In all my stories, I like to keep Ariadne's and Arthur's back stories the same for the most part. I always have Ariadne being raised by her grandfather on the sailing yacht in my Dream Series. I just like that idea. What an awesome childhood and I never really explored that part of her.
This is a squeal to "Mistress of the Maze" and "Joker's Labyrinth".
Pls read "Mistress of the Maze" first. This won't make any sense other wise.
The Red Queen Rises
~ The roses at her parent's dual funeral were red. They contrasted sharply with the matching black caskets. The somber old church lent it's weight to the seriousness of the situation. The ladies of the church where whispering in the shadows.
"Poor little thing."
"Hasn't even cried."
"Where will she end up?"
"The home I expect."
"No family?"
"Just that louse of a grandfather."
"Aye, can't find him at all."
She had been the child that survived the awful car collision in England. Her young and lively parents were killed. She could only remember their faces now. Laying on the hot gravel. Bright red blood was everywhere. Twisted metal and police sirens.
The doctors thought she was the one who was seriously hurt at first. Her pink dress was soaked with her mother's blood. She had been in shock. Too surprised to cry out.
Her arm was cut. A deep frighting gash. The Doctors had to apply stitches as the child watched him with her big eyes.
She didn't complain of pain. She didn't even ask about her parents. She hadn't said much at all.
"What they used to call shell shock." The Doctors explained to the social workers.
She told the local authorities her name.
"Andrea?"
"No... Ariadne." She said softly. They had looked at one another. Her parents were obviously some off beat free spirits. Or Greek even. Only explanation.
Ariadne sat alone in the church as a clergy man gave a simple prayer. None of the fine church ladies detached themselves from the shadows to give the child any comfort. They stood there. Hands to their chest. Flapping their lips at how said and morbid the little girl was. Not even shedding a tear for her own parents. Not even afraid of being an orphan in this world.
The heavy wooden doors suddenly opened wide. An older man strode in. He was magnificent. The kind of gentleman, the world no longer saw. He was dressed casually enough. His suit, spoke to his just arriving from a warmer climate. Her wild, silver hair and beard were handsome on his rugged face. His eyes, were a very piercing blue. Accented by the deep tan on his face.
Despite his advance years, he was trim and good looking. He carried himself with the air of good health. The fine church ladies stooped their clucking as they watched him.
A handsome prince arriving to rescue the fair maiden.
The newly arrived mysterious gentleman strode down the pew to sit next to the broken little girl. He said nothing as the Pastor finished the prayers and commended her parents to God's eternal life.
The older gentleman sighed. Made a brief sign of the cross. Finally he looked over at the dark haired little girl.
"Child. My name is Aries. I am your Mother's Papa." He said with a heavy accent.
Ariadne looked at the man. He looked like someone from an old movie. His looks were devilish. Interesting.
She returned her gaze to her parent's matching black caskets. The wash of harsh, red roses sprayed over them.
"I was hoping you would come and live with me?" He asked.
His fine blue eyes looking at the caskets.
"I have a nice little ship. I call her The Minotaur. After the great legend of Theseus. After yourself, my Ariadne."
The child kept focused on the caskets. She didn't like those red roses. Didn't like those women whispering in the shadows.
"I would love for you to see my ship." Her Grandfather went on. "She is a beauty. I wanted to call her Ariadne after yourself. Alas, you sweet Mama would not allow me." He chuckled.
"Minotaur, like the one in the maze?" Ariadne said slowly. Her voice sounding strange in her own ears.
"Yes. Yes. My Ariadne." He said. A smile lighting up his handsome face. "Would you like to go sailing on my ship?"
"They say I have to go and live in a home." She said casting a suspicious eye at the church ladies.
"I will be your home." Her grandfather said confidently. "And you shall be mine." He said taking her little hand in his.
The old gentleman's hand was worn and dry. Wrinkled and cracked from years of living. But they were warm and comforting to her. She allowed him to take her out of that place of death. Away form the shadowy church ladies. Away form those red roses.
~ She woke up screaming. The sound of the ocean had rocked her to sleep the first few nights. But now she had gotten used to the new place, her memories invaded. Insidious thoughts and images of the accident kept visiting her dreams.
"Papa!" She cried out in the darkness for her grandfather. "Papa! Help! Help!"
The fine gentleman came to her tiny bedroom on the sailing yacht.
"What is it my sweet?" He said to her. Letting the tiny little girl curl into his arms. She cried and cried as he stoked her back.
"I keep seeing it!" Ariadne wailed. Her child's brain failing to force the sight of the accident from her eyes. The red blood. The red roses.
"Now." Her grandfather said sympathetically. "You lay back down. Shall I tell you a story, my sweet? To chase away the bad thoughts?" He offered.
She nodded as the fine old gentleman covered her back up. The smell of his cigars on his clothing. A rich comforting smell. Unique to him.
"Let me see, let me see." He started and looked around his learned brain for something useful.
"Once, there lived a powerful Queen. She lived in the top room of a tall tower. She was evil and her heart was cold. She enslaved all the people of the realm with lies she would tell them. She could go into their dreams. She would learn what scared them. She would disguise herself as people they trusted and trick them. She would use their own fear to bend the people to her will. To make them love her and worship her like a God."
Ariadne's eyes were bright as she gazed at her grandfather.
"Now, as it is with all stories of a wicked Queen, there was a young girl. She was pure of heart and very brave. She could not be fooled by the Queen or her trickery. This made the Queen angry. So the Queen sent her armies on the hunt for the child. But they could not find her. For the little girl was very smart and stayed hidden."
The fine old gentleman's eyes sparkled at he wove the story.
"The little girl would sneak into the tower, rescuing those the evil Queen had enslaved. She was fearless and noble. She liberated all those the Queen had tricked and lied to. They rebelled against the Queen. Tore down her tower. Sent it crashing to the earth."
"Did the little girl become the new Queen?" Ariadne asked. Her grandfather looked thoughtful
"That, my sweet Ariadne, I do not know. For the Queen and the girl both vanished. No one knows what became of them."
"Did the Queen kill the little girl?" Ariadne asked.
"Oh no, my sweet." Her Grandfather chuckled. His smile breaking over his face.
"The girl was a hero. Hero's never die do they?" He chuckled again.
"No. They are put into the stars and live forever."
"Did the girl kill the Queen?" She asked.
"Alas, Villains do not die either." He said sadly. "They must live on. So the hero can have a purpose. For what is a hero without a villain?" The fine gentleman asked.
Ariadne nodded.
"Now. I forbid anymore bad dreams to visit you this night. If the bad dreams come back, you send them to your Papa, eh?" He said gruffly. A twinkle in his fiery blue eyes. "I will show them who is stronger." He said curling up his bicep.
Ariadne had to laugh.
His kissed her. His warm breath smelling of his whiskey and tobacco. An earthy smell mixed into the rough smell of sea air.
"Good night my sweet." Her grandfather said. "Bad dreams can never hurt you." He said.
She nodded and smiled.
Believing him.
~ Ariadne felt cold. He hands were hurting. Something wet was on her skin. Dripping on the floor. The wetness was warm and slippery.
"Ariadne?" Came a voice out of the darkness.
The world was coming back to focus. She was holding something. Her hands were red. Covered in blood. Her own blood. She was holding a knife. Her hands were bleeding. Open wounds on her hands. Opened by the knife.
"Ariadne!" Arthur shouted. His voice worried and scared as she watched her red blood drip on the black floor.
"Am I... Am I sleeping?" She asked before passing out.