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The fearless warrior approached Ariadne, alone in her bedroom, confident in the guidance of his dreams, in the huntress’s blessing.
She knew why he had come.
He asked anyway. “I seek your gift, princess.”
“Theseus,” she greeted him. “Enemy of my country.”
He raised his eyebrows. “But I thought - “
“The enemy of my enemy is my comrade,” she interrupted, smiling. “It is not your arms I wish to fall into. Why would I, when Helen awaits? But my tyrant father has forbidden it. So let him fall instead.”
She held out the ball of string, shining crimson. The color of blood, of love.
“Take this and seek your beast. I hope you find what you are looking for.”
Theseus turned the string over in his hands, pondering. Finally, he glanced up, favoring her with an affectionate grin, and she could see why all of Athens turned its head for him. But his smile held no sway for her.
He bowed his head, meaning it. “Thank you, Ariadne.”
“Helen waits for me. And the huntress has given you her blessing. Who am I to disagree?”
He went to see Minos.
***
When the King of Crete welcomed Theseus, the warrior hid his hatred behind smiling teeth.
“Champion of Athens,” King Minos greeted him. “You have come to slay my beast.”
He is not your beast.
“Or to be slain by it,” Theseus returned, still smiling.
King Minos laughed heartily. “Or that,” he agreed.
Theseus imagined spilling this tyrant’s guts just to show the world what a coward he was, but his heart reminded him that he was not here for the king.
He was here for the beast.
“In light of my impending death, I would ask of you a favor, King of Crete.”
“Name it, champion. I hate to see your blood spilled in vain.”
It shall not be. Either my blood will not be spilled, or it shall be spilled for love. And what greater honor than that?
“The seven I have brought with me. I ask that you consider my life a worthier sacrifice. Let me send them home, that I may die at the hands of your beast alone.”
King Minos considered. “Granted. I have heard of your deeds, Theseus. Your sacrifice is worth far more than seven in trade.”
Theseus bowed his head in hollow homage. “You honor me.”
The King smiled craftily. “The honor is mine. When the sun rises, it will be your last. And Athens will mourn.”
“Let them,” Theseus answered dismissively.
The King laughed. “Until sunrise, then.”
“Sunrise,” Theseus agreed.
Sleep did not find him that night. Not even for a heartbeat.
***
He bid goodbye to his seven friends the next morning, not really hearing their sobs, eyes fixed on the famous labyrinth’s entrance, ball of blood-love string concealed in one hand.
Its grandeur had not been exaggerated, but his mind was sharply focused on what he already knew.
He shook their hands impatiently from his shoulders and marched inside the maze.
Theseus had first dreamed of Asterion a year ago, at the previous year’s annual sacrifice, but the dreams were filled with sadness and pain. With loneliness and wasted prowess. A beast mad with longing, but not for blood.
He had dreamed of love.
And, on waking, told no one, certain they would not understand.
But he was sure of what he had felt and prayed to the huntress, who ignored his cries for months. Until one night, when he pleaded for help, finally confessing his secret. That he craved knowledge from the goddess of beasts, for power, and glory, and victory - but the power and glory and victory of love. Not battle.
She answered him then, and he knelt gladly - the only time he had bent his knees for any of the gods - and begged her blessing.
The warrior’s reverence moved her, and she spoke with Apollo, who kissed his lover relentlessly in affectionate bribery, but unnecessarily. Icarus knew well the power of love.
Icarus appeared to Theseus in his dreams the following night. And whispered the secrets of the labyrinth into his grateful ears, telling him what no one still living knew.
The labyrinth was mutable. Its magic made it shift, change shape, alter courses. Once inside, no one would ever find their way out. It was not designed for success, but for lives.
Including The Minotaur’s.
Seek Ariadne, Icarus had advised, but would say nothing further.
Theseus had awakened in rage, that the beast had been so heartlessly doomed, and went to his father in the early hours, announcing his intention to become the next year’s sacrifice. He would not accept refusal.
And went to Crete on the following anniversary of Athens' doom, with fearlessness in his heart and sureness in his step.
Ariadne graciously provided the favor he wouldn’t have known to ask for.
The huntress and the sun, and the sun’s lover had blessed him.
But most of all, love.
He could not fail.
***
When he faced the mighty labyrinth, his most daunting foe yet, the wails of his friends, the arrogance of the king’s expression, the life he was leaving behind faded from his mind with each step.
His heart surged.
His pulse thundered.
Like they never had in combat.
This was not a battlefield they recognized. But craved nonetheless, more powerfully than anything before.
He felt alive.
The labyrinth was not designed to present challenge on ingress. Icarus had told him everything, how it would not shift until he turned back, until he attempted escape. One step towards egress and it would close its walls, keep its secrets, sending him fruitlessly in one direction, then another, then another, forever trapped in the maze.
Never to taste freedom again. Doomed to fade and die until nothing remained but a nameless pile of bones, just one more life in its clutches for time immemorial.
His anger burned, more savage than the cruelty of man. An undying flame.
And each step was guarded by the thin, fierce line of scarlet string, unwinding as he walked, a silent witness and staunch ally against the darker sins of humanity. Should he succeed, it would guide them both to freedom.
He would not fail.
When the sun had climbed to midday, with the faces of Icarus and his lover-god smiling down upon him, Theseus rounded the final pillar of hedges and stopped short.
There.
Standing in the center of the clearing, an absolute. The shape of fear, of power. The beast did not shift form like the labyrinth. He was the heart, the soul of this place. Unmoving. Unmoved. As immutable as time. As strong as death.
Better than a god.
Sacred and profane.
Worthy of worship.
Theseus felt a thousand words die on his tongue, unable to call to life the things he so desperately longed to say, had dreamed of offering to this creature, this beast that had captured his heart without ever having laid eyes on him.
He approached slowly, trancelike, eyes shining, heart screaming the words he could not say.
The Minotaur tilted its head, a beast of war, no softness in the lines of its bearing, no gentleness in its demeanor.
A body made to bring proud men low.
Hands built for destruction.
Horns built for carnage.
Jaws built for death.
But Theseus remembered his dreams. He had felt a pain so intense it woke him up gasping, and injury had never bothered Theseus. This was different. This agony was born from human hands, but not by sword or spear.
The Minotaur gazed at him evenly, not speaking. Not moving. Waiting. With all the time in the world.
Theseus found his voice. “Greetings, Asterion,” he said softly. Tenderly. Spellbound by his every movement, by the way he breathed.
The beast jerked its head up.
Gods almighty, that magnificent head. Exactly as he had dreamed.
“I have…not heard that name…in many years,” The Minotaur answered slowly.
His voice bound Theseus’s heart, wrapping it in iron fittings, sealing forever what he had known already. His heart would never again be his own.
He didn’t want it to be.
“You are alone?” The Minotaur asked, surprised.
He nodded. “I persuaded Minos to let the others go, provided my life was worth seven.”
The Minotaur blinked. “I can see that it is so. Far more than seven, I imagine.”
When Theseus bowed his head low, he meant the deference. Not like before. He would have just as soon ground Minos into the dirt with his heel as bow his head. He still might.
But not with this creature.
“You are here for combat. Do you think you can defeat me?”
Theseus smiled warmly. “I hope so,” he said, laying his sword at Asterion’s feet.
The Minotaur stared down at it. Raised a confused gaze to Theseus.
“I fail to understand.”
Theseus dared to step forward, heart in his throat, hands held out gently in peaceful surrender.
The Minotaur eyed him suspiciously but stood its ground. Aware of its own invincibility.
But not to this.
Theseus laid one hand on Asterion’s chest, and went still.
After a moment, he thought he caught the ghost of a smile on the beast’s face. It had not smiled in many years, and had forgotten how. What Theseus saw was merely the echo of a memory, but one he was calling back to life.
“Your hand, brave warrior, is slick with sweat,” Asterion said finally.
Theseus laughed warmly. “I have never been this terrified, Asterion. And I have killed many men, and felt nothing.”
“I can feel their blood on your hands,” Asterion said thoughtfully.
“I hope you don’t find it distasteful?” Theseus asked, tone colored with anxiety, the sensation strange to him.
Asterion smiled more broadly. “The blood of many stains my hands as well. And teeth. And horns. I would not judge you for that.”
“What would you judge me for?”
“Explain why you have come, that I may judge that.”
“I have dreamed of you, Asterion,” he answered without hesitating. “Which is why I came as I did.” He laughed. “I would have sought you anyways, but with sword in hand. My dreams have changed me.”
“Dreams often do,” Asterion agreed wisely. “Yet you lay your sword at my feet.”
“My sword is not the only thing I lay at your feet, sweet savage,” Theseus smiled, a man built for boldness.
“No?” asked The Minotaur faintly.
“No.”
He met Theseus’s eyes. “Then how do you hope to defeat me, warrior?”
Theseus left his hand in place, met his gaze clearly and proudly. “My name is Theseus, and I am yours. I have come to lay my heart and my name at your feet, in the dust with my sword. You have humbled a great warrior, Asterion. And I feel no shame for it.”
He hesitated, then stepped closer and laid his other hand gently on Asterion’s cheek. Felt the sun-warm skin, the smooth, shining hide. A face that had not been touched since birth.
“I give you my love, Asterion,” he said quietly. “My unbroken heart, to do with as you will.”
The Minotaur stood frozen in place for so long, Theseus wondered briefly if he was still dreaming. Or if they had turned to stone. Or if time had stopped counting.
Finally, after lifetimes of agony had passed, Asterion dipped his head slowly, rubbing his cheek against Theseus’ battle-scarred hand. Turned his muzzle into Theseus’ palm. Kissed gently.
“The world breaks too many hearts, Theseus. It has broken mine. But there is no reason yours should be one of them.”
"Come with me," Theseus said, though he meant it as a question.
"Remind me what love is," Asterion said instead.
"I will," Theseus promised.
"Then so will I," Asterion answered.
Theseus laughed for joy and threw his arms around the beast, kissing him deeply, consumed by passion. Heart soaring when Asterion returned his affection, crushing his heart under the blessed weight of happiness.
Theseus pulled back slightly, breathless. “Let me heal your heart, Asterion,” he whispered hotly. “I am strong enough to do it.”
Asterion stared into his fearless eyes, dark fires flickering in his own.
“As you wish,” he said softly. “Even after all these years, the allure of hope is difficult to resist.”
“What place has hope in my arms?” teased Theseus. “They were made for you.”
***
High above, Icarus turned to Apollo. “Dim your light, my love. Let starlight bathe their glory. Night will set them both free.”
Apollo’s lips curved indulgently. “In more ways than one,” he agreed.
Night crept over the silent lands.
The moon shone softly over the warrior and his monstrous lover as they fell into each other’s arms, forgetting the pain of life, resurrected by the joy born from each other, the feel of their bodies entwining, the taste of their skin, their mouths, their spirits.
Victory had never been so sweet.
EPILOGUE
Theseus emerged from his dreams, sprawled across Asterion's broad chest, laughing.
His laughter awakened The Minotaur.
"Lover," he burst out merrily, "you can't imagine the lies they tell of us. Icarus whispered them in my ear last night, barely able to breathe well enough to tell me. He and Apollo can't stop laughing."
"Neither can you, apparently," Asterion replied, lazily stroking his back. "What do they say?"
"I have abandoned Ariadne on some island and crushed her heart," he announced.
"She and Helen were just here. And did not strike me as heartbroken," smiled Asterion.
"And apparently, on the island, she has wed a god."
Asterion laughed, voice rich and deep, turning Theseus' heart to liquid fire.
"I can't imagine Helen would look favorably upon that."
"Nor Ariadne," agreed Theseus. "Apparently I have slain you. And taken over rule of my father's kingdom."
The Minotaur roared with laughter. "Slain me," he repeated, lips curving in a smile that ruined Theseus utterly.
Theseus went suddenly quiet, hoisting himself up on one elbow, draped across his beast.
"My love?" Asterion asked, slightly hesitant.
"I exist to hear your laughter," Theseus said softly. "I would go to war to hear that laugh, Asterion. I would go to the underworld and bring you back from the dead to hear it. I swear it, by all the ways my heart is seared when I look at you, by all the ways that make life worth living."
Asterion stroked his hair, tangling his fingers in the dark locks, cradling his cheek. "You taught me how to laugh again. You've taught me many things, Theseus. Things I had long forgotten. Before you slayed me, of course."
Theseus gazed into the eyes of the beast, spellbound by his lover's wild beauty. "Ah, well worth it then, to hear your laugh," he murmured. "But if I have slain you, then to Hades I go to bring you back."
"You already have," Asterion said softly. "But if you want to slay me again," he growled, sitting up and rolling Theseus over, "you'll have to fight much harder."
Theseus sighed in bliss, feeling his lover's kisses on his neck. "Oh truly," he murmured, "gods have mercy."
Asterion paused to lick his cheek. "They may. I won't."
"Praise be," Theseus grinned, biting his nose.
That velvet laugh rang through the halls, echoing.
Unbroken but for the sounds of love.