The Fault in our Labyrinths

As he descended past the great stone bull and into the deep, intoxicating darkness of the labyrinth, Theseus sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Theseus of Athens had always known he was destined for greatness. He was descended from royalty, had never fit in amongst his peers, and his deceased Mother had always said he was special. He was born to be the Chosen One, and that was that.

It is common wisdom that every Hero needs a Villain: enter the Minotaur.

As rulers, husbands, and fathers went, King Minos of Crete was equal only to Zeus. Twenty years prior, in an effort to fuel his ego, he’d asked Poseidon for a magic bull to impress his friends, then refused to give it back afterwards. As punishment, Poseidon possessed it, had Aphrodite weave a spell to make Minos’ wife fall in love with it, and… well, suffice to say the resulting child had the body of a man and the head of a bull. Thus was born the terrible Minotaur.

Minos, facing considerable embarrassment, did what any sane person would do in the circumstances and had his architect build a gigantic, inescapable labyrinth to house the monster and began feeding it the children of his enemies. He even made his daughter, Ariadne, oversee the feeding.

When the Cretians arrived in Athens to demand that fourteen youths - seven men and seven women - be given up as sacrifices, the young hero Theseus had volunteered in a heartbeat in order to go to Crete and slay the Minotaur once and for all. His father, king Aegeus of Athens, had argued with him, but he would not let himself be swayed. It was, after all, the sort of thing that heroes did.

The fate of the tributes was a grim one. They were to be sent, one by one, into the labyrinth, to wander helplessly through the inescapable maze until they stumbled upon the monster and were devoured by it. Theseus was part of the third such set of tributes, and he was determined that there would not be a fourth.

He squinted as he penetrated deeper into the shadowy maze, slowly unfurling the ball of golden thread which Minos’ daughter Ariadne had given him. He smiled to himself as he remembered her dark, beautiful eyes and the stolen moments they had shared before his time had come. They had, of course, fallen in love instantly.

“This will allow you to find your way back to me, when it’s over”, she’d said.

“If I survive.” He’d replied.

“You’d better,” she’d smirked. “I want that thread back.”

A sound from behind him made Theseus spin around, hand clutching the hilt of the sword hidden beneath his tunic. A few seconds of silence passed. Just the guards closing the door behind me, he realised, as he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He ran a shaking hand through long, unkempt hair and pressed on, feeling his way blindly through the maze.

The ball of thread was dwindling when Theseus finally made out dim light in the distance. As he drew closer, the light illuminated nightmarish piles of neatly-stacked bones. His eyes needed time to adjust, so he paused and listened. From the path ahead, he could hear breathing - and a rough, infrequent scraping sound which could only be the beast lapping the last scraps of flesh from dry bones within its lair.

Gathering his courage, Theseus crept forwards to greet his foe. Every muscle in his body tensed, he inched forwards into the flickering glow of the torches which lit the chamber ahead. He dropped the ball of thread and slowly, blade drawn, rounded the corner.

There, reclining on a woven blanket and reading a thick, wood-bound book, was the Minotaur.

The Minotaur wore a long skirt and off-white tunic, draped stylishly over chiselled muscles. He was huge - at least seven feet tall, Theseus guessed, although it was hard to tell from his angle - with tanned skin and large, powerful hands. All of him was human except for the grey-furred, horned head of a bull which rested upon his majestic shoulders.

“Good evening.”

The Minotaur’s voice was deep; the kind of deep that makes your bones tingle when you hear it. Theseus started, his breath catching in his chest.

“Er-Hi. Ahem. I mean, greetings, monster. I am Theseus of Athens.” He struck a heroic stance, then paused. “Is that the Iliad?” He asked, glancing at the book.

“Call me Tor.” He lowered the book. “And yes. I’ve read it before, but there isn’t much else to do down here.” Tor looked over the book at the sword in Theseus’ hand. “Here to vanquish the monster of the labyrinth once and for all, Theseus?”

Zeus, that voice. Theseus stared at the relaxed, sinuous form of the creature before him, then a jolt ran down his spine as he remembered the bones in the tunnel behind him. He raised his sword.

“Yes. Too many of my people have died at your hand, beast. I’m here to end it.”

Tor took a deep breath, set his book aside, and stood. He towered over Theseus. “Well, good work sneaking a sword in. My sister is usually quite good at sniffing things like that out.”

Tor studied Theseus’ face for a moment, then sighed. “She let you bring it with you, didn’t she? Well, I can’t say I blame her. Not exactly brother of the year over here.” He shrugged. “Well, let’s get this over with, then.” He rolled his massive shoulders, working the stiffness from them, and began to slowly circle the young hero.

Theseus crouched into a fighting stance, holding his sword steady between himself and the Minotaur, and frowned. “You’re not what I expected.” He made a feint with the blade, testing his opponent.

“How so?” Tor didn’t flinch.

“You’re… cleverer.”

“I might be a monster, but I’m still royalty. The king didn’t skimp on my education.”

Theseus thought back to the red-eyed, bloody-mouthed demon he’d pictured when he’d heard tales of the Minotaur, back in Athens and in King Minos’ cells while awaiting his fate. “No-one said anything.” He flicked the point of his sword at Tor’s side.

Tor sidestepped nimbly. “Why would they?” He dodged another thrust, then stepped forward to grab Theseus’ tunic.

“I’m an abomination; the unholy consequence of my mother taking a lover other than the King. Isn’t that right?” He asked, matter-of-factly.

Theseus felt his breath catch in his chest at Tor’s closeness. Snarling, he pushed off and brought his sword up to paint a thin red line across Tor’s chest. Tor’s tunic hung open below the cut, revealing glistening muscles which pulled back as Tor sucked in a breath at the sudden pain. “Exactly,” Theseus replied. “Actions have consequences, and it is the right of the gods to choose them.”

Tor reached up, tearing the ruined tunic from his shoulders. “Never mind that the lover was Poseidon and that she was under Aphrodite’s spell.” He stepped forward, the point of Theseus’ sword pressing into his ribs. “And never mind that Poseidon and Aphrodite both acted in retribution for the King’s transgression!”

Theseus saw the point of his blade sink into Tor’s chest, and felt himself stepping back against the pressure until his back hit the wall behind him.

“To hell with letting gods and men stand trial for their crimes. No, let’s punish an innocent mortal for the trespasses of gods and kings!” Theseus winced as Tor’s huge fist slammed into the wall beside his head, causing rubble to tumble to the ground. This wasn’t going the way it was supposed to. His gaze fell upon a stray bone in the tunnel to his side, and he steeled himself.

“It doesn’t matter whose fault it was. You’re still a monster.” Theseus pushed back with his sword-arm until he felt the resistance of bone against bronze. Tor bellowed in pain. “You ate my countrymen!” Theseus swung low, opening a gash in his thigh. “Some of them were my friends. You murdered them!”

Tor dropped to one knee, his great chest heaving, head raised defiantly. “You think I wanted to? Look around, Theseus. Do you know how many times I’ve tried to escape this place? I couldn’t have saved them if I’d wanted to.”

“That doesn’t explain why you ate them!”

“I only did that so they wouldn’t smell! And I always asked permission first.”

“You… what?”

“I have to live down here, Theseus. Bad enough that my existence is spent trapped for eternity in an inescapable underground maze; I didn’t much like the idea of adding the constant stench of rotting flesh to the equation.”

Exhausted, Tor lowered himself down onto his back and let out a long, heavy breath.

Theseus shook his head. It was all too much. He stepped forward and knelt beside Tor, laying the edge of his sword against his throat.

“I should still kill you.”

Tor’s eyes met his. “Then do it.”

“Even though they aren’t your fault, if you die the sacrifices will stop. It would be the heroic thing to do.”

“Did I stutter? You’re right. Do it.” Tor reached up and grabbed Theseus’ sword-hand in his own, pulling it downwards.

Theseus felt warmth blossom from his hand through his arm, to his chest. He tensed, then relaxed. “No.”

The sword clattered to the ground.

“Why?” Tor asked.

“Because it isn’t the right thing to do.”

“That all?” Theseus was suddenly aware of Tor’s hand still clasped around his. He lay his other hand gently on Tor’s chest. It was hot to the touch.

“I… I don’t know.” He looked into Tor’s eyes and felt his own racing heart in his throat. He felt his emotions heaving at him, pulling him in every direction at once, and gave into the strongest among them. Leaning down, he kissed his enemy.

Tor froze for a moment, then reach up with his free hand, wrapping it into Theseus’ hair and pulling him deeper into the kiss. A long, passionate moment passed before Theseus had to come up for air.

“Um. This… isn’t going the way I’d planned.”

“I gathered.”

“Sorry about… you know..” Theseus glanced at the damage his sword had inflicted on Tor’s chiselled torso. Tor shrugged.

“I’m a mythological creature. I’ll get better.” Surely enough, the wounds were beginning to close before Theseus’ eyes. “Shame you’ll have to starve to death down here, though. Inescapable maze and all that.”

Theseus blinked in confusion, then a smile crept across his face. “Didn’t I mention? Your, uh, half-sister gave me a ball of thread to mark a path to the exit.”

It was Tor’s turn to look confused. “Why the hell did she do that? I mean, wanting me dead I can understand,” he nodded at the sword, “but wanting you alive as well…” His eyes widened in understanding. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s gonna be pissed.”

“Uh huh.” Theseus rose, offering a hand to Tor. Together, they began to follow the thread back to the edge of the labyrinth. “So,” he asked, “after spending your whole life trapped down here, what will you do once you’re free?”

Tor was silent for a while.

“Do you remember what I was saying earlier, about mortals being punished for the crimes of gods and kings?” He said finally, his rumbling voice shaking loose the butterflies in Theseus’ stomach once again.

“Sure.”

“Well, how would you like to join me in dishing out some proper justice?”

Theseus hesitated. “You mean, challenge a tyrannical dictator and all of his armies before taking on an entire pantheon of all-powerful immortal beings?”

“Sure.”

“Um.” Theseus stumbled on a loose stone, preoccupied. Tor’s strong hand steadied him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It made him feel strong. Heroic, even. “It’s a date.” He said.