You are but a child when you first see him. Playing with a doll behind your father's throne, you peek out curiously when the great doors are opened.

He is old, frail-looking, with wiry gray hair and wrinkled features, but his frame is strong and durable. He bows stiffly to the king, but slips a sly wink to you.

You hide a giggle behind small, dimpled hands.

Daedalus.

You grow into a clever young girl over the years, with the wondrous Daedalus as your commanded tutor. Soon you learn to love Daedalus as a father you never had. He is witty, charming, capable of wonders worthy of the gods. He teaches you more than you could possibly hope for, and even allows you to observe as he begins to build the greatest of all his inventions: the labyrinth.

You know the story well. Every Cretan does.

Long before you were born, the god Poseidon sent a bull to King Minos for sacrifice. The king prepared for the ceremony, but your mother, Queen Pasiphaë, adored the animal so much she convinced the king not to kill it.

Instead she had a false cow built, so she could climb inside and admire the bull from a closer distance.

Poseidon became angry, and instead caused Pasiphaë to fall in love with the bull. From their union sprang a monster—the Minotaur, half man, half bull, ravenous for human flesh.

Minos became terrified, and locked the monster under the palace. Daedalus was charged with building a labyrinth so complex no living being could ever escape from its winding passages.

Every Cretan who lived in Minos's palace knew exactly how to reach the entrance of the dreaded labyrinth—so they could avoid it. The hallway with the wrought golden gates stood empty for years, its only company you, and Daedalus.

"Watch, my child," he would say, "look how marvelous—sliding tiles! A moving wall! You must understand!"

You would listen with wide eyes, taking in every word he spoke with the utmost importance.

Due to Minos's hold on Athens, the city must send seven Athenian youths and seven Athenian maidens to Crete, to be sent into the labyrinth for the Minotaur's prey.

You are standing there, with him, as the new string of girls and boys that are the Minotaur's meal enter the palace.

He is standing at the end of the line, with tousled black hair, broadened shoulders, and eyes as glittering green as the sea.

Your heart leaps.

You wait until the prisoners are locked away. Not even Minos knows this, but Daedalus had built a series of secret passageways throughout the entire palace, concealed behind paintings, false walls, furniture. There is even one in your chamber, and that is where you run now.

You push in one of the cold stones. A portion of the wall slides aside, waiting. You press your palm to it. The rock recognizes your hand—thanks to Daedalus's godly genius you do not understand—and the painting on the other side of the room swings open.

You take a torch and descend quietly down the black passage, reaching a final exit that leads you directly to the dungeons.

You tap softly on the bars. The youth is awake in an instant. His eyes—his lovely eyes—widen as he sees you standing there. He comes closer.

You signal for him to stay quiet, taking a pin carefully out of your hair and inserting it into the lock with skill Daedalus had trained into your nimble fingers.

The lock clicks. You take his hand quietly and lead him back up the passageway. He watches in wonder as the doors close behind you. He looks at you. "Who are you?"

"Ariadne," you whisper. "Princess of Crete. What is your name?"

"Theseus," he replies after a moment of silence. "My name is Theseus."

"Theseus," you repeat softly. The beautiful name on your lips is almost as godly as him.

"Princess Ariadne, I must kill the foul beast," he says to you. "Do you know where the labyrinth is?"

"Yes," you whisper.

He surprises you, taking your face in his hands. "You will come with me to Athens," he says excitedly. "I will make you my bride." His lips on yours makes your heart leap with joy.

You lead him, somewhat reluctantly, to the gates of the labyrinth. Daedalus is gone. You produce a ball of string from the folds of your dress, pressing it into Theseus's hand. "Take it," you whisper. "It will save you."

Then you push him inside, holding one end of the string.

You are skittish as you wait fearfully for him to emerge. Every click on the tiled floor, every scratch on the marble walls, every distant thud in the halls made you as nervous as a mouse.

Even worse, you could not hear anything from inside labyrinth. There was no sign of life whatsoever.

You jump as the golden thread in your hands is pulled taut, to the point of breakage. The roaring erupting from the darkness makes the floor rumble beneath your feet, and suddenly you find yourself flying across the hall. Your head cracks against the wall.

Someone screams. Perhaps it was you.

Your vision is fogged when you force your eyes open. The thread lies in a pile near the gates, which are cracked with the force of the earth quaking.

"Ariadne."

Your eyes sharpen at the sound of your name. Theseus is looking down at you, worried. In his arms is a girl much younger than you, her white robes stained with blood.

Behind them follows a train of six more girls and seven boys, dirty, shivering, and half-dead with exhaustion.

Theseus pulls you carefully to your feet. "I have done it," he whispers in your ear. "I have killed the Minotaur." His hold on the girl fumbles as a door slams and shouts fill the silence.

Swiftly, ignoring the spinning of your head, you press the correct tile on the floor beside you, twisting the protruding section of the wall carefully. The floor in the center of the hall caves in, revealing an ancient stone staircase.

One of the Athenian boys heaves you to your feet. "Quickly," you whisper. "Go." You take the bleeding girl from Theseus, who seems grateful, and he ushers the fourteen of you down the steps.

The girl whimpers in your arms. "Shh," you say softly. "It will be all right."

"Mama," the girl whispers.

"You will see her soon," you promise. "What is your name?"

"Aspasia," she answers.

"I am Ariadne," you say kindly. "Do not worry, Aspasia. I will stay with you."

"Where is Nikolos?" Aspasia's hand gropes blindly around, despite your soothing.

A torch flares beside you and a boy appears, a few years older than yourself, with dark hair and eyes. "I am here," he whispers.

You stumble over a rock; Aspasia cries out with pain. "You must be quiet," you murmur. "Our lives depend on it."

You trade Aspasia for Nikolos's torch as the stairway begins to narrow. Theseus's arm around your waist makes you jump. "Sorry," he whispers.

"It is fine," you reply.

"Ariadne, how do you know of this?"

"Daedalus is my tutor," you say. "I know of many passages throughout my father's palace. He will not be…happy when he finds what I have done."

Theseus's grip on you tightens. "He will not catch you," he swears. "Not if I have anything to do with it." Your heart races at the feel of his lips on yours.

"Thank you," you whisper. You hold up a hand to the group. "Stop. Here." You inspect the stones of the dead end carefully, searching. You press your fingers to the dusty delta engraved into the wall. It glows blue against your skin, and the wall slides aside.

"Where are we?" one of the boys demands.

Theseus glares at the boy. "Do not speak to the princess that way, boy."

"Theseus," you warn. His face softens. You turn to the boy. "We are at the docks of the palace. My father will not be near. He will be scouring the palace for us—for all of us. Come," you blow out the torch and step into the blinding light. "We must move quickly."

Together the fifteen of you pick your way across the rocks, toward the fleet of ships. "Ariadne," Theseus calls. "Wait."

You turn back questioningly. "Theseus, we do not have time."

"I know!" He kisses you swiftly, surprising you. "Girls, stay with Ariadne. Men!" The boys stiffen at the word, and, at Theseus's motion, scramble after him across the rocks.

"Princess Ariadne?" one of the girls questions. "What are they doing?"

You wipe beads of sweat from your face. "I do not know," you admit. "But come, we must get out of sight."

It is nearly an hour before the boys return. By then the seven girls and you had been crouched in the shadow of one of the war ships, waiting nervously.

You jump to your feet. "Where were you?" you demand of Theseus.

He is grinning. "We bored holes in his ships," he says with glee. He grins wider at your stunned expression. "Come. Let us depart." He scrambles up the side of the ship, quickly dropping a rope ladder down to your height. You climb up, taking his strong, helping hand and letting him pull you over the side of the ship.

"Hurry," you call down.

The Athenians are quick and nimble, and within minutes all of them are aboard and scavenging for food, water, and protection from the sun. Theseus and one of the boys, Stefanos, lets down the sails—black, you realize.

You suddenly notice that this is not your father's ship. "Theseus, why are the sails black?"

He takes your hand gently and leads you to a confined corner of the helm. "Ariadne, I love you," he says, staring into your eyes with a sincerity that makes your cheeks redden. "But I am afraid I have not been speaking the truth."

You begin to draw back in surprise, but his grip on your hands is strong enough that he keeps you near him.

"Please," he begs. "Listen. I am prince, son of Aegeus, king of Athens, and Lady Aethra, his queen. Ariadne, I want to take you back to Athens and make you my queen. I swear I will love you forever."

As you look into his eyes, green as the sea, you cannot refuse. "I accept," you say. "I love you." He kisses you, and your heart dances.

That night, you help the Athenian girls roll out bundles of cloth for sleeping. They couple up with the boys and drag the cloth onto separate sections of the deck.

You and Theseus lay near the mast, you staring up at the stars, Theseus staring at you. He twines a lock of your hair around his fingers.

"The stars are beautiful," you say, to break the ringing silence.

"You are beautiful," he tell you.

You cannot help but blush. And so are you, you want to say. But you do not speak. You do not look at him, simply smile. His lips brush your cheek gently. "Sleep, lovely Ariadne. By morning we will be halfway to Athens."

With one last glance at his beautiful face, your eyes close. And the god Hypnos envelopes you into his realm of darkness.

The sun is the first thing you feel. Hot, harsh, and burning. Your eyes smart from the blinding light when you open them.

You bolt upright. You are no longer on Theseus's ship. You are resting on the burning sand, covered with a thin woolen blanket. An eagle shrieks from above.

Where are you? Why are you not with Theseus? Not in Athens? You suddenly realize he—the man who claimed to love you for eternity—had left you on an island. Abandoned you.

Tears are falling down your cheeks before you can stop them. Suddenly you are sobbing uncontrollably.

You sacrificed everything—everything you had—to be with Theseus. Your home, your future, your parents. And he left you there. On a deserted island.

"Do not weep, my dear."

The voice is rich, beautiful, more like a purr instead of a voice. You look up, pausing in your crying just in time to see a tawny golden leopard morphing into a man, just as lithe and beautiful.

He crouches beside you, gently wiping the tears from your face with his thumb. "What is your name?"

"Ariadne," you choke.

"Sweet Ariadne," he repeats. "Do not cry. The rocks will weep with you."

Your heart is broken, but your tears cease. "Who are you?"

"I am Dionysus."

You like the way he says it. Not boasting, not prideful, modest, simply a statement. He is a god. You bow your head. "Apologies, my lord," you mumble.

He lifts your chin. "Princess Ariadne, there is no need to apologize. You have not offended me. I am here to serve you."

"Serve me?" A god? You feel your face crumpling in confusion.

"Indeed." He waves his hand. You blink, and you suddenly are not half-buried in searing sand. You are residing on a soft bed of moss, under the cool shadows of a thick tree. A goblet rests beside your hand.

The beautiful god picks up the golden goblet and offers it to you. "Drink this, love. You will feel...lighter." He speaks the words as if it is a jest.

You are slightly unsure, but you feel safe in the presence of the god. You take the goblet. The drink is wine, most definitely, with a strong cinnamon taste that lingers pleasantly on your tongue. The goblet is drained almost immediately.

Your sorrows are suddenly melting away. Your tears dry. Your heart mends. Dionysus had been right. You feel...lighter. You even smile. "Thank you."

He smiles too, displaying a blazing set of white teeth. "Now tell me, my dear: why are you here by yourself?"

Surprisingly, your heart does not sink as you expected it to. You are able to tell the god your tale without even wincing.

His handsome face distorts in rage as you reach the ending. "Left you here?" he grumbles. "That mortal boy does not deserve your love." He takes your hand cautiously, as if weighing it in his palm. "Princess Ariadne, I want you for my own. My bride. I will take you to Olympus, and you will be immortal."

You are speechless only for a moment. But you find yourself accepting his proposal.

"I will."

You soon become the bride of Dionysus. You had never been happier. You accompany your husband in everything—even war. It is there, in Argos, where King Perseus turns you to stone.

There is no pain. You simply experience a numb feeling from your face, spreading to your fingers and toes, and suddenly you awoke in the underworld, in the company of the dreary lord Hades.

You meet your husband's mother, Semele, in Elysium, who embraces you as her son's bride. Time does not seem to pass there. It could have been years, centuries, after your death, when Dionysus barges into the home you share with Semele.

He takes you both up to Olympus, and makes you his immortal bride. You and Semele are allowed to live at Olympus with him, in his divine palace, ruling side by side at the Olympian council.

He loves you. He showers you with gifts, despite the fact that you laugh and try to return them. On the anniversary of your wedding day, he places your diadem in the stars, to hang there for eternity.

In many ways, you are glad you did not marry Theseus. Who but the Fates knew if you would be happy with him? In Athens? Would he have pushed you aside for slave girls? Would he have ignored you but to show you off to Athenian nobles? You no longer cared. Or wondered.

Theseus had gotten his punishment in the underworld, attempting to steal Persephone from Hades himself. You knew he deserved it.

You are happier with Dionysus, anyway.

His queen.

His wife.

His love.

For eternity.