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The sting of losing to the daemon did not get much easier with time, but Theseus had slowly come to appreciate the calm moments when he and Asterius relaxed together after a loss, once they had both reconstituted in their chambers. They often lay like this speaking of the past, or idly strategising about their future battles, or simply enjoying one another’s company.
After one predictable defeat by the daemon, Theseus was in an unusually peaceful mood, and was lying on Asterius’s lap on their bed. He was recounting stories from his times journeying with Heracles, telling Asterius how much he wished he could have seen the sea, and admitting that sometimes, even though he had everything he could ever want in Elysium, he missed it, too—the sound of the waves and the feelings of freedom and expansiveness that he felt when he sailed.
This reminded Asterius, so he went on to narrate, of his time in the Labyrinth, and the way his mother Pasiphaë had covertly brought him papyri bearing stories of heroes and adventurers. That was how he had learned to read, with nothing else to do but wait in his solitude for challengers. He had learned about lives he knew he would never lead, due to the situation he had been forced into by the king. At the mention of Minos, Asterius tensed up.
Theseus withdrew his head from Asterius’s lap and sat up momentarily, placing a hand on Asterius’s chest and gently coaxing him back onto the bed.
“Come,” he said, softly, “let us lie down. We have fought hard today, have we not?”
Asterius followed Theseus’s lead, reclining slowly until his head rested on a cotton-stuffed pillow. He blinked and returned the loving smile on Theseus’s face with a gentle one of his own—the type of smile that was imperceptible to those who did not know him well.
“You are gentle, king,” he said.
“That is not true,” Theseus said, removing his hand from Asterius’s chest and bringing it up to his mane, running his fingers over the hair he had plaited earlier. “I am gentle only with you.” He climbed on top of him, putting his free hand on Asterius’s shoulder and stroking it. His face grew serious. “Did something trouble you there, Asterius?”
“It was nothing, king,” Asterius said, though his tone, usually so even and controlled, betrayed the slightest modulation—a hint of anxiety.
Theseus stroked Asterius’s jaw. “Know that you are never a burden to me, my beloved. If you wish to speak about anything, you will have my undivided attention. I am here to listen to you, if ever you should require me.”
“Thank you,” Asterius said. He leaned into Theseus’s touch. “I am merely bothered by a memory. I do not wish to talk about it now. Maybe another time.”
“Very well,” Theseus said. The two fell quiet for a moment as Theseus caressed Asterius who, in turn, brought his hands up to Theseus’s back, holding him in place. After a time, Theseus withdrew his hands, instead propping himself up on his elbows and looking down into Asterius’s eyes.
“What a beautiful view I have from here!” he said, slightly louder than he had been. “I am lucky to be able to see my dear Asterius like this whenever I please. Is this position comfortable for you? I do not wish to stab you with my elbows.”
“Do not worry. It is comfortable,” Asterius said. “And it is nice to look at you like this, too.”
“I am glad,” Theseus said, offering Asterius a grin. “You know, I find your bovine features very attractive.”
“You have mentioned this,” Asterius said, moving one of his hands to the back of Theseus’s leg, stroking it with his broad palm. “I find it surprising.”
“You do?” Theseus furrowed his brow. “Well, we cannot have this! Please tell me you do not doubt yourself, Asterius. You ought to be aware of your beauty.”
“It is not that I doubt myself, or my worth,” Asterius said. “But I do not believe that many humans are attracted to those like me.”
“Well, if that is so, then most humans are fools! Look at you, Asterius,” Theseus said. Still leaning on one hand, he brought the other down to Asterius’s snout and rubbed it gently. “All others pale in comparison to you.”
Asterius’s ear twitched. “Before you met me, did you ever have feelings like this for one who was not human?”
“I did not,” Theseus said, cocking his head. His hand wandered to the side of Asterius’s face, which he held gently as he leaned in and placed a kiss on Asterius’s nose. “Perhaps I simply had yet to meet the right bull.” As he leaned back, he widened his eyes and his smile. “I have wanted to ask you something about that, if I may?”
“You may ask me anything, king,” Asterius said.
“You see, I was thinking,” Theseus said. “You are half-man and half-bull, but you speak like a man—very eloquently and wonderfully, might I add. Your voice is music to my ears.”
“Your praise is high.”
“It is deserved.” There was an adoring look in Theseus’s eyes. “What I wanted to know was simply whether you have the capacity to make sounds like a bull, also.”
Asterius narrowed his eyes slightly in bemusement. “Is this something you wonder about often?”
“It has crossed my mind from time to time,” Theseus said. “Is that strange?”
“No,” Asterius said. “But the answer is not very interesting. It is simply that I have not really tried.”
“You have not tried? Well, we cannot have that! Who knows what hidden talents you have!” Theseus said. “Of course, you have enough unhidden talents as is. But nonetheless.”
Asterius looked down slightly. “In my lifetime, as you know, I was detested for my form. The fact that I am this way was bad enough, as the people around me saw it. It would have been unacceptable for me to attempt to resemble a bull more than I already do.”
“What nonsense! They did not see you for who you truly were. It still boils my blood to think about.”
“It does not boil mine,” Asterius said. “Because now I am with you, and the happiness you bring me far surpasses that pain.”
Theseus’s face now wound its way into a sympathetic frown. “I do not know how anyone could but love you, Asterius.”
“And I feel the same way about you, king,” Asterius said. He wrapped his arms around Theseus, who smiled.
And then he said, out of nowhere, “would you like to try?”
“Try what?”
“Well,” Theseus said. “You say you never got the opportunity to low like a bull. Would you like to try?”
“King…” Asterius was apparently dumbfounded. “Why do you ask this?”
Theseus’s smile was unwavering. He spoke as though his proposition and its reasons were obvious, uncomplicated. “I would like you to see just how much I adore you for who you are, Asterius. And that includes all of your taurine features and capabilities! If there is anything you have been denied in life, then I wish to give it to you.”
“This is not something I feel I have been denied,” Asterius said. “But we can try it. It sounds interesting.”
“Wonderful!” Theseus said. He looked fondly at Asterius, eyes half-closed in contentment. He lay still for a moment, waiting. When he received no response, he spoke again. “Is it proving to be impossible, dear Asterius?”
“No, it is just,” Asterius sighed slightly. “I do not know where to begin. Producing these sounds is foreign to me.”
Theseus considered for a second, and then his eyes lit up brightly. “Ah, do you require some inspiration?”
“Inspiration, king?” Asterius asked.
“Observe, Asterius!” Theseus untangled himself from Asterius’s grasp and crawled off him, sliding into the free space on the bed beside him. He clambered up onto all fours, jutting his chin out ever so slightly. “Now, do I not resemble a bull myself? None so handsome as you, of course, but my best approximation thereof.”
“You are most handsome, Theseus, but your resemblance to a bull is slight,” Asterius said. He seemed to be somewhat amused, though Theseus was taking the whole affair very seriously.
“Alas, I cannot will myself to grow horns, so your imagination will have to do, I am afraid,” he said, a note of genuine lament in his voice. “Imagine, then, that we are two bulls amongst a herd of cattle, and I wish to get your attention.”
“All right,” Asterius said. “But you already have my attention.”
“Then—pretend for an instant that you do not see me, or such.”
Asterius turned his head away for a moment. Theseus smiled to himself and then braced himself, taking a deep breath, before letting out a low, rumbling moo. Asterius looked back at him.
“That was not very accurate, king,” he said.
“Gah, was it not?” Theseus said. “I thought I had the intonation right—you know, I spent a lot of time around cattle in my life! You would think I would have a better sense of how to do this. I had hoped to inspire you to respond in turn.” He was growing frustrated as he spoke.
“Do not worry,” Asterius said. “It may not have been realistic, but it was adorable.” He reached out to stroke Theseus’s hair.
“Ah, you flatter me! But this is about you!” Theseus said. He felt warmth rush to his face. Though he received praise often, from other shades, Asterius’s compliments always brought him a unique feeling of happiness. “What could I improve in my delivery?”
“I think there are limits, because you are a human,” Asterius said. “But your tone suggested something offensive. Not a call for attention.”
“Ah, I am sorry for offending you, my dearest!”
“No, it was not offensive. I found it amusing,” Asterius said. “You should draw the sound out more, if you try again.”
“What wonderful advice, Asterius!” Theseus said. “I am fortunate to have such a patient teacher. Allow me to try with your counsel in mind.” He leaned into his pose more and attempted another moo, this one both lengthier and more intense—he did his best to pour his heart into the act. When he was finished, he looked at Asterius. “Was that any better?”
Asterius rubbed Theseus’s cheek with a finger. “It was an improvement.”
“Advise me, Asterius!” Theseus said. “You are usually so forthcoming with praise, and yet you withhold it now. How can I more accurately imitate a bull?”
“Theseus,” Asterius said. “You will never be able to do so perfectly. But that is because you are a human, and in all things that relate to being human, you excel. There is much to praise you for, in that regard. Do not worry about the fact that you cannot do this.”
In response to this, Theseus took Asterius’s hand in his own. “How sweet you are, Asterius. I simply wanted to inspire you, and I regret that I could not do that.”
“All right,” Asterius said. “I think I can attempt to draw inspiration from your attempts, if that would make you happy, my king.”
“It would make me euphoric,” Theseus said.
Asterius looked over at him, contentment in his eyes, and lowed. It was loud and deep, confident in a way the previous attempts had not been. Theseus watched on, awestruck. He beamed.
“Oh, Asterius,” he said, “that was spectacular. I told you that you would have a hidden talent for this, did I not? I knew it!”
Asterius pulled Theseus towards him, muttering a “thank you” as he did so.
“And though my own skills at imitating a bull are lacking, I am very glad that I could spur you on to do this,” Theseus said.
Asterius held Theseus close. “Thank you also for earlier.”
“For earlier?” Theseus asked, melting into Asterius’s touch and nuzzling into his chest.
“That matter which bothered me earlier, the memory. It does not bother me now. You have helped me feel better,” Asterius said.
“Ah, you need not thank me,” Theseus said. “I hope that I can always do that for you.”
“And I for you,” Asterius said, holding Theseus close. They lay together, like that, for what felt like hours.