Work Text:
It had been cold. When she woke up she found the beach bare and the cool sunlight bathed her as she shivered. They had gone with the morning tide. All of them, each and every one of his men, the men she had pushed aside her old life for. Denied herself the kingdom of her father and her family; had snuck away from her mother in the middle of the night for.
It had been bright. The future that she had imagined with Theseus, the handsome prince of Athens sent to die in her father’s maze. In her maze. It had been hers; she had roamed those tiled walls since she had known what it was, had learned to navigate it with string tied to the entry way until she knew every turn and no longer needed it. Enchanting smiles and promises of freedom had pulled her from reason. To give him the gift bestowed upon her by her teacher, he himself a prisoner bound by the grief of a son lost and the chains that had first bound him.
She remembered feeling sorry for him as he knelt on the floor of the throne room before her father unable to stop weeping. His chains had been removed then; he was allowed to roam as she was in her father’s halls. Her father had said his new chains were ones nobody could break. She had never understood that until today.
They had even buried the fires. All evidence of them having been on that beach were gone; the sacks of wine that had littered the sand as she danced had been collected and only footprints in the sand marked where they had been.
She stared out at the sea, ever moving and glittering tasting the spray upon her face. No. It wasn’t spray it was tears, salt of a different kind.
She’d been there for so long staring at the waves. How long had she sat there? It was dark now, the sun had gone. Theseus had gone. She had no way home. No home to go to, stuck there on that beach waiting for something, anything to guide her.
She looked at the stars, they were bright. Theseus’ eyes had looked like that, determination and a glint of joy. He knew what he wanted; he’d used everyone to get it.
She’d finally stopped crying. Her lips felt chapped and dry. How long had she sat in this sand?
How long had she searched for them in the chill to find no trace, to doubt herself that she had been with them at all, that she had celebrated, sat on the lap of the charming Theseus and imagined a future as his wife. She was to be his wife!
How long had she screamed at the waves to bring him back? The curses she had bellowed until her throat was dry, until no further sound could be made?
How many deals had she proposed either to down him or to bring him back to her? Her life for his, to see him again, any sacrifice they wanted to let her set her eyes on him once more; to feel him again in her arms. Any blood she would spill to know he was dead.
No answer had come. No sound other than the roar of the ocean’s laughter at her misery.
Then she’d settled, voiceless and desolate in the sand. Watching wave after wave as the sun climbed higher and sank again.
“They are lovely tonight.”
She felt the wind against her skin, smelt wine in the air. Had she been drinking?
“You are so sad.”
She stared blinking at the constellations, wondering if he was looking at the same stars too.
“No-one can be sad here, this is a happy island.”
This may be a happy island but this beach was her tomb of misery.
“This is my island.”
She looked round at the whisper, only a depression in the sand remained where someone had sat a way off behind her. They were gone now. If they had ever been there.
She turned back to the stars. How long had she been staring at them? How long had they been sat behind her?
“You should sleep.”
Dawn began to colour the horizon. Had she slept? Could she sleep? What if he came back and she missed him? What if that was why he left? Because she had fallen asleep, she’d drunk the same wine as the men, they hadn’t slept. Did he think her weak because she drank wine and slept?
“You should drink.”
Drinking was what made her sleep. She couldn’t drink. There wasn’t anything to drink.
“Here.”
She looked round at the sand where they’d been sat. A sack glistened in the rising sun. She stared at it knowing now she was going mad.
“Please.”
She reached for it slowly, her arms sore from lack of movement and the chill of the morning, pulling the bag towards her. It was heavy, full. She lifted it to her lips and drank.
Beauty could not describe the taste. Life could not describe the feeling as it trickled down her throat.
There was no more too quickly and she gasped when she realised.
“Good.”
She felt the breeze on her skin soften slightly, the sun became less bright. The world a little more wide than the beach and her misery.
She looked back at the depression to find it had gone. They hadn’t sat behind her. She looked around her once more taking in the site of her desolation; there were no indents of another person sitting. Only footprints to her left.
Madness had clearly seized her she thought. She’d set the bag in the sand and it had disappeared. The sun was high now, when had that happened? Time was slipping by her.
“Tell me what happened to you?”
She thought on the morning she woke to find nothing around her and had to take a deep shuddering breath.
“Who was he?”
His name had been Theseus. She knew that. Knew he was a prince on the mainland far from their island; that his father waited for him with all the love men bestow upon their sons. That their court sounded a happy one, logic and reason expounded in lively discussions. New thoughts and ideas welcomed as they were banished in her father’s own house. Thoughts and invention the preview of the few, the controlled, the subservient. The captive.
But she was free. She was away from there now. Oh how she’d miss her mother.
“Theseus.” She whispered her voice cracking from neglect and hard use the day before. “I was to be his wife.”
No reply came. Not that she expected one. She was mad afterall. Driven so by the grief of a life she was promised snatched from her, of a life wasted on this beach.
Instead, she watched the sun rise and rise and rise. Higher and higher. And she didn’t move.
“Do you want to go home?”
She thought on her home, the brightly painted walls in which suspicion and paranoia floated on the wind. Where you ignored the screams you heard from below lest you want to be making them next. She thought on the imagined home she would have had with him, the children that would have been hers the strong jaw, the straight noses alive and laughing.
“I have no home.” She said, her voice gaining strength in its conviction.
Nobody was there again and again she watched the sun set and the moon rise.
“What would make you happy?”
She watched the stars and considered her answer. She thought on her mother, trapped by her father’s side, tricked for his arrogance to bear a half bull boy by the gods. She thought on the other women of the court she had grown up with, always careful, always a little fearful of what they could say. She’d known fear as long as she’d known love; the two existed together in her mind. Then Theseus had offered her a different option, love singular.
“Love without fear.” She said as the sun rose on the third morning of her beach. “But I’ll settle to see your face.”
She waited as the sun rose. She could feel them now with the awareness of one who knew a presence was behind them. She looked up.
He had slim shoulders and curly hair topped with a crown of vines. His build was nothing like Theseus’ bulk. No, he was slim and agile. Boyish.
He looked closer to her age than her deserter, although something told her he wasn’t. His golden skin looked warm and perfect.
He smiled at her; it was a grin of mischief and had a touch of mania about it. Maybe she was going mad after all.
She had no idea how long she stared for, how long they kept that position until she leant back against his legs with a sigh.
He sat behind her. Gently bracketing her body with his legs on either side, and she leant against him again. Despite his slight frame he was solid against her back.
“You should drink again.” He said offering her another sack of liquid. He smelt of the boys who would work the grapes on her father’s land. She looked to his feet, they were stained red.
She drank the water he gave her. The sun grew hot but they never did, not as she was sat in his embrace. It was as if Apollo dared not get too close.
She closed her eyes, for the first time in days she no longer felt hollow. It could have been days, in truth she had no idea how long she’d sat there.
“What is your name?” He asked whispering into her hair.
“Ariadne.” She answered as the sun fell.
“Let me help you Ariadne.”
She shivered as he spoke her name. It was said as a command but she could feel the question behind it. Let me take care of this, let me take care of you, let me help you.
Nobody could help her; nobody could reach into this darkness of her beach and pull her out. No mortal could bring her back to herself.
“I can help you.” He whispered, she could feel tendrils of power seep into her. She could feel sparks of light infuse back into her mind. “Let me help you.”
She leant back further against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“I can’t be put in another cage.” She said firmly though her voice was still weak.
“I’ll share with you everything I am. All I have.” He said reverently.
She didn’t know why he was promising this. They always promised too much in the beginning. Doubt clung to her soul now.
“Drink, you should drink.” He proffered a smaller sack this time. She took it without question; he had given her no reason to believe he would hurt her. “Just a sip.”
She drank hesitantly. It tasted of the finest wine.
“Bind me to you.”
She looked at him, meeting his dark eyes that flashed with green in the light of the sun.
“I cant.” She said.
“Try.” He implored her offering a small sprig of vine to her. She took it, he offered his wrist. This was madness but she imagined it growing, wrapping round his wrist and then around hers.
She felt the weight of the vine, felt the power in the binding.
“I’m yours, please be mine.” He said, his eyes pleading, “We will be one, all I have is yours, all you have is mine.”
“You want my misery?” She asked despite herself.
“And your love, and your hate, and your anger.” He shifted himself trying to get closer despite being wrapped around her. “I want it all, you feel so much.”
She recognised the curiosity in his eyes then, she’d seen it in the mirror. A life of continuation drove desperation into the most hardened hearts.
“Have it then.” She said feeling a flood leave her and a wash back of gold, of mania, of freedom from expectation, music like honey poured into her. And it washed back out; hers washed back in, and out and in, mixing and swirling with him. The bond fell away into the sand silently, neither noticing the lack of it.
“Who are you?”
“I am yours.” He answered with a grin of satisfaction. “I am the god of wine.” He said wiggling his feet.
She laughed. It was broken and faltering, but she laughed.
He beamed at that. As if she had handed him the greatest gift.
“I am your husband if you will have me?” He said leaning in as if to kiss her.
“You would want me? Broken as I am?” She asked frowning.
“I would want you, broken as you are not. Broken as you are, mended as you will be. I saw you dance on my beach, I saw the life you brought to these sands and I saw the deep grief when you woke alone.” He smoothed back some of her hair.
“You are perfect in your mania, in your joy, in your anger, in your everything. You are perfect to me.” He said reverently.
“You do not want me.” He said pulling back.
She caught his wrist in her hand.
“I do not know you.” She said gently smoothing the skin there with her thumb.
“I am the god of wine, of madness, of fertility and inhibitions freed. I am the joy of a party, the moment in a dance when you never want to stop; I am the first sip and the last drop.”
She thought of the happy times in her life, most of them were when she was dancing. Was that him? Had he been with her the entire time, lifting her greatest moments higher?
“You know me.” He insisted.
“I know you.” She said her tone solid and determined. She twisted then in his arms, her hand landing by his hip as she leant in, her other hand clasping his cheek. “Dionysus.” She whispered and closed the distance placing a soft kiss on his lips.
“Stay with me. Forever.” He begged against her lips.
She ran her hand through his impossibly soft curls blond steaks in the dark like the light he had infused her with.
“Yes.” She’d said.
He kissed her deeply then. Offered her another drink, this one liquid gold. It made the stars brighter and the sun deeper, it made his eyes that had looked brown and green their true colours of burgundy with emerald stars and it made her feel, everything.
Everything was more, it was louder, it was quieter. It was him, pressed against her skin, warm and soft and brilliant.
He was hers. Solid. There. Forever.
She was his. Emotional. Rational. Brilliant.