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With Asterius now residing within Elysium, Theseus did all he could to make sure his new companion was comfortable and content, and part of this included simply getting to know him as a friend. To an unknowing observer, the bull would have an air of stoicness to him, a lack of emotion. But Theseus knew better!
He knew, for example, that when he was feeling annoyed, Asterius’ eyes would squint ever so slightly. When nervousness struck him, the short length of his tail would stick upwards, tenting the backside of his chiton (in a way Theseus would sometimes laugh at, if it turned out the bull had just been startled rather than hurt). And when was feeling joyful, his cute ears would perk up, or sometimes even manage to flap- an adorable sight, and one that Theseus loved greatly.
Theseus had never been particularly good at reading body language before. He was somewhat unobservant, true, but others had a tendency to have restraint with him, speaking through gritted teeth lest they say something insulting towards someone who, if he so chose to, could send them to the gallows without question. But Theseus was not such a man! He was a king who embodied both strength and mercy, and… perhaps, he disliked when others lied to him in the hopes of avoiding his supposed wrath. He did not enjoy being unaware if someone's kindness was true, or if they secretly resented him. Something deep within him sometimes tried to convince him that Asterius’ niceties were merely for show, and in reality the bull wished to be away from him as soon as the opportunity arose. But he would not allow himself to think of that now- after all, it was a busy day for them both!
Today, just as any other day, they would train together!
To hone the natural battle skills Asterius already had, and also to test out new formations Theseus could not do by himself, they would make their way to one of Elysium’s many training grounds. Part of this training was trying to find different ways to utilize their weapons. Sometimes, this was successful- recently Asterius had figured out an elaborate attack wherein he swung his axe in a circle. Other times, it was a massive failure, and the two would head home with their clothing somewhat signed (or, in one case, they had managed to cause extensive damage to a statue in the glade and were soon reprimanded by Lord Hades himself, who had claimed such damage was not easy to repair. Despite this, the same statue was fixed quite literally the next day).
In this particular instance, Theseus was attempting an attack that involved him launching his spear at a somewhat unusual angle. If all went well, it would fly in a splendid arc and pierce one of the training mannequins the glade contained. Asterius stayed back to avoid getting hit himself- they would practice on maneuvering around the attack to pinpoint its exact weak points after this initial test.
“Brace yourself- for this next move is sure to dazzle you!” Theseus said to his audience of one. Asterius, from his position on the other side of the glade, merely nodded.
He let his spear fly… only to realize too late that his calculations were completely inaccurate. Instead of forming a perfect arc, his attack was more like a fledgling trying to take its first flight. And not only that, it was headed straight for--
“Asterius, watch out!!”
But it was too late- by the time Asterius registered the urgency of his words, the weapon had already hit its unintentional target, striking the top of his head.
“Ow,” said Asterius, his tone imbued with the same monotone one may have after bumping into something hard and expecting pain, only for it not to come.
“My friend, did I injure you? I will not make such a blunder again, I assure you!” Theseus rushed over to where his companion stood, more than ready to give him aid if necessary.
“I’m fine.” The bull shook his head out, as he had a tendency to do after being startled. The action always made a mess of the fine curls Theseus put in his hair earlier that day or night, but the king was too concerned to comment on it at the time.
“Are you quite sure? Allow me to take a closer loo… Asterius, my gods!!”
When the king suddenly gasped, the bull tilted his head, confused.
“Asterius, you- how-- ?!” It was rare for Theseus to babble like this, except for times where he was particularly excited. Did a bug land upon Asterius’ snout? Was there another bird upon his horns? The last time the king became so excitable he could not speak, it was because a dove had taken residence between them as if it intended to make a nest of the bull’s own hair. He would simply have to wait until the king could form his words, he concluded.
Finally, the king made an upwards gesture, and squeaked out “Your horn, Asterius! By gods, I’ve damaged it!!”
“Hmm?”
Asterius reached to touch the very top of one of his tall horns, and discovered it felt much more fractured than he remembered. When he looked down, he saw, at his feet, a small fragment that had been broken off, laying next to where Theseus’ spear had fallen in the grass.
"Hmm…" Asterius appeared thoughtful for a moment, then squatted down to pick up the small fragment. He’d once been told his bull-father had horns of pearlescent white, while Asterius’ own were more a muted ivory colour. At Theseus’ concerned expression, Asterius said:
"It's fine, you did not hurt me. The tips of my horns don't carry any sensation."
“But I could have hurt you, couldn’t I?!”
“If you had pierced lower, yes.” Asterius could not deny that. Years of his horns scraping against the ceiling of the labyrinth had dulled the tips as well as any sense they once had, but no further than that.
At the possibility that he could have genuinely injured his dear friend, Theseus' face turned almost ghostly pale. He looked as if any moment he could fall over, curl into a ball, and start sobbing violently like some wet, pathetic beast. And while Asterius could understand why his king would be upset in this context (he certainly wouldn’t enjoy it if he had accidentally injured Theseus). But it was not worth crying over, especially when there was nothing to be done about it. In fact…
“I’m sure Elysium will repair it,” said Asterius, in the hopes it would aid his king in regaining his composure.
“Ah, yes, of course! You’re absolutely right, my companion! In that case, let us give Elysium time to do her work!”
And so, they waited. But with each passing second, more and more nothing happened, causing the king to feel great distress and promptly begin to nervously sweat as if he’d just finished a particularly strenuous battle. And when the horn simply continued to be just as broken as it was before, he finally decided to speak again, though his voice came out strange and strained as opposed to its usual strength:
“Hmm! Well! This is odd! May I try something?”
Asterius shrugged. “Go ahead."
At his approval, Theseus walked over to where Asterius stood. From his palm he took the small piece of horn (somehow it was much lighter in weight than Theseus had expected). He then rushed over to where the Lethe pooled within the glade. Though he was used to it by now, being this close to the waters was always an odd experience. its surface shimmered unnaturally, and he swore that he could hear soft whispers emerging from the gentle white mist, long-forgotten tales of heroes far before Theseus’ time.
“While Lethe is better known for its ability to make the mind forget unpleasant memories, it can also cause the body to forget unpleasant injuries!” Theseus explained to his companion, who had taken the opportunity to take a seat upon a bed of soft grass. “I imagine it would be difficult for you to tip your head enough for the water to wash over only your horns, and I worry of the consequences of asking you to stand beneath a waterfall, though perhaps if you wore some kind of covering it would…well! Regardless, allow us to try this, my companion!”
With the horn fragment held tightly, Theseus dipped both hands into the water of the Lethe. When he retracted them, his formerly calloused palms were smooth and supple as if he'd never worked a day in his life, and the fragment seemed to have a slight glow to it. When he returned to place it upon Asterius' fractured horn, the glow intensified into a magnificent light… only for that light to fizzle out with a sputter. The shard fell quickly to the ground.
Both man and bull stared at where the shard landed in Elysium’s grass, neither quite knowing what to do or say. Theseus opened his mouth, then closed it. When he could finally manage words, his throat was clenched so tightly that his voice was hoarse.
“Let us, er, try that again!”
Theseus once again picked up the fragmented horn and fixated it on Asterius’ head, this time tearing a piece of fabric from his chiton to use as a makeshift bandage. When Theseus moved his hands away, it seemed all was well… until almost immediately the small fragment slipped out of the cloth, and returned to its earlier position on the ground. Theseus’ mouth hung open, baffled.
“Perhaps,” said Asterius thoughtfully, “the Lethe has never had to heal a horn before.”
“Maybe so, but… no matter!! Let us return to my home, Asterius! I have not given up yet!”
Theseus grabbed Asterius’ large hand, and dragged him towards their shared residence. If the Lethe was useless in this instance, there is another godly substance to try… with how difficult it is to acquire it may seem like a waste to some to use in this context, but nothing was too good for Asterius!
Once inside, Theseus rummaged through a small chest where he kept some of his more precious items which had followed him into the afterlife: a gorgeous violet sash from Lady Amphitrite, a small wooden effigy of the goddess Aphrodite, a shimmering veil that once belonged to his mother… at the very bottom of the chest, Theseus found what he was looking for: an unopened bottle of ambrosia, a trophy from one of his many hard-fought battles as champion.
“Here we are!” The king lifted the heavy bottle, eyes glittering with joy, “the food of the gods! Asterius, you’ve never delighted in ambrosia before, correct?”
“That is correct.” The bull had sat down at their dining table, which was the appropriate size for one man and one bull. They rarely entertained guests, after all, and the kitchen went largely unused outside of eating together (Asterius knew not how to cook, though he was interested in learning how, and Theseus was so notoriously bad a chef he felt fatigue any time he looked at a stovetop).
“Ambrosia is much more difficult to obtain than mere nectar, but for that reason the reward of it is so much sweeter! Tonight, we shall not only taste its splendor… we shall also use it to repair your damaged horn!”
The king twirled with the bottle held firmly in his hands as he explained. “Long ago, my forefather Tantalus committed a horrific crime: He dismembered his son Pelops and attempted to feed his remains to the gods! Lady Demeter, incensed at his treachery, held the bone of Pelops’ shoulder so tightly in her fist she crushed it by mistake. Later, as the gods restored the body of my great-grandfather, she repaired his broken bone by allowing ambrosia to see between the cracks.” Theseus uncorked the bottle he held, its thick and golden scent quickly filling the air. “If ambrosia can heal broken bones, it should certainly work for horns as well!”
Theseus slathered the heavy liquid onto his companion’s horn, then once again slotted the broken fragment where it belonged. Once again there was a glow, an almost blinding golden light… once again, the fragment lept from its position on top of Asterius’ head, and tossed itself to the floor below, completely ignorant of the distress it was causing.
“...What- what treachery is this?!” A trembling Theseus had half a mind to throw what remained of the bottle onto the floor to shatter, or perhaps dump the rest of its contents onto the bull’s lovely head in the hopes the addition of more would help. Thankfully, Asterius had the sense to gently pry the bottle from his king’s hands before he could act on either impulse.
“Thank you for trying. I imagine it will heal in its own time.” Asterius reached to cup Theseus’ cheek, gently cradling his handsome face. “Do not worry about this. Let us share what remains of this ambrosia.”
Asterius’ touch seemed to linger for longer than necessary, to the point where Theseus was almost lured into forgetting their current problem. Soon they were setting out two small glasses, as well as the snacks that Theseus claimed were proper to have alongside ambrosia (in this case: dried fruits, salted nuts, and soft cheeses).
And as they shared this boon, Theseus’ eyes kept wandering back to Asterius. He badly wanted to appreciate how elegant the bull looked in that moment, or the dainty way he held his glass, or compliment how he was taking this in stride when if Theseus were in a similar situation he would’ve broken down crying long ago.
But he could not focus- that infernal horn! How dare it reject any healing that was offered to it?! How dare it be yet another reminder of the mistakes Theseus has made…? The idea of simply waiting for it to heal felt like torture, but what else was there to do?
When both men decided it was time to retire to their chambers, he could only hope that sleep could aid a shade the same way it did a mortal body. Perhaps, he could spend the quiet of Elysium’s artificial night to come up with further plans to aid Asterius- that seemed like a good use of his time, did it not? He would certainly come up with some grand idea!
When the bull awoke the next morning (or night, there was really no way of knowing), he discovered Theseus slumped over the large desk he often used when filling out paperwork for Lord Hades, snoring into his arms. Beneath him was a stack of parchment, the writing of which became increasingly sloppy before finally trailing off, likely at the time Theseus could no longer fight to stay awake. Were he more worldly, Asterius might have tried to read what was written on them, but the only script he knew at this point was that of Crete’s. He chose instead to gently shake the king’s shoulder to wake him.
Theseus babbled groggily, lifting his head just enough for Asterius to see that his eyes were still squeezed shut. Despite it, he managed to shamble out of the chair he fell asleep in, until he walked into Asterius, his face burying in the soft fur of the bulls chest.
"... Sterius…"
"Hmm?"
"Steri…"
"I cannot hear you like this, king."
The much-too-groggy king weakly raised an arm, reaching upwards towards something. It was only then that Asterius understood what his king was trying to say.
“My horn is still damaged. It is fine; I do not mind it.” Asterius had not yet known Theseus a particularly long time, but he had seen him get like this before. He was never gentle when it came to his own mistakes, regardless of their size: he would become obsessed with making amends regardless of the personal cost. The bull had hoped his reassurances would hold some weight, but the king was stubborn both for better and for worse.
At this news, Theseus pulled his face away and made an utterly anguished wail, his face pinching childishly. Asterius would have found such an expression cute if he wasn’t aware of the cause of it. The king yawned, though his sudden intense emotion apparently was enough to finish waking him up.
“I suppose we must remain patient… come along then, Asterius! Let us prepare for the day!”
Theseus claimed they would remain patient, but his actions implied otherwise. While he plucked the light hairs that occasionally grew between his thick eyebrows, his gaze would wander over to Asterius’ bullish head. When Theseus guided the bull to sit on the ground so he could run a hot comb through his coily hair, Asterius felt the dull sensation of fingers rubbing against the broken part of his horn. And later, when Asterius greeted the shade who occasionally brought them their morning meals, he could feel the king’s eyes boring into the back of his skull.
They ate together, and Theseus was so preoccupied he almost dumped salt on top of his fresh fruit instead of sugar. Tiredly, Asterius sighed. Perhaps their daily spar would help clear his mind…
As the two of them hurried out to the small training grounds that Theseus enjoyed for its overall privacy, he found himself thankful that no one else had arrived yet. Occasionally, other shades would come where they knew Theseus frequented in order to ask to be trained by him, or otherwise receive his kingly advice. Typically he loved being able to do this, but with how scattered his mind felt at the moment… it wouldn’t be the most pleasant experience for anyone involved.
Asterius, in his light armor, appeared strong and proud despite his predicament. He was a handsome man (bull?), carved by the gods themselves. Tall and imposing, his muscles swelled beneath his fur… Theseus was always thankful Asterius had given him a chance, and that they now fought by each other’s sides. Even if- even if the king did something foolish, and some part of him deeply wished that Asterius would impose some kind of punishment upon him for it.
Theseus shook his head. What a strange thing to desire! No, he must focus. Asterius was counting on him, after all!
“Now then! Let us begin with… erm… “
They had begun a new training regime in order to perfect a few different attacks- Asterius was surprisingly fast and flexible when he moved, and his strength was great. And while they had already found a way to combine their unique abilities (with the bull being more than strong enough to lift and throw his king with ease), they’d yet to truly master the move. More recently, they were working on a method to increase the distance Theseus would fly when thrown… but what was it, exactly, that they'd planned to do?
Now this was frustrating! Theseus could admit he was a little bit forgetful, with his tendency to forget people’s names, faces, hobbies, gift preferences, etcetera, but he has never forgotten a battle plan before! He knew he was distracted, but this was simply too much!
Should he admit this to the bull? Or perhaps he should force himself through this, for the sake of his companion! Yes- Asterius would surely dislike if Theseus allowed simple emotions to cloud his judgement. If Asterius could manage despite his predicament, why not the king as well?! He simply must manage, or else the bull may-
“...King.”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve been quiet for some time.”
“Oh! Aha! Oh yes!! For today, allow us to… erm! That is, erm…”
“If my horn being damaged bothers you, we can hold off on sparring for now.”
“Hold off- ?! Asterius, we cannot simply… “
Before Theseus could combat against the bull’s words, the glade's gate opened, and a pair of Exalted walked in. The king knew them both well; there were some within Elysium who’d drank so much of the Lethe that their physical forms were forgotten, but they refused that final sip that would transform them into one of the mindless shades who lived only for battle. The spear-wielding shorter of two was the president (as he called himself) of Theseus’ fanclub, while his shield-bearing friend was the treasurer.
“King Theseus!!” the shorter of the pair excitedly called out, waving his arms so intensely his spear dropped to the ground below, “It has been ages since I’ve last made your acquaintance! And you have Sir Asterius with you as well!”
“Greetings, shade.” said Asterius.
“Greetings, Sir Asteri… oh! Your horn! What happened?”
Theseus felt the phantasmal blood drain from his face. What would Asterius say?! Surely he would admit to the king’s egregious cruelty! Surely he would speak of every detail of Theseus’ horrific blunder, and all his failed attempts to remedy it that resulted in nothing.
But the bull’s response turned out to be very matter-of-fact:
“There was a sparring incident the other day or night.”
“Ah, I see! Well, these things certainly do happen! Once, while Shieldy and I were sparring,” the shade looped an arm around that of his companions, “I accidentally broke the buckle of his belt, and his pteruges fell down in front of everyone! He was so embarrassed…!”
“Please stop telling everyone about that…”, sighed the other shade.
Asterius snorted at the story, and was quick to enter idle conversation with the two shades, discussing this, that, and the other thing. On a typical day or night Theseus would have joined in, but his thoughts were scrambled and his throat felt dry.
Asterius, who’d been so eager to learn from him, wanted to take a break from sparing! What could this mean, other than that Theseus’ error was so egregious that Asterius could not even bear to bring his axe down upon him! How could he make it up to him, then? This question would continue to be on Theseus’ mind even as they exited from the training grounds… if need be, he decided, he would spend the entirety of the next few days or nights coming up with a solution!
A few days presumably had passed since that incident. Asterius’ horn was still chipped, and they had yet to re-enter the training grounds, though Theseus had several times attempted to goad the bull into doing so.
"We shall quickly grow rusty without practice!" The king would say, despite the fact that earlier that same day (or night) he was so uncoordinated that he’d walked into a wall and briefly knocked himself out. It seemed careless to practice when they could not both be at their best, and if it was truly so important to Theseus he could easily seek out some other shade who would be willing to battle in this state, and yet has made no effort to do so.
It was clear, then, that the issue had very little to do with battle and almost everything to do with him not forgiving himself for damaging Asterius’ horn. It got to a point where Asterius felt like Theseus was simply ignoring his reassurances, and actively choosing to wallow in his self pity. And Asterius did not enjoy feeling irritated by his king, but he also did not enjoy not being listened to. How could they address this, then?
Asterius wanted to take the time to think things through before acting, but a situation quickly occurred that robbed him of any ability to do so:
"Asterius, surely you have noticed how the gardens of Elysium are littered with statues of heroes, from Greece and elsewhere?"
"Yes?" Theseus had suddenly barged into Asterius’ bedroom, which wasn’t so unusual. The king had merely interrupted his bedtime preparations, which was fine, as Asterius was not overly tired just yet. Theseus himself, on the other hand, looked as if he’d not slept well the previous night with bags under his eyes and his hair curly and unstyled.
"Well, my companion! How would you feel about a statue of yourself in such a way?"
"That's-"
"But cast from solid gold! And so utterly massive the masses of Elysium will have sore necks from having to crane upwards to stare. And best of all!" Theseus, looking half delirious, clasped his hands together with a mischievous laugh, “The horns of this statue shall be perfectly shaped, so even if Elysium decides to leave you in this state until the end of time itself, all shall gaze upon it and remember your horns when they were once whole and complete!”
Grinning wildly at his own crazed idea, Theseus reached into his chiton and pulled out a piece of parchment. “And we shall place it within Elysium’s busiest market district- no! Within Elysium’s largest arena! So that when we one day battle within it, all shall already know you, and your marvelous form! And- observe my dear bull! I have already drawn up a concept for it!”
Theseus placed the parchment in Asterius’ hands, and the bull noted it was slightly crumpled as if it had been held by tense hands.
It was covered in Theseus’ handwriting; though Asterius could not read the script, he recognized the same messy trails Theseus made when he was writing when barely awake, which the bags under his eyes certainly would lend to. Alongside it all was a rudimentary drawing of what appeared to be Asterius himself. Theseus had drawn him in such a way that there was extra emphasis on the swell of his muscles and the form of his pecs, and while a sash had been placed over his lap for modesty it did not leave much to the imagination- in fact, it had seemed Theseus originally intended to render him nude before scratching out what looked to be a very interesting curved shape.
Despite how badly his hands trembled, overwhelmed by his king’s suggestions, Asterius still managed to pry his eyes away from the parchment in order to look at Theseus, who was very eagerly awaiting a response.
“I… don’t know what to say.” Asterius managed. It was the simple truth- he wholly, truly, did not know what to say.
“I just knew my incredible idea would stun you into silence!” Theseus beamed, but his smile was that of someone who'd clearly been neglecting rest. Though shades had no real need for sleep, Theseus alway became… odd, whenever he did not rest.
“You put much thought into this, king,” Asterius replied, “however. I would prefer to wait for my ‘injury’ to heal.”
At that, Theseus’ face fell. “But what if that never happens, Asterius?! Wouldn’t it be better to at least attempt to look presentable?”
That irked Asterius- heroes already had a tendency to look at him with a wary glance at best, and he knew there were those who merely saw him as some monster nothing more. What did a broken horn matter if he was already “improper” to the majority of Elysium?
“Am I not presentable as I am now?”
“No, that is- that is not what I meant!”
“Perhaps you dislike being seen with me if I am not up to your standards.”
“No!!” Theseus exclaimed, his voice pitching like a petulant child. “I would be happy with you by my side, even if you were some muk-covered heathen!”
The king, now frustrated himself, balled his fists tightly. The way he was now- hair curly and unstyled, his eyes half asleep, face and chest having become flushed due to his own loud emotions, stood at a sharp contrast with the usual image he presented of himself.
“And now I’ve upset you! Well, go on then! No need to hold back for my sake! Tell me all about how awful I am! Perhaps- perhaps if you had just gone ahead and done so earlier, I wouldn’t be feeling as awful as I do now!”
“You… want me to be mad at you?”
“But of course!! Raise your voice! Throw a glass of nectar at me! Give me your most wretched, dishonourable insults! Surely you’ve been holding them in for all this time!! Allow me to hear them!”
Theseus was being irrational- this was not new. And yet, Asterius could feel his own irritation growing deeper. It wasn’t as if he was unused to the king being irrational and self centered, but his patience was starting to wear thin.
“Fine,” said Asterius, and Theseus crossed his arms in anticipation.
The bull went silent for some time, thinking of what he could say. He was not the sort to speak in elaborate, disparaging poems like Theseus did at times (usually when he spotted his cousin, Menestheus, who he referred to as a “miserly coward cut from tattered cloth”), but he could try.
“You’re very…” Asterius cleared his throat, ”very short.”
“Absolutely scalding, my friend!”
“Your taste in fashion is gaudy.”
“Deeply cutting!!”
“You could stand to be more polite.”
“Utterly brutal!!!”
Asterius continued his train of lukewarm insults, commenting on things such as Theseus being impatient, or how he could treat Elysium’s shop keepers better, or how he would look even more handsome if he wore his natural hair instead of straightening it. And with each ’insult’ Theseus gave his own commentary, ranging from I absolutely agree! to Hmm, I will think about it.
When Asterius finished, Theseus seemed not to know what to do with himself. His expression had become one of slight nervousness, as if he expected Asterius to go on. But the bull had no desire to, especially when he'd already spoken much more than he was used to in a matter of minutes.
“Do you feel better after that?” he finally asked.
“Haha! Well! …Hmm. Not as much as I thought I would, if I may be honest!”
“I see.”
“...I am acting ridiculous, aren’t I?”
“A bit.”
Theseus wringed his hands together, pacing a few laps around the room before deciding to finally settle down on the bull’s bed. He sat beside Asterius, far enough that their bodies were not touching, but not so distant that it would have been impossible for Asterius to reach over and touch him if he had liked to.
“King.”
“Yes, my companion?”
“I am uninjured. Even if my horns were undamaged, much of Elysium would still see me the same way: a monster. I do not pity myself regarding this. It is what it is."
Theseus seemed to shift uncomfortably. There were certain things he had difficulty understanding; really, the king had difficulty understanding other people in general. Partly due to his tendency to focus on himself, but there was something deeper to it as well. Something he could not easily put into words.
“And…” Asterius continued, “I do not appreciate being used as a tool for your self flagellation.”
“Asterius, I would never-- I… I already have. Ah.”
At this, Theseus looked as if he badly wanted to cry. He patted his face until he managed to calm himself, though it was clearly through great effort that he held himself back with how his cheeks were already flushed an unflattering red.
“I apologize, my companion. I hate to cause you discomfort. I have been selfish! I have not given your feelings on the matter proper consideration! Or rather, I had convinced myself you were lying for my sake all this time. That you were furious with my actions!”
“I would not lie to you, king. I would appreciate it if you would believe me the first time, instead of doing… this.” Asterius held up the drawing Theseus had handed him just moments ago.
“Y-yes, of course!” Theseus uncharacteristically stammered, “I cannot promise that I will never have these doubts again, but- I shall do my best. We are the closest of friends, are we not? A bond carved in stone!”
“That is true.”
“Should I, erm. Should I perhaps discard that drawing, then…? Light it aflame? Drown it in the Lethe?”
“No, I’m keeping it. It is a gift from you; I shall cherish it.”
"Asterius!"
"Don’t you dare go through with getting it commissioned."
"Y-yes, of course!" Though his cheeks were still ruddy, Theseus laughed- and Asterius did as well, placing a hand on his king's shoulder to pull him closer. He'd been afraid that Theseus would not listen, that he would choose instead to continue wallowing in his self pity. But they were partners, were they not? Whatever issues they would face, they would face them together. And this certainly would not be the last of these types of conversations they would have, but it was a start.
And as they sat together in a contented silence, Asterius noticed something had changed. He couldn't explain it, but- he felt it. A shift in the air around them.
"... Huh."
"What is it, my dearest companion?"
"It's fixed."
"Fixed?" Theseus pulled away just enough to gaze upwards at his friend, while Asterius gingerly touched the top most part of his horn. His horn was still slightly dulled as ever but it was whole.
"Asterius!!" Theseus once again exclaimed, his eyes now wet with tears. This was all that it took for that dam to be broken, and within seconds his voice grew hoarse from his wails.
Asterius allowed him to bury his damp face against his chest, not minding the fact that he would certainly have to bathe later due to how messy Theseus got when he sobbed like this. Asterius had started to rub his back in comfort, but the king chose instead to loop his arms around the bull’s neck and bury his face against him in an embrace.
“I should be the one comforting you, my companion!” Theseus managed to gasp between sobs. While Asterius didn’t quite understand, he saw no reason to complain. Being held by Theseus, even now, was always a joy.
Theseus, after having worn himself out from crying, fell asleep in Asterius' bed. The bull did not mind. In fact, there was some strange excitement in having Theseus comfortably resting on top of him. And, afterwards, their days returned to normal. They would share a breakfast together, they would spar, they would visit Elysium's markets and pick out an assortment of little knick-knacks: during one trip, Asterius finally found literature in Crete's written language, some sprawling fantasy epic written by a Cretan hero whose name was only vaguely familiar.
On this particular day, it was Theseus who had called off their sparring match. A rarity for the king, Asterius was worried something urgent had popped up until he saw Theseus’ beaming smile.
"I have something very important to show you!" He'd said, but refused to give any more detail than that.
And so, Asterius sat on the floor of Theseus' personal chambers to wait for him, reading the book he'd purchased. He did not enter the king's room all too often; the fact that the furniture was too small for his size was certainly part of the issue, it was more so that the king had very maximalist interior design tastes and that those tastes reached their apex within his personal room, filled with a number of odd trinkets and expensive fabrics.
Despite this, it seemed most appropriate to wait for Theseus here. And so, he took a seat on the elaborate purple carpet that his bed sat besides.<.p>
"Here we are!" The king appeared just as suddenly as he'd run off, holding some kind of small disc in his hands. "I'm quite excited to show you my most recent and most wondrous idea, my companion!"
Theseus walked over to Asterius, and kneeled; the disc turned out to be a compact, and the compact held what looked to be a wet powder. The colour of deep magenta, shimmering just as brightly as the golden carpet he sat on now. He returned his gaze to Theseus, not quite understanding.
"This, my dear bull, is paint!"
(That much was obvious, though Asterius neglected to say this.)
"A red dye from crushed rubies and Egyptian scarab. I thought, since you are now healed, it may be appropriate to decorate your horns to suit the rest of your splendid appearance! That is, erm, if you are willing?"
Asterius thought it seemed like an odd plan, but was not opposed. He'd never imagined wearing anything to draw more attention towards his bovine features, but at this point, why not? If ordinary humans adorned themselves in paints and dyes, why not him as well?
At his tentative nod, Theseus moved with such excitement that he nearly dropped the powder dye he was so thrilled about. He clamored onto his bed (small for Asterius, but oversized for the king), and Asterius leaned forward so Theseus could easily scoot behind him. They sat this way as well whenever Theseus would tend to his hair; it was a familiar position for both of them.
It felt somewhat odd having Theseus grip at his tall horns, but not unpleasant. The king was not the best at gentle touches, his natural excitement also making him prone towards holding things far tighter than necessary, but Asterius did not mind it. He could easily come to enjoy this part of their routine.
When Theseus had finished, he urged Asterius upwards and pulled him towards the room's mirror, a large structure decorated with an elaborate trim that was hung above his desk. He had to bend over to get a good look, which the king certainly encouraged.
He had expected himself to look gaudy, but the shimmering dye was lovely against the ivory white of his horns in a way that made some fluttering emotion arise deep in his chest. He thought himself handsome- that was new. Existing within Elysium had caused him to develop a rather neutral opinion of his appearance, but he’d never thought to consider himself handsome before. It was nicer than he’d expected, to feel such a way.
"Tell me, my cherished bull, what do you think?"
"I enjoy it. Thank you, king."
At his words, Theseus squeezed himself into the frame, allowing his cheek to squish against Asterius' own for the sake of them both being visible in the mirror.
They looked ridiculous together like that- neither could resist laughing, and Theseus' quickly turned into a crazed howl as it did at times, and Asterius' into bullish snorting.
He hoped there would be many more days like this to come; the new experiences he had with Theseus always made solving whatever issues they shared worthwhile.