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“My King, is this wise?” Asterius asked.
“If this was not what Lady Athena wanted, then why in her wisdom would she send us here?” Theseus said proudly but quietly. The real answer was ‘I actually have no idea, but I can’t stand to do nothing.’
It was late and dark. Only by some providence of the gods had they not been noticed since they arrived. Two days previous they had arrived very much alive and and in their prime as if they were still in the Coliseum in Elysium. Theseus still had to think about breathing to remember to do it. He could no longer call for the power of the gods, but that was fine. He wasn’t certain that he wanted their eyes on him right then anyway.
Theseus had never heard of such a thing as going to the past. To even think of such things would surely anger Chronos himself. And yet, here they were, in the past, not far from Minos’s palace in Knossos. It was horribly disorienting at best and rather terrifying at worst. Asterius was a hero in Elysium. Theseus had nothing to bargain with in this time if Asterius were to die and be sent to wretched Erebus again. It was very, very important that no one realize who and what Asterius was while they remained within Minos’s lands.
This would be easier if the pair of them commandeered a boat and just left. But they could not just leave. Neither of them, no matter what the smart move was, or the correct move, or the move they were supposed to make, were willing to stray far from the Labyrinth.
“This is unnecessary, My King,” Asterius said. They were hiding against one of the few raised walls of the Labyrinth. The maze was partially above ground and mostly below. Daedalus was quite a genius and had incorporated hills and valleys into the maze. So many years later, Theseus could still remember the way his legs burned going up the last incline to the exit of the maze. There were points where there were windows, of sorts. With the elaborate mirror system inside, it allowed light into the Labyrinth, and assured that no one would suffocate. That was one of the few kindnesses about the terrible place, and one of its great cruelties. You may be able to find a window, but you’d never be able to reach it, and most of them were far, far from the entrance.
“It doesn’t have to be necessary to be done, Friend Asterius,” Theseus said, keeping his voice low.
“I survived those years. The calf can survive the same.” Asterius’s voice was so calm, but Theseus wasn’t fooled. He’d seen the way Asterius froze the first night they arrived, when they heard the bleating cries of the calf inside.
Minos commissioned the Labyrinth the moment Asterius was born. It took seven years to complete. Then he demanded tribute every seven years. Twenty-eight years after Asterius’s birth, Theseus slew him.
“You did not survive,” Theseus whispered. He leaned against Asterius, offering comfort by his presence. “I saw to that.”
“King Minos saw to that,” Asterius said dismissively. He blew breath from his nose in a way Theseus had always found charming. “It’s too late for the calf. It’s three months past the first tribute. He would have already eaten.”
Theseus laid a hand over Asterius’s own. They were clenched into fists. Theseus gave a comforting squeeze. He waited silent and patient as Asterius relaxed his hands and Theseus was able to lace their fingers together. Asterius would not harm him, and Theseus was more than willing to put his body on the line to keep Asterius from hurting himself.
“We’d be too late if we arrived twenty-one years and three months from now. But we did not. We are here. And there are twenty-one years I won’t waste just because it was written once. We were not here before.”
“You don’t know that,” Asterius pointed out.
Theseus absolutely did not know that, but he pressed on none of the less. “I can not believe that there is a version of myself as I am now who would not go in there for you.”
“He and I are not the same,” Asterius insisted, his ears flicking self-consciously.
It was so rare to see Asterius ache from guilt and self-loathing. In death he had a clear mind, and he recognized that there were things he could not control. But still, it weighed on him. Asterius was a terrified human boy, and he had to kill and eat terrified human boys and girls in order to survive. Mostly those thoughts did not bubble to the surface, but they did now. Theseus could see this in the depths of Asterius’s eyes.
“If I could save you those years, you know I would,” Theseus said seriously. He looked Asterius right in the eye. “I can save this boy. I can do this, and I will.”
Asterius peered back at him before he let out a huff like a laugh. It was still quiet, as quiet as their whispered conversation.
“My King, you are shameless,” he whispered.
“No, shameless is what I will do in the morning.”
“And what is that, my King?”
Theseus turned his eyes toward Minos’s palace. “You’ll see, Friend Asterius.”
Pasiphaë would applaud the young man. He had the stomach for greater mischief than most men. It was something boys had in abundance and most men lost with age and wisdom. He was handsome, with a sparkle in his eyes. He looked at her like she was exactly what he needed. The man had slipped through the bustling palace, past all guards and right into her rooms where strange men certainly did not belong.
A slow, seductive smile spread on her face. Men wanted few things, only to slake lust or gain power. From her, they wanted her beauty, or to torment her family more, or the magic she could work. Seduction was always a weapon worth using.
“And what brings you to my room, where you do not belong, Stranger?”
“I came about your son,” he stated. He kept his voice quiet, but it carried well enough. To look at him, he seemed to be all flash and bravado, but that was clearly not all he was. He was capable enough to break in, and clever enough to keep working to not get caught.
“Harming me will not endear you to either Deucalion or Catreus.” Glaucus was too young for people to notice him, and she wouldn’t even speak his name or risk drawing such attention to her son now.
“It is not them I speak of. Nor will I harm you.” He looked her right in the eyes as if he believed he could will her to believe him.
She had a feeling, something in her chest that brought her the greatest grief. So rather than speak of that pain, instead she reached for the second greatest grief.
“Androgeus, then,” she said. She made her expression sharp and imperious. “You mean revenge then, for the Athenian lives lost in the Labyrinth?” The Athenians shouldn’t know the truth yet, but she sensed that this stranger already knew what happened to the brave young men and beautiful young women who were sent as tributes.
“No,” the man said. He’d been standing over her while she sat at her loom. Now he dropped to his knee. She found herself at eye level with the handsome, dangerous stranger. When he spoke again, it was as if his words became a living blade, which pierced her heart.
“I come about Asterius.”
Pasiphaë could not help the pained breath that caught in her throat. She felt that great grief batter her like a wave. Against all wisdom and sense, she closed her eyes. She could see her youngest, her darling baby boy. She could hear his screams as he was force deep into the Labyrinth. He screamed every night for her, pleading for a rescue that she could not provide. The guards around the Labyrinth were as much to keep her out as they were to keep anyone in.
“I know this must be painful for you,” the stranger said. His voice was soothing, and for some reason it truly soothed her. She opened her eyes, meeting his bright eyes, whet with purpose. “I mean to rescue him, but I cannot do it alone.”
“Rescue?” she asked. “Don’t you know my son’s a monster?” she spat out those hateful words. She’d heard them so much the past few months. ‘Oh, that monster doesn’t belong above ground. You birthed a monster, what can you expect? It’s better now that the monster is locked up.’ Asterius’s name had been stricken out everywhere. She was forbidden to say it, as if that would make her forget. But this stranger came in and spoke his name with not one drop of malice. It frightened her.
“You don’t mean that,” the stranger said. There was pain in his eyes and in his words. “He speaks of your love. I don’t believe, I can’t believe that you would hate him too.”
“Speaks of me?” She said the words like she caught the stranger in a lie. He looked a bit embarrassed, but not ashamed.
“My name is Theseus,” he said. “I was a king of Athens. I made my name by slaying the minotaur in the maze, with the help of Ariadne. But that was a long time ago for me, and twenty years in the future for you. I cannot explain it. Asterius and I are close. He is my dearest friend, and my greatest love. We’ve have all the time in the universe in Elysium. We’ve been dead for centuries. And yet, three days ago we awoke very alive and here.” There was nothing but will and determination in his gaze. “I will not leave the calf in that maze. I cannot leave without him. So, I ask of you, please believe me.”
Pasiphaë wanted to laugh in his face and call him a fool and a liar. She did not. His story was so wild and outlandish. He spoke of murdering her son, and then a breath later he spoke of loving him.
“Why would Ariadne help you?” she asked, rather than pass judgment.
“We were quite in love then,” he said. “She is how I survived and how I escaped from both the Labyrinth and Knossos.”
Pasiphaë gave a derisive snort. “You would pursue both of my children. Do you insult Ariadne by choosing another sibling?”
Theseus dropped his gaze. “I did not do right by her. I am aware. I abandoned her.” There was a shame in the shameless man’s voice. “If it makes you feel better, I understand that Lord Dionysus wed her and loves her dearly.”
“Dionysus, hm?” Well, that is not who Pasiphaë would have chosen, but a god of the pantheon truly loving Ariadne was good news. It was a relief to think of her second youngest being protected and cherished.
Theseus was looking at her again. Humility did not suit him. Clearly, it was a struggle for him. Yet, he sat still and awaited her judgement.
“Asterius, he’s here too?” she asked.
“Yes,” Theseus said. “Would you like to meet him?” Now there was an eager smile on his face.
“Yes,” she said immediately. She did not care if it was all a lie. If there was any chance to see her son, she would take it.
“We have settled in the copse of olive trees,” he said. He stood and offered her a hand up. “The one that is below the Labyrinth hill.”
“I know where.” It was about as close as she could get before the guards would notice her. How many nights had she stood there, both praying to hear Asterius’s bleating and know he was still alive, and yet praying that she would not as she could no longer comfort his cries?
“I can go ahead, if you would be more comfortable,” Theseus offered.
“No,” she said. She grabbed her cloak. “Let us go. Follow me as if you are a servant.”
She strode from the room, leaving Theseus to scramble out after her. No one questioned her, even with a flashy stranger following after her, barely concealing his beauty and massive personality underneath his cloak. They just walked right out of the palace, and no one second guessed. No one asked a question as she headed down to the Labyrinth, or when she turned from it to head down to the copse of olive trees she often stood in both day and night.
Once they were under the cover of the trees, Theseus took over. He led her to a tighter knot of trees. There was a shadow there, one which sat so still that she did not realize at first that it did not belong until the shadow stood. The figure, her son, dropped his concealing cloak and stood before her. He was dressed as well as Theseus. There were laurels in his hair, crisp, fresh braids securing them to his head. He was clean, and larger than she ever imagined. She nearly burst into tears right there.
“Mother,” Asterius said, his voice as deep and cool as the ocean itself. His eyes gazed upon her, large and brown and exactly as she remembered.
She did burst into tears then. She grabbed her son, wrapping her arms around. “Asterius, my little Asterius,” she cried into his fur. He stilled for a second when she grabbed him, but then he gathered her up, lifting her easily off the ground. He cradled her to his chest the way she had always cradled him.
“Mother, I am here. You don’t need to cry.” His voice, to her surprise, sounded like Minos’s. Oh, Minos would never be that tranquil or controlled, but still, the depth was there.
“I cannot help it,” she said with a blissful laugh. “Oh, you grew to be so handsome. I feared the worst when Theseus spoke of you.” She pulled back so she could look at her son as they spoke.
“My King is an exemplary man,” Asterius stated. There was an affection in his voice, which also ran as deep as the ocean itself. “He rescued me when he did no have to. He brought me to Elysium, and I have stayed at his side ever since.”
Pasiphaë wiped her eyes to try and keep from crying more. It was somewhat successful. Asterius was so strong that he had no problem holding her up. She understood what a fearsome opponent he must have made when Theseus first found him. Theseus slaid the minotaur, and yet in death he went back for him. And in this other life, he returned again to rescue her son once more. Greatest love, indeed.
“Theseus,” she said. “What do you need help with?”
“Ariadne originally supplied me with a clew and a sword. I have my spear, though I don’t believe I will need it. I need a clew, and I need a way for us to get into the Labyrinth,” Theseus said. “And then we’ll need to find transport away. A boat would be best.”
“Where would you take my little calf?” she asked.
“To Troezen, and my mother and me,” Theseus said. “He’ll be safe there. Safer, in any case.”
Pasiphaë nodded slowly. “Asterius, my dear star, please let me down.”
“Of course, mother,” Asterius said. He settled her gently on the ground. Before he could stand up and be out of reach, she ran her hand over his cheek.
“My star,” she whispered, smiling at her son. This was the one who suffered because of Minos and his greed and pride. Her little calf was still in the maze, but Theseus was clever, and he loved Asterius. She knew that he could do anything if it were on behalf of Asterius.
“Mother,” Asterius said. He regarded her for a long moment, half hunched so he would not pull from her touch. Then he closed his eyes and tipped his head into her hand. Emotions welled up hot in her chest. He still did this, then. She’d seen him do it so often already. She began to card her finger through his well kempt mane, careful not to disturb the laurels or the braids.
“Theseus,” Pasiphaë said, her eyes fixed on her son. “I will get you as much thread as you need. And I will put the guards to sleep and hold them there so you may go inside. And I will get you a ship. And then you will take my stars, myself and any of my children who will come with me away with you.”
Asterius’s eyes snapped open. He pulled his head up, but only to stare at her in disbelief.
“You would leave him?” he asked.
“I stayed because you were here. I will not break any vow of marriage, but that does not mean I must stay with the man who stole my child away.” Her gaze was fierce.
“Mother,” he said, quiet and wounded. She had not caused that wound, not truly. Minos had. But she could see the way his mind pieced many things together, things he likely hadn’t known at all. “Am I not a monster to you?”
“No,” she said firmly. “You are my strong, handsome son, my little star. And anyone who thinks different is wrong. Certainly, your Theseus must think the same.” She cast her eyes toward Theseus, as did Asterius. The young man looked between them, his cheeks reddening. He cleared his throat.
“I will agree to your terms, happily,” he said. “When shall we embark on his venture?”
“The day after tomorrow,” Pasiphaë said. “I will get my plans in order.”
Catreus did not understand why he and all of his siblings should be at this meeting. There were two notable absences. Androgeus should be there with his sharp smile and wicked tongue. Asterius should be there, snuggled to their mother, or Ariadne or Phaedra. But they were not there. Their family would never be complete again. His eyes went to his two remaining brothers, Glaucus and Deucalion. They were the ones closest to adults now. And yet he could still see them as little boys holding onto their mother’s skirts. That was a long time ago. Since the grief had settled on his mother’s brow which never left, the time seemed even further past. Catreus was his father’s heir, and he didn’t have time for such thoughts. But they would not leave him no matter how tried, when he tried.
“Mother,” he ventured. “Why are we gathered?”
“I’m leaving,” she stated.
“Mother.” Phaedra nearly burst into tears. She was still young, but also too old to be acting in such a manner. Catreus didn’t blame her at all. “Please don’t leave us.”
“I will not leave you, my loves,” she said. She stroked Phaedra’s cheek. “I am going to take all of you with me who wish to come.”
The ‘yes, please, take me from this’, was on the tip of Catreus’ tongue. He bit it hard to wrestle down the words. When he spoke, he spoke the words a man must speak.
“I will stay,” he said. “Father will be less likely to chase you so long as one of us stays behind. I am the heir, in any case.”
His mother’s expression was sad, but she didn’t deny it. The rest of them might be too young, but he wasn’t. There were his desires as a son and a man, and then there was his duty as a prince.
“I’ll stay too,” Deucalion said. “That is, if you will tell us where you’re going, so I can find you, if I change my mind.”
“Mother, why, though?” Xenodice asked. “Why now.”
“The gods have delivered an answer to my prayers,” she said. “A way to rescue Asterius.”
“Asterius!” young voices gasped in shock. Catreus and their mother shushed them. That name was forbidden for a reason.
“You have a plan, then?” he asked
“Yes,” their mother said. “There are two heroes who will venture into the maze. They were rescue Asterius while I keep the guards unknowing. Then we will all steal away to a boat I will have waiting. We will go to Treozen. It is important that your father never find out where we are.”
“He won’t,” Catreus said. “Deucalion, you and I will keep father distracted tomorrow.” Their mother would be able to bewitch the guards, but she couldn’t do that and search the Labyrinth for Asterius. And she wouldn’t be able to do that if Minos sent a battalion to stop her.
“Thank you,” their mother said. She looked to the other children. “I will allow each of you to decide. You may stay here, or you may go with me. There is no wrong answer.”
There was also no need to ask that question. The rest of them chose to go immediately. Their mother’s eyes looked damp with joy.
“Alright,” she said. “Now, all of you need to pack a bag. Bring only what you cannot stand to leave behind. Remember you must carry your own bags. We are going to sneak out, so don’t pack anything that would overburden you.”
The younger ones broke up to go collect whatever few items they felt they could not live without. It left their mother with him and Deucalion. Both of them sat on either side of her.
“Thank you,” she said. “For choosing to stay.” She looked between them, her eyes serious, but also filled with the type of hope and love which had died since Asterius had been ripped from her arms. “I know you both have your reasons. I know it isn’t all for me or them.”
“Yes, mother,” they both said. Catreus bet that Deucalion stayed because he wanted to make a name for himself and believed that more likely to happen as a prince than as a child on the run.
Their mother looked between them and then nodded once. “Do not make the same mistakes your father did. Do not cross the gods. Do not try let your greed guide your hand. Remember that fears can lead you to ruin. Any prophecy you may hear are to be treated with care. Do not allow yourself to be steered away from what you know to be the right choice because you are afraid. Value your wives. Value your children. And do not cross any witches.” That last bit was said with a smile. Catreus found himself grinning. He knew well of his mother’s curse on Minos. She had assured that the king would never break his vows of marriage. And since she would no longer speak to him since he stole Asterius, she had assured a lonely, cold life for him.
“We will, mother,” Deucalion said. “And when father passes, we will send someone to find you so you can come home.”
Her smile turned so soft and so fond. She grabbed Deucalion and hugged him tight. “My pride and my joy. I would give anything to take you all. You have good hearts. Don’t allow your father to make you forget that.”
Deucalion was clinging tightly to her. “I won’t mother, I promise,” he whispered.
Catreus would get his chance to cling to her. He knew that she was going to spend the time she had left with them. It was impossible to stuff a lifetime of affection and love into one afternoon, but their mother would try. Catreus would not forget this, the fact that she would try to do so, and the fact that she gave them a choice. Minos wouldn’t. Catreus knew that with all his heart.
He wiped the blood from his snout. He was shaking. He’d been so hungry. Despite promising himself that he wouldn’t do this again, he had. He comforted himself, because at least this one had already killed and eaten one of the others. He was tainted too. Asterius was putting him out of his misery. Maybe the gods would forgive the man because he was desperate, and because a monster killed him.
He missed his mama. She had always told him that he wasn’t a monster, but that was so, so long again. He hadn’t known what it meant to be truly alone then, or cold, or hungry. Or bored. Boredom dragged at his heart. Sometimes he laid down and cried just because he didn’t know what else to do. There was nothing else to do. He was a monster, and monsters had to be punished for existing. That was what the King said.
He missed his mama, but he didn’t remember her too well anymore. He couldn’t remember her voice except sometimes, when a sad memory that had been happy before caught up to him. Then he would remember her voice. But then he would shove the memories away and her voice would be gone. Sometimes he thought he smelled her, but every day he lost the memory of that scent more and more. He couldn’t remember her face anymore. He remembered the King, though. He remembered him being angry, and scary. He remembered his deep, powerful voice as he said all of the terrible things to him that he had ever heard. The King’s voice was his companion. Sometimes, the King felt like his only friend.
Monsters didn’t need friends, but the King in his mind was there anyway. It was less lonely when he listened to the King. At least he wouldn’t be alone then. The King told him how monstrous he was, and he listened, because at least the King’s were never quiet in his mind, like the way the maze was normally so quiet.
It was dark. It was night now. He hadn’t passed a window in a long time, though it was way too tall for him to see out of them. But least there was light and darkness. Day and night was something he recognized. He curled up in a ball, not allowing himself to look at the body of the human boy he’d killed. He couldn’t be older than his oldest brother. He wanted the dead boy’s tunic, because his clothes were ruined and he was cold at night. But he didn’t dare touch. He didn’t deserve it. Monsters didn’t deserve anything.
He was pressed to the floor, his ears against the stone when he heard the thumping. In his sensitive ears it was more like a banging. He sat up immediately. The ground shook at the rhythmic thump, thump, thump. It almost sounded like…
“Footsteps.” The word surprised him. He didn’t speak anymore. Why bother? Monsters’ voices were only for telling lies. His voice didn’t sound like he remembered. It sounded creaky like an old ship in dock.
The thumping was getting louder. He sat stock still, shaking all over. Was it a guard? No, no man made steps like that. It wasn’t possible. So, was it a monster?
His heart lifted and fell at the same moment. Half of him felt joy and hope that maybe this monster would be his friend, since they would be the same. The other half of his was afraid that the monster would kill and eat him. He knew he would deserve it, though. He was a monster, a terrible monster who killed and ate men.
He trembled all over, too afraid to run toward the thumping and too hopeful to run away. He was frozen there when the monster turned the corner, following behind a man.
“Watch out!” he shouted. His voice cracked and felt like it was ripping. But there was a man, and there was a monster. The monster just like him, but so much bigger. He had to have eaten so many people to be that big. The man needed to run.
His mama said he was a man too. The King said he was a monster. He deserved to be locked up here, but the man surely didn’t. He wasn’t sick or dying the way the old men and ladies in the maze were now. He could still run, he could escape. Maybe his mama would hear that he’d warned the man. Maybe she’d still think he was a man, just for a little longer.
“Oh, Asterius,” the man said. He dropped to his knees in front of him.
“Asterius,” he whispered. His throat hurt. He felt tears come to his eyes. Asterius. That was his name. His mama’s little star. His name was forbidden. The King told him it was better to forget it. But this man said it so simply.
While he’d been frozen in shock, the man had produced a rag and was gently, so gently, wiping the blood from his snout and mouth. His eyes moved past to man to the monster. The monster was so huge, but even in the dark, he could see that the monster was dressed like a man, a man of wealth. In fact, he was dressed much like the man who was carefully cleaning his face..
“Are you hurting, Asterius?” the man asked.
“My King, he’s likely hungry, and thirsty.” The monster spoke. He sounded like the King, his voice deep and powerful. Except he wasn’t shouting. He was calm. He spoke well, and his words weren’t lies. They were true.
“Of course,” the man said. He pulled a water skin from his belt, as well as a bag which, when opened, had grapes, cheese and bread. Asterius started to cry. He pushed the food away.
“No,” he cried. “No, I’m a monster. Monsters eat people. Monsters are unclean. I’m a monster.”
“You are not a monster, little calf,” the monster said. His voice, so like the King’s, cut through his thoughts and made him still. “We are the same. I am a man, and I am beast. I have done far worse than you. But my King has shown me that I am not a monster. I am a man and should be treated as such. You are a calf, a boy. You are not a monster. My King is giving you food because he has a kind heart and wants to take care of you.”
“But I ate people,” Asterius whispered. He reached out a shaking had and pointed to the corpse of the man, who was laying where he’d died, over the half-eaten girl. “I ate him.”
“That is on Minos,” the King in front of him said. He was angry, but he wasn’t yelling either. He offered Asterius the food again. “I know you would not if you had a choice. These children would have died here either way. You survived. It is alright.”
Asterius looked mistrustfully at the food. The King in front of him did not move, only waited for him to act. Finally, Asterius plucked one grape. He popped it in his mouth and let out a happy moo. It was so sweat and so juicy. It had been so, so long since he’d had grapes. He took another a put it in his mouth.
This King, the Not-Monster’s King, he stayed knelt on the floor while Asterius ate every grape, every crumb of cheese and every morsel of bread. He stayed still while Asterius emptied his water skin.
“Finished, Asterius?” the Monster King asked with a kindly smile.
“Yes, sir,” he whispered.
“Good,” the Monster King said. He stood up. Asterius thought the Not-Monster and the Monster King would leave him alone. He deserved it, no matter what they said. It still made him sad, though. He dropped his gaze so he wouldn’t see them leave. Instead, strong arms scooped him off the ground.
“My King, your clothes will get dirty,” Asterius protested. His voice cracked halfway through, but he got the words out anyway.
“You can call me Theseus, if you want, little Asterius.”
“No,” Asterius said. Theseus, much to his shock, began to pout.
“And why not?”
“You’re the Monster King. It’s not respectful.”
To Asterius’s surprise, the Not-Monster tipped his head back and laughed. The Monster King’s pout became more pronounced.
“Friend Asterius, it is cruel to laugh at me so.”
“My King, you are My King no matter what changes or happens in this world,” the Not-Monster said.
“Your name is Asterius too?” Asterius asked.
“Yes,” Not-Monster-Asterius said. “It is a long story, but we will explain. For now, mother is waiting for us outside the Labyrinth.”
“Mother?” Asterius clung to the Monster King’s tunic. “Does she hate me?”
“Even at our worst, she would never hate us. I promise you,” the other Asterius said. “I know this because, I am you.”
Asterius’s eyes got huge. “You’re me.”
“My King came for me as well, though many years from now. It is complicated, but as I said, I will explain,” the other Asterius said.
“Okay,” Asterius said.
The Monster King started to walk, and the other Asterius followed at his side. The ground shook with the power of his steps. He was so tall that Asterius thought he might be able to actually reach the windows. He looked scary. But the Monster King spoke to the other Asterius with affection. He wasn’t afraid to hold Asterius either, or afraid of his clothes getting ruined. He held Asterius the entire way out of the maze.
Asterius ended up with his chin on the Monster King’s shoulder, listening to the Monster King and the other Asterius talk about their adventures in the afterlife. It was true that the other Asterius was so much worse than he was, but still he had someone who came for him. Maybe Asterius wasn’t a monster. Maybe the other Asterius was right.
It was still night when they emerged from the Labyrinth, though it was the dark that came before the morning. Asterius had loved the stars all his life and missed them while confined. He didn’t even bother looking at the stars. He was too busy looking at his mother, who grabbed him and clung to him and cried in his hair. He clung on too. He wouldn’t let go except for when the other Asterius coaxed him into letting go for a bath before they got on the ship. But after that, even when he was descended upon by his other siblings, Asterius would no let go of his mother.
She really didn’t hate him. She still did not think he was a monster, just like the other Asterius said, just like the Monster King believed.
Asterius watched the stars. Occasionally he adjusted the ship, as his King had taught him, so they would not get off course. The first few days, his King had gotten little sleep because no one else really knew how to sail, except for their mother, but the calf would not let go of her for almost any reason. Almost.
His eyes were drawn down to the pile of sleeping people. The calf was laying on their King’s chest, and their King slept with his arms around the calf like he would never allow anyone to cause him harm. Knowing his King, Asterius was certain that was exactly what he would do.
His mother was pressed against his King’s side. The other children were asleep on her or pressed to her and his King. It was a sweet image, one Asterius would treasure for all of existence.
“Asterius?” That was little Ariadne, exactly as Asterius remembered her from his life, except she seemed much smaller. She had snuck up on him and now leaned against his leg.
“Yes, little sister?” he asked.
“I’m your big sister,” she pouted.
“I am far older than you,” he pointed out.
“I was born first,” she insisted.
“Alright, my big little sister,” he said, smiling to himself. She pouted up at him for a moment before burying her face against his knee.
“This place we’re going, do you know what it’s like?”
“Only what my King has told me,” he said. Ariadne wasn’t the biggest fan of Theseus. That had much to do with how awkward his King acted around her and Phaedra. He had been with both of their adult versions, after all. And yet, while his King had no problem separating the calf from Asterius, he still seemed to believe that Asterius’s sisters would attack him for how he had (not yet) wronged them.
This impression was backed up by the fact that both of them had kicked his King in the shins as hard as they could before running to hide behind their mother’s skirts.
Ariadne, predictably, looked up at Asterius and wrinkled her nose. “Why do we have to go to musty old Theseus’s home?” She complained.
“It is not musty, to my understanding,” he said, amused by her wording. “Why do you not want to go?”
“Because there’s going to be a little Theseus there too,” she said. “And he’ll take our star away again. Theseus took you from us already.”
“Minos took me away,” Asterius said. “No part of me could have existed outside of that maze by the time my King found me. Death rescued my mind. My King did the rest. And if the little prince falls for the calf, as you and I suspect, he will cherish him as my King does me.”
Ariadne pouted. Oddly, it reminded him of his King. That thought made him smile. He reached down and gently stroked his sister’s hair.
“He is loud, and he talks much, and he loves greater than the whole ocean. The calf will be safer with him than he would be anywhere else in this world. Maybe one day this world will sing songs about their exploits, the way they did for us.”
“You don’t care about songs,” she said.
“I do, a little,” he said. “My King made me like them. I like to know I am not the only one who thinks of him. And I like that we are tied forever in people’s minds. No matter what the circumstances, we are linked and that bond will no be broken.”
Ariadne hugged his leg tighter. She was looking at their sleeping family. She was silent for a long time. Asterius did not try to break it. He waited. If she wanted to speak or not, either way he was content.
“I hope someone will love me the way you love each other,” Ariadne finally said.
“Someone will,” Asterius said, despite filling their mother in one everything they knew of the future, they had not told any of the children their fates, or who they fell in love with. Pasiphaë could see into the future. She knew the danger of knowing too much or taking too much stock in visions that you did not live your life. She knew how to be cautious, and she knew things sometimes did not happen. She could be trusted with that information.
They had not yet been struck down by the gods. If they continued to not be struck down, then that meant this would be a whole different world. Those things they knew may well be meaningless. It was better the children not know and find their own lives on their own. But still, Asterius would destroy anyone who caused harm to his siblings. Living with Minos was enough punishment for anyone. None of them needed any more grief.
Ariadne stayed with Asterius until the morning came and Theseus extracted himself from the pile of sleeping children to take over the ship. Then Ariadne tugged him to the pile. She wouldn’t settle until he laid down and she was able to lay both herself and his younger self on his chest. Only then did she fall asleep.
Asterius didn’t mind that imposition. It was easier to sleep with the scent and warmth of his family so near, and the knowledge that they were safe because his King looked over them. Asterius slept and had only good dreams.
The End