#drunk!Theseus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mirahuyooo · 1 year

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Stranded (I) | jhs

— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.

word count: 10,458 (PART I) contents: ANGST, fLUff, drAMa, Theseus, stages of grief but its kinda all over the place, rUNAWAY PRINCESS!!! yikes, betrayal yIKES, implied drugging, hEARTBREAK, you have a sucky sucky childhood, daddy issues, a lot of artistic interpretation but I think this is my most favorite one AAAAAA, not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, Greek Mythology AU pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Inspired by Dionysus and Ariadne

[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!

A/N: HeRE iT ISSS! I HAVE BEEN SO EXCITED TO FINISH THIS LIL SHIT Hobi’s story is an ABSOLUTE favorite 😭💖

P.S. i've divided these into three due to limit issues so stay tune for the next part! ☆⌒(*＾-゜)v

START. | ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

A heavy feeling rests in the pit of your stomach, as the ship continues to sail away from the land that birthed and raised you. That island was all you had ever known and yet there it was, having gone much smaller as time progressed—even the grand palace is now barely visible from such a distance, much more the people trying to pursue you.

You have committed treason—something you were well aware of. You had betrayed your father as an accomplice to your monster of a half-brother’s murder and had eloped with the very man who took its life.

A large part of you argues that you had done the right thing. Your half-brother was a vicious monster, who had slaughtered innocents in the maze you were forced to represent. He was an accursed reminder of the atrocity your late mother had done. Before his death, you had witnessed first hand the people being fed into the labyrinth as some sickening game guised as a sacrifice.

You, as your father's daughter, had been made mistress of the labyrinth as soon as you came of age—subjected to all sorts of pleas, cursing, and threats that its victims had thrown at you. Their voices echo hauntingly in your head, as the memory of people walking into that dark pit and never returning constantly mar your mind. It is a nightmare you cannot escape from.

But that, now, has changed.

You, as princess of your people, have done justly to assist a foreigner in ending such pandemonium. The Minotaur is dead and with that, you have greatly helped in ending your father’s cruelty. You are a hero.

So, why does it feel like something’s amiss?

“Princess?”

A voice greets you from behind, startling you into staring away from the kingdom you were leaving behind. Butterflies erupt as you see Theseus before you with the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his striking features. You smile softly as he lightly bows to you. “Theseus,” your voice radiates adoration as you say his name. “What brings you here?”

The chill wind of early autumn tousles his dark brown locks as he stares towards the fading form of Crete with you. “We will be stopping at the island of Naxos in a few hours,” he tells you with a side glance your way. “The captain and I deemed it best to rest there for a while and replenish any supplies we lost.”

“Of course. That seems sound,” you could only nod, not knowing much of maritime welfare after all. What you do know, however, was that the sea was as fickle as the god that reigned over it. You supposed that it was better to prepare for any catastrophe, than to expect everything to be smooth sailing.

Feeling a hand on the small of your back, you come back to your senses, only to see Theseus waiting for you. Only then did you also realize that on your shoulders was his cloak. It envelops you with warmth. “It’s late, princess,” he nods towards the quarters. “It’s been a long day, too. You must sleep.”

Words coming out a stammer, you clutch the cloak in your hands. “Yes,” you shyly blush as your heart hammers in your chest, “You too.”

The hero beside you smiled kindly, gesturing with his hand this time. “Let us go then,” he invites you, warmly—and for someone so used to the dark, cold walls of Crete, you couldn’t help but swoon.

What a blessed woman you are.

You arrive at Naxos around late in the afternoon, taking a small boat or two with Theseus and a few members of the ship to a secluded part of the island while the rest stay to man the ship at a distance. Docking a great distance away from a small town, the land that greets you and takes you away from the roughhousing of the waves greatly comforts you. There were big rocks surrounding the little beach—something Theseus thought would do well to hide and border the camp.

A group began laying out the tents for the night, many hands trying to make quick work. You did your best to assist them in any way, but you were met either with cold glares or dismissive waves. You then attempted to help a frail boy struggling to carry a crate, but he, too, doesn't seem so fond of you. "I'll be fine in the hands of my people, princess," said the boy, voice calm but eyes failing to hide his contempt, as another fellow came to help him instead.

It was clear to you.

You may have aided their hero in slaying the Minotaur, but your conscience and reputation was still drenched by the blood of their people—the people that you couldn't save any sooner. In their eyes, you were still a princess of Crete—still the mistress of the maze that brought them before the gates of the Underworld.

And so, you endure their unwelcoming gaze, looking for something else to make yourself useful—for something else to prove you worthy of their trust.

While the experienced went to hunt animals for a meal tonight and the journey ahead, there were others that were tasked to retrieve some supplies from the local town. You decide to join them, but, in an instant, you are pulled aside by Theseus, who was already dressed for the hunt. "Where are you going?" he asks, voice hushed but with a little panic.

Furrows form between your brows as his sudden interruption holds you aback. "I want to help," you earnestly declare, but the conviction wasn't quite present, so you clarify yourself further. "I will accompany them to town an—"

"We cannot risk you to be seen in town, (Y/N)," Theseus exasperates, harsh tone taking you aback. "It'll bring us more trouble than we already have."

Your hastening heart seemed to stop altogether. "Ah… right…"

How come you never thought of that, (Y/N)?

He sharply inhales, breathing almost stopping altogether, upon seeing the flash of hurt in your eyes, your determination faltering. Theseus eases a little then, lacing a hand in yours while the other caresses your cheek. "Why don't you…" his mind reels as he thinks of a compromise, "why don't you help gather some wood for the fire later?"

Your eyes lit for a moment, but soon began to contemplate. Wood for the fire—yes. That seems accomplishable.

"Alright," you say, mustering a meek smile as you did.

With that Theseus called forth a young man. Andreas, he addressed him—the same boy that had refused your help with the crate earlier. "Take her with you to fetch some firewood," he tells him, and while the boy nods, you could tell he was hesitant.

Theseus turns back to you with a smile, happy to have settled this. The fabric that embraced your shoulders was moved to shield your face, his careful touch tingling against your skin. "Be careful," Theseus then instructs, urging you to still keep your identity secret, lest your father had sent out soldiers for either of your capture.

"You, too," you attempt to smile, a hand gently squeezing his own before the two of you part, worried but hopeful.

Andreas never spoke a word with you as the both of you gathered what you needed from the forest. In your arms were a bundle of sticks you thought were similar to what you saw him pick up. You couldn't really find it within you to ask, for fear of being seen bothersome by the lad.

"Why help us now?"

You nearly jump at the sudden words that reach you. Looking up, the young boy was standing a few feet ahead of you, his back turned as he did. "I'm sorry?" You stammer, unsure of what he meant. "What do you mean to say?"

You were greeted by a ferocious glare. "You let us suffer for years, but now you helped our people escape," Andreas sneered, "why?"

Tears sting your eyes but you blink them back. "I…" you began, but your mind seemed to run blank. "I needed strength," you say, mustering enough words to express your thoughts, "and a chance to go against my father..."

"Your prince is both," you give the boy a soft smile, hoping it would ease him.

Theseus was your key—not only to freedom, but also for repentance.

Still, the young boy scowls, brows furrowing so deep together that you fear they might never go back to normal. "I know my sins cannot be absolved for doing this," you plead, taking a step forth, "but I swear, I never found any joy in your suffering."

Andreas scoffs, but says nothing. He, instead, goes back to his task of collecting firewood and ignoring your existence. A shaky outbreath escapes you along with a few tears running down your cheeks but you wipe them away and focus on your task, too.

Idly tying the bundle with a rope, you began to think of your future.

Theseus had promised to make you his queen upon returning to Athens, but how easy would that flow, if your history as mistress of the labyrinth remained in their minds? What queen would be welcomed and loved that way?

You sigh and push such thoughts away. You'll deal with it when it comes, you tell yourself. A long journey awaits you, and you haven't even made it to Athens yet. Surely, a time will come for you to show your promising prowess to the people.

With that hope, you were a little more resolved and ready to return to reality, taking more time in indulging yourself with your surroundings.

The island was very much smaller than the kingdom you were accustomed to, but it certainly felt much more welcoming. Nature surrounded you as leaves crunched at each step beneath you. The sky in a blur of warm colors being tainted with the impending night.

It felt oddly serene—more soothing than you have been treated at the camp. A part of you was tempted to stay here instead.

Then, it came to you.

You were alone.

Heart shattering just a little, you stood up from where you were crouching. All around you was darkness. "A-Andreas?" you call out, voice shaking as you look into the expanse of the forest. "Where are you?"

Instead of a response, your ears pick up the sound of music instead—a flute perhaps, being played somewhere, but the direction seemed to lead further into the forest rather than out. Goosebumps littered your skin from the cold and the shiver that ran down your spine. It may be someone from the town, or a group of travellers like your own, you reason, but such news would either be bad for someone in hiding like you.

"Lost, are we?"

There was a sudden voice that filled the air—slurred but mischievous—rendering you to drop a few sticks as you whirl around like a fool looking for the source.

Who was that?

"Up here, dear."

The voice says again, the sound luring your eyes towards a tree nearby. Splayed across a big branch above was a dashing man—ethereal, really—looking down at you through barely opened eyes, as the early autumn wind gently blew on the part of his robe that dangled from the tree. He gives you a lazed grin as he pulls out a small flask from somewhere behind him. "Would you like some?" he then asks as he takes a generous swig of the drink, thin droplets of watery red running down his chin and onto his collarbone.

Is that wine?

Taken aback by his presence, you tear your eyes away from the stranger and gather what had escaped from your grasp moments before. He's inviting—tempting—but you mustn't stray. "No need, sir," you politely tell him, "I'm not thirsty."

No less from a stranger.

The young man nonchalantly shrugs. "Shame," he says, taking another swig as he makes no further comment.

You couldn't bear to dilly dally any further either—no, not with the darkened sky already upon you. Wait… a dark sky?!

With the realization that the night was settling in, panic settled in you. "Oh no," you huff, hurriedly gathering the ends of your dress to ready yourself to bolt back to the camp. "You should get down there before you fall, sir," you give the stranger a hastened smile. "Farewell!"

Not waiting for his response, you ran.

—and run you did.

It was ungraceful—something your late governess would've greatly frowned upon—but you make it back with only a few moments of getting lost. Your chest heaved as sweat ran down your skin, but the proud look you had on your face for coming back soon fell.

There was a bonfire already lit in the center of the camp, bright as could be.

The chatter lessens at your arrival, a few looking at your disheveled state, while Theseus approaches you. "What happened?" he asks, brows furrowed. "Andreas said you walked off on your own."

You glanced at the boy, who immediately avoided your eyes, almost sorry for what he did. Forcing a smile, you turn your attention back to Theseus and give him the bundles you gathered as you went along with the boy’s narrative so he wouldn’t be in trouble. "Yes, well," you cleared your throat, "I thought I saw something, and became distracted. I'm sorry."

Theseus doesn't question you any further, only nodding as he looks at the wood you gave him. "Ah…" he then grins, throwing a stick or two into the already roaring flames. "Thank you for these," he says in an attempt to assure you, "it'll keep the fire alive tonight."

You muster a smile back, nodding as you watch the fire crackle strongly before you. "Ah…" you idly hum, "you're welcome."

A nasty bout of hurt and irk began to bubble within you at how effectively useless your help was. You see the amount of wood Andreas gathered, realizing that, with how many they were, they only made your meager bundle useless. You could've easily not accompanied him and the group would've been fine for the night. Your effort and time was wasted, and yet remembering the weight of the situation is the water that douses your fury.

The people here have been hurt by your kingdom, and Theseus was the one that came to save them from their terrible fate.

Even if you are to have Theseus by your side, it comes to you very well that you are the foreigner amongst them—one against many, with no favors amidst your graces other than Theseus' gratitude and affections. You cannot give them your fury—not fully at the very least.

And so, you sat idly by the fire, listening to their merry chatter in your silence. The fire began to seem like images at some point—people dancing, twinkling stars, a merriment unlike any other—and it coaxes the beginnings of a smile out of you.

"Here."

Knocked out of your stupor, you look up at whoever sat beside you and see Theseus with a bowl of some soup. You gingerly take it from his hands. "Thank you," you meekly say, taking an idle spoonful to your mouth.

All the while, Theseus makes an attempt to salvage the silence between you both. "We caught two boars in the forest," he began, nodding towards the canopy of trees surrounding the camp. "A few of the others took one of the boats back to the ship to give the meat of one boar to the rest there."

You hum, scooping one of the meat chunks in your bowl. "Sounds wonderful," you tell him politely as you chew, "the cook did great work with the soup, as well."

Such words were a bit coated with sugar. No one will like the salt of the thoughts sitting in the back of your mind—not when any of you are in a position to complain when survival is essential. It wasn't the tastiest of meals you've ever had—the flavors clash at some bites—but it should fill the belly just enough.

Next to you, the Athenian hero nods thoughtfully. “Ah, yes, Leda managed to make a meal out of what little we had,” he hums, “I’ll let her know you liked it.”

With nothing more to say, you only nod, not forcing yourself in engaging idle chatter with him. You didn't have it in you to. You suppose that after the journey you feel… tired? despondent?

Either way, your lack of motivation easily lets silence conquer the air between you and Theseus. He didn't seem to mind, spending time conversing with the captain about the boat and the travel ahead—a talk which easily slips past your head as you lose your train of thought in a daze looking at the racking fire ahead.

Your bowl lasts a little under half-filled in your hands by the time you decide on the last spoonful for your fill of dinner. A light chill of the sea breeze comes and goes, making you take your shawl off your head and wrap it around your shoulders once more.

The stretch of standing up bears a light grunt from your lips, catching Theseus' attention. "I think I'd like to go and rest now," you softly declared with a tired, tight-lipped smile—an excuse really but it wasn't a complete lie.

Theseus looks quite surprised by your announcement. "Already?" he says, almost to himself, "but you haven't finished the bowl…"

You fluster, but hand him the bowl nonetheless. "I apologize for wasting, but I really am full," you say. “The day has been… eventful. I think some shut eye would be good."

A furrow forms between Theseus’ brows, but he questions you no further. "Alright…" he sighs, pointing to a tent ahead. “That tent, over there, is yours,” he tells you, watching as you nod and smooth out your dress.

He, too, soon stands up, but he offers you a smile instead of walking you to your tent. "Sleep well, princess.”

Eyelids already growing heavy, you could only hum as you tread through the sand. "Good night."

The dream that Morpheus brings you that night was bizarre for someone who has lived the way you have.

You were in a palace of sorts, though you hadn't any idea where and why.

Around you were drunken bodies who surrendered to the feel of the music that clouded the entire room. The melody of a flute lingers in the air and though you can't quite tell where you've heard it from, it’s somewhat familiar.

You, yourself, were feeling light-headed, swaying to the music. Someone brings a chalice to your lips and you let them.

The wine dances along your tongue—so addicting that you couldn't help but gulp more.

"That’s right, drink," said a soft voice in your head, encouraging you further. "Ease yourself from your worries."

You almost do.

—but someone in the distance catches your eye. Standing in the midst of the sea of people, he stares at you relentlessly, and your heartbeat races and the haze in your head wears itself down. You forget whoever it was that handed you the chalice, forget them as you continue to look in the distance.

He's gone.

Where is he?

The world begins to spin around you—so dizzying that it makes you clutch your head.

Still, you try to reach where your eyes last saw him.

"Theseus?"

Your eyes had trouble fluttering open, but as soon as you did you were stricken with a pounding in your head. Was it possible for a dream to have such an effect? What was the dream even trying to say?

A groan leaves your lips, eyebrows scrunched together at the unpleasant feeling. The pain doesn't ease soon, and you attempt to massage it away, but as you move your hand, you become aware of the emptiness at your side. All of a sudden, it became so easy to forget the dream that you had.

Brows knitting much closer in confusion, you will yourself to get up and look around.

The tent is empty—almost untouched.

Has Theseus and the others gotten up already?

There was an attempt to stand and look around even more, your legs shaking as you do so. The clay pitcher on a nearby crate leads you to become aware of just how much your throat feels parched. Paradoxically, you also have the urge to vomit.

Nonetheless, you made a grab for the pitcher. The water flows down your throat in greedy gulps as you shakily hold it in your hands. Your headache slightly eases, but it's inconvenience is still there to torment you.

What did you eat last night to upset your head and stomach so?

Crawling out of the tent, the striking sun glared down at you so much that another hiss leaves your lips. You were only plunged further into bafflement, shielding your face from the heat. Seeing the sun so high up in the sky could only mean that it's well around noon alre—

Where's everyone?

All too suddenly, you were wide awake. Your hand falls to your side, letting the blistering heat of the sun strike down onto you. The deafening silence around you mirrors your thoughts as you try to take in what was going on.

The fire had long extinguished, leaving only charred wood and ashes.

There were no longer other tents but your own.

Most hauntingly, the ship was no longer at the visible distance as it was before.

At that moment, you couldn't breathe.

It takes everything in you to will yourself to move, carefully walking around what used to be the camp the crew had set up not more than half a day ago. There had been three or four more tents set alongside yours. There had been a large cauldron for the soup over the fire. There had been crates of supplies gathered from their hunt and travel around the nearest town.

All of that, gone.

Your eyes were frantically scanning for answers—anything to make sense of it all. There were marks in the sand—movement, many of them, leading to where the boats used to be. These were the telltale signs that you refused to believe.

Your heart pounded against your chest, and even as the wind blew your hair over your face, you didn't move an inch—couldn't—in your disbelief. "No," the word crawls out of your lips, hoarse from both sleep and hurt. You rub at your teary eyes furiously—even as they hurt.

"Wake up, (Y/N)," you tell yourself, "Wake up."

In the distance, you see the rocks that surround the beach, and an idea immediately comes to you. With barely any hesitation, you run—stumble—towards them, all as pebbles, shells, coarse sand, and force make your feet hurt instantly, but the panic in your veins rendered you reckless and desperate.

The struggle in climbing the harsh terrain was immediate for someone like you, who was taught to never do such rowdy, unladylike activities, but you couldn't bring yourself to give a damn at that moment. It could be the very key to the answer you were looking for.

And, unfortunately, it was.

The sea breeze blew the strands of your (h/c) hair to and fro, as wisps of the sea trickled onto your skin. You looked over towards the horizon, staring at what used to be the ticket to your freedom. The ship has sailed so far away that it was barely the size of the pebbles that stung your feet. It would be a futile attempt to try and swim towards it.

(Gods, with what offense your father had done to Poseidon, you never even learned how to swim.)

You hope it to be a terrible mistake—perhaps, some sorcery from a witch or the exhaustion from yesterday's voyage making their heads weary. You don’t know how any of those could be, but you would take anything other than the dread looming over you.

“Theseus!!!”

You cry out his name, desperate, your hold on the boulder only tightening, hurting your palms and heels. “Theseus!” you sob, your entire body shaking as your head pounds yet again at the volume and force of your yelling. The backlash of your brain sends you faltering—and, eventually, falling off of the rocks.

A voiceless cry and a hiss forces tears to fall from your eyes as you land harshly on your back. It hurts. Everything hurts.

You could feel the sand flitting onto the gashes that undoubtedly would’ve been all over your skin. The sea—that damned sea—nips at your bottom half where it reached you and makes your damned wounds sting even more.

This is just a dream. It can’t possibly be real, can it?

You rack your brain for memories of the warm light that had come in the form of Theseus—he who had come to you for help and promised help in return.

Yes, of course it isn’t. This is just a dream.

Theseus swore he would bring you to Athens with him, where you would be away from the clutches of your father’s wrath. He swore to protect you. He swore to introduce you to Athens as his accomplice and that you would spend a great life together. Together—that’s what he had promised you.

Forcibly, you fluttered your eyes shut.

This is just a dream—a nightmare.

You’ll soon awake to the real world, awake by Theseus' side. You’ll both go on into the ship and the voyage will continue until Athens comes to the horizon. He’ll protect you. He’ll come back. He'll—

You open your eyes again, ribs hurting as you take a greedy intake of air. You weren’t at all back inside the tent next to your hero. No laughter or chatter to be heard around you.

You were still at the shore, helpless and away from a ship that only navigated further from you.

You were alone on an island with a few supplies at your call, but little to no experience of surviving in such a cruel world.

Theseus was gone. He had deserted you.

Your fists clenched at the blurred image of the ship’s massive white mast engraved in your head. It was taunting you.

Relentless tears streamed down the curves of your cheeks, and you found it hard to get yourself up from the grainy ground beneath you. The very man you decided to trust with your life had now left you for death. Was this what you get for betraying your father? Had you not done the right thing after all?

“THESEUS!!!”

His name rips through your throat raw, as if he could hear you—as if it would've mattered.

"Theseus!" You scream again into the sky, your entire body aching from the fall and the heartache all the same. Your hands bury themselves in the sand underneath you, crushing whatever sand they could hold in order to try and satiate some of your anger. "How could you do this to me?!" you wail, bringing your good arm over your face to shield yourself from the blinding sunlight—from the world in general.

You remember seeing his face as that of a stranger—of how you saw him walk in with the new line of sacrifice, of how he told you of your kingdom’s terrifying reputation, of how he emboldened you to join his cause.

I trusted you.

Your heart aches, remembering his smile, his touch, his words—all of which had deceived you in turn. Theseus was the warm light gracing your life—the one that guided you out of that wretched place.

I loved you.

In the end, he was but a flame that scorched you.

You would rather die than bear a torture like this. At the very least with death, the pain ends. Your soul would reach the other side, crossing over to the Underworld where you could drown yourself in the Lethe River and forget.

Forget the humiliation, the betrayal, and the foolish endeavor your life has become.

Forget the kingdom that made you and the kingdom promised to you.

Forget the man you gave your all to—your honor, your heart, your life.

As it seems to you, the gods plan to do nothing—perhaps, it is a punishment in and of itself to forsake you, to let you rot away. You could hardly lift a finger in your state of mind and body—could barely breathe without a sob slipping past your lips.

Eyes fluttering close, you settle for the next best thing to death—sleep.

Maybe then, you will never awake.

However rare such times would be, he would often go looking for places if he wanted to spend some time alone for himself. Naxos, being a land where he is most welcomed to call his domain, seems to have a lot of such places for him, which is why he wanders off around here as often as he does.

This time, the faint sound of waves began to reach his ears as he treaded the forest. Another beach but he doesn’t at all feel like going for a swim out in the open—not when the sea reminds him of the many times sailors have tried to kidnap him and sell him for a price.

However, Agrios, beside him, seems keen on the idea, halting and staring intently towards the direction of the beach. “Do you want to go on a swim?” he asks, nonetheless following him out of the forest line. “Perhaps I should’ve brought your siblings along…”

The beach was relatively peaceful, beautiful for a little gathering too. It'd do well to tell his people of this, but, as of the moment, it was still too open for his liking. He might be seen by someone he doesn't know or someone he does know and ruin his time alone.

Perhaps, he'll instead go to that little cavern he found a fortnight ago. It should be around here, somewhere…

"Oh?"

Something catches his eyes, stopping him from his thoughts—a lone tent sits amongst the sand with a bonfire long dead and out. A curious case, he thinks. Many travel through Naxos in their journey, but what's a camp like this doing so far away from any of the towns?

Just as he came to snoop inside the tent, something from the corner of his eyes caught his attention as well. In the distance, he sees something by the rocks, Agrios already ahead of him and inspecting whatever it was. He walks closer, curiosity getting the best of him—as it always does.

A woman.

As it had turned out, the very same one he faintly recalls meeting in the forest last night. The sunlight grazing the beach certainly makes her beauty much more apparent than the previous night where he had only spared it a glance beneath the darkness of the eve. "Oh my," he clicks his tongue, as his eyes flit over her sorry state and a frown unconsciously settles on his lips.

He wasn’t one to be too nosy, but he feels immensely compelled to look her over. Carefully leaning his ear against her chest, a faint heartbeat confirms that she was still alive. At a closer glance, he sees the tear stains that mar her cheeks and also takes note of how the pesky sun had left her skin a bit dry and sunburnt. Down the line, inspecting the wounds that ran down her arm, the frown upon his lips running deeper. So much pain, he thinks, shaking his head.

Above all, she shouldn't be left out in the open like this. "This is no place to sleep in," he tuts, looking expectantly at Agrios. “Don’t you think?”

The animal merely blinks back, eventually forcing a sigh from his lips. “Fine,” he grumbles, gathering her in his arms as he lifts and heaves with a grunt. He hasn't been doing much else other than drink, dance, and sleep, so this may indeed be an unfortunate downside of his reckless living. (Still, it somehow feels nice to carry her like this.)

Assuming that the tent nearby was hers for the taking, he carries her towards it, and places her onto the haphazardly assembled sheets and pillows. Her hair splays out and over her face and neck, but he soon makes sure she is in a comfortable position. Sleep, after all, is a great pleasure to have just as any.

As he dries the sea-soaken parts of her, the woman still shows no signs of regaining consciousness, her chest softly heaving in a slow and steady pace, and leaving him in silence. He doesn't worry himself just yet, however—after all, why would he?—knowing well he could call upon a certain someone for a little favor if he really needed to.

And so, he looks around the small tent, taking note of the sparse decor and the mere two piles of crates that Agrios has decided to sniff and inspect. Curious, he gets up and opens the top crate, seeing some clothes, blankets, and other trinkets along with a piece of paper.

Take care of yourself.

Another piece of the puzzle lays itself before him, and he doesn't like it one bit. He places it back in and sets the first crate down to gain access to the second one. Were these all that was left for her?

The next crate, as it turns out, were some rations good enough for a week or so. This makes an idea pop in his head, realizing that the young woman will most likely wake up hungry. He smiles softly at Agrios who has taken place near the makeshift bed. “Come on," he ushers the large cat to leave the unconscious woman alone. "Why don't we play chef, hm?”

The moment you came to, you were made aware of the ache in your head, along with the way your eyes could barely open when you will yourself to. All too suddenly, the lack of warmth by your side gives you flashes of what took place, but, for a moment, you think it to be a dream.

Some sort of commotion reaches you as you gain more hold of your consciousness. Incomprehensible mumbling turned into faint bits of a conversation.

"—ow could you be so cruel to me? I raised you!"

You could see a faint form of two shapes outside your tent, and yet the ruckus only seems to come from one voice.

"Don't you dare use that attitude on me, you little brat."

Getting up was a feat in and of itself, your muscles ached as you put all of your strength into just sitting up alone. Biting back a grunt, you do your best to crawl toward the opening—

"AHHHH!"

The scream that ripples from your mouth hurt your throat, but you could hardly think. In fact, you could hardly move.

A beast peers it's spotted head through the opening of the tent, large golden eyes boring a hole through you in alarm as if you, too, had shocked him. You could only stare back, paralyzed in fear with tears stinging your eyes.

"What happened?!"

All of a sudden, the tent opens further, moved by a man who reveals himself to you, not at all alarmed by the beast, but alarmed by you.

A moment of silence passes and it soon comes to you that this man seems to be the same stranger dangling from the tree last night. You crawl away from the tent opening—away from them. "Who are you?" you sneer, "and what is that?"

The man, himself, seems to snap out of his own stupor at the realization that you were talking to him. He scoots himself inside a little, not too close to you, but within the tent nonetheless. "I'm…" he pauses, "Hoseok, and he is my companion, Agrios."

Companion? That beast is his companion?

Another thing from his response soon also confuses you. Oddly enough, he didn’t answer your question readily—as if he had to think of it. "You don't seem certain of your name, sir," you raised your brow at him, defenses still up against the stranger and his companion.

Not at all bothered by the harsh edge of your words, however, he chuckles at the slip up you had pointed out to him. "I'm Hoseok," he repeats with more conviction, but the seriousness your glare bore didn’t impede his lollygagging. "Now," he instead pipes, turning around for a moment—only to reveal a bowl of fruits. "Are you hungry?"

You may have had no intention answering his invitation, but your stomach answers for you—a shamelessly loud grumble that renders your cheeks ablaze in embarrassment. The stranger laughs, but doesn’t tease further, only taking your hand to place the bowl in its care. “Feel free to nibble,” he urges you, “if you want more, you need only to ask. I caught some fish and roasted them outside.”

His excitement and openness truly takes you aback. Does this Hoseok not have suspicions against a stranger like yourself?

You raise the bowl back to him. “No ne—”

Your words fall short, slain by a gasp at the sight of your hands and arms—clean and free of the gashes you could've sworn marred your skin just hours ago. What’s left of them were faint red lines that tingled if you look or think about them too much. "My wounds…" you stammer, as you gawk at them in disbelief. "H-how?"

Hoseok doesn’t at all bother to take the bowl of fruits from you. "I know of a good healer," he simply tells you, getting up but sweeping the tent entrance open and tying them to the side so that your eyes could catch a glimpse of the little bonfire he had brought back to life from the previous night. Fortunately, his companion also follows him outside.

Though hesitant, you shakily push yourself up, cautiously crawling over to stop by the entrance. "Wounds don't heal in an instant," you call out to him, "for how long have I been unconscious?"

The stranger crouches by the bonfire, eyeing the fishes he had over the fire. "For about an hour or so now, and, as I have said," he turns to flash you a grin and a wink. "I know a really good healer."

In spite of your doubt, something else pulls you away from the situation as your stomach begins to churn at the sight of the fish cooking and make you salivate. Tempted, you were, you relent to a grape from the bowl he had given you. Some juice dribbles down your lips, but it quenches some of your hunger and thirst.

Looking back up, you see him and the spotted beast patiently waiting for you by the fire. Hoseok grabs one of the cooked fish skewered with a stick, offering it to you in case you prefer the distance from them.

Eyes flitting from the smoking fish and him, you hold yourself back for yet another question. "What exactly are your intentions with me?"

“None,” he assures you with a shrug, looking around the beach. “I was simply strolling through and saw you,” he then says, “thought you might need the help.”

I didn't need help. Stubborn, you were, but still, you eye the fish that was roasting over the fire.

The stranger seems to take note of this. “There’s nothing funny with it,” he then assures you, chuckling a little as he nods to his companion, who was now chewing on something. “You can eat over there, if you’d like.”

Finally, you idly take hold of the stick—you swear, your stomach let out a cry of relief. “Thank you,” your manners compel you to timidly tell him this as you take a bite out of the fish’s flesh.

Hoseok smiles warmly, the sight and feeling of it making your heart clench. “You’re welcome.”

For the hour that followed, Hoseok and Agrios stayed with you as they ate, and as some subtle form of gratitude, you let them. You kept your distance, stayed by that little tent of yours as Hoseok tells you of the towns he knew around the island and the general path towards them.

Whether he knew your tragic case of abandonment or not, he makes no mention nor pry of it, and you don't tell him of your wanted status either. It would be best to stay away from strangers.

And so, well into the afternoon, you usher them away after falsely promising to remember his guidance, the man and the beast disappearing into the forest with no more than themselves with them. (The fishes he caught but didn't cook, he gave to you for dinner, and this notion guilts you inside for being so cold to them all along.)

Here you were, once again left alone by the sea.

By this point, you have gained some strength—enough to leave the shell that is your tent to finally gaze at the waves you've been hearing ever since you woke. The golden sun sits amidst a sky of oranges and pinks, its light sending the sea glittering as it's readying to leave its throne for the nightfall.

It was a taunting sight—beautiful, but taunting.

Yet, a voice in your head murmurs a treacherous thought to soil the fragile peace you were in.

Have they reached Athens by now?

Your lip trembles but you trample it beneath your teeth, hoping to kill the incoming tears. It's successful—to some degree. Though the pain in your heart hasn't at all gone away, the streams that ran down your cheeks were not as fierce as before.

In the silence, you were left to wonder what had transpired in the hours you were unconscious. You have reason in you to believe the key that had led Theseus to leave you were his people—they were, after all, the very reason he had snuck into Crete in the first place.

Had they convinced Theseus to leave you?

Had he been tricked by them in some way?

Or, had he no problem agreeing with them at all?

Your heart shatters at the thought of the latter, but your mind soon drifts to what Andreas had said in the woods.

You let us suffer for years…

There’s reason and right in his anger—in their anger—this you knew well. They do not owe you forgiveness nor forgetfulness for the cowardice you’ve done to them in the years before.

If you had been a braver person against your father’s harsh reign, would they have found you befitting to take the place next to their hero?

If you had tried a little harder to be of help during the travel, would they have had a change of heart and taken you with them?

If you had—

Nonsense, there’s nothing you can do about the could-have-beens. You've already betrayed your people. You've already left. You've already messed up.

At the end of the day, the bitter truth now is that you’ve been stranded here—already alone and away from Crete and Athens all the same. Mayhaps, that is why you’ve been left like this—your salvation and your price to pay, your escape from Crete and banishment from Athens altogether.

You will belong nowhere else.

With not much left to do nor care for the view, you crawl your way back into the tent where it's a little more quiet. The immediate thought of sleep comes to you as your eyes land on the makeshift cushions, and the same thought as before crosses your mind.

Sleep. Let’s sleep.

It was then your train of thought stops. An animal pelt cloak—one from a dark grey wolf, you think—had been near the bedding, something you vaguely remember taking off of you when you woke earlier. Theseus doesn't have one—you would know—which can only mean that it was another token left by that stranger earlier.

A part of you is irked to be left with this, as it's a reminder of yet another man who entered your life unannounced. Such things aside, you were reasonably grateful too, as it's something you can make use of.

Enough thinking, another part of you insists, reminding you of what you had thought to do in the first place. Sleep.

A sigh leaves you as you lay yourself down, and with no other warmth to encase you, you relent in reaching for the cloak, curling within its hold and fluttering your eyes closed.

A sense of unease blossoms within you, forcing you away from the realm of Morpheus. It's dark, even after you awoke from the abyss of your slumber. It must be nighttime already then. Have you slept for that long?

Another thing registers in your head as you regain more of your consciousness. You become aware of the damp walls of the tent and bedding, of the chill in the air, of the sound of rain.

What on Earth—

The row rumble from the sky sounds like that of a beast, freezing you in an instant with the wolf pelt tightly clutched in your hold. A bright strike of lightning across the sky faintly illuminates the tent, squeezing a screech from your lips at the deafening thunder that follows it.

You could tell that the rain has no plans of surrendering any time soon. The waves themselves are getting angrier by the minute, crashing against the shore and rocks as if to give them a beating.

Zeus and Poseidon must be furious.

A curse leaves your lips as you see more of the rain soaking the tent, droplets already forming to come down at you. The howling winds aren't showing much kindness either. You don't know for much longer your tent can hold. At this rate, you'll be drenched, too.

Gathering your bearings, you sit up and push aside the discomfort of being in slightly damp clothes, and heave the cloak over your head. You give yourself a moment to think of where to get yourself a better shelter from the storm.

The forest might do well to aid you, but it'll also house other creatures—some of which may have the capabilities to kill someone as defenseless as you. Perhaps, you can find a large, pointed stick to us—

"Hey!"

You jolt as you hear a voice outside. Is that…?

The tent flaps pry open under someone's urgent grip, and you see the person you had suspected it to be. As he tries to catch his breath, Hoseok looks you over with a dismayed shake of his head. "I knew you'd still be here."

You look at him with your mouth agape. “What brings you here?” you question over the downpour, brows furrowing together.

The man adjusts an umbrella over his head, promptly leaving your query unanswered. “Come along,” he instead tuts as he urges you out of the tent. "This is no place to be in the middle of a storm."

The tent shakes as yet another thunder booms across the sky, causing the two of you to flinch. “Now,” he says, “will you be stubborn or will you let me help you?"

The umbrella he's carrying struggles against the wind, what with it being made from only wood and leaves. The gentle curls of his black hair cling onto his forehead, forcing him to swipe them back. "I think it’s a great time to accept, hm?” he says, an uneasy chuckle forced past his lips as he tries to secure a better grip on the umbrella.

With a deep intake of air, you push yourself up and come out of the tent. This brings a smile to his face, one that you choose to ignore. “Fantastic,” he muses, as you duck beneath the struggling shade of his umbrella. "Nothing else?"

"None," you curtly tell him. I have nothing left.

The stranger was caught off guard for a moment, but he soon nods and gestures to the dark forest ahead. "Come," he says, "I know a place."

Although the trees keep most of the howling winds at bay, the mud cakes the ends of the worn dress you were wearing, turning the faint pink an ugly brown. The rough ground makes you walk carefully too, lest you step on anything that can make your bare feet hurt any more than it already is. The darkness of the forest terrifies you, and a part of you urges you to cling onto the stranger lest you get lost in the midst of the storm on your own.

Doubt, however, gnaws away at you at the same time, making you keep a little of your distance. You steal glances in between calculating your steps and following his lead. Can I truly trust this man?

The possibility of his betrayal makes you spiral into multiple other possibilities. If he dares to do anything, then I can shove him or hit him with something, and make a run for it.

As this plan for a what-if forms in your head, Hoseok takes note of your wariness—of how you cocooned yourself within his old wolf cloak, of how you gingerly inched away from him, and of how guarded your face is even as you were occupied with your thoughts. Understandable, he thinks, but it won't do her well to be sick because of the rain.

Leaning the umbrella over to your side, he once again thinks of the quickest path to a shelter he knows of. It’s around here somewhere.

Still, that won't seem to make the journey any less difficult. The rain was stubborn—as stubborn and proud as a man he knows—the thunder bellowing every once in a while to scare the daylights out of you. Though the forest was easier to navigate for the likes of him, it definitely doesn’t make it any less pleasant to tread through. He, himself, feels unpleasant walking through the forest in a state like this.

A surprise, however, soon comes to the young man. It appears that, at some point, you have noticed the position of the umbrella, and your conscience couldn't seem to take the unfairness for his side, because you had let your bodies huddle a little closer. Your hand even lightly holds onto his tunic as you look elsewhere.

Hoseok hides a smile at all of this. How sweet of her to care.

It was fortunate for the both of you that it didn't take too long for you to have reached your destination—just as the umbrella was about to give up, too. He steps under the stone roofing, arm gesturing with a welcome. "Here we are," he sings, tossing the umbrella aside and wringing out the rainwater from his clothes.

You gawk at the structure of the building as you step under its shade, the frown and furrow between your brows deepening. It was dark—especially with much of the moon obscured by heavy rain clouds—but you could make some sense of your surroundings. “This is a shrine,” you tell him, matter-of-factly, staying put where you were.

Hoseok stifles a chuckle. “And?”

A frantic trace of panic besets your face at his lack of concern. “We may offend the deity that reigns over this place,” you scold him, crossing your arms across your chest.

This refusal comes across as puzzling for him. He supposed all mortals are devoted in some sense of respect and fear for the gods, but you were walking too carefully on eggshells—driven mostly in fear. Have you or your family offended a god before?

Hoseok doesn't linger on the thought any longer, giving you an assuring smile instead. “It’ll be alright,” he tells you, “Trust me.”

It’s my shrine after all.

Still, doubt mars your expression, your mind being too stubborn to give in to his assurances. "We mean no disrespect here, after all," he attempts to reason, "just shelter from the storm, yes?"

You give it a few seconds, eventually nodding timidly. "Right," you say, almost as if you were still trying to convince yourself that this won't incur divine wrath. You shed the cloak from your shoulders as you take your first steps to follow him into the shrine.

Inside, a few torches persevered, showing a myriad of offerings laid out on an altar. Something else, however, draws Hoseok's attention elsewhere. Prayers and offerings to gods in a shrine were obvious, of course, but one of those in the altar held a prayer stronger than the others.

The young god turned his focus into hearing whatever words were left by whoever made them. Multiple voices echo through his head…

Lord Dionysus, we thank you and this island for becoming a brief respite for our weary travels. As told, to you, we leave a maiden of fair beauty and heart. May she make wonderful company.

His eyes widened, coming to a stop. A maiden? Who—

“Are you a follower?” you ask him out of the blue, having noted his ease in navigating through the premises. “Whose shrine is this?”

Hoseok, knocked out of his stupor, was startled for a moment, looking back at you as you continued to take in your environment. Nonetheless, once he gets a hold of himself, he doesn't answer the first of your questions, simply the "who" of it. “Dionysus,” he tells you, watching as a hint of recognition sparks in your eyes.

“The wine god?”

Hearing this, something warm flutters within his chest. Recognition feels quite nice, he thinks, as he doesn't hold back the grin that comes to his lips. “You know of him,” he muses, quite pleased. “Not many do.”

Hoseok hasn't been here in a while, as he isn't one to be too zealous in his duties in the first place, but this shrine is one of the first ever built for him by his followers—proof that he's made some sort of path to the pantheon. Even then, he has a long way to go. He's a wandering new god, not at all embraced by many, when they view wine, frenzy, and pleasure as things that get in the way of the philosophy and intellect that many Greeks praised.

As he takes off his own rain-sodden cloak, you tuck the fur cloak onto your arm and idly look around. “I’ve heard tales from my brothers’ teachers in passing,” you tell him, gazing at the art carved into the wall of a merry feast. “He brought wine to the world, yes?”

A part of him is tempted to swipe the wine from the offerings and chug it, but decides against it, lest it sends you in a panic over discourtesy to the gods and whatnot. “Mhm,” he instead happily hums, “a marvellous invention, isn’t it?”

My magnum opus.

Fiddling with the fabric of your dress, you purse your lips together at the thought of the wine this stranger seems to be so proud of. You’re not quite sure of how to respond to him. On one hand, you have lived to understand the perils of losing oneself to wine—how they can turn the angry, angrier and the sensible, nonsensical. On the contraire, the notion of losing yourself to wine and forgetting all else tempts you. “I haven’t tasted much of it,” you simply go on to say, “but I suppose it is.”

At this, Hoseok whips his head towards you. “You suppose?” he repeats, eyes starting to glint at the prospect of challenge. “Please do remind me to bring you all the wine in the world to taste.”

You lightly scoff at his musings. “Well it’s certainly not appropriate to do so now,” you gesture to the rain outside and the state of you both. “We’ll wake up with a fever otherwise.”

Those words take a few seconds to register in the man’s head. “Oh, right,” Hoseok quips, fiddling with his ear as he thinks to himself. I forgot about that. Humans and their fickle bodies.

Looking around his shrine for something that could be a change of clothes for you, he soon returns to you with a colorful fabric. “It's not the most fashionable," he chuckles, "but it’s the best I could find."

The gesture seems to have taken you aback. "Oh—You didn't have t—" the words were a scrambled mess on your lips, but ultimately ended with, "Thank you."

Hoseok gingerly places the fabric into your hands, his own brushing against your skin. Her hands are cold. "Most welcome," he hums thoughtfully, “I will leave you to change then, yes?”

With the chill in the air, Hoseok had deemed it good to light a small fire to bring some warmth inside for you as you change. Though raised by satyrs in the wilderness, foraging, unfortunately, truly wasn't his strongest suit—this he knew well as he had struggled to find some decent kindling for the both of you.

Eventually, he had managed to come back to the shrine with the wood, and some fruits for the two of you to nibble on. The fire was born from one of the torches still lit. It crackles before you both, very much alive since he had imbued it with his power to not perish so easily.

Between the both of you was silence, a little bit more comfortable than before—one you, surprisingly, break.

“Why did you come back for me?”

Hoseok stops chewing on a wild berry midway, brows rising for a moment when the sound of your soft voice takes him aback. “Come again?”

Deep in thought, it takes you a while to turn to him, brows furrowed with genuine confusion. “We’re strangers to one another,” you tell him, “and yet you would come for me in the midst of a storm and help me find shelter…”

You ask him the summary of all the inquiries in your head. “Why help me?”

Truthfully, Hoseok doesn’t have an answer to that himself. It had been a spontaneous feat, taking you back to your tent, but something in him told him to take it a step further—to tuck you in with his fur cloak, to fetch you something to eat, and to call upon his half-brother for a favor to tend to your wounds.

When the rain began, he had pushed back the thought of coming to check on you, telling himself that you could’ve found yourself shelter already—that you’d be fine on your own—and yet, here he was.

A shrug of his shoulders was all he could do. “I suppose…” he murmurs, mulling over his words. “You reminded me of myself, in some way or another…”

When Hoseok was born yet another bastard of Zeus, he lived most of his life in the wilderness, constantly having to flee from the wrath of Hera and other such threats to his life. Even before he had discovered his divine potential, he wasn’t quite welcomed in either Earth nor Olympus.

Lost and helpless—that’s what you two are.

“Why not help?” he simply muses in some sense of kindred.

It felt foreign for him to participate in such soft conversation. He had been so used to nonsensical, slurred discussions that lead to nowhere, or recklessly screaming to song and dance alike.

The silence that follows makes him—a god—squirm as you stare into the fire, lost somewhere in your head. You made no rebuttal against his statement, which only makes him even more antsy.

In spite of his impatience, however, he could tell you were hesitating to speak of something, and so, he lets you simmer in your thoughts just a bit more. It takes another moment of silence before you break it yet again. “I committed treason by helping someone escape with their people. I fled with them,” you confess, voice shaking, “but they all left me while I was sleeping.”

His brows knit together, envisioning the gist of the events that had taken place. Though he had spent most of yesterday in a drunken haze, he had heard the nymphs talk of a group of travellers in passing through the—

Wait a minute.

The prayer earlier rings in his head, and he soon gawks at you, who continues to gaze into the fire in solitude. You can't possibly be the maiden, right?

Well, you are of fair beauty, but no, no, no. If you were, surely you would've been left in better conditions.

Either way, Hoseok thinks betrayal is such an ugly thing that neither god nor mortal likes the notion of. He knows not what led you to commit treason, but to have forsaken your people to join others, only to have them forsake you is a terrible thing. “What a load of bastards,” he abhors, before partly jesting. “Shall we ask the gods that their ship sinks?”

A light scoff leaves your lips as you shake your head at him. Hoseok watches as you say nothing more of the tale, and he knew it well not to pry any longer.

The wine god finds it astonishing how similar yet different the two of you are. Both cast aside in some way or another, and yet the two of you walk different paths. While he ventures recklessly, you tread the same, paved path you’ve ever known, too scared to break away lest you get your heart broken again.

You should learn to let go every once in a while.

“My name is (Y/N)...” you tell him, knocking him out of his little reverie. Your voice was quiet and hesitant, but you still willed yourself to look at him properly, eyes carrying sheepish guilt. “I apologize if I was rude to you.”

Hoseok couldn’t help the smile on his face as he realized that he had earned enough of your trust to know your name. “Glad to finally put a name to a face,” he muses, “and, rest assured, I hadn’t taken any offense, at all.”

A soft, grateful smile blooms on your lips, illuminated beautifully by the golden glow of the fire. This hint of happiness instantly makes Hoseok wonder what pure bliss would look like for you. He hardly holds back his mischief, as he tilts his head with a teasing grin.

“Does this mean to say we’ve become friends?”

At this, you roll your eyes. (But you smile all the same.)

START. | ▷ 𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓽

𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @park-jimin-isnt-real

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