He had promised to come for them, to free her and her brother from the decadent rot of their family. And hadn't she devoted herself to his worship? Learning all she could of his rites? His dances? But her brother still died at the games in Athens and her father still exacted his terrible tribute. And her beautiful god didn't come.

Ariadne remembers finding the rotting bodies of the youths and maidens littered throughout the labyrinth. Her little brother frightened by what he's had to do to survive. He begs her, in his awkward bull's tongue, to tell him why he they were frightened by him, why they tried to kill him, why hadn't the beautiful god come to rescue them like she promised? And it breaks her heart that she can't answer any of his questions because she doesn't know, only knowing that in seven years it will happen again. She sees her options to free herself and her brother limited to the point of there being nothing. They can runaway, but this will likely only get them killed. Crete is an island and no one would give passage to a runaway Princess or a minotaur. Even she becomes of age she can't marry because that would only take her away. She curses her womanhood, wishing she were a man or a god who could overthrow her father as Zeus overthrew Cronus. She wants to blame her beautiful god for all of this, and she wonders again if this is some kind of test.

But those seven years pass and Ariadne's rage and grief have smothered the child who had believed the giver of the golden thread leaving behind only a woman. A woman who's only goal is to free herself and her brother regardless of the cost. And she sees it in the tributes, in the face of a beautiful man. Though not as beautiful as a god.

When someone knows with almost absolute certainty that they are going to die, even if its only a part of them that will be, it tends to dull some of the sharpness in them. They may face their fate bravely but that won't keep out the look of resignation and loss from showing. It is a look Ariadne knows well. She sees it every time she looks in the mirror.

Theseus does not have that look, the look Ariadne sees everyday. He stands amongst the sacrifices, with his head held high. And she knows he has come here for her brother. She sees the way he looks at her. The way her father has looked at so many women and resigns herself to this. She will escape. Her brother will not. At least not alive. So she gives Theseus a sword, gives her golden thread, even her body. She takes only a promise to take her with him when he leaves when he comes out of the labyrinth covered in blood.

"Where's the thread?" She asks. And he murmurs something about losing it.

Theseus it seems is always losing things. Even her.