The Sons of Memory - 10. 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 llusion?" 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."