The sons of Memory

@2003

Editor Michael Gouda

First: Gloom

A grunt in darkness. A scratching of feet, senseless uttered sounds. Water drops falling softly; a wet coolness to soothe his longing. Somewhere in his gloomy brain a cry came off. Not human, just brutish.

A roar, that craved for attention and feeding.

His finger scratched on stone. Restless he crossed the labyrinth - his labyrinth - set up to hide him from human stares.

A gnarl escaped his hairy throat and his short, strong horns thrust against the wall. His mind was tired, like his whole being, born out of a quirk of a horny woman.

His memories remained pale: a scared cry when he was born and afterwards just twilight in which the King of Crete had condemned him to live. He wasn't proud of his son, oh no! He couldn't be. What would a bull-headed man look like upon the throne of Knossos? The white bull - this was his real father; a white bull risen from the depths of the sea as a gift from Poseidon to Minos, the King of Crete. At least that's what he figured out while he was locked up in a secret room at Knossos' Palace. Pasiphae, Minos' wife fell madly in love with the white bull; with his strength, power and beauty. With the help of Daedalos, the creative inventor, she was able to mate with him and the result was he - Asterion: a baby with the head of a calf.

He remembered vaguely the brilliant colours. The red of the colour of old blood, the azure of the painted birds and of the dolphins on the palace walls. But, by Hades, what did he know about azure blue sky? His only entertainment was to look into the azure blue eyes of one of his victims. When he consumed them, inhaled them, his aching sex plunging deep between the youth's legs - spread apart by his force - the King was feeding him; first to satiate his sex drive and second to satisfy his permanent hunger.

His bowels rumbled. It was time for supplies. But in the darkness time didn't count. There was no tomorrow and no yesterday; no morning, no evening. Just timeless loneliness.

He still was cruising aimlessly; blindly finding the existence of the many ways. Something similar to laughter escaped. No human had ever found the way out. Not if he didn't want to. And he never wanted.

His mighty cock jerked, but he withstood the urge to lay hand on himself. Saliva ran from his snout and he scraped it over the cold stone, licking the salty surface. It was time for supplies. . . time, time, time! Raving he stomped with his feet; his body shaking with desire and demand. With lust and longing.

His ears pricked up. He heard the familiar sound at the entrance to the labyrinth. The gate was opened; he could sense fear. And something else: male flesh. Firm, delicious male flesh.

He would take his time today. No wild frenzy of mating and annihilation. Not this time.

He started to run, the muzzle torn apart widely, to the entrance gate and stopped abruptly. Carefully he peered around a corner and saw. Torch light was dazzling him but he saw. Light mirroring in shiny swords. Swords? Over the back cascaded a long, white braid. The eyes were scared and reflected the torch light like splinters of green glass. His companion was black as the night, dark as the labyrinth, locks tied up with a headband drenched with sweat.

Again he smelled fear, but resolution also. His cock rose, beefy and urgent. He groped it with both hands and crept away. The game was on.

Second: Desire

This was Athen's Agora - the market place where there was everything to buy Theseus could imagine. Grain from Euboa, goods from Thracia and the north coast of the Black Sea. Silverware from Laurion. Wool and linen clothes, coloured and single ones, crockery made from burnt clay, amphorae with curved handles and pretty ornaments.

Theseus sauntered along the fruits and vegetable stands. His fingers were itching to pick a bright yellow lemon or a velvet peach, thick like blood drops inside dark figs. He took a handful of black and green olives and breathed in their sunny scent. Then he detected the apricots, the sugar melons, the pomegranates, oranges and above all the grapes: saffron yellow or almost black.

Women picked up water from the public wells and from the spring house and carried the jars upon their heads back home. Amidst the market place was another well on whose brink a boy stood, one foot upon the brim, carrying up a long rope on whose end the water bucket appeared, full with delicious, cool water. Theseus checked him. Far too young for his taste, but the broad shoulders and glistening breast were promising. He gave him a broad smile and the boy jerked in a sudden recognition. He bent his head in a mute greeting. Theseus went on; the young body had fired his desires.

Fish monger gesticulated. Big heaps of mussels and little octopus hung over a thin rope. Beside them were stands with baskets woven from Sparto-grass, resin of the Storax-bush and healing earth from the isle of Lemnos, Theseus didn't know what it was used for.

High above the town the Acropolis towered, dazzling white and red roofs. The pillars of the Parthenon glared in dusty afternoon sun. Theseus was thirsty. He strolled along the large Stoa, covered columned halls where the Athens' citizens made business and met friends.

Theseus dove into the pleasant shade of sycamores. A humming of various voices filled the long arcades, people stood in groups, discussing animatedly. Another young lad was sitting upon a stool, writing with a stylus upon a wax tablet; he listened attentively to the negotiatons of two fat men, whose precious Togas revealed the rich merchant. His dark locks were held back with a band, like Theseus himself wore, just that it was made from a small silver band with ornamentations. The men interrupted their talk, looked at him solemnly and bent their heads. Theseus thanked them and smiled.

Finally he stood in front of the Thermae. He longed for a bath for he felt dusty, dirty and smelling. And..., Theseus' lips grinned smug, ... there he would meet the men. He entered the dazzling white building and was greeted by bath slaves and breathed in the scent of hibiscus oil, camphor and rosemary. He was gently undressed and his clothes taken away. Instead he received two large towels.

Hip baths from terracotta were grouped around a water basin with cooler water. Intense steam clouded the bodies of men, who were sitting in the tubs relaxing. Soft murmur was to be heard. Theseus' eyes wandered over the faces in search of familiars. Then he dropped his towel and stood naked.

Ricos looked up and revealed a strong-toothed grin. His round baby-eyes scanned Theseus' body, firm and with lean muscles, just the way he liked it. His gaze feasted upon his lower waist and longing flushed him like the sea, stormed by Poseidon. He knew that Theseus cock could rise to an exciting length and his own twitched with anticipation. The hairless ball sack swung deliberately when Theseus stepped beside him and slid into the tub that was filled with hot water. He shovelled it over his body and sighed contented. A full minute he sat there, eyes closed, enjoying the water before he turned his head to look at his occasional lover. One of his lovers he corrected himself, because he doubted that there was a gay man in Athens he hadn't had in his bed. He reached out and stroked Ricos' smooth cheek. Unfortunately he had never fallen in love with any of his bed mates, so he fed his hopes always with the next, but if he had already had all of them who was left then?

Rico took his hand and kissed it. Theseus withdrew his hand. He didn't like the subservience the men paid him. Him: Athens' prince. He rather preferred the fiery encounter, steaming sex, wet, hot and draining.

"What's the news?" he asked.

Ricos' round, amber eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what? You know I just came back from Marathon."

Ricos' face appeared jealous. "Have you found a substitute for me?"

"Don't be foolish, of course I have." Theseus grinned impishly and Ricos reciprocated through somewhat insulted.

"So what do you mean?" Theseus continued indifferently.

"The tribute to Crete is due this year. Your father, Aegeus, called for a gathering where each young boy will drop his ticket to learn who will be the seven that sail to Crete."

Theseus looked excited. "To be sacrificed?"

Ricos nodded sadly. "You, of course, as the King's son won't belong to them."

Theseus fell silent. He knew of course the story. Hercules, his uncle once brought the Cretan white bull to Attica. It was one of his task for king Eurystheus. The bull created havoc on the land in his God's aroused rage, killed off Minos' son Androgeos until Theseus was able to beat the bull and sacrificed him to Apollo. The Cretan king went mad from sorrow for the loss of his son and demanded a tribute to Athens that was beyond all human pity.

"There are rumours about a monster like being, locked in a labyrinth. Nobody returned though from Knossos to tell the truth." Ricos said pensively.

In Theseus awoke adventurousness. "Why shouldn't I participate?" he called out. "After all I am the vincitor of Periphetes the beater, Skeiron the thrower, Prokrustes the stretcher and many more," he said proudly and not without self pride. His muscles swelled, outlining some old scars he had on his underarms and on his shoulders.

"But you can't! You're Aegeus' only son. The king's fifty nephews will conquer the throne then!"

But Theseus didn't listen. Excitedly he pondered the consequences. So far he had mastered each challenge with the help of Apollo, Hermes and Athena to whom he was truly devoted. He believed in the power of Gods and he considered himself as their favourite hero. His deep shaded blue eyes glistened. His cock rose and stuck out of the water.

Ricos giggled. He had instantly forgotten the dangerous plan and reached over, ignoring the other men around and circled his forefinger around the reddish tip of Theseus' penis. Gently he played with the foreskin, pulled it back and forth until Theseus moaned and held Ricos' hand.

"Come", he whispered, stepped quickly out of the tub, grabbed his towel and wrapped in around his waist. It left a wide tent but he didn't care. Impatiently he dragged Ricos behind him into a separated cubicula and closed the door. Fiercely he dropped the towel, tugged at Ricos' and kneaded his lover's balls. "You're still hung like a horse", he said seriously.

"Sure", Ricos answered. "How could you forget this? Why don't you lay down and give me your sweet bum?"

"What's gotten into you?" Theseus' brows furrowed. "I'm always the master here", he said snootily, took Ricos' shoulders and pressed him down until he felt his hot mouth engulfing his blood engorged member that indeed had grown to an exciting length. Theseus groaned and ground his teeth when he emptied himself a few seconds later. Ricos rose, grinning, his lips white from cum, fondling the king's son's testicles. "You're quick. You needed it certainly." He took Theseus' hand and jumped with him upon the soft bed that was standing in a corner for such occasions. Theseus wasn't over powered, he was young and his body full of sex hormones. He swallowed Ricos completely, rubbing his tongue over the underside of the shaft and encircled with his fingers Ricos' backside orifice. Ricos gave approving sounds, then backed away, taking the little pain Theseus' teeth caused on his penis. He kneeled in front of Theseus and stared into his eyes. Then he took a small jar and poured viscous oil into his palm. He smeared it gently over Theseus hard cock, the rest into the crack of his butt. He lifted himself and sat onto Theseus' lap, his back facing his lover, then let himself sink slowly and with it impaled himself on his lover's pole. A mutual gasp from two different throats and after a while of adjustment, Ricos started to ride him.

Theseus reached around and worked Ricos' cock, rubbing slowly up and down, smearing the pre cum that flooded until he couldn't take it any longer. Ricos' loud moans made him crazy so he leaned forward, pushing Ricos upon the sheets until he lay spread eagled and started a serious fuck. Uninhibited he pumped in and out until both screamed with pleasure. Boys and boys again - Ricos had always been his best fuck mate so far, although he tried to mount him now and again. But as far as was this concerned Theseus was a virgin and determined to remain so. Nothing was better than to plunge between a cute firm bum. With a loud cry he came and broke down upon Ricos' sweaty back until their breathing gradually subsided. He didn't long to pull out from this warm nest, so he lay motionless until he fell asleep.

When he opened his eyes again he was still buried in Ricos' arse, but he heard his voice. "Promise me to stay here and not go to Crete."

Theseus was wide awake now. He wriggled and pulled out his cock. He lay beside Ricos and looked into his face. "Don't tell me you were faithful during my absence. I'm sure you were not."

Ricos cheeks glowed and this was answer enough. "Don't hang your heart on me. I need air to breathe", Theseus was unusually serious.

He rose, pulled Ricos with him and engaged both into a deep kiss. "You're the best", he smiled.

Ricos took Theseus arm, opened the door and both stepped into another big basin of warm water to wash off sweat, oil and cum and to get aroused again.

Third: Fate

The High priestess' hand of Athena disappeared in the wooden voting box in which were gathered all the tags on which were written all names of Athens' youth. It was a question of honour and nobody, not the senators, nor rich merchants and farmers backed out of this ceremony that took place each seven years when the tribute was due. Except the slaves and freedmen who didn't belong to the noble class and had no need to attend.

Incense wavered around the head of the priestess and his father Aegeus behind. Sunbeams broke upon the spear of the ivory-golden statue of Athena. She was standing there in full armour, smiling archaic, her sapphire stone eyes glistening coldly and dangerous. Here, high above downtown, on the Acropolis, he felt the breath of the Gods. The Parthenon and the Zeus temple, and there behind, at the sanctum of Pandrosos, he could see the branches of Athena's holy olive tree waving in the breeze. She once had let it grow with her spear when she was in a contest with Poseidon about the protecting power over Attica. Poseidon himself stomped his trident into the stone and a salty born bubbled up...

Theseus listened. It was very quiet now. The mumbling had stopped. He knew that everybody was listening now... and there it was: the sea's roar coming up from the lowest level of the Erechtheion, there where Poseidon's salty well gushed... the wind was coming from the south and Theseus knew the Gods were with them. Right now.

All this was sacred area and sacred action and it meant a lot to Theseus. He might be a boaster, proud of all his fulfilled tasks but he wasn't that foolish to believe, that he did it all alone. No, the Gods were with him always and he never forgot to thank them. So, this morning of the ceremony he had washed himself at Athena's well to wash off Ricos' scent, to clean himself from all the dirt, inwardly and outwardly. He had dressed into his best stark white tunic with the blood red himaiton above and fastened it with a emerald fibula, a gift from his father when he was a baby and grew up at his mother's house back in Troezen.

Aethra, his mother was the daughter of the king there and Theseus was sired, while Aegeus was on his travels and left the pregnant Aethra behind. He had left a present for his son under a stone - sword and shoes - and directed her to take them from under it. The time had come, Theseus was then on his way to Athens and was finally acknowledged and declared his father's successor.

Ricos was standing beside Theseus. He felt his friend shivering despite the warm sun. "You really have thrown your name into the ballot box?"

Theseus nodded and listened to the name, the high priestess proclaimed. The young man whose name was called hung his head although some of his friends around cheered and patted his shoulder. For them it was one great adventure and perhaps they were certain that the gods would have pity on them and send them straight to Mount Olympus as heros.

Theseus watched him. Yes, he had put his name into the ballot box although his father had forbidden him to do so. But Theseus didn't want to be different from the others and second he trusted the Gods. He just wasn't sure if he should believe that the Gods would excuse him or gave him the opportunity to prove once more his braveness and to become Athens' immortal hero.

All youths that were called out were standing now beside King Aegeus in front of the bluish chalk pillars of the Parthenon when Ricos heard his name resounded over the place. He almost broke down beside Theseus and just his quick grip could avoid Ricos fall to the ground. Theseus shuddered himself. Unconsciously he prayed that the next - and last - name would be his own.

Breathless silence when the high priestess called with loud voice: "Theseus, Aegeus' son, prince of Attica."

First there was silence, then a sharp and endless sad look from his father met Theseus' eyes. Ricos, walking up the stairs, leading to the temple, halted and looked behind in Theseus' direction. The people were still silent, nobody spoke. But he could sense the exertion in each pore. He held his father's gaze while he entered the staircase himself, walked up with his head in the air and lined up between the now seven young men. It was as if the citizens just now realized the meaning of losing the heir to the throne and the consequences. Protest started, and embittered curses towards Crete and its merciless ruler.

"To the weapons!" some called. "Let's declare war with Crete. We want to end this shameful act!" But the high priestess lifted her arms. "Citizens of Athens. Do not sin against the Gods. We are standing here in front of our patron goddess Athena. I know the ways of the Gods are mysterious and hard to understand. But wouldn't she stand for us - her own folk - if it wasn't the will of the Gods to sacrifice our youth as expiatory sacrifice?

"King Minos of Crete has asked the Oracle of Delphi and it was Phytia who gave this sad answer to all of us."

She proudly lifted her head. "The Goddess will accept this sacrifice. The highest we can give: Our prince. And end this all. Just believe.

A servant threw myrrh into basins of flames and more smoke and haze covered the crowd standing in front of the stairs. When the haze had dispersed, she was gone. Aegeus was still there - a man in his best years, still black hair, a black beard, but he was slumped together, broken, sick. Theseus felt the urge to say something to his folk, but wasn't sure to find the right words, so he simply walked over to his father, and embraced him after a brief hesitation.

"Father", he spoke low, "I promise to fight. I am not that lamb going to the slaughter without struggle. Give me an armed ship, weapons I will hide secretly and I will fight King Minos and the fate waiting for us. Look at the young men here. They are not bound to die young. I have killed so many monsters and even saved your life by turning out your evil wife Medea." His blue eyes pierced Aegeus'. "Have faith. I will return."

Aegeus loosened his body from his son's and took him by the shoulders. Then he kissed his forehead. "So be it. I have no faith. But hope."

The crowd cheered now.

Seven young men and the crew of the ship were standing aboard saying motionless good bye while Athens' citizens were gathered at the harbour of Piraeus. Again the priests and priestess had lit fires and sacrificed rams to a happy return.

"Hoist up a white sail when my son's mission is successful", Aegeus said to the captain, a pockmarked, old seaman. He nodded briefly, gave his orders to the crew and the ship left the harbour.

Everybody on the beach followed it until it had vanished on the southern horizon.

Fourth: Meeting

The seas of Crete were clear. The sun directly overhead threw its light into the waters so there were some plants to be seen and many fish. Sometimes reflections of light sparkled like colourful diamonds.

Theseus stood at the railing and looked down. Perhaps it could be golden ducats or shiny jewels from sunken ships. Perhaps it could be the iridescent scales of the goddesses of the sea. Maybe big mussels that had opened their mouths widely that Theseus could adore their treasures. But probably it was just the flash of huge fish swarms, caused by the sun.

Theseus thought about all the weapons he had hidden in the depths of the ship's belly: spears, shields, swords, armours. But what was the use of them? Suddenly he wasn't so sure about the success of his plan. How to fight an Cretan army? When all that he had was six scared young men and the crew of the ship he wasn't sure they would participate? Just a trick would help him if he didn't want to have his own country involved in a war. Crete had mighty allies.

He sensed a touch on his shoulder and he looked into Ricos' concerned face. Theseus lifted his brows, "I thought you're busy with a hot threesome down in the cabins with the two effeminate."

Ricos frowned. "Don't be funny."

"Funny? I have heard you too often. Are they allowing you to mount them?"

"Sure." Ricos said dryly. "While you're too much of a sissy for that."

With one swift motion Theseus grobed Ricos' toga over his chest. "Don't talk to me like this. I am not a sissy!"

Ricos' face was haughty. "Sure you are. Don't worry, I won't ask you again. I just thought before we all die you'd like to have this experience. It doesn't hurt more than your several scars you've suffered. You want to die without having had real sex?"

Theseus' hand went limp and he turned back to the sea. Ricos was right. He was proud of his virility but he was afraid of not having everything under control. To lay and wait until a man entered him was an imagination too much over the top for him.

"It doesn't matter anymore", he said after a while.

"Why? Have you given up? What's with your plan?"

"I don't have a plan", Theseus squeezed out.

"What? The great Theseus hasn't a plan? How's that?" Ricos mocked and Theseus eyes flashed spitefully.

"I'm not invincible and the master of a thousand ideas."

Ricos was bewildered. This was a new side. He always had known the demanding, yet giving prince, charming and cheeky. He was a Greek Fire in bed and Ricos forgave his childish fits of vanity. Yet Theseus wasn't the man of his dreams.

"Hey", Ricos turned Theseus to him and put his hands upon his shoulders. "Perhaps Minos will set us free when he sees who's coming to be sacrificed. He has lost a son too and must know the sorrow and grief Aegeus is feeling. Above all, you're his only son."

Theseus smiled thinly. "There are siblings Ariadne and Arian, right? It is said that both are seducing the victims before they are sacrificed."

Ricos grinned. "If he let me mount him it's all right with me. The last fuck before I die."

Theseus nodded. "And there's even some fun for the women lover. What do you think will happen?"

A squeak interrupted him. Otos and Pallas came running up the stairs from the cabins, both pretty deranged and coal lined eyes smeared. Both were chasing each other across the deck. The sailors laughed.

Theseus rolled his eyes. "Brainless guys." But then he had to laugh and Ricos joined him. "Let's enjoy our last days."

The island of Crete shimmered violet in the distance. Nicos, the helmsman, pointed across the sea. "Crete!", he called. Wind puffed out the black sails.

The low buildings were dazzling white and of a soft grey. They were grouped around the shore, building a harbour town. Otherwise the landscape was barren. White stones and low bushes on the shore, behind towered the grey mountains. Theseus screwed up his eyes for he detected a small group on the beach. Weapons flashed in the sun. The reception committee. Even Otos and Pallas were silent when they stood in a line on deck, watching the ship arriving in the harbour.

On the double, the Cretan guards filled the ship, took the victims into their middle and guided them slowly down, through a crowd of people. Theseus saw them dressed differently to Athens' fashion with dark red clothes, like old blood, the ornaments he couldn't recognize. They were silent like Athens' citizens had been there on the Acropolis, watching and pointing with fingers at them. Theseus certainly had the feeling that pity hung in the air.

"Look, those funny braids," Ricos whispered at his side. The guards, in full armour, had their long hair plaited into braids of all possible colours. He detected even blond ones and adored them. But there was no time left for them to ponder Crete's fashion style, for they had to keep pace with the soldiers.

Knossos' palace was a wide area. Four wings arranged around a central courtyard. Round, thick pillars of the colour of the people's tunics - old blood - were supporting the roof. It was decorated with the double axe: the sign of mother Rhea.

Behind him he heard the scared whispers of the other youths coming with him from Athens; he could smell their fears. Then he felt Ricos' hand sneaking into his palm and he held it tight. Hand in hand they passed the pillars and entered the palace.

Flaming torches along the walls guided them until they stopped in front of a large wooden door. It was opened and they were pushed through it. Dazzling light from opposite windows. Old blood on the walls and azure blue dolphins swimming in a sea of white.

To the left was a stone throne; in front of it three figures - tall and as stony as the throne. Just the eyes glistened. The man in the middle beckoned them to come nearer and the seven young men lined up in front of him.

The large, black eyes examined them one by one, from head to toes and nodded.

"Welcome to Crete". A resounding voice. "I'm glad your father made us the most precious gift, Theseus. I am pleased."

Theseus' eyes scurried to the humans beside King Minos. To the right was a man. Blond braid, glass green eyes, a body firm as a warrior, naked upper arms decorated with broad golden rings, a thin ring around his forehead. Or was it a scar?

The figure to the left was a woman, similar to the young man, presumably siblings. Her skirt fell straight from her hips and then filled out to a wide hem. There too was a belt around her tiny waist and above the skirt she wore a tight-fitting short sleeved bodice. Her breasts were entirely exposed with the bodice laced up below her bust.

Theseus didn't know what to think; was this Cretan fashion? Her skirt had nature designs, fish and birds in brilliant colours that matched the colours of the throne room. A purple ribbon looped in her white hair and broad, golden rings decorated her neck and arms.

Her face was haughty and her eyes were like two pieces of burning glass with which she pierced Theseus blue ones. He felt naked under this stare and helpless. He remembered briefly Ricos' words about their seducing the victims first. His look returned to the young man to the king's right side. He needed a hard, manly breast; and hips without the fatty softness of a woman.

The young man looked straight into Theseus' eyes, motionless like a statue, but Theseus sensed no harm coming from him.

Minos looked at Theseus' and Ricos' tortuous hands and smiled, amused. "If your father thought to appeal to my pity in sending his own son to be sacrificed, he is mistaken. This fate was promised by the Gods. I can't fight against the will of the Gods. Neither me nor you." His tone was a trace sharper. He approached Athens' prince. "Let this be a warning. No one ever escapes fate. Nor the labyrinth."

"Labyrinth?" Theseus voice was rough as if he hadn't spoken in ages.

Minos smiled. "You will see. Tomorrow." The siblings clapped their hands and the guards appeared again. The young man with the white braid joined them and together they went out of the throne room and the palace.

"Follow me to the Little Palace", he said. His voice was smooth and low. But Theseus thought it dangerously low.

"You all will stay here where I and my sister have our residence. Nobody shall ever say we treat our prisoners badly", he said to Theseus. Theseus thought he saw a faint smile around his red lips. Despite the lightness of his hair, his skin was bronzed and made the light eyes all the more remarkable. "I am Arian, the king's son", he continued.

"What will happen tomorrow, Arian, Minos' son?" Theseus asked without awe.

"You will see."

"I prefer to know about the danger I throw myself into."

Arian didn't respond.

"The woman . . . your sister?"

Arian nodded and made an inviting gesture. "Follow me upstairs. I'm sure you all want to refresh yourself. Slaves will be at your service soon." He turned and stood now chest to chest with Theseus. His breath was like rosemary. "Make no mistake. No thought about flight. The palace area is well protected but you can go where you wish with in these walls.

Again Theseus thought he saw a smile in Arian's eyes, but then the prince of Crete was gone.

"Phew", Ricos said when they were alone. "You have an extra room, the fortune of a prince. I have to share the room with Otos and Pallas."

"Pure temptation", Theseus sighed and sat down on the surprisingly soft mattress of the broad bed.

"Pretty luxurious, don't you think?" Ricos said.

"You're pretty perky considering you'll be dead tomorrow at this time", Theseus said in a sinister voice..

"Well, I still rely on you." Ricos sat beside him. "We don't have a chance to bring our weapons from the ship?"

"The captain and sailors will bring them but you heard what Arian said. The palace area is well guarded. They will probably be caught."

The door opened without warning and Arian's sister entered the room. She carried a bowl of water and towels. Ricos and Theseus rose and the first one vanished quickly after receiving a sharp glance from her eyes.

"I'm glad to meet you, Athens' prince," she said with a dark voice, putting down the bowel upon a table.

"Thank you. Although I don't understand the comfort and the attention. It doesn't change our state as prisoner and condemned to death."

She smiled. But the smile didn't reach her eyes. "We are not like those Spartans. Luxury is one of our joyful things. Enjoy the last day of your life."

Theseus jerked as if he had burnt himself. "Is there no escape?"

"Believe me, no escape." She approached him with the wet cloth and started to wipe him gently over his face, taking sweat and dust away.

"I mean . . . I thought . . . you . . . perhaps . . . .?" Theseus' eyes pleaded, but she laughed. "Forget this plan. I'm the daughter of my father, the king of Crete. Who am I to question his orders?"

Glass green eyes, near; open mouth, the tongue shimmering red, pushing now forward between Theseus' lips, when he realized that she was kissing him. Her hand snaking along his body, searching for his private parts. He felt disgust and without thinking he pushed her away.

"You might be Minos' daughter but I don't know your name," he lied, but he was in high anger. He had to control himself not to wipe his lips where she had kissed him.

She swayed a little and the smile on her face never returned.

"So you are playing in my brother's league, yes? Is everybody in Athens a lover of his own gender? Is there nothing left for me?"

"I'm sure there is. Just don't knock on the door of the two effeminate. The rest you can have except my friend Ricos."

Theses almost ducked under her hateful stare. She dropped the towel she held. "I am Ariadne, princess of Crete. And I chose the men myself." She turned and closed the door behind her.

Theseus sank sighing once more upon the bed. The last thing he needed now was an offended woman. He should gather his men to have a discussion but the slaves arrived and guided him to the bath where he fell asleep under softly kneading hands.

Fifth: Fulfilment

He woke up when a hand was touching him on the naked shoulder. Startled he rose to find Arian standing there. "Your friends are in their chambers again. If you like to talk with them, you're free to do so. But I assume you're hungry."

Theseus took the bath towel, wrapped himself and followed Arian to his room. He was surprised to see this polite treatment. He felt almost like a welcomed guest to another cultivated kingdom. He couldn't deny that Crete was indeed a cultivated kingdom . . . despite all.

Surprised, he saw the table filled with dishes; fried fish with a spicy sauce, fresh bread, olives and goat cheese, dates, figs and grapes; everything Athens gets from foreign countries.

His mouth watered. But before he devoured the fish he took the bread, crumbled a piece of it to the ground and murmured words. And before he took the chalice full of Samos wine he sprinkled a little of it on the ground, praying to Apollo and Athena.

Arian sat opposite and watched him. "Ariadne is keen on you. She always wants what I have. But there's no chance for her, she being the king's daughter."

Theseus stopped chewing. "What do you have that she wants?"

"Well, men for instance. It's not considered proper for a king's daughter to jump from bed to bed."

Theseus had finished his fish and laid down the fork. "So it is true what they are telling. First you both rape the men before they are sacrificed.

Arian laughed. A rich sound and long missed. At the same time both heard the moaning of a female voice coming from another room. Arian lifted his brows but said nothing. After the moaning had exploded into a randy cry he said, "No rape. Just entertainment."

Theseus' heart started to pound. He rose and walked over to the bed. "Tell me about tomorrow."

"There's a labyrinth. It was built by Daedalus, a most skilful artificer. The labyrinth is an edifice with numberless winding passages and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither beginning nor end, like the river Maeander, which returns on itself, and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea."

"And what is hidden in the labyrinth?"

"Your fate."

His tunic was short. Very short. And when Arian sat down beside him on the bed, facing him, he had a glimpse of his bare buttocks. Beautiful firm buttocks, just perfect to take his manhood. Theseus shifted and gazed at Arian's blond, almost white hair he had bound into a braid, that fell over his back. Theseus imagined undoing this braid to see the hair flooding over the pillow beneath him. His eyebrows were surprisingly dark and made a perfect bow over his glass green eyes. It made the face clear in its structure, the mouth was soft yet had a hard line in it. It spoke of willpower, and the long scar that led across his forehead right under the hairline, made him look as if he was wearing a hair band, a ring around his head. Theseus liked it; he had several scars himself as proof of his adventures.

"You're bound to die", Arian said, while taking a black olive into his mouth.

"I'm not." Theseus told him, took the fresh bread and broke off a piece, watching Arian's raised brows. "You're not? How?"

"You'll give me a sword and I'll kill the monster."

"How do you know there's a monster?" Arian asked sharply.

"It's a rumour that spread to Attica. None of the youths returned to my hometown; so we assume they are fed to a brute."

Arian fell silent and chewed more olives. He drank from the spiced, heavy wine. Then he took the small leather bag he had brought and showed Theseus a red ball of wool.

"What's this? No sword?"

"You'll get a sword and this." Arian said solemnly. "We tie it at the gate to the labyrinth and it will lead us back."

"Us?"

Arian placed the goblet on the table and looked penetratingly at Theseus. "Us. My father promised to stop this unmerciful tribute once the Minotaur is dead."

"Minotaur?"

"A man with the head of a bull. Gloomy, fiery, brutal. A man eater."

Theseus tried to keep his countenance calm and unchanged.

"No one has ever survived," Arian continued. His stare was even deeper. "But I've never seen a man who came here that looked like you. Someone who has the power to fight. With me." He slid nearer. "Somebody who could fight with me. Together. All of them were just children. You're not."

His hand reached to his shoulder and loosened the fibula that held his chiton. His upper body was revealed and Theseus swallowed. He sensed power when Arian approached him. This was the first man who could overpower him. Yes. Arian's green eyes were near. Big, clear, not blinking. The lips curled up and spoke a word Theseus didn't understand, but it was too late; the lips had pressed upon his own and engaged him into a kiss that made him lose his mind. Theseus hands were all over Arian's body suddenly, tugging at the chiton but the leather girdle stopped him. His hand slid along Arian's strong legs, creeping under the hem of the cloth, tickling the ball sack, hairless, smooth like the rest of his body. He loosened his girdle and the chiton fell to the ground.

"You're coming with me to fight the bull?" Arian stood like a statue, looking at him.

"Yes." Theseus said and then there was just a tangle of arms, legs, sucking mouths and licking tongues, showing the scars they had, the trophies of all their victories, rolling over the bed, mouths clamped around cocks, exchanging all fluids they had to give.

Then Arian suddenly stopped the action when Theseus wanted to push his cock into the crack of Arian's buttocks. Sweaty and with loosened braid he sat upright. "I'm the master here", he said.

Theseus sat speechless then started to laugh. "That was my part actually." He remembered Ricos' words about being a sissy. Perhaps he had met now another sissy.

Arian's dark eyebrows jumped up. "Beat the monster and we toss coins for who is doing whom." His eyes were laughing.

"Settled."

"Settled."

Theseus hadn't enough of his mouth though, so he pulled him closer again, his hands roaming over Arian's shoulders. "I always win." He muffled.

"Do you? Me too." Arian slid into his chiton and Theseus looked surprised. "You're not staying with me tonight?"

Arian shook his had. "No. I will see you when the sun is rising."

Mount Olympus

Rosy-cheeked Eos just arrived at the halls of Mount Olympus. She dropped down her blood-red chiton she was wearing when she played sundown for the human's down on earth and dressed into her comfortable robe. Then she placed herself next to Hera, watching her usually miserable face. She's getting old, Eos thought, amused that she had a couple of thousand years to stay very young - measured by earthly time. Even the Gods were aging when they didn't have their weekly portion of Ambrosia. And Hera - inflamed with rage at the dalliances of her husband, Zeus - had occasionally forgotten to eat.

"How are things, my dear?" Eos said with honeyed voice.

"Oh well, my dear. Those bandages are killing me." Hera pointed to her legs. "My dearest Asclepios came around to do his monthly visit and gave me this for my veins. Then he gave good advice for my sciatica."

"You should simply keep it warm."

"Of course it does me harm", Hera said reproachful. She didn't hear all that well lately. "And then look at this old horny chap." She pointed over to a God with wine-leaves all over his head, he had decorated himself with them. "That's really amusing. Did you know that the time is ripe for this Cretan prince?"

Eos watched the God looking into a big, flat bowl of red wine as if he had fallen in love with himself, like Narcissus. But Narcissus was saved since Eros and Butterfly had redeemed his brother's soul to rejoin both in Hades' Underworld. Eos sighed contently. This had been an adventure the Olympic Gods had long to chatter about.

"No, dearest Hera, let me know about our Dionysos. Has he fallen finally for himself because he's always looking too fondly into the wine-mirror?"

"Oh no, my dear. He is watching the Cretan prince. You know that my husband, Zeus, visits Mount Ida each year on Crete where he had been brought up by the goat Amalthea when his father was after his life. Do you remember?"

Eos nodded. Of course she didn't remember because it happened long before her time.

"Well, Dionysos accompanied him once when Arian, the son of Crete's king, grew up to a stunning male beauty. Dionysos fell in love instantly. He told us that his beauty even matched Apollo's or his little friend Hyacinthos - may the Gods be gracious with him. Well, he's not my taste exactly."

"And now? Dionysos indulges himself in adoration from a distance?"

"No! I told you that the time is ripe to pluck him. Dionysos will abduct him to Naxos. You know that this is his favourite island. He's working on a love-nest." Hera giggled hoarsly. "About time that he vanishes. I have born him too long, this bastard."

Eos remembered the old grudge coming from an affair Zeus had had with the earthly woman Semele. Hera in her rage, came to Semele and advised her to ask Zeus to appear in his real figure. Semele accepted and Zeus had vowed by the river Styx to fulfill Semele's plea. So he had to appear in fire and flame - his real figure. Semele burnt to ashes but Hermes quickly saved the unborn Dionysos, and sewed the baby into Zeus' calf where he grew until he was born. Hera's grudge wasn't calmed so Dionysos had to be raised up in the mountains, dressed as a girl, until Zeus had brought him here to Mount Olympus. After all he was his son - one of the many.

Dionysos now took the bowl and carried it cautiously away, into his private rooms in the palace. His tamed panther followed on silent feet. There he stretched out on the feather bed beside his master.

Dionysos didn't want to miss what happened in the palace of Knossos, especially now that Arian and Theseus were a tangle on the bed. He felt a tickle in his loins, so he tugged at his tunic until he lay naked on his stomach, the feathers tickling his wet erection.

This Theseus was well equipped - this he had to admit and Dionysos forgave Arian's horniness. He couldn't wait until he would have Arian for himself to teach him the love of a God, to feed him Ambrosia, and... Ambrosia, holy Earthquake! He jumped up and rang a tiny, golden bell. A minute later a youth entered his room, decoratively dressed in a blue tunic, feet naked, the hazelnut eyes framed and underlined with a thin coal line: Ganymede, Zeus' private toy.

Ganymede looked briefly at Dionysos' straining erection and the droplets running along the veined shaft. The tray he carried trembled a little and the small bowl with rosy Ambrosia threatened to slip down.

Dionysos laughed quietly. "My shy Ganymede. Am I that exciting to watch?" He took the tray and put it on the table, then he stroked the youth's smooth cheek. "Come here, share this with me." He held out the golden spoon and fed Ganymede before he took some himself. His cock was quivering.

"Is Zeus out and you are lonely? You know I don't interfere with the matters of my father, but . . ."

"Zeus is out," Ganymede said with a young voice. He knew that the love of a God was pure heaven, so he never minded a side track with others like Apollo or Hermes. Zeus didn't have to know. His hand snaked around Dionysos' penis and he smiled when the God of the wine and grapes closed his eyes.

Sixth: Battlefield

Theseus didn't sleep much. All his senses were too aroused to find peace. He still smelled Arian when his head hit the pillow, rosemary and a little of wild animal. Sex, where the sheets were still damp from his juice. He also thought about Ricos and matched both. But Ricos - he was sure - would find pleasure tonight in the arms of Otos and Pallas. But he wasn't envious, for Arian was a man he had dreamt of for a long time. He was all man. Theseus almost forgot that he had just found him and had to leave him forever. Would he fulfil his promise and bring the weapons and fight with him against the strange man-bull?

Theseus was awakened by a soft touch on his cock. Lips brushed the sensitive skin and when he opened his eyes, he looked into a glass green world.

"Do this again, please," Theseus murmured still half asleep but the green world vanished. Arian pulled him up to his feet.

"Next time," he said very low. "First we must save your life."

Theseus saw a bowl with fresh water and towels and went naked to wash himself quickly. Then he took the bread Arian handed him, crumbled a little of it and sent a silent prayer to Apollo and Athena. He relied on them, no matter what, like he had many times before. Nonetheless his heart pounded painfully. If he should lose his life today it would be together with Arian. Perhaps. How brave was Arian, he would see soon.

Crete's prince had stepped behind him, pressed his erection between Theseus' cheeks and embraced him. Theseus body responded despite his fear but Arian made no move to touch him. "Stay so. There's nothing better for a fight than a sexual arousal. We both will be great."

Theseus swallowed the rest of the bread, turned in Arian's arms and felt his straining erection under the loin cloth. He wore nothing more, but his body glistened with oil.

"Here," Arian tossed Theseus a loin cloth too and poured oil over his body. Theseus was used to it; the oil made it difficult for an assailant to catch him. He closed his eyes and enjoyed Arian's strong fingers before he felt his lips being parted and engaged in a firey kiss. He moaned and stroked over the prince's body, but Arian stepped back.

"Come now." He gave him a sword and a dagger which he put into the belt of the loin cloth. Then he followed Arian.

It was shortly before sunrise. Knossos' palace lay in silence still when they passed sleeping guards. Arian explained he had given them a sedative as a good night drink.

The entrance to the labyrinth was a cave in the mountains. Arian stopped and pointed to an iron gate. "There will be some light inside coming from holes in the ceiling. The rest is by the entrance. Torch light."

Abruptly he turned his head. "Ssht," he made and listened. Theseus heard nothing. "I thought I heard footsteps. Pull off your sandals," he said. Theseus did and stood then as Arian did: barefeet, oily and with a still aching erection. He didn't know what happened with him. And he wasn't sure what would guide him through this wicked maze: the excitement of killing a brute or the excitement to devour Arian afterwards. With skin and bones . . .

Arian leaned against the iron gate and it swung inward. They were met with gloom, a foul smell, wet and filled with fear: the stench of men meeting death. Theseus curled up his nose and wiped over his hair band around his forehead. Arian tugged at his braid, falling down to his hips.

"Did you never cut it?" Theseus asked.

"Huh? Never since I was a baby." Arian smiled. "The game is on. Follow me."

He entered the labyrinth, stopped shortly to bind the red woollen thread around an iron ring next to the gate and took a torch. Then both vanished around the first corner.

A dark shadow moved between the small trees and sandaled feet followed their way.

Water dropped from the walls. It was cool but Theseus sweated. At his side he saw Arian's body reflecting the light. Drops of sweat ran along his cheeks. He reached out his hand and stopped Theseus' walk. He listened again. "Don't you hear that?"

A sinister sniffing. Theseus got goosebumps. "I don't mean this sniffing. There are human steps."

"It can't."

But Arian's senses were sharp. Nonetheless he went on. Again a sniff. Brutish swelling nostrils. Scratching in darkness, then stomping feet.

"Funny," Arian shivered. "I thought he had no hooves. Just human feet."

"Have you ever seen him?"

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Ssht!" Arian flashed at him annoyed. He carefully held the ball of wool and watched its run behind them. Theseus had not known the way back for a long time. Too many turns and corners.

"You've seen him? Where?" he asked again.

Arian stopped and leaned against a wall, made from square stones. "When he was a baby. New born."

Theseus watched him attentively but Arian shook his head. "Come along, we have no time for a women's chattering."

He peered around a corner but it was a dead end. They turned and tried another way. Wedged in those high walls that reached to the mountain's ceiling, Theseus felt sick. Already now he longed to see the sun and feel the endless blue sky above his head. Sweat drenched his loin cloth; his erection had gone long time ago. How could he have thought it would be a lazy walk?

A roar sounded as coming from behind them, making both jump. But their swords didn't tremble in their hands. Arian just dropped the ball of red wool and it rolled away, Arian followed quickly. He rose again and saw a shadow on the wall. A horned head, big with an open muzzle, his beefy cock sticking out, strong and full of life. Arian gulped empty and beckoned Theseus, who crept nearer. He snatched a glimpse of the silhouette before it was gone. All that was left was a hoarsely breathing, hot and heavy.

"The centre of this labyrinth must be near."

Theseus sweated like mad. The handle of his sword was slippery. Again a roar, a scraping over cold stone. Near. Close. A cry. Running feet, splashing over stone and through water puddles. Blindly they ran behind, tripping over the red thread, but everything was silent again.

"There!" Theseus' arm pointed to the center of the maze. A bed with dishevelled clothes. From the ceiling hung a rope with a bucket. Presumably someone was feeding him this way. Surely he couldn't live by eating and waiting seven years for a supply of young sacrificed men.

Arian tripped over bones. Grey, strangely gleaming bones. Nibbled, clean and neat. Some of them still stood as the skeleton of the men they used to be. Arian and Theseus stood and stared, then both looked into each other's eyes. A shadow gliding over the walls. Horns, a hairy head, hanging throat, muscled arms, hands with nails, bent and strong like claws. He was chasing another man, jumping into the room like hole.

"Ricos!" Theseus shouted. "Watch out!" But the Minotaur started to jump. He was over Ricos in a flash. Ricos fell to the ground, a fleshy, iron hard bull's cock pressing between the crack of his buttocks.

"No!" A mutual scream from two throats; swords flashing in the torch light, sticking in fixtures on the walls.

The red thread was used up and stretched. Arian noticed it in a small corner of his mind, then he saw Theseus running shouting to the brute, swing his sword. Ricos' movements were feeble, weak and finally subsided. The Minotaur must have broken his spine. He panted, slavered, licked with long, rough, red tongue on Ricos' neck and dug his huge cock into Ricos' body, his blood-shot eyes contorted and watching Theseus running to him with pulled sword. The blond one was coming from the other side. He smelled no fear, just resolution. He growled dangerously.

"Up, you brute. Get up!" Theseus shouted. Arian nodded and slipped over behind the bull's back. Slowly he rose, Ricos' didn't move.

"Ricos? Ricos? Are you all right?" Ricos' didn't move. Tears in Theseus' eyes clouded his vision. "You stupid thing. Why did you have to follow?"

Minotaur roared, the head bent back. The walls were trembling. Arian and Theseus circled around him, the bull-man turned with them, carefully watching from which side the attack would come.

The red thread suddenly lost it's ability to stretch and lay curled up like a long, red worm. Arian hesitated but forgot it instantly when the Minotaur jumped on him. He swung his sword and scraped Minotaure's shoulder. Blood splattered on him. Theseus attacked him from behind but missed him.

"Do you know the way out, Asterion?" Arian asked suddenly. Theseus wondered.

"Do you?" Arian shouted.

Asterion shook his head in circles. It could mean everything. Arian made a jump, and pressed his sword against Minotaur's throat. Both fell to the ground, next to Ricos. Asterion panted. Saliva flew in tiny flecks from his muzzle.

"Tell me and you'll live." Arian hissed. Theseus didn't understand but stepped over Minotaur's body, straddling it and threatening him with his sword. A wrong idea for Asterion kicked him in his private parts, Theseus whined, fell onto his back and hit his head on the ground; the sword flying away in a high arch. For a few seconds he saw stars and lost consciousness.

When he awoke he saw Arian wrestling with the man with the bull's head. Theseus saw red and stormed up, couldn't find his sword and pulled out his dagger. He ran over and buried it deep into the place where he assumed Asterion's heart to be.

"Theseus, no!"

But Theseus didn't hear him; his senses were numb; he just felt the iron going deep into pliable flesh while he turned the hilt to make sure the monster wouldn't survive.

"Theseus! What have you done? We're locked up here forever!" Arian shouted.

Theseus stood dumbfounded.

Arian jumped to his feet. "Do you see the thread anywhere?" he still shouted. "It's gone. Somebody has cut the thread and taken it away."

Not believing Theseus searched the ground. It had vanished indeed.

All was silent except Asterion's laboured breath. A gargle came from his mouth and bloody spittle. He moaned, his hand pressed around the hilt of the dagger. Arian knelt beside the dying creature and looked for the first time into the sort of human-like eyes of his half-brother. Theseus did the same and was about to pull out the weapon when Arian stopped him.

"Please, the way out", he said.

Asterion's mind was clear. Words were forming in his head. He felt funny, light headed while he felt his life ebbing away. He knew he couldn't do any harm anymore but the fire within him was still there. If he could just move... Oddly he still felt aroused, the horny feelings hadn't subsided since he had received the deadly wound. It didn't hurt at all. Perhaps he was dead already. He turned his head a little and looked at Ricos' mute body and felt regret for the first time. What was the difference between life and death? The place where he was bound to go now was just a change from one prison into another.

"The way out." Arian's voice was sharper. "You know it."

Asterion's body moved; he tried to get up. Just a small trace of blood made a thin red line from the dagger, leading down to his abdomen. Arian held his arm and helped him. He swayed but stood.

"Take ... take him", came from his muzzle, more of a grunt, the thick tongue not able to form the words perfectly.

"He ... must be ... buried."

Theseus looked bewildered. "You can talk?"

"It ... was ... curse ..." Asterion gargled. "Fate."

"It was the guilt of our mother", Arian started. His voice was low and sad. "I'll explain later." And, looking at his half-brother, "You have killed too many youths. Perhaps you'll find salvation down in the Underworld. We pray to the Gods above. But you can do at least one good thing: show us the way out."

Asterion bent his head. He still swayed a little but was determined to go.

Arian stepped over to Ricos and lifted him from the ground. From his lips hung a thin bloody thread. Theseus lovingly wiped it away, as he did to the dust from his cheeks and forehead. Then he kissed him a last time.

The man with the bull's head set one foot after the other, out of the cave and seemed to follow secret signs. Theseus had taken Ricos' dead body from Arian's arms while the Cretan prince took Theseus' broken sword and a torch. He tried to figure out what signs Asterion was following and he thought that the stones of the labyrinth seemed to have different colours - or there was a different style in which the walls had been built.

Blood broke from the Minotaur's muzzle and he coughed bellowing. The torch threw his shadow on the walls: the hilt of the knife still in his breast - sticking out like his stiff cock used to be. Now he was beaten and he didn't regret it. It would all have an end now.

The vertically built stones led them to the exit. A mindful visitor would surely have noticed but the youths who had ended their lives here hadn't been visitors. Asterion's senses dwindled. He was weak. Very weak. The light started to fade. He broke down, his heart too painful to pump blood through his veins but it started to flutter.

Asterion bent beside him. He called his name.

"Stones ... vertical .... follow." Asterion coughed again and blood streamed from his mouth.

"I am ... sorry." His breath stopped.

Arian remained several seconds beside his body, closed his brother's eyes and then heaved the body over his shoulder; he didn't want to leave him here without a burial and his soul without hope of salvation.

Theseus took the torch and examined the walls. "Does he mean the stones are vertically laid? Look, all the walls here are vertical." They went slowly on, met several ways with horizontal stones and searched for the verticals. Arian wheezed, his brother's body was heavy, but then he saw light, the torch paled.

Arian and Theseus let out a mutual sigh. More of a moan. Both were blood soiled and carried two corpses outside the labyrinth, as far away from the entrance as they could, hidden within a small forest.

They lay down their burden onto the soft grass and stretched themselves out, backs leaning against a willow, eyes closed, thinking nothing. Theseus still held Ricos' body, slowly getting cold, and pain tugged at his heart. He wiped his face, smearing his blood all over and mingled it with Asterion's. "We must bury him", he whispered.

"Both", Arian whispered back.

Theseus shifted Ricos' body and slipped nearer to Arian. "What is your secret connection? You know his name. I didn't expect the Minotaur to have a name."

"He has." Arian answered tiredly. "It was a curse. My father's sin. He sinned against the Gods. Poseidon." He turned his eyes to Theseus. "Poseidon once gave my father a white bull that rose from the seas. He was the living proof that King Minos was a protege of the Olympic Gods. Of course the bull should be sacrificed but my father liked him too much, so he let him live and sacrificed another instead. " Arian paused. He plucked some leaves from the tree and played with them. Theseus waited. He saw how hard it was for Arian to speak about it. "Well, Poseidon got angry and inflamed a shameful lust in our mother. The lust for the white bull." He spoke hastily now and bent his head. "Asterion was the result."

"So you're half-brothers! That's how you saw him as a baby."

Arian nodded.

Theseus didn't know what to think. Of course the Gods are mighty and powerful. The humans on earth were just their puppets. Somehow he felt pity for Asterion. What a wasted life.

Arian took a deep breath. "The curse is over. The Minotaur is dead and my father has to keep his promise: no more tribute from Athens." A thin smile curled his lips when he looked at Athens' prince. "I told you we would be great."

From his shoulder dripped blood where Asterion's claws had hurt him but he didn't feel it. "Was he your lover?&quo