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ARIADNE THREW HER HANDS in the air, countering, “You don’t think of me as anything but a friend. You said it yourself, sex doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“What in the name of Hades gave you the impression I don’t think of you as a lover?” Dionysus demanded, affronted, hands on his hips.
Ariadne glared at him, frustration boiling over. “Maybe it was the way you never introduced me to anyone as your lover. Maybe it was the way you avoided me without giving me a reason, or the way you stopped having sex with me. Those are things that give me the impression you don’t think of me as a lover.” She took a ragged breath. “Or much of me at all.” She added bitterly, eyes full of tears despite herself.
Dionysus opened his mouth. Closed it. Licked his lips. “Oh.”
Ariadne pushed past him, desperate to get some fresh air. On the balcony the cold air outside stripped the warmth of the room from her in an instant. The stars glittered in the sky above like a blanket of black velvet with icy white sapphires. Night and darkness obscured the rest of the world like a dream. The stone of the balcony railing dug into her shaking hands, unbending under her franticly spasming hands as she resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands and sob.
It didn’t stop the tears. The nighttime chill stole the heat from them before they finished reaching her chin, leaving her face both cold and wet. She breathed carefully through her gritted teeth and let them come, releasing the pain. In, out. In, out. Let the hurt come out through the tears and stop hurting her anymore. Ariadne let it out.
When she was done, empty, tired and numb in more ways than one, she went back in. She didn’t see Dionysus in the room. She crawled into the empty bed and pulled the blankets over her.
* * *
OF course, then Ariadne couldn’t actually sleep. It figured. She had bypassed tired and leapt straight into the impossible arena of too tired to sleep. She flipped. She flopped.
She got up and went back out to the balcony. The cold was worse now, digging into her bones like it was hungry for her warmth. The stars seemed untouchable and distant. She went back in, shoulders slumped, disappointed and frost in her knotted hair.
The room was still empty.
Suddenly, Ariadne couldn’t take it anymore. She left the bedroom, prowling the palace halls just for something to do that wasn’t sitting with her thoughts and feelings. It wasn’t as interesting as she thought it might have been. But it was something to do.
Ariadne had a pang of sympathy for her mad, twisted twin. He had to have been so bored trapped in the labyrinth. But then, he ate anyone who might have been able to keep him company. For the first time, Ariadne had the sudden thought to wonder why Dionysus was so alone. He was well liked and loved. What reason did he have to put walls up with people?
Having them with her made sense. Loving a short lived person was just grief waiting to happen, and immortals didn’t handle that kind of thing gracefully. It was a pain they were not equipped to handle and so they avoided it, distancing themselves from the suffering of mortal lives.
The gods were powerful enough the toy with dynasties of mortal royalty on whims, yet they were insecure enough to lash out at any perceived rejection. Ariadne had quite a bit of time to think during her time on Olympus, and most of it wound up being more than vaguely blasphemous and judgmental.Truly, she had stewed in her negative feelings too long. It had verged on her being poisoned, unknowing. It was one of Ariadne’s many reasons to not return there.
Just before the sun began peeking through the clouds, servants began filtering through the halls. Ariadne returned to her room, not wanting to be under foot. Or worse, explain the reason for her insomnia to their host.
The bedroom was still empty. Her heart fell. Ariadne sighed and got ready for the day anyway. No matter how much things hurt, she had to keep going.
Maron was polite but visibly disappointed that there was only her at breakfast. She gave him a polite smile and felt small. He gamely offered to show her the rest of the estate despite the lack of divinity accompanying her. Ariadne declined, fists clenched in her lap. They had come for Dionysus to visit the king. If he wasn’t around, there wasn’t much for Ariadne to do besides take up space.
Her head cleared by the time the midday meal rolled around and she asked to see how the wines are blended. It’s a secret process naturally, but being the close companion of the literal god of wine got her a pass. She learned quickly over the next few days and just as quickly lost patience when Dionysus didn’t return or show his face. She told him how she felt and he had abandoned her without so much as a goodbye or even telling her he was leaving.
Maron approached her that night before she went to her room. “Are you two having problems?” He asked tentatively, looking like he was regretting opening his mouth.
Ariadne closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “You could say that.” How do you admit you’re hopelessly in love with someone who had probably realized it was never going to work? You don’t.
Maron hesitated. “I’m not an expert in love, but I could lend you an ear. Or shoulder.” He added cautiously, watching her blink back frustrated tears. “I have some experience in matters of troubled love.” He finished self depreciatingly.
What did she have to lose? She let her hand slip off the doorknob and goes with the king to his private study.
Maron sat across from her and admitted bluntly. “My marriage failed because I preferred men to woman and my wife had the opposite problem. Our parents assumed we would be agreeable to, shall we say, cover for each others issues.”
“Let me guess, it didn’t work out because having secret affairs on the side don’t quite cut it for happiness.” Ariadne guessed tiredly, gratified by his nod.
“Are you, this is difficult to say,” Maron licked his lips. “Are you a secret lover of his?”
She chewed her lip, thinking. “No, but I feel like one. Or did. Pretty sure he’s not sure if he wants me as a lover or not.” She admitted, feeling wildly vulnerable and regretting every word out of her mouth. What was she doing?
He frowned, got up and grabbed a book from his shelf. He flipped through it , staring at the page blankly for a moment before closing it. “No one in the mortal realm can agree whether Dionysus is a very old god indeed, or a very young one. But either way, to those who look it’s well known that most of his quests in love have been very brief.”
Ariadne gave him the blank stare of incomprehension. “I hardly expected to be an exception.”
Maron shook his head. “No, I mean they mostly seem to last a few nights. At most.” He met her gaze earnestly. “He may not have the knowlege how to behave in a relationship, or what might be expected of him.”
“He’s my first relationship as well, but why do I have to do all the emotional labor?” Ariadne retorted, anger flaring up like an ember reigniting under accelerant.
He closed his mouth. He gave her a sideways look. “Most people would be happy to do whatever it took to please a god.”
“My mother was half god. My father was part god. It didn’t make them better people, just more careless with others lives.” Ariadne told Maron flatly, deeply unamused at the turn in the conversation.
“Any relationship where one person has all the power or responsibilities is a bad one. If it’s not equal it’s just servitude,” She thought of some of the stories she had heard over the years, “Or slavery.”
“And if he can’t give you that?” Maron asked her quietly, and Ariadne had just about enough of this, whatever it was.
“He’s a god. The only things they can’t do are the ones they don’t want to.” She told him before getting up from her chair. “Much obliged for the talk and the advice to treat him like an incapable infant, but I don’t want children.”
Ariadne had stomped back all the way to her still empty rooms before she realized the man she had just spoken to had blue eyes. Maron had brown eyes.
* * *