Summary:
Theseus, King of Athens, and Hippolyta, Maiden-king of the Amazons, are due to be wed. But A few days before the night of their union, Hippolyta vanishes into the enchanted woods surrounding the city, causing Theseus to rush out in an attempt to rescue her… unaware that the fae that dwell within the Athenian forest have other plans for him.
(A Hades game fanfic loosely based upon Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Currently a work in progress...!)
TWs: None apply for this chapter!
And now for a song... Yoko Kanno - Delightful Arithmetc
Theseus and Hippolyta discuss their upcoming wedding as they prepare for bed. It seems, however, that trouble is brewing in their pre-marital paradise.
(Or: Theseus and Hippolyta fail to communicate with one another.)
Four days and four nights before the eve of their wedding, the king and soon-to-be queen of Athens sat idly together within their bedchambers. The king was gazing into his favourite mirror, raking a comb through his flaxen hair as he prepared to rest for the night. His beloved, an Amazon from distant Anatolia, laid in bed, busying herself by polishing her cherished gem-studded belt. She never understood why her fiance was so involved in his bedtime rituals, first spending an hour in the bath, then several more just grooming his hair or manicuring his nails. He’d told her once that his role as king also meant he was the face of Athens, and therefore he should always look his best… it seemed more likely he simply enjoyed being vain.
“Theseus, do you intend to come to bed anytime soon?” Hippolyta sighed. “Youv’e combed through your hair, what… a hundred times by now, haven’t you?”
“A hundred and one,” Theseus huffed, “And I cannot just yet! As our union is soon, it is imperative that I be at my most handsome, most glowing!”
“You’re going to give yourself wrinkles staying up this late.”
Just as Hippolyta expected, Theseus lurched upright at her words and quickly slammed his comb down onto his vanity. He was truly predictable— theatrical and loud, but predictable.
Theseus gave himself another look-over in his mirror before finally turning his back to it. He walked to their shared bed; the overcomplicated embroidery of their blanket rustled, and soon Theseus was cuddled up against her side.
“I cannot help but to be restless, Polyta!” Theseus groaned, “Our wedding is a mere few days away! There is still so much to do… you’ve still not told me what flavour of cake you’d prefer!”
“Fig, with a caramel glaze. Are you sure you’re not overthinking things?” Hippolyta thumbed back a stray hair from Theseus' forehead, noting the look of unease in his eyes. “I’ve heard your father managed to anger his sorceress queen on the day of their wedding, and she cursed him right there on the altar before the eyes of Zeus. I don’t imagine you could do much worse than that.”
“Pah! My father’s pathetic excuse for a wedding is precisely why mine must be perfect!”
“I dunno, it seems like the people of Athens seem to remember that day pretty fondly…”
“The people of this great city will have no choice but to hold closely to their warm memories, for they’ll get no such chaos from me!”
As Theseus continued his rant, babbling on about customs, traditions, and why marrying a sorceress was a bad idea to begin with, Hippolyta thought back to their first encounter with one another. When she’d met Theseus, it was during a voyage; his cousin Heracles had invited him to sail the world together, and Theseus was more than happy to take him up on the offer. Back then his hair was made curly by the humid air, his dark skin glittering from sweat beneath the Anatolian sun. That surely man still existed in some form. Hippolyta could see him each time Theseus raised his sword after a rousing spar, and demanded another round.
Things had changed recently; he was no longer a prince. Theseus’ father had suddenly died, and now the crown belonged to Theseus alone. He was doing all in his power to become a truly perfect king. It was stifling for him, Hippolyta could tell. And yet, he would not discuss it with her…
In fact, Theseus would not be vulnerable with her at all. How strange it was to think of their wedding being a mere few days away, and Theseus had not yet been open with her— at least, not in any genuine way.
It was on that irritating note that Hippolyta fell asleep, with Theseus still curled up against her side.