
The others were asleep below deck, exhausted by their previous terror and current relief, spent by their lavish praise and gratitude to the returning heroes. And she had been standing at the prow, looking out at the gentle sway of the waves, sea salt in her raven hair.
When he touched her shoulder, she knew with a shiver what would come next. It was as if she had always known it would be this way, on the chilled deck of a sailing boat, the spray of the ocean on their skin. And when he touched her, fingertips tracing hot circles across her belly, her breasts, she knew this was hardly the first for him as it was for her.
But she didn’t care in that heady moment of naïve desire and awakening. She welcomed everything, drawing it in greedily, drowning in him as if she had always been dying of thirst. This was real, this was what it felt like to live, this was something she had craved so long she had forgotten the name for it. He was the candle. She was the flame. And together they burned and melted, shifting into one being of stuttering breath and steam and heat.
There was pain, there was ecstasy, and as he thrust, stroked, bit, kissed, she was overwhelmed. The past was gone, the present was intoxicating, and the future became a heady potential of bliss. She wrote her name across his back with her nails, laid her claim to him as he did the same to her, and arched with yearning even as tears stung her eyes.
She finally felt something beyond empty loneliness, and she screamed it to the heavens.
After, lying in his arms, she traced the bandage across his forehead with one finger. He winced dramatically, the long-suffering hero.
“How did you hold your own against such a monster?” she asked.
“Like I told you, sweetheart: I’m no mere man. My father is a god.”
She laughed at that, but stopped when the laughter wasn’t echoed in his eyes. “…Truly?”
“Which makes me a demi-god. There are perks that have been useful. Strength, stamina…”
Later, even more breathless, she asked the question she had long wanted an answer to, yet had equally feared: “Why my father?”
“He angered my father, by going back on a deal he had sworn to uphold. In punishment, your mother paid the ultimate price. She died, heartbroken and shattered, but not before she delivered that monster into the world.”
Ariadne pulled away, sat up and clutched her dress to her chest. “You can’t mean that that… That was my brother in the labyrinth?”
“Not truly-it was a blight. It was barely even human.”
“I always knew my father was a hard man,” she said finally, allowing Theseus to draw her back down beside him. “But I didn’t know he could be capable of such cruelty. To keep something like that, hidden away and alive-to feed it… It’s too terrible to think about.”
“Then don’t,” he said firmly, kissing her neck. “Don’t waste any more of your time thinking about him. Think about what you’ll do next-what we’ll do next.”
She looked up at him and saw a dream come true. He had given her the answers she had always needed, the validation she had long craved, the companionship of the body, an ear open to her wishes and a hand that took her away from everything she had hated. She knew this had to be love she was feeling, that storied thing she had read about in hundreds of books, what all of the songs were ultimately about.
“Do you love me?”
He looked down at her, eyes glowing ice blue in the starry darkness. All of her hope and need was laid bare, glittering and brittle in her face. So he told her what she wanted, needed, to hear.
“Of course I do. And when we land, I’ll prove it to the world-marry me, Ariadne.”
Her heart leaped in her chest, full of wild abandon. “Yes!” She tangled her hands in his hair, kissed him with tears on her cheeks. Her joy was incandescent.
+++
The last thing he gave her was the bitter taste of defeat. The last thing he taught her was to never pin her hopes on the golden hero-that the fairy tales weren’t always happily ever afters.
+++
When she awoke she was confused. The air was dry and she couldn’t smell the sea; she was lying on a bed, not a rocking deck. Even the sunlight streaming through the window was a different shade, more yellow than slate gray.
She pushed back the sheets and her eyes landed on the bedside table. There were two things on it: a credit card and a black mobile phone.
Ariadne picked the second up, looked at the contact list. There was only one, and of course it said THESEUS. She selected “call”, fingers shaking.
It took an eternity for him to answer. His voice was calm, almost impersonal. “Hello, Ariadne.”
“Theseus, where are you?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to go. A hero’s work is truly never done.”
“When will you be back?”
“Can’t really say for sure.”
“…You will come back, won’t you?”
“Ariadne, remember when I asked you what you wanted more than anything? And you said you wanted to go somewhere new, start over fresh, make a different life for yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I promised you I would make that wish come true. And I kept that promise. Your father will never reach you again, and I’ve left you the money you’ll need to begin a new life. This is your chance-you should take it.”
“But, Theseus, I love you. You said you loved me.”
“Yeah, I did. But I’ve loved a lot of women, sweetheart.”
The phone clicked and he was gone. She sat for several minutes in stunned shock, a painful lump in her throat. She had thought she had known betrayal, thought that her life in that empty house with an absent father had hardened her to that pain. But this was the unexpected blow, and as such it hurt worse than anything else.
Slowly, in steady increments, reality began to seep back into the room. Somewhere outside on the busy street below a truck began to honk. Outside that window was a whole other world she had never seen before. People who didn’t know her face, her name, her past. There would be no doors locked on her any more.
She clenched her teeth and tightened her jaw. With the phone in one hand and the credit card in the other, she left the hotel room and stepped out into the sunlight of a new day.