I woke up with a start.
He wasn't there.
The tears came then.
A small, detached part of my mind floated somewhere up on the clouds, watching my body rock back and forth, devoid of any sanity or restraint. It was thinking, of course I wouldn't cry until the point when I was sure he was gone. Around him, I was strong. I had to be strong. The girl he loved was strong and fearless, longing to leave her father's chains behind her. There wasn't room or time to be weak.
What good had it done? I had time to be weak now. He wasn't going to see it. He'd never be here again to see it.
He'd never be here again. So what good was I? What god was my beauty, when it couldn't tempt him? My voice, when he wouldn't listen? My ideas, when he wouldn't value?
All he'd wanted were my chains. He wished to set me free, like a pitying child would do for a pinioned dove. Pity was all he had to toss into my worthless face.
My life was noting without him. I lived for him, breathed for him. My life was already gone. Why make the body sit any longer, a useless, suffering shell?
Detached and reasonable as this cool voice was, it calmed me down. Quite obviously, it was right, in more ways than one. I would not allow my name to be tarnished now, after I had finally set myself free. My life was worthless now, except to serve as a reminder to the world that even mortals were not rags. I would take Tartarus, and meet it with silence so deep that the darkness would shake. The gods would remember me.
But not as the worthless scrap tossed aside by the conquering hero.
I got up and walked forward, completely calm now. I didn't stop when the waves began to touch my toes. Not when I was elbow deep in foaming waves. I didn't breathe as the water filled my nose. My eyes stayed open, stung by the cold water.
The world underwater would have been eerie, had the glaring morning sun not pierced the waves enough that shafts of light illuminated the surrounding area. Not a pice of debris littered the ocean floor here. Obviously. This was a virgin island. Fit for a virgin princess's last breath.
"Hello there."
Automatically, I turned. My hair swirled, making it difficult to see. Imptiently, I cleared it off my face. Despite being underwater, the gesture was so everyday that for a moment, I forgot exactly where I was.
Consequently, I wasn't entirely attentive to my situation.
"My name's Dionysus. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
I almost answered, then remembered that I wasn't a god, I couldn't speak underwater.
Why didn't any of this surprise me? That detached part of my mind asked. I really had no answer.
"I believe I'm speaking to the princess Ariadne."
I nodded.
"Well, my dear, It is my duty to inform you that you are, at this moment, experiencing one of the most intoxicated states of being that any mortal has experienced beofre." He chuckled. "A rather interesting way of achieving it, but effective nonetheless."
He began to walk forward. My feet lifted off the ground, and I cringed a little, wary. My other part was saying, well of course I shouldn't be surprised. Look at who my company's been for the past six months. I am a princess, what's more. Royalty has to deal with these things.
Then it said, interesting. I'm intoxicated?
My vision suddenly blurred, as I realized I hadn't breathed for the past five or six minutes. My lungs screamed.
And then screamed some more as, unable to resist any longer, I inhaled water. Oil, burning oil filled me.
"Oh, dear. Well, I suppose it would have been foolish to expect any more -- you lasted astonishingly long to begin with." I thought I heard the god sigh. "Madness does many things to people."
Another voice. "Indeed. But she's surprisingly strong in her feelings, even considering her situation."
"You would know, obviously."
"Obviously." The other voice chuckled. The sound was bitter somehow, musical though it also was.
"Well, even so, I'd say I have the stronger claim in this situation."
"I give in. Seven minutes? Is she mortal or not?"
Seven minutes -- rather surprising. Or perhaps the sea was merely taking pity on me. My other half, perfectly lucid to the last. Quite appropriate, somehow, that the sea god would pity what his son had pitied before him.
It just showed that that was all she was capable of inspiring.
Her final moments were being overseen by two gods -- for the other was Anteros, it was evident -- who were chatting over me as if I were some fascinating specimen.
Which I was.
I wondered what they'd do about me, if anything.
Rather amazing that I was so special to begin with.
That was probably because of my father. Possibly because of my stubbornness.
Perhaps even a little because of my own weakness.
Perhaps...
My last thoughts for a long time.
