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ARIADNE SAT ON A ROCK at the edge of the encampment, surveying the busy followers of the god of wine. The majority of them were his female followers, the maenads, but there were more than a few of the distinctly male satyrs. The general lack of clothing was a hallmark of the following of Dionysus, where the festivals famously tended to descend into drunken orgies.
They all wore the symbols of their god, crowned in vines or carrying large staffs topped with pine cones. Several wore the draped spotted furs of animals she had only heard about. A few wore only animal furs and nothing else. The air was fresh and crisp, with the promise of heady midday heat tempering its bite.
“Whatcha looking at?” A very pretty maenad leaned over Ariadne’s shoulder, long black curls falling forward.
“The traveling camp of the wine god. It’s a lot busier than I thought it would be.” Ariadne brushed the other woman’s silky hair from her face but more just fell in its place, leaving her view full of hair.
“The festival tonight is going to be amazing. But all the festivals are, really.” The maenad seemed to be agreeing to something, and sat next to Ariadne with a flop of splayed limbs and bouncing hair. “I’m Nysa.” She introduced herself casually.
Ariadne could feel her eyes widen at how far up the other woman’s skirt had risen and swallowed, averting her gaze. “Ariadne.” She offered her name in turn, not bothering with her royal title. She asked, “This festival is based around a ceremony to dedicate wine to the patron god Dionysus, right?” She asked, despite knowing the answer.
“Yep. Why, you got something you’re going to dedicate?” Nysa’s pale green eyes gleamed as she twisted her whole body to face Ariadne, skirt riding higher and revealing her bare thighs.
Ariadne chewed her lip, and tried not to look. “Maybe. I want to, but I really struggled making it and don’t want to offend. It tastes like death.” She admitted with a groan, throwing herself backwards, completely forgetting she was sitting on unforgiving stone and not grass.
Instead of Ariadne’s head hitting hard rock strong hands buffered the impact. She opened her eyes to see the face of the concerned looking Nysa.
Instead of commenting on Ariadne’s fumble or embarrassed flush, Nysa said, “I’ve been to quite a few of these shindigs. I could try your wine and tell you if it will be offensive.”
Ariadne sat up and snatched the other woman’s hands, checking them for damage. “Are you okay? What were you thinking?” She didn’t see any bruises but they could still show up.
“I could say the same thing to you, throwing yourself back against a rock like that.” Nysa countered, letting Ariadne prod and examine her hands.
They were smooth, with perfectly painted glassy green nails without blemish. On closer inspection they were not soft in all places, with rough callouses in areas. Realizing she was stroking the other woman’s hand, Ariadne dropped Nysa’s hands with a cough. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”
Nysa grinned at her, “The wine would be good.” She leaned in to brush Ariadne’s hair behind her ear and traced the shell of it with the edge of her nail.
Ariadne sat there, stunned for a minute before she registered the words through her tingling ears. “Yes. The wine. You wanted to try it.” Her tongue is awkward in her mouth. She reached into the bag beside her and pulled out the heavy jug of wine. “I don’t have glasses.” She realized.
“I do!” The maenad waves two wine glasses at her that Ariadne had no idea where she pulled them from. Benefits of being a follower of the god of wine, she supposed.
Ariadne poured a bare finger width of wine for the other woman. “Stingy!” Nysa mock gasped, holding a hand over her wide smile.
“This is awful wine. You need to know that. I’m not sure what I was thinking bringing it here.” She added in a mutter to herself, despite knowing she hadn’t cared about the taste of the wine. It was a chance to get out, if she could be accepted into the traveling followers of Dionysus.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Nysa drank and immediately spat the wine back out, coughing and wheezing.
Ariadne sighed and dug in her bag for a cloth, handing it to the wine splattered woman. “I suppose that answers that question.”
“Where did you make this?” She wheezed, mopping her face gently to not smear her makeup.
Ariadne let her gaze drift to the horizon where the walls of the labyrinth loomed over the city below it. “A graveyard. Like I said, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Mostly that the Minotaur hated green things and wouldn’t eat grape vines. Even if it would have been better for the rest of the world if he had. Grapes were less precious than children, after all.
The other woman followed her gaze, eyes sharpening at the sight of the looming labyrinth. “I don’t know, it was wine. Terrible wine, but still wine.”
Ariadne snorted. “Would you put it in your mouth again?”
Nysa closed her mouth. “No.” She admitted. “Still, Dionysus appreciates all efforts at making wine. Some people are just more talented than others. But, a graveyard, really?”
“It’s all I had available for space.” Ariadne defended, then added thoughtfully, “Do you think I should dedicate it to the Gods of the Underworld? Give them something to serve unwanted guests?” Hades had a reputation for discouraging even divine visitors to his realm with the exception of his Queen, Persephone.
Nysa grinned, face stretching into a terrible expression that reminded Ariadne that the sacrifices to the god of wine used to include human dismemberment. “He would like that.” She answered far too knowingly for Ariadne’s comfort.
“Will I still be welcome tonight, even though I don’t have a sacrifice?” Ariadne glanced at the camp setting up and bit her lip.
“Don’t worry about it. You tried. Besides, I can make you my plus one.” Nysa gave Ariadne an appreciative once over, followed by her hands trailing down Ariadne’s sides to clasp her hands. “If you’d like.”
Ariadne returned the look and realized something about her companion. “Are you a man?”
Nysa raised a perfectly painted eyebrow. They challenged, “Does it matter?”
“No, but I don’t have any,” Ariadne’s face was on fire and she pulled a hand free to gesture at her lower abdomen, tongue suddenly in knots. “For being with a man.” Granted, the doctor had told her she was sterile when her period had failed to arrive, but a baby wasn’t a surprise she wanted. Ever.
“Contraceptives.” Ariadne blurted out, finally remembering the right word. She wanted a hole to open up in the ground to swallow her.
Nysa’s expression softened. “I understand. I can get you some, no problem. But there are other things that can be fun that don’t require any contraceptive measures if you’d like, instead.” They wiggled their eyebrows at Ariadne, hands sliding back up her arms slowly.
“Both?” Ariadne wiggled her eyebrows back, hoping this was the correct confirmation signal, making her laugh.
“Both.” Nysa agreed with a purr, pulling her in for a kiss.
* * *
ARIADNE woke up to the smell of flowers, heady enough to choke on. Light crept needle thin fingers of light through the tent flap gap, illuminating the room. Nysa lay face down on Ariadne’s lap, the both of them naked. The tiger skin covering them both had slipped off and puddled on the floor.
Ariadne observed all this as she drifted awake, puzzle pieces about her new lover from the night before slotting into place. Drank like a fish and remained standing and flirting, check. Danced like a wild thing possessed, check. Unusual sexual stamina, check.
She could have passed all that off as traits of servants of the wine god or having not much previous experience with lovers without a second thought. She could have even passed off their eyes bleeding from pale green to glowing during sex as a trick of the light.
But the damn wine. It was always on hand, whether there had been a jug there before or not. After a certain point, there hadn’t even been a jug, just never emptying cups of wine. Ariadne’s head didn’t even hurt from drinking what had to have been at least three bottles of wine.
“The wine gave you away.” She told the god of wine in her lap lazily, carding fingers through his hair.
“Was wondering if you would say something about it.” Dionysus mumbled into her bare thighs, rolling over with a sigh and blinking sleepily up at her through a tangle of hair.
“I wasn’t sure if you were honestly trying for undercover or just trying to give hints without coming out and saying it.” She traced his makeup smeared green eyes. God or not, they left them looking like a badly masked bandit.
“Bit of both.” Dionysus yawned, stretching like a cat and then settling back in her lap to blink sleepily up at her. “Did you have fun?”
Ariadne grinned, feeling her whole body flush at the memories. “Definitely.”
Dionysus leered up at her. “Wanna do it again?”
She leered back down at them. “Definitely.”
* * *
“Did you honestly think you would get away with it?” The leader of King Minos’s personal guard scoffed, kicking her in the ribs with a booted foot and sending her sprawling over her picked flowers.
Ariadne had honestly thought she had gotten away with it. It had been two full days since she had ran away from her upcoming ‘duties’ and no one had come after her. Stepping foot outside the camp grounds to pick flowers had been a mistake. But the wild roses had reminded her of how her new lover made her feel and she had sat down and woven a crown, careful of the sharp thorns.
She hunched over it, looking up through her eyelashes at the guard, stomach sinking as she counted four more guards with him. The soldiers all wore the markings of elite soldiers from the brutal war with Athens. The other country had conceded to tributes being sent to the Minotaur out of desperation to stem the tide of slaughter. Fourteen children every seven years was a terrible price, but cheaper than what they had been paying.
Ariadne looked toward the camp, colorful tents and banners fluttering in the warm wind. If she screamed, the camp would wake and come for her. They would come and the peaceful, friendly partiers would die. Her lover had went back up to Olympus that morning with a leer and promise to ‘come again’.
She set the crown of wild roses down, fingers bloodying the white petals. “Fine. Let’s go then.” She lifted her chin at the head guard like the princess she was, and not the prisoner she felt like.
The guard backhanded her casually, sending her sprawling into the flowers again. “None of that, princess. You abandoned your post, so you don’t get any of its privileges.” He leaned down and grabbed her by the front her dress to give her an up close view of his ghastly amusement. “King Minos said tonight you’re to go with the tributes inside the labyrinth. No room for traitors in the royal family.”
He jerked her to her feet and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of vegetables, grinding her flower crown under his heel. The soldiers didn’t even look at the camp as they left, it was like they couldn’t even see it. Ariadne tried to be grateful for the small mercies.
* * *