The Sons of Memory

The Sons of Memory

by Stefan

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?

Ricos 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", Riches' 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."

Theseus 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?" he asked, pointing at Ricos.

Theseus nodded and Arian pulled him into a tight embrace. His arms snaked around Ricos too and connected them all three, then he rose. His face had lost its softness. "Work to do, Theseus. Do you have any idea who could have cut the thread?"

"Huh?" Theseus had forgotten the thread. He rose too and again took Ricos' body into his arms. He followed Arian who had stormed up, leaving the Minotaur behind, lying under the willow tree, the sun shining through the thin, long leaves, bathing his body for the first time in warm sunshine.

Seventh: Departure

Just from afar Theseus heard quarrelling voices; he quickened his steps despite the burden of Ricos' body.

"You've almost killed us!" Arian shouted.

When Theseus turned a corner that ended at the entrance gate of the labyrinth he saw Arian standing there, hands propped upon his hips with a red face, shouting down his sister.

"So what?! You've killed our brother!" Ariadne shouted back. "I was close behind you, don't worry, I wouldn't have let you die. Just him." Her head pointed with an abrupt and angry movement at Theseus.

"Shall I believe this?" Arian cried. "You're disgusting. Always you try to destroy what I love."

"And you always get what I want!" She stomped with her naked foot.

The siblings stood there with craned heads, the red woollen ball lay between their feet.

"Since when do you care for our brother? Go back and slip into the bed of a man who appreciates a woman and leave the rest alone. You can tell our father that the curse is over like his merciless order to Athens."

He looked briefly at Theseus with Ricos' body still in his arms. "After the funeral, I'm off."

Theseus' heart pounded. Did this mean he wanted to go with him? Back to Athens? Arian stepped to him and took over Ricos' body and went on to Knossos' palace.

There they were met by King Minos, his guard and the rest of the seven youths from Athens, ready to be sent to the labyrinth. Theseus was a silent spectator when Arian laid down Ricos to the ground in front of his father's feet.

"Asterion's body lays under a willow tree. He is beaten and the tribute has an end, Poseidon hopefully appeased," he said solemnly, watching his father sharply.

It was quiet. King Minos spoke nothing when he first looked down, then examined his blood soiled son then Athen's prince. From behind he heard Otos and Pallas sobbing. Then he straightened his shoulders and called:

"You are free. Although Theseus had received help." Minos hesitated and turned his eyes to his son, looking him up and down. "It is surely against the rules, but so be it. Minotaur is dead. Sail back to Athens and give King Aegeus a message: From now on the tribute to Crete is fulfilled. He can be proud of his son. The funeral will take place tonight."

With that he turned and vanished into the palace, followed by his daughter Ariadne, throwing a spiteful glance at Theseus and her brother.

Both shared a bath while Ricos and Asterion were prepared for their long journey. Both were washed and oiled, then clad with fresh garments, the face uncovered. Then they were wrapped with waxen clothes and put into two coffins.

Theseus and Arian, both clean and recovered, held coins in their hands. Theseus opened Ricos' mouth and placed his coin upon the tongue and Arian did the same for the Minotaur. This was a tribute for Charon, the ferryman, to ship them over the river Acheron where they hopefully would arrive in Elysium to live there forever. Well, Arian wasn't so sure about that where Asterion was concerned. But perhaps the under worldly Gods would show mercy.

Theseus and Arian didn't speak much the whole day, too sad about Ricos' loss and the other remaining five where quiet as well. Just when Otos and Pallas came back from the king's audience, they broke the silence. Both had decided to stay in Crete for they hadn't anybody waiting for them in Athens.

By nightfall they carried the coffins out of the palace area, following a road lined with tombs and monuments, steles and plates with three dimensional ornaments or scenes of Gods and the lives of the people buried there.

At the end of the street they stopped and slaves, from the wood brought in, erected two funeral pyres where they placed down the coffins. Pines were giving deep shadows, lightened by the fire that burnt high, consuming the bodies. Theseus blinked his tears away. Arian held his hand and gave him comfort while Otos and Pallas cried openly. Priests of Knossos poured out their amphorae, brought as a gift for the Gods. Theseus knew they all had to take the troubles of a long and complicated cleaning ceremony now, like the palace had to be cleaned with sea water from the shadows of the death.

"Tomorrow when the ashes are cold, we'll return to gather them," Arian whispered. He had promised that Theseus would bring back Ricos remains in a lekythos, a vase for ashes and bones, to give them to his parents. Asterion would have a monument, although Theseus didn't feel exactly well about this.

The fire had burnt down and it was getting cold. Arian in his grey himaiton shuddered.

"What did you mean when you said you'll be off from here?" Theseus whispered beside Arian. Both shared Arian's bed, but none of them had wasted a thought about having sex. They were mentally much too exhausted.

"I can't live here anymore. I was waiting for you." Arian whispered back.

"But your father . . . aren't you supposed to be his successor? He will never let you go."

"My father isn't that old. He will still live many years if the Gods are willing." He opened his eyes. "And you? After you Athens' throne will be abandoned. Or do you have a son?"

"No." Theseus was sick at the thought of how a son would have to be produced, but he knew that Arian was right. He pressed his body tightly into Arian's arms and tried not to think about it.

The sun was already high when Theseus awoke alone. He still wondered when Arian entered his room, carrying a white lekythos and placed it upon a table.

"Ricos," Theseus said sadly but Arian pulled him up and dragged him to the bath where they received a massage that made them feel new born afterwards.

Mount Olympus

Dionysos celebrated. With wine-befuddled brain he stared into the wine-mirror and mourned a little about Ricos but not seriously. He moaned while he was pushing in and pulling out his hard penis, using Ganymede's willing arse hole. Well, perhaps not that willing; but as the God's servant he had to obey and all the others Dionysos would like to fuck with weren't available. Beautiful Apollo for instance had only a sick smile for his offer and Hermes was always away. His movements went frantic and Ganymede still moaned. Dionysos tried to persuade himself it was lustful moans, but he knew better. Ganymede wanted this to end. One last plunge and he emptied his divine semen into the boy, then he pulled out and turned Ganymede to his back. His cock was flaccid and Dionysos was disappointed. Perhaps he should have given him wine. He watched the boy get up and leave wordless with legs apart to his private rooms.

Oh well. Once he had Arian under him - the guy was still a virgin - it would be a feast. Dionysos groped for his glass and raised it to Arian's image in the wine mirror, sleeping peacefully in Theseus' arms.

King Minos let Arian go rather sadly, but he knew he couldn't hold back his son. That his daughter had tried to kill them both, he didn't know and Arian didn't bother to tell his father. May the Erinnyes haunt her. Now she had another entertainment for one youth of Athens was determined to marry her. He had lost his heart (or his brain according to Theseus) and Theseus hadn't objected. He might find out soon that he wasn't the only man to share the king's daughter's bed.

So it came that just two remained to sail back with them to Athens: Lykos and Sandokos.

It was night. Nicos, the helmsman moved the steering wheel very gently for the sea was calm. The sky was a velvet blanket; twinkling stars - blue and orange - appeared as though deliberately rolled from a giant's hand.

Theseus saw the twins, Castor and Polydeukes, and the cancer: the dark secret gate from which the human souls came down to earth. Right over his head was the Little Bear, once the big hunter Arkas, grandson of Zeus, and the polar star, guiding the ship northwards to the shore of Attica. He was looking forward to see the Acropolis again, the Agora and all the places he had learned to love. His father was waiting impatiently for his return and he was proud to bring not only himself alive but a lover Aegeus could be proud of too.

Arian was silent beside him and stared up to the firmament.

"We have to get water at Naxos," Theseus spoke; Arian nodded. Starlight was upon his blond braid. Theseus still hadn't seen it open. He reached out and let his hand trail along to Arian's hips, where the hair ended; short before his protruding buttocks. He loosened the band and untangled the braid before he stepped behind and embraced him. He felt power streaming from the Cretan's body. Power that transmitted to himself and turned into a great affection within his soul. Arian's body relaxed, and he leaned against Theseus. "Do you remember the coin?" he asked.

"Sure."

Arian turned in his arms. "Not now. Not the swaying, rocking cabin where everybody can hear us."

Theseus was surprised at his sensitivity. Arian - the warrior - had a gentle side and Theseus loved it because it woke this side in himself. He smiled. "Agreed. My rooms at Athens' palace are very quiet." Now he grinned, and covered Arian's lips with his own, sucked at the luscious under lip and traced it with his tongue. Arian purred. "It shouldn't stop us from doing other exciting things," he said and pulled Theseus with him downstairs into the ship's belly.

Eighth: Poseidon's Game

Naxos was a small island, usually visited by ships to gather water, food and fruits, so the island had a harbour, a small town and lots of gardens where the inhabitants grew fruits and vegetables.

Nowadays there spread a rumour among them. About wild men, shoulders draped with fawn skins, with goat feet, carrying swords and serpents. They were flushed with wine and scared Naxos' people to death.

They had gathered in a new palace that had appeared there amid a little olive grove from one day to the other and the people whispered about a God's miracle. They knew that Dionysos had selected their island as his favourite place but he always had come alone - just now and then accompanied by his old mentor Silenus, an extremely fat man, clumsy and always drunken; the nose a red chunk from all the wine he consumed.

The whole crowd sang delirious verses and accompanied themselves with cymbals and flutes. The citizens locked up their sons for some of them had vanished and those who returned were hardly alive. They prayed to Apollo to take this plague away, but the master of the Muses, of singing and joy, seemed not to listen.

When Theseus' ship arrived they were pleased and honoured Attica's prince highest, the more when they learnt that Theseus had beat another monster and freed Athens from its horrid tribute.

Dionysos, propped upon his thyrsus - his ivy twined staff - bit into a bunch of blue grapes. He chewed while the juice ran down his chin and soiled his green tunic.

"Now, Silenus, is the time. Arian has arrived - my promised man. I will make him happy. Make him my slave."

"Slave?" Silenus croaked. He was slumped on a settee and fondled the tame panther behind the ear. Loud, deep purring filled the atrium of Dionysos' new palace. He drank from a golden goblet. "I thought you had fallen in love with him since you saw him years ago."

"I have," Dionysos answered. "I meant, I will show him my divine love so that he will lay at my feet and never want to go away."

"Show him your divine spear', Silenus giggled drunkenly. A tent built under his tunic. When he was filled with wine he was incredible horny but nobody wanted to fuck with him, so Dionysos brought him the caught youths from Naxos' village. He used them and handed them over to the entourage - their wild man - who certainly had fun with them.

Silenus still giggled and rubbed his pole under the clothes. Dionysos looked disgusted at him and turned to a table where a big portion of rosey Ambrosia waited for him in a silver bowl. Young Ganymede had provided him with this because he needed it double for he wanted to look young and healthy and firm for his lover to be.

"Stop that foolish giggling, Silenus," he said sharply. "And spare me the look of your old, used tool. If you need it that badly ask Pandrosis if he would lick it." He looked at the black panther, and another outburst of giggling followed. Silenus rose groaning from the settee and Pandrosis followed him into the palace.

Dionysos emptied the bowl noisily. This brew was an uncooked mixture of honey, water, fruits, olive oil, cheese and barley - and a special "pink dust," prepared by Ganymede, that turned this rather unappetizing dish to a really divine tasting meal. Oh yes, he could feel it already: his skin taut, the wrinkles straightened, his flabby flesh got firm and he felt five hundred years younger. Then he took his thyrsus and another bunch of grapes and went out to the shore to watch Arian's arrival.

Hidden behind a building he watched the arrival of a vessel. His cock enlarged almost against his will. Arian's light coloured braid fought with the sun's brightness and his body had his cock leaking like mad. Tonight, he thought. Tonight you are mine. He followed them carefully, watched them ask for a meal, for water and groceries.

The sun was setting already when they had everything they needed. "I'll be back soon," Theseus promised, "and then we'll enjoy an evening on land." He twinkled at Arian who twinkled back. "Hurry up."

Together with Lykos and Sandokos, Theseus stepped into the vessel and shipped back. Arian, meanwhile, strolled through the village, over the agora and was greeted with recognition. Of course they knew Crete's prince. They marvelled over his colourful clothes, the skirt and the broad, golden arm rings.

Dionysos remained at a deserted shore, afar from the harbour and spread his arms.

"Poseidon!," he called. "Poseidon! Your nephew Dionysos is calling you!"

Silence. Little waves leaped at the sand. They they licked at his golden sandals. Later they played with his ankles.

"Poseidon!"

A water whirlpool built and among the swirling water appeared wild, white horses. Blue dolphins sprang. An ugly head appeared with hair from seaweed. Sea horses were glued in them. Poseidon heaved his mighty body out of the water, his long beard green, blue and dripping, his trident in one big hand.

Dionysos bowed. "Dearest uncle." He tried a smile but was a little scared of his grudged uncle. He could never be sure about his moods.

"What is your wish?" Poseidon roared; he had to over cry the splashing of his horses, that reared up around him. "Or do you want to hold small talk?" He swung his trident.

"Oh ... no!" Dionysos shrunk back. "You now about the Prince of Crete."

Poseidon laughed. Dolphins sprang. "Your beloved and adored Arian? Of course I know him. Me and his father still bear an old grudge. And Theseus caught and killed my white bull."

"Right. Now I beg you to help me out. It seems as if Theseus wants to steal my promised one. But he belongs to me. How can we play a trick on him?"

"Get him out of the way? Noting easier than this." Poseidon - like all Gods always up for a little joke - turned and faced the ship, anchored a mile from the harbour. He dove his finger into the sea and sprinkled water into the wind.

It started as a rolling of waves. More wild horses shook their manes and kicked with their hooves. The waves rolled strangely from the shore to the wide sea, directly to Theseus' ship. It started to sway, then fiercely, until it rode on the crests of the waves for the anchor had broken. They heard scared cried from deck and now and again a shadow appeared, frantically trying to strike the sails for the ship drifting off to the high seas.

Poseidon laughed and Dionysos joined him. "This will keep him away a while. Use your time, nephew." He submerged into the sea, the trident was the last to vanish into the whirlpool. The storm was still on, but the land didn't know about it.

Dionysos grinned and wiped his hands. "Now, my beauty, just one thing to do and I'm coming." He pursed his lips and started to whistle - a deceptive imitation to a bird - until night swallows answered him. Dionysos went on, entered the village, the birds following, twittering away in the night.

Wherever he passed, the people closed their eyes and started a stupid smile for Morpheus had sent them sweet dreams. He followed his father - Hypnos - from tree to tree until half the town was asleep, including Arian under an olive tree.

The swallows sat beside him and changed into their usually human appearance. Young Morpheus with rainbow hair, colourful like all dreams; one side of his face smooth and calm the other side a nasty nightmare. He and Hypnos - the God of sleep - wore back robes to their ankles with silvery star dust. Hypnos - black wings on his shoulders - was more of a grey pulsating shadow, sometimes bright, then pale, in the rhythm of a steady, sleep drunken breath.

Dionysos bowed once more. "Thanks for coming from Lemnos. I hope I didn't interrupt important things."

"No damages if you make it short," Hypnos answered with gentle voice. Dionysos had the impression he heard it from afar, an echo of dreams, sand instead of water that ran through a clepsydra.

Whenever he passed, the people closed their eyes and started a stupid smile for Morpheus had sent them sweet dreams. He followed his father - Hypnos from tree to tree until half the town was asleep, including Arian under an olive tree.

The swallows sat beside him and changed into their usual human appearance. Black wings flapped around them silently. Young Morpheus with rainbow hair, colourful like all dreams; one side of his face smooth and calm, the other side a nasty nightmare. He and Hypnos - the God of sleep - wore black robes to their ankles with silvery star dust. Hypnos - black wings on his shoulders - was more of a grey pulsating shadow, sometime bright, then pale, in the rhythm of a steady sleep drunken breath.

Dionysos bowed once more. "Lord over all mortal men and all gods . . . I'm thankful you came from lemnos. I hope I didn't interrupt important things."

No damages if you make it short," Hypnos answered with gentle voice. Dionysos had the impression he was hearing it from afar, an echo of dreams, sand instead of water that ran through a clepsydra.

Dionysos didn't have to tell him what he was pleading for. Unaffected he lifted the branch he was carrying. Honey coloured water dripped off it. It was the dew of Lethe, the river of oblivion.

He lifted Arian's eyelids and sprinkled them. Arian's eyes didn't close again and Dionysos laughed joyfully. "You do it like with Endymion, your beloved one?"

Hypnos raised one eyebrow, but then a smile scurried over his pulsating face. Hypnos' madness for the pretty shepherd boy was a source of gossip upon Olympus. He was that mad for him that Hypnos doesn't close Endymion's eyes even while he is sleeping, but lulled him to rest with eyes wide open, so that Hypnos may, without interruption, enjoy the pleasure of gazing into those brown pools.

Hypnos soft voice whispered: "Sleep come, embracing all his limbs and with my wings fold him to my loving breast."

"Hey, he is mine," Dionysos objected.

"Of course. Arian will not remember Theseus when he awakes."

Morpheus watched silently. Actually he should work his miracle now and give Arian sweet dreams, but he wasn't exactly pleased by this game. He looked scowling at the tent building under Dionysos' soiled green tunic. "Don't hurt him," he said, "he's a virgin."

But Dionysos didn't listen. He fell to his knees beside the Cretan prince and sniffed him like a dog. From the hair, he tried to untangle from its braid, down along the arms and finally he lifted Arian's skirt to stare at the resting manhood, sleeping like the prince himself. Dionysos licked his lips. Morpheus threw nervous glances at his father who returned the stares. A wink connoted him to leave but Morpheus hesitated. One last thing he wanted to do for him: give him back his memory in dreams. Morpheus closed his rainbow eyes and concentrated. A pale shadow embraced Arian's body very briefly, hardly noticed by the horny God of wine. Then Morpheus and his father had changed back in to night swallows.

Dionysos hardly noticed that the gods had left him, so concentrated he was on the things to come. But he didn't want Arian to be asleep when he would have the experience of his life. Dionysos snapped with his fingers in front of Arian's face and Arian awoke. The glass green eyes blinked, focused on a guy bent over him, lying almost between his legs. He noticed his skirt was turned back. He blinked once more. The long, brown curls were held by a ring of fresh wine leaves and his green tunic was rumpled. His face, though attractive, seemed a little unsteady, blurred, as if a second image lie over it. The eyes were lustful and the colour of amber wine.

"Hello precious," he said. His voice was full sounding, with a touch of an echo in it, as it was the characteristic feature of a God's voice.

"Look, everything is quiet. Just the night birds are singing their music to our celebration.

Arian came up to his elbows. "Celebration?"

"Yes, beloved," Dionysos cooed, his member expanding. Discretely he tugged at his tunic until his naked manhood lay exactly over Arian's. Arian crept over the feeling of something supernatural happening. Wasn't it the Gods who were supposed to have an echoing voice and sort of a golden aura around their bodies?

"Tonight is our night, my promised one," Dionysos continued. "I've waited for you so long."

"But . . ." Arian was stopped by Dionysos' long finger across his lips. "I brought you here for mutual pleasure. Look, the grass is soft and dry and here's a feather cover for us. I brought it with me from my homestead."

Arian looked dazed. Homestead? Mount Olympus? But why was he chosen to be beloved by a God? He surely had come here but . . . A flash of a ship entered his head and instantly he looked over to see a shore and the wide area of water behind, but he couldn't find it.

Dionysos turned his head around. "Look at me, beloved. You won't find anything else there." He started a slow moving, a rubbing over Arian's abdomen to sway his lust. Then he opened the felt to his skirt and cooed even more. Yes. If he really wanted to, he could be soft, although this didn't satisfy him. He didn't want to wait. Didn't want to take his time, wait for Arian until he was ready for him.

Out of the blue he conjured an amphora of wine and two chalices.

"Drink and relax."

"What is it?" Arian sniffed and drank finally, but before he could swallow he had another vision: A cave. Darkness, highlighted by torches. Animal smell. The flash of a dagger piercing warm flesh.

Arian coughed. Dionysos wiped spilled wine from his chin. He was worried. Somehow Arian seemed to be distracted. Did Hypnos drip too little water of oblivion into his eyes? He doubled his efforts. "You said we would throw a coin, do you remember?" And the amber eyes penetrated Arian's. He nodded slowly. Yes, he could remember. There was a night, no, an evening. A sexual encounter, full of promises. And he was so much in love . . . His heart started to pound painfully, but not without anticipation.

"It's either me or you who will feel this." Dionysos' stiff cock poked Arian's belly.

The silver coin flew high in the air and landed into Dionysos' palm. He closed his hand. "Head or number?"

"Head," Arian said.

Dionysos showed him the coin. Athena's head was there with her helmet and her owl. "You won and have to receive it." Dionysos knew he couldn't have lost. He emptied another chalice and felt the alcohol running through his divine veins. His eyes sent out a magic beam, meeting Arian and the Cretan prince forgot his queasy feelings and the flashes didn't return. Instead of his whole being was in turmoil, every fibre of his body was on fire, and he stopped thinking and trying to remember anyway. There was a great looking man - a God perhaps - wanting him and he would do everything to please him.

Arian undressed him and saw what Dionysos wanted him to see: not the wine caused flabbiness of his body but one that matched Arian's firm warrior feature. Dionysos lay a hand over Arian's eyes, briefly, but long enough that his body relaxed and he was open and ready.

Arian felt feathers behind his back when he lay back and opened his legs for Dionysos.

Delighted the God bent over him and stroked over the prince's orifice, a magic wave, and then they were out of time. Cicadas chirped and nightingales sang so it seemed to Arian. But actually it was the wind in the trees around and voices from far away. He thought to see blue eyes instead of amber ones, but he could be mistaken. His aching penis vanished into a moist hole that was his lover's mouth, and at the same time he was filled with a bigness that stretched him well, gave him pain but that was just an underlying feeling washed away my music in his ears. He heard his lover talking to him but didn't understand the words. The stranger was moving in him, hitting a blissful spot while he had his legs wrapped around his lover's shoulders and he was doing it all at once: pounding him, licking his cock, biting his nipples, pulling out, turning, entering him again, shed his seed but remained hard and hard and hard again.

What started as lustful dance became now pain and soreness but Dionysos gave him more to drink. Arian forgot the pain and opened his legs once more; he wanted it all, and the pain was dull, soothed by the God's magic spell. He wanted the game out of control until the larks announced dawn.

Eos started her journey on her chariot and stared at the scenery beneath her on the isle of Naxos. She saw a white golden shimmering cloak of hair covering the back of a male straddling old Dionysos laying on the ground, enjoying the ride. She could hear the pants and uninhibited cries that sounded up to her. Her cheeks turned crimson from embarrassment and the morning dawn was exceptionally spectacular.

Arian soiled himself with white semen, spots that joined the old, brief ones from before but he felt, this was the last. He was empty.

In the near distance he saw a figure standing. Petrified, mouth half open. A shock of shiny half long, dark locks, a band around his forehead. Radiating blue eyes.

Arian's tongue formed a word. A name. Without thinking he lifted his body. Dionysos' cock came out with a soft plop but Arian barely noticed. He walked up to the man waiting; his body sweat and cum covered, the hair loose, wet, full of feathers and matted. Shortly before he reached the waiting man, he turned and went away. Arian finally was ready to spill out the name.

"Theseus!" Arian shouted. "Theseus," he whispered then. But Theseus moved on.

Theseus? Arian thought. Where did this name come from?

But then Dionysos was beside him and put his arm around his shoulder. "Come beloved. I promised you everlasting love. A place at my side. Never ending youth." Again he put his palm over Arian's eyes and Theseus' image vanished immediately. He looked at his lover, down his beautiful body, the long spent, drooling cock that had given him so much pleasure and so much pain.

Dionysos must have seen it in his eyes. He took Arian in his arms and roamed his hands over Arian's buttocks. His fingers brushed the wound and swollen orifice and the pain subsided.

"It will be healed when we have arrived at my home."

"Home. Here?"

"Sure. Naxos is my favourite isle. Come."

Weak willed Arian followed him. Part of him was afraid of the love of a God for he didn't know what was waiting for him. The other part was delighted, drunken for wine and happiness to have found a counterpart that loved to love; mighty, without reason, without an end.

Ninth: The Love of a God

Theseus could have roared. He was so angry he stomped the grass under his feet when he walked back to the village, never seeing the people who wondered why they all had spent a night in uncomfortable positions like on a stool, on the threshold of their shops, behind a market stand. But they never cared because strange things happened before since the island had been occupied by a God.

He didn't know what to do. What he had seen was too much to comprehend. Just yesterday Arian was so promising. And now he had spent the night in the arms of another, giving him his virginity while he actually had spared it for him. So much for the first love of his life. Now he had to carry on in finding a partner he could trust.

He halted and looked to the ground. The storm that had shook his ship had come unexpectedly, like the discovery of this morning. They had hardly been able to hold the ship under control until the storm suddenly had stopped. Had this all happened per chance? And what had forced Arian to surrender to a foreign man?

Unnoticed he had walked on and had reached the shore far away from the harbour. There she was sitting on a rock, her golden aura inflamed her peplos and the sun set her golden helmet on fire. He fell to his knees, dazzled, never able to look up.

"My dear Theseus," she spoke with unearthly voice. "What bothers you? Speak." She looked friendly at him and he found the guts to look up into a pool of heaven blue eyes. He bowed very low, almost to his knees.

"Protector of Athen's people and myself," he mumbled. "I didn't know that the Gods are among us."

He heard a soft giggle. "We are always with you."

It couldn't be right. If she would be there always, he wouldn't have to suffer. But he didn't dare to speak.

"I know what your are thinking, Theseus." Athena rose and supported herself upon her spear. "But you have never lost the belief in us. I have seen it with my own eyes. I thank you for your faith and the sacrifices.

"But I just did what others are doing."

"This may be right. But you believe what you are doing. Now, listen. Eos told me what she had seen and she didn't like it. There's my brother who was often prayed to by the friendly people of Naxos." She pointed to a willow tree, where the God of the Muses leaned against, his Kythera in hand.

Theseus didn't know what to do. His feature was dazzling him too, so he had to squint his eyes. But he didn't dare to come up to his feet although this position - on his knees - was uncomfortable and shameful.

"Stand up, Theseus. The prince of Attica doesn't need to kneel." His voice had an echo and sounded loud over the land that Theseus seemed everybody in the village must hear it. But then, it was so soft, as if Apollo was speaking directly into his ear. "High goddess Hera decided to rescue you. We just follow her order." He smiled and Theseus seemed to sway. The smile stabbed his heart, then he had to smile himself. Of course. A god could work miracles. Even with his smile.

"But . . . I don't understand. . ." he managed to say then. "What has it to do with goddess Hera?"

"Well. . . our little brother, Dionysos. He is a nuisance." Apollo loosened from the tree and stood upright. Suddenly his face was dark and relentless. "It is time to learn a lesson." His eyes of a changing colour - once sapphire blue, then grey as a winter's morning - pierced Theseus'. Then they wandered over his face. Over his body, down to his naked feet. Theseus jumped from one foot to the other, for in his body awoke an ant's hill. He felt that the God liked what he saw but Theseus was too afraid to be pleased. After all, he didn't want to wake the interest of Apollo, God's gracious! But . . .

"You mean . . .'" Theseus stammered, "You mean, it was Dionysos, who was . . ."

Athena and Apollo nodded in unison. "He fell in love with the Prince of Crete a long time ago. He waited very long." They changed a view. "Surprisingly long. Perhaps he waited until Arian fell really in love so that his triumph could be higher. You understand?"

Theseus didn't move. He wasn't sure if he had understood right. Dionysos? The God of wine? Had he made Arian drunken?

Apollo laughed. "Not only drunken, my dear Theseus. It's a spell. Arian will not be able to loosen the spell by himself. Just when you love him. Really love him. And if you obey." Again Theseus felt the ant's hill when Apollo's eyes cruised his body. What would be the sacrifice for him?

Apollo nodded. 'You know it', he heard the words in his mind. 'I can never resist a man's strength.' Theseus returned the God's stare. 'This is the price? You are not better than Dionysos.'

Apollo broke out into a heartfelt laughter. It sounded like the wind in the trees. 'Well spoken. But think it over. You might enjoy it.'

Loudly the God said, "Be back when the sun is rising to another morning. Help will be here. This is promised."

In the blink of an eye Athena and Apollo had vanished and Theseus snapped out of his trance. Instantly he wondered if this wasn't just a dream. But then his look fell upon the Kythera, that still leant against the willow tree. Apollo had forgotten it. Cautiously he touched the instrument and plucked a string. Instantly he held his palms over his ears, for it was a terrible sound. Deep like coming from Tartarus. Perhaps just a God was able to play it.

Prove your heart, Theseus. Was Arian worth it? To surrender? To surrender himself and probably to a God that demanded tribute for his help? The invincible Gods were relentless and selfish and even the soft Apollo could be brutal and unjust. Think about Marsyas... He skinned him because he thought he could beat Apollo in playing the flute - or was it the Kythera? But then he could be soft as a summer's rain when he mourned his beloved Hyacinthos and changed him into a flower...

But what would await himself? Stop being a coward, Theseus, he admonished himself. It's not about your own wishes and fright. Arian needs help and if you really want to keep him you have to bring a sacrifice. Apollo stressed the word really. If I would really love him. Do I? I'm not sure. Well, if you aren't sure, then you don't love. Was he worth loving? That's a stupid question. Love doesn't ask for worthiness. How many men did you possess? Definitely enough to learn that you loved none of them. Well, Ricos perhaps. Sort of. But they never matched yourself. Your counterpart. The other half. Arian did know it right from the start. He was so sure that he gave up his home for you and you took it for granted. He deserves better treatment and a little pain on your side.

Unintentionally he plucked another string of Apollo's Kythera. This time it was like lark's twittering invisible in the sky. Such a sweet sound his heart ached. Was this Apollo's answer? Would he be gentle with me? And did he love Arian enough to go through it? Perhaps for the rest of his life? He shrugged. Who knows what was to come. Feelings are a fickle thing. But right now and here he could answer the question with yes and he meant it. He wanted to be happy and make him happy. And if a sacrifice belonged to it - he would survive.

Chattering tore him off his musing. Looking up he saw Lykos and Sandokos coming up to him with some food and a bowl of fresh water. "Have you gone under the musicians?" Sandokos asked, pointing at Apollo's Kythera Theseus pressed tightly.

Lykos squatted beside him. "Problems? Where's Arian?"

Theseus sighed. He didn't know himself so weak and hurt. And it was hard to shake it off. What was the matter with him indeed?

Lykos plucked a string and there was again the sickening, deep sound. Lykos and Sandokos pressed their palms over their ears, and pulled grimaces. "What is this, for Hades' sake? Where have you found it?"

"Arian is gone," Theseus mumbled. But where to, he thought. Was he gone to Mount Olympus? No, Athena would have told him, and Apollo had given the order to wait here for him.

"Arian's gone?"

"The people are telling strange stories," Sandokos said. "About a God who has occupied the island. There's a place behind the oil grove." He pointed to the distance where Theseus had found Arian.

"There?" Absentminded he stood and stared, then he started to run.

"Theseus!"

The calls died away behind him.

The doors, leading to the Atrium, were closed as were Arian's eyes. He lay in a water basin; blue dolphins on the bound and a mosaic of wine leaves and blue grapes. Dionysos' hands washed him with a sponge, loosen his muscles and making the pain vanish with each wipe. The God was sitting behind him, embracing him while he felt the engorged member in his back. He had the feeling that this stranger was everlastingly aroused, but he couldn't tell if he himself was the reason or if this was just his natural habit.

The door opened and several men enter the bath. They were naked except for furs they were wearing and put them on the ground. They carried plates with wine amphorae, grapes, nuts, bread and goat cheese. Arian's mouth watered. He watched the men of several ages entering the basin, grinning lasciviously and placing themselves around their pair. Arian was served a cup of wine he greedily drank and instantly the colours fluoresced. His head pulsated when he was fed grapes and white bread when Dionysos' hand started to crawl into the sparse hair at the base of Arian's member, Dionysos' own still one still poked the crack of his arse. He didn't feel pain anymore and this was a good thing. He always had been afraid of this pain - although a warrior should be used to it. He opened his eyes. How did he know that he was a warrior then?

A greedy mouth engulfed the tip of his penis and it rapidly raised and enlarged to its full length. An involuntary moan escaped his mouth. But instantly it was covered with another pair of lips while he felt at the same time a cock enter in him from behind. Water splashed as more satyrs approached him, starting to lick at his balls, suck his cock and yet another bit his nipples. Arian was floating, not aware of his lustful cries, not knowing if he cried for pain or for pleasure. His hand groped around, found a mop of wiry hair, or a leg, a pole standing upright or a naked arse. His mouth was stuffed with a penis he greedily sucked at it.

Dionysos' movements shook his body and from half closed eyes he saw the foreign, wild man mating frantically. It rang in his ears while the room was echoing from panting and moaning, from sounds of flesh to flesh. Then they were gone, leaving just the God with him, still filling his bowels with his powerful pole, never knowing an end.

Arran saw white flecks floating away that was probably his own seed - or of the others.

"This is what awaits you, beloved. Say yes, and you'll be immortal like me." Dionysos hissed into his ear.

Arran saw a shadow from the corner of his eyes. There was a figure peering through one of the windows that led to the garden around the palace. The blue eyes were big and shocked. Motionless he stood there, never able to go away. He had a raging hard on but wasn't aware of it. What Theseus had witnessed was so over the top that he was indeed in a state of shock. Arian doesn't seem to recognize him - as Apollo had said. He was under a spell.

The God of wine turned his head and looked directly into Theseus' eyes. A nasty smile played around his lips. Theseus saw one of his hands playing with Arian's cock, made it still again and Arian seemed to enjoy it. Theseus heart ached. Perhaps he should leave Arian where he was? Being a toy of a God couldn't be that bad. Could it? Was it? Of course it was bad, Theseus' inner voice told him. There was more than never ending sex. But what if Arian didn't want nor need more. Did he have the right to interfere?

There's a spell Theseus thought. Arian never made the impression that he was just a sex toy. He had been waiting for him - Theseus - he had told him. Then, when they were fighting the Minotaur.

Dionysos took a chalice and led it to Arian's mouth. Arian dank and sighed contentedly. His stiff penis stuck out of the shallow water, powerful, as Arians' being was. It jerked when Dionysos long fingers touched it. Probably the God was still in him from behind. He wouldn't leave much for Theseus when he was finished with him.

Theseus felt anger growing. If Arian just would fight the spell! Theseus tried to enter the room by jumping through the window opening, but he couldn't. An invincible wall was hindering him. His palms were stopped when he tried to reach inside and once more the God's amber eyes met his. Now they were not smiling but had a relentless look, that reminded him of Apollo's face. You don't joke with the Gods, Theseus realized and despair started to spread over him. There was nothing that he could do, just wait until the next morning.

Dionysos emptied himself again into Arian's body. This was finally the fulfilment of his dreams he thought. That Athens' prince had been a helpless witness just heightened the fun. It was more than fun he thought. If Arian would stay, the silent and weak willed toy, it would be like the Fields of Elysium.

"I will call for Ganymede to bring us Ambrosia," he said low. His voice was echoing over the water.

"Ganymede?" Arian asked dazed. He felt so tired yet excited. Every muscle seemed to be inflamed, but he didn't dare to complain. His arse started to hurt again when Dionysos pulled out of him. He was still hard and slowly Arian felt repulsed. This wasn't human indeed. He turned and stared into the God's amber eyes. "Who are you?" he asked seriously.

Dionysos offered him the chalice of red wine. "Drink, you will feel better."

Arian sat his lips at the cool bronze metal and felt better indeed afterwards. The pain in his body subsided.

"Don't you like the wine?"

Arian nodded.

"I'm the God of it. And now you're mine." Dionysos pressed his lips upon Arian's and Arian just realized this moment that Dionysos had never kissed him before. He had been too busy touching other parts of his body. Arian didn't like it. His breath tasted like sour wine and his tongue was spongy and rummaged in his mouth as if he had lost something. Arian tried to escape but Dionysos' arms held him like a vice. He had surprisingly strength and Arian wondered why he wasn't able to free himself. He was strong himself. Then he had another flash: Soft, luscious lips were caressing his mouth, a tongue that outlined his lips. Tasting sweet like a peach. Involuntarily his eyes wandered to the window opening to see if the stranger was still looking but he was gone. Strangely he associated his flashes with the foreign man - what was his name? Theseus? But he couldn't remember wherefrom he knew it.

Dionysos was still kissing him and Arian felt sick. The stiff penis was poking his belly. Should this be his future? To be pierced and impaled, pummeled and sucked off? His body never getting a rest, like the God's one never seemed to be in need for a rest?

But the price was eternal youth. He had promised him Ambrosia. Wasn't this the dish the Gods were served there on Mount Olympus? Would he have a chance to fight him? Fight a God? No. The Gods are invincible.

Dionysos bit his under lip and Arian tasted blood. With a jolt he loosened his body. Dionysos looked a little befuddled. He certainly had too much wine ... and too much sex. Arian's face blurred. But he didn't notice that the Cretan Prince was unwilling. "Where got you this from?" Dionysos outlined the long scar around Arian's forehead.

"A hit from a sword", Arian answered instantly. Dionysos looked mistrustful at him. Why he could remember while he actually shouldn't? "Whose sword?" he asked.

"I don't know."

Dionysos wiped over it with his finger and it vanished. Lovingly the God watched his work and found it good. But Arian still wondered who had given him the scar.

"I don't know about you, beloved, but I 'm still terribly hungry," Dionysos said with a sly grin. Arian was certain that he didn't mean the desires of an empty belly. Again nausea rose. He couldn't go on. He would die here. Fucked to death so to say. He threw a sharp glance into the God's face but couldn't say anything. He touched his forehead where his scar used to be. He had never felt annoyed, it stressed his state as Cretan warrior but now that it was gone, he was pleased. He smiled at Dionysos. "Where am I going to sleep?" he asked.

"We." Dionysos corrected him and took him by the hand. Their naked feet left wet foot prints on the ground. Dionysos' bedroom housed a bed with feather covers and fluffy pillows. Wine leaves covered the walls. When Arian touched them, they appeared living plants growing in huge buckets, winding around wooden supports. Beams of the setting sun lit the walls.

"I'll show you Olympus, beloved. You'll see then what you are looking for," Dionysos said enthusiastically and filled a dish with red wine and wiped his hands over it. The he pulled Arian to his side.

There were golden and crystal rooms that seemed to hover on clouds. He saw goddess Hera swinging a white cow skin, a tamed peacock by her side, watching her attentively. Behind her three crystal steps led up to her ivory throne.

"What is she doing?" Arian asked.

"Look." Outside it started to rain softly. "She's making rain when her husband is too busy." Again he wiped over the surface and another picture appeared. Bearded Zeus amused himself with a young man in his bed. Arian blinked.

"Ganymede," exclaimed Dionysos, not without jealousy in his voice. "I have a go with him from time to time." He closed his eyes and concentrated. Ganymede, on his back, opened his eyes and looked directly into Dionysos' eyes. "I called him to serve us Ambrosia."

Arian watched in awe when another picture appeared. This time it was Apollo in a pine tree grove. He was engaged in a talk with nine males, different ages, in the distance Pegasus, the winged horse, peacefully grazing. Upon Apollo's shoulder sat a white mouse. It knew the secrets of the earth and whispered into the God's ear. Apollo turned his bluebell's eyes and smiled, his gaze focused upon Arian. Arian jerked back.

"Does he know we are watching him?"

"Perhaps." Dionysos wiped over the surface and the pictures vanished.

"Ganymede will be here very soon. What are we doing until?" Dionysos grinned lasciviously. Both were still naked and the God's pole already started to rise again. Arian stepped back quickly. He was tired and exhausted and sad. He didn't know if he wanted all this. His heart couldn't forget the foreign man at the window. Theseus . . .

Then he had another flash . . . a promise to give his cherry to him . . . throwing a coin who would have the favour and the pleasure . . . Pleasure? Well, yes. It was pleasure. Or it should be, he corrected himself, when his heart would be connected. Now all he had was a tired body that needed a rest. He felt Dionysos' hand trying to arouse him, but he failed.

A deep wrinkle appeared between the God's eyes. "Do you have enough of me?" Do you want a chalice of wine?"

Arian shook his head.

"So what else?" Dionysos embraced Aran, thrusting his hips forward, poking his belly with the stiff tool. "I'm sure you love a God's approach, nobody is better on earth. I offer you everlasting pleasure so I demand a little responsiveness from your side." His voice was sharp and Arian flinched.

Dionysos sensed it and he laid his palm upon Arian's eyes. Instantly Arian felt better and the sexual drive started again. His penis enlarged and Dionysos giggled. "Much, much better."

But from outside there was bird's wings overdrew the rain's rustle in the night. A ruby eyed, golden eagle, big enough to carry a man, landed in the garden outside and Ganymede stepped from it. He stroked the bird's neck, the eagle unfolded his wings and rose in the air.

"Ganymede!" Dionysos called pleased. "How do you feel about a threesome?"

Ganymede pulled a face. "I had my share already, Dionysos."

"So? You're never averse to a little dalliance, are you?" Dionysos said crossly.

"Let's have Ambrosia," Ganymede answered quickly.

Arian was frightened. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to be immortal. Not so soon. Not yet. Not without a talk with the stranger. He looked pleadingly at Ganymede who returned the stare. Arian seemed to see pity in his hazel eyes, understanding and a conspiracy perhaps. Ganymede blinked. Was this a silent sign? He conjured a silver box from his bag he carried and golden spoons.

"Let me fix it quickly," he said and walked over to a corner were he placed the box and picked two plates. Arian couldn't see what he was doing but Dionysos whispered into his ear, "It is a special mixture the secret Ganymede knows exclusively. And Zeus of course. It will taste heavenly, I promise you."

Arian's heart pounded. What should he do? Refuse to eat? He was sure Dionysos would force him. And then? He would be immortal for always and forever; he didn't know that it was possible to reverse the effect. After all Ganymede had eaten it too, once a mortal human, just because Zeus fell in love with him and brought him to Olympus for his private pleasure he now had to serve all the Gods. And this until the world would fade. Was this his destiny? The price? The price for what? What had he done to arouse a God's interest? He wasn't that great of a beauty, there was nothing interesting in him. Was there?

Ganymede turned, reaching out two plates with a rosy dish. It looked too pink to eat but Dionysos eagerly grabbed it, held a spoonful under his nose and sniffed. He gave approving sounds and in a second he had gobbled it up. "Now you'" he said, licking his lips. He held out another spoon but Arian didn't open his mouth. Instead his eyes were fixed on Ganymede. The young man nodded and smiled a little. Perhaps he could eat it, Arian thought. And he opened his mouth and swallowed. It didn't taste that good as Dionysos had promised. When he ever had expected that he would feel funny afterwards, like having a stomach ache or something, there was nothing. He didn't feel strange, nor immortal.

Dionysos' eyes blinked sleepily and he yawned. "Bedtime, beloved." He wanted to say something else but suddenly his body fell over and landed upon the feather bed. Arian looked dismayed at Ganymede but the young man still smiled.

"About time, Arian," he said. "He'll sleep until the morning when Apollo comes."

"Apollo?" Arian didn't know what to think. "Can I flee?"

"No. You have to wait here. Don't be afraid. Apollo will come to your help."

"But, I have eaten this . . ."

"This was nothing. No Ambrosia. Dionysos is so easy to deceive in his wine befuddled brain." He laughed. It sounded like a bell. "Apollo will come and everything will be good. This is promised."

With that he left the room and Arian didn't see him anymore. He didn't know what to do. He stared at the snoring God, laying there upon his bed like a beached whale when a panther slipped through the ajar door. He stretched out beside his master and started a deep purring. Arian didn't move. He watched the lithe animal until the blackbirds announced another morning.

Tenth: The Sons of Memory

Blackbirds sang their twittering songs, greeting Eos on her chariot, riding over the sky. Theseus rose from a drunken sleep and wondered how he had been able to sleep anyway. He found himself under an olive tree not far away from the palace. He wiped over his face and heard water's mumbling. He looked around and saw a little spring between stones, gargling over moss and tiny, white flowers. Thirstily he drank until he felt he wasn't alone anymore. Muffled steps, like from a horse, crossed the meadow. Looking up he saw a winged horse, white as snow at the mountain's peak, shaking his mane, the wings glistening silvery in the sunshine. Two males were stroking it, unusually tall and clad in long tunics, that, when parted, revealed long legs. Theseus rose to his feet and watched them turning to face him.

"Theseus," one spoke and his voice was melodious like a song. He had violet eyes, hair of changing colour from gold to reddish, but Theseus thought it might be the sun that hit his hair. Flowers grew in it.

"Apollo is late, but I see you have saved his Kythera." He pointed with a long finger to the instrument lying in the grass. Theseus took it and pressed it to his body.

"Who are you?" he stammered. This was all too much for him, although he was prepared for Apollo's appearance. But these two males couldn't be human too.

"I am Eraton," he said with his melodious voice. "The muse of love's poetry."

"And I am Euterpe," the other male said, "the delight." Theseus saw long chains around their necks with a lyre and a flute as golden, little instruments. Euterpe's silver eyes contrasted with his long, straight, chestnut-brown hair. "Here he is." he said nodding behind Theseus.

"Indeed, my dear, just in time, am I?" Apollo said amused. "I saw you got friendly already. How have you spent the night?" He didn't await an answer actually for he knew that Theseus was anxiously waiting. "Dionysos played a little game last night with us. But I knew he was watching, showing Arian Mount Olympus and trying to feed him Ambrosia."

"Ambrosia?" Theseus asked scared. "Does this mean he is . . ." But instantly he remembered his discourtesy and bowed deeply. "I am sorry. I forgot who you are."

Again Apollo laughed amused. "No formalities please. No need for thanks. I do what I want to do, like I always did and always will. Now it's time for our Dionysos to learn a lesson." He looked sharply at Theseus.

"No thanks?" Theseus still stammered. He had been so afraid that the God would demand tribute. But apparently he wasn't interested anymore.

"Eraton, Euterpe," Apollo said. "I will follow very soon. Leave us alone please." The Muses went quickly away. No, they didn't went. They danced.

"Arian didn't eat from Ambrosia. I had a little deal with our Ganymede. Dionysos shall awake any minute and we shouldn't waste time." He stopped and looked at the prince. "Come nearer," he said.

Theseus came closer, slowly and unsure. He feared the God's closeness. He was not human. Heaven knew what he would feel like. But Apollo stretched out a hand and pulled him even closer until he stood face to face with the God. "Are you sure you want the Cretan prince?"

Theseus nodded weakly.

"You are unsure, I can feel it." Apollo smiled his breathtaking smile. "What is the reason for this?"

"I . . . I don't know."

"Perhaps you want the love of a God instead of a mortal human being?" Apollo probed.

Theseus shook his head. Now much more determined. Apollo's fingers brushed his cheek. He ran over his lips and his chin. Then he pressed his mouth upon Theseus' lips and Theseus felt a sharp burning. No, a soft raindrop. The touch of a flower's leaf. Or a feather fell from the sky. He struggled and Apollo gave him freedom. He still smiled. "I had to do this," he said apologizing. "I am sorry."

Theseus eyes grew big. A God was apologizing?

"What a pity," Apollo said. "But it is your decision. You are free." He stepped back and stretched out his arm, pointing at Dionysos' palace. "Your beloved didn't have such a decision. He is still under the spell." A bloodcurdling cry came from the palace window. Theseus jerked but Apollo smiled. "He looked into a mirror, I think." And he walked on, in the direction of the palace, Theseus following.

"What . . . . . what in Tartarus and all Hades' beasts is this?" Dionysos cried, looking into the bronzed mirror hanging on a wall. A face looked at him, a face that couldn't be his own. It was old. Very old. Deep wrinkles appeared beside his nose, tearing down to the mouth that was dry and small, the lips vanished, pulled into the mouth whose teeth were rotten. Thick lachrymal sacks hung under his small and dull eyes and his long hair had vanished. Instead there were just some feeble strands falling along his forehead and his body felt weak and spongy and flabby.

At the very moment music started. A flute was playing, soft and delightful, sad and joyful. Euterpe stood outside the window and next to him, Eraton, singing a song that tugged the heart. His eyes changed from violet to indigo and his hair had a soft blue tone; the more he sang about love the deeper his eyes grew, full of lust and love, and his hair had the colour of a blue bell. Dionysos turned and held his palms over his ears.

"Stop it!" He shouted. "Stop that deplorable cat's music!!" He ran around in the room and kicked Pandrosis, the Panther, who hissed and tried to bite his master's calf.

But Arian in a corner woke up. His ears filled with a heavenly sound. He saw another man, beautiful as Apollo himself, giving the singing man a Kythera which he plucked now and the heartfelt song became music made in Olympus itself.

The flowers in Eraton's hair started to bloom, winding down around his neck until they covered his long tunic and he was flooded with sunlight.

Arian went out of the room, out of the palace to see them better, not caring for Dionysos cries and shouts to stop the music and the singing. And then he was there; the stranger. No. Theseus. The prince of Attica, with whom he slaughtered the Minotaur. With whom he sailed away from Crete to Athens, to be the man at his side. Theseus smiled relieved.

"Arian," he said.

There was Ganymede again, in the arms of Apollo, enjoying his kisses and Arian felt he had to do the same. The Muses sang and played and Dionysos' curses vanished from his mind.

"Let us go home," Theseus said. But Dionysos stood in the door frame, still holding his palms over his head. But was it Dionysos after all? He looked at least 1000 years old. . . .

"His real age," Apollo said, stroking through Ganymede's long hair. "More that 1000 years. . ." he added dreamily. "Like me." Pegasus neighed from a distance. It sounded like laughter.

"What is happening here?" Dionysos shouted. "Apollo, you brute. Give me back my old appearance!"

"Well, you are old already. What do you want?" the God giggled but got serious instantly. "This shall be your punishment. Your manhood shall be sleeping a year long. I think it will only be thankful. One year no wine. If you try to drink it will taste bitter like poison. One year you should be the servant of the people of Naxos who have suffered enough. Your home shall be a stable among the sheep and goats. Then you are banished from this island. Like all of your entourage." He made a wide movement with his arm and the palace was gone. Left was just a place of meadow and pine trees. Apollo held a wine plant in his hand. "Plant this into the earth and the yield should be abundant."

"But you can't do this, Apollo! You are not the only God here!"

Apollo laughed. "Complain to Hera, my dear. It is sealed." He looked at Ganymede. "Come," he said. Together they went to Pegasus, got up and rose into the air. "Farewell, Theseus, Arian," he shouted. "May the Gods be gracious with you."

Eraton and Euterpe were still singing and playing and Dionysos started to run. Pandrosis followed him, like the old, drunken Silenus who staggered behind them. Theseus and Arian couldn't help but laugh. It was so unreal they thought they were dreaming. Perhaps everything was really a dream and when they would awaken upon their ship, they would have the most heartfelt laughter ever.

But the music never stopped and Eraton was now singing about a labyrinth on the isle of Crete and about two heroes who were fighting together a man eating brute. They slaughtered him and promised to stay together.

Arian and Theseus looked at each other. "You did it for me?" Arian asked. "No, for me," Theseus answered. "I didn't want you to be immortal. Better to have a short life but be your own master than to be a servant of the Gods. Don't you think?"

Arian sighed. "Yes." His heart was full of hope and he thought as long as the Muses were playing, nothing bad could happen. He didn't imagine what would happen should they ever stop. But perhaps they wouldn't. In their hearts they would always play.

Theseus led him back to the village. All of a sudden he was terribly hungry and Arian felt the same. After all he had just a spoonful of "Ambrosia" last night. They sat and ate and Theseus never forgot to bring a sacrifice to the Gods. He knew now it was never in vain.

Arian pointed to an old man with a soiled green tunic who pleaded for lodging. He offered his work and help but nobody wanted to have an old man.

It wasn't funny at all, but he knew Dionysos deserved nothing better. After a year the spook would be over and he would probably be the same as he was before. An all too horny chap, knowing nothing more than the satisfaction of his urge.

In the late morning they entered the ship again and sailed away, leaving Naxos behind, to never return.

"Do you remember the coin?" Theseus asked furitively when they were standing side by side at the railing, watching the island vanishing in the distance.

"We haven't thanked the Muses," Arian said instead.

"They need no thanks. They are free." Theseus answered, fully aware that Arian dodged an answer. "I know what you were going through, love," he said then. "I was witness to what Dionysos and the other men did to you," he said carefully.

"I saw you standing there but couldn't remember who you were. Just your name. Sometimes." Arian said low. Theseus stroked his back and the long hair, he had brushed and combed and put into a braid again.

"I need time, Theseus," he said and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if I will ever be ready."

Theseus nodded. It didn't matter. He could wait. Long. Even if it never should happen. But Arian should know that he - Theseus - was ready for it. It was promised and Theseus always held his promises. But it was more than a promise because Theseus would do it for love, not for a fulfilled promise.

They slept chastely pressed together in the same bed and this was all that was needed.

When the shore of Attica came into sight, Theseus felt light and safe and so happy he kissed Arian when the ship sailed into the harbour of Piraeus. The Athenians stood and cried, waved their arms and hands for joy to see their prince was safely back. Even Aegeus, Theseus' father stood there with a pale face and dishevelled hair.

"Father!" Theseus shouted and jumped into his arms.

"I almost died, son." Aegeus stammered through tears. "I saw the black sails and thought you dead. Just the strong grip of a soldier beside me stopped me from jumping into the roaring sea."

Theseus looked guilty. He forgot to set the white sails for a happy return and he promised to have a word with Nicos. But his anger went up in smoke like mist in the morning. He was at home and Arian was with him.

His father looked at the young man beside his son. "Arian? Minos' son?" he asked. Arian bowed. "Myself."

"How do you know him?" Theseus asked surprised.

"Why shouldn't I. You are not long enough in Athens. Not long as I am."

Theseus looked pleased. "He accompanied me to stay here with me, father." He swallowed the rest he wanted to say. He wasn't ready for an open commitment, like 'I love him' or so. Perhaps he did, but the first one to hear these words wasn't his father.

Aegeus looked surprised but kept a friendly face. Whatever his son's heart desired, it would be good.

Days were passing where they had to tell everybody in town what happened, how they killed the Minotaur and how they escaped. But the very last adventure they kept for themselves. It wasn't reasonable and nobody who hadn't been present would understand a word. It was a secret they shared with the Olmpian Gods.

Arian felt nervous. He longed for Theseus but was afraid of his closeness. The bad experience vanished with each day but he could remember the pain... and all the pleasure. But he never drank a drop of wine again. Theseus didn't mind. Not the lack of wine nor the lack of a fulfilled promise. But . . . he would fulfil the promise on his side.

One evening he played with a coin watching Athena's face with the helmet and the tiny owl and smiled. She looked so differently to what the artist had imagined her to look like. He threw it high in the air and Arian snapped it on its flight down.

"Is this an illusion?" he asked playfully.

Theseus' heart pounded. "Actually not. "Well, perhaps yes." He rose and went over to Arian sitting upon the bed they shared in Theseus' rooms at the palace of Athens. Without a real thought he dropped his tunic and squatted in front of Arian. "I do remember the coin, but I don't think we need it."

Arian understood and opened his belt. They stared at each other and then the lights went out and the music started once more. A Kythera and a flute, singing in the night.

Theseus felt more than he saw Arian's body covering him from head to toe, first with his body and then with his mouth. He didn't know how long he bore this before he was a bundle of lust, wanting nothing more than to be taken. Why he hadn't had these feelings before? Why did he wait so long? Why had he thought he was too manly to be taken?

He felt Arian's glans at his entrance and pulled up his legs. It wasn't easy, but it was getting better and the pain was short and overlaid by Arian's kisses and soothing words.

And all that he could say was, "Come deeper. Deeper."

Arian lay full weight upon Theseus, his cock deliciously clamped between their abdomens. His senses got mad, hovered somewhere outside his consciousness.

"Deeper," he whispered hoarsely. Lips squashed his mouth, a tongue stroking his palate, his own tongue searching, battling and then came to a rest.

"Deeper."

Arian lifted his body and Theseus' penis was cold. It longed for a touch and was receiving a wetness. A warm and velvet surrounding, a sucking on the crown, a licking over the slit, drinking until it stopped.

"Deeper." Theseus bucked his spine, the mouth open in agony and then Arian was gone, leaving an empty void that had to be refilled. Now Theseus opened his eyes. The glass green ones stared into his own: now a dark, jungle green from lust and he smiled. Theseus felt his mouth covered once more while their abdomens rubbed each other, writhing like snakes, lithe bodies, though heavy on weight; a virile dance.

Arian teased him, purred into his ear and finally turned him over, Theseus' smooth buttocks in the air. He admired the two round globes, rubbed his mouth over the velvet, muscular orbs, licked a wet line in their centre, stormed the sweet bud of his hole until it opened again.

This was pure heaven, Theseus thought and regretted the time he had wasted without any knowledge of it. Arian rolled upon him and rubbed his penis in the spittle wet crack of his arse, the arms beside Theseus' body and kissed his neck behind the ear.

"Deeper," Theseus responded and came to his knees, his penis aching, heavy and wet from running fluids; panting when he sensed Arian's glans at his entrance again, pushing back a little, until he was filled like he was before. This time deeper he could imagine it would go, sighing lustful and clenching his muscles in there to increase the friction.

Arian's hand sneaked around to play with his testicles, the fingers soft as a warrior's could be, finding the hard, warm shaft and giving it long strokes, painfully slow. But none of them was in a hurry.

"Did you really see me . . . . then?" Theseus asked low. I mean when you. . ."

"When I'd lost my memory of you? Yes. I saw you and didn't recognize you."

Cautiously Theseus lay down on his stomach; Arian followed his movement and was stretched out upon him. He withstood the urge to move, to pull out and in, to achieve bliss. He just lay down and listened to the blood murmuring in his head. And finally he found he couldn't wait to feel what Theseus felt right now. Dionysos was erased from his mind. Just the Muses were still playing and singing.

"Do you feel good?" he asked.

"Not good. There's no word for this."

Arian smiled. "I understand."

"No, you can't. This ... God ... didn't do it out of love. Keep on going now."

In the last moments, Arian turned Theseus to his side, grabbed his penis and rubbed it with short strokes, in the same rhythm as his cock pounded Theseus' arse hole, until both fell into rigid, blissful agony, their bodies jerking, emptying and giving a mutual heartfelt sigh.

"I can't wait, Theseus. I must feel what you feel. You are right, this God was nothing. He did nothing to me. Here." He touched the breast over his heart.

Theseus stirred in his arms, not ready to let him go.

The flute was still playing, an ethereal sound outside the window or perhaps just in their minds, but it seem to fill the room.

Theseus felt gentle. More gentle that he ever had been his whole life. The music pierced his heart and he stroked Arian's damp hair that covered his own chest and a part of the pillows. The white golden hair, like spun silk.

Funny thoughts entered his mind. Thoughts of leaving it all behind: Athens, his state as prince and the responsibility he was carrying for his folk and to settle down here for all eternity. There would be no more wars for them; they would have anything they need and they wouldn't need much.

His cock was still hard and so was Arian's. He started to stroke it again, lazily, slowly, fully aware and full of affection. He heard Arian's quiet laughter before their mouths found to a passionate kiss.

Theseus opened his eyes. The night was over and already the sun was setting and ending another day. He couldn't count how often they had united, never satisfied; but from the stinging pain he felt both in his cock and his arse hole, it was more often that was reasonable. But he smiled. Ricos had been right: He had been a sissy, not knowing what he had been missing.

Arian stirred in his arms. The heavy hair tangled around them both like a silky blanket. Their skin was sticky and filled with dried white spots and smears, but Theseus had never felt so good before.

There was the sound of a Kythera and a flute again in his ear and it made him happy. Perhaps this was Apollo's gift. Perhaps they would hear it each time they made love.

"Do you hear it?" he whispered into Arian's ear.

"Yes. The Muses are singing."

The End

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