She was young, she was wild…

[crownedmostholy]

Unexpected things happen when you’re married to a god. It must be said, therefore, that Ariadne is not entirely surprised when she finds herself in a new place. It is plain enough to see that is not the Underworld, though Pluto and Persephone’s gardens are impressive, they certainly do not hold a candle to anything one can find in the mortal realms. She is in a garden, she can tell that much; but it has been so long since she has felt the warmth of the sun¹ that she cannot help but linger in it for a while before she sets to business. Ariadne is clever enough to realize that when unexpected things happen, her husband is usually somewhere at the center of it, and in a new place (without some yarn to guide the way), the best thing for her to do is wait. Surely he’ll be along sooner or later. She sits in the gardens, then, enjoying the too-long-missed feeling of the sun in her hair and the smell of flowers, awaiting the presence of Dionysus.

It’s getting cooler out, and as a result Dionysus is spending fewer hours each day outside. Once he finally thinks the sun has warmed things sufficiently for him to handle it, he heads outside, and as he approaches his garden he immediately regrets not coming out earlier.

For a moment he can’t believe what he’s seeing. He forgets to breathe, he wants to cry, and he’s not even sure how exactly he crosses the distance to her but suddenly he’s there, she’s there, he’s wrapping shaking arms around her and pulling her in for a very, very deep kiss.

She makes a slightly startled (if pleased) noise at the sudden arms and the kiss, wrapping her own arms around his waist with a smile. “Hello, dear.”

He draws back from the kiss just far enough to rest their foreheads together, both of his hands cupping her face. He can’t bear to stop touching her, to stop looking at her, because then she might cease to be. “You’re here,” he says. “You’re really here?”

“Yes,” she says simply, nuzzling a little closer. “Not – not permanently, I think this is just a visit. But it’s better than nothing.” It’s better than the underworld. Come to think of it, she’s certain it’s not the underworld, but she doesn’t exactly know where she’s ended up. “Where are we?”

Not permanently. Ah. So this is just… just what, exactly? It feels crueler than the normal pranks the mansion plays on them. It feels more wonderful than the normal gifts the mansion gives them. To only have her for a day. Well, it’s longer than the, what, five minutes they had twenty years ago? He should be grateful. He is grateful. He wants to scream and argue and fight with the mansion spirits to let it be longer than a day, please let it be longer than a day, she was so young when she died.

Rather than answer her question, he gives her another long kiss, then finally says, “Don’t know. A bunch of people just sort of… wind up here. Different dimensions.” And, because that’s clearly enough talking for now, he goes in for more kissing.

She returns it, of course, but she would like a bit more explanation than just kissing. The kissing is pleasant. It’s more than that, in fact, but she has pressing questions. “And how does a god come to wind up in a different dimension?”

“Don’t know,” he says, shrugs, and kisses her again. Oh, but she deserves more of an explanation than that. It’s really a shame he can’t kiss and talk at the same time. “Something – someone, I suppose, pulled me here. There’s no way to leave. …Except, of course,” he adds, bitterly, “for occasionally, when they bring us visitors.”

He grabs both of her hands and brings them to his mouth to kiss. “Love, I never thought I would see you again. And now – to only have you for a day--”

She smiles and squeezes his hands, coming to a decision. They can’t just sit in the gardens all day, after all. So, ever-practical, she replies: “Well. If we’ve only got a day, let’s make the most of it, hmm?”

“Of course,” he says, smiling back. And after another kiss he wraps his arm around her waist and starts leading her to his rooms.



¹ Hello, brother-in-law.

Comments

[futaille]

When they arrive at the suite, Grantaire will be there already, flopped on the gigantic beanbag and reading A Tale of Two Cities, and boy what a very English take on France it is. He doesn't even look away from the book as he hears the door, knowing of course who it is. "Welcome back!"

[vineleaves]

It was a long trip back to his apartment, but can anyone blame him for needing to stop every few feet to kiss his beautiful wife, or to wrap his arms around her, or to just look at her and touch her and have her be real, in front of him, as alive as matters in this place? They finally get in and he’s overjoyed to see that Étienne is home as well. This is wonderful. The only way this day could be better, having both of them near.

“Sweetheart,” he says to Étienne, his arms still wrapped around Ariadne’s waist, “there’s someone I want you to meet. This is Ariadne. Ariadne, love, this is Étienne, my beloved.”

[crownedmostholy]

She’s a bit taken aback once they arrive, all kiss-flushed and laughing against Dionysus’ shoulder, nestled in as though that spot is meant for her. But she has never expected her husband to not take lovers—he is a god, after all, and she dips into a small bow.

“Pleased to meet you.”

[futaille]

Grantaire as a rule rarely reads paperbacks given other options. They feel a bit alien and thus un-book-like. Which unfortunately means that when he promptly drops the book on his face, it's a bit more startling than it would have been if he had switched over.

However, it's hardly the most jarring thing that's happened in the last few seconds. He scrabbles to sit up, an expression on his face that he would almost certainly be unable to replicate in paint, and a feeling in his chest that he would absolutely be unable to describe in words.

"Oh. Uh. Oh. Hello."

[vineleaves]

“She’s — ah — she’s here for the day,” he explains, his tone a strange sort of mix of utter joy and complete heartbreak. He nuzzles into her hair, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “I’m so glad you two get to meet finally.”

[crownedmostholy]

"I --" She is silent for a moment, considering Grantaire curiously. "I hope he hasn't bored you too much with stories about me," Ariadne says, mostly teasing. "It was ...a very long time ago, and I'm glad he has someone here to be happy with."

[futaille]

"I'm not sure he's capable of being boring," he says. "I'm... it's good to meet you. If you're only here for the day, I can... go and let you have time to catch up?"

[vineleaves]

Dionysus finally turns his gaze away from Ariadne to Grantaire. Is he... upset? "Love, you don't -- are you --" He steps away from her to close the distance between himself and Grantaire, taking his hand. "What's wrong?" he asks, quietly.

[crownedmostholy]

Ariadne, being sensible, will let them have a moment alone. She heads over to the other side of the room, taking stock of her husband's decorating sensibilities. (They haven't changed much.)

[futaille]

"No, no, nothing's wrong." It's slightly terrifying, but less so on what is apparently another visitor's day. "Nothing's wrong. But if you only get a day with your wife, you should get to make the most of it without having to worry about me."

[vineleaves]

He wraps Grantaire up in a hug and gives him a kiss. "I love you, sweetheart. I -- you'll stop back by later, right? I think you two would get along, I'd like it if we could all, y'know, spend some time together¹. And, ah," Here he pauses, and looks back at Ariadne. His achingly beautiful wife, who he has mourned for longer than entire civilizations last, who he has again for only one pitifully short day. "I'm -- I'm going to need you tomorrow. I don't think I'll be able to bear it a third time."



1. He isn't, actually, intending for this to be a veiled reference to having a threesome. He's not opposed to that though. But he does actually mean just spend some time together. Unless they want to have a threesome, which, again, he is not opposed to.

[crownedmostholy]

The wife in question is currently browsing through the piles of plays and cushions that exist in Dionysus' rooms, looking mildly bemused about it all. "Is everything alright? I don't want to be a bother."

[futaille]

"You're not a bother, I promise. You're lovely, you deserve every one of the stars from your crown. But you also certainly deserve some alone time with your husband. I'll be back in... a few hours?"

[vineleaves]

Oh right, her crown. He's pretty sure she doesn't know about the whole stars thing, considering last time he saw her she asked if he could bring her crown back, which wouldn't really even be possible if he was still in his regular universe. He'll explain that... later. Right now, he gives Étienne another kiss. "Thank you, love."

With that, he moves back over to where Ariadne is holding one of the many scripts he has stolen from the library. He wraps his arms around her waist from behind and kisses her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder. "Please tell me someone down there has explained what a play is to you in the time you've been dead."

[aflashbastard]

"--but then it turns out it was the wrong baby," Crowley is saying to Sagramore, though it surprisingly isn't the missing baby story with the Antichrist. What happened? The world will now never find out because he spots Dionysus and Ariadne.

"Excuse me, sir, we have to do a quick routine ankle check," he says, in a no-nonsense voice. "...Please."

[sagramore]

Sagramore pulls on his best frown, but frankly it's not very convincing, because Dionysus is right there. "That's right, just a look."

[vineleaves]

Dionysus didn't even notice they said anything about ankles, because he's, you know.

A little preoccupied.

When he notices them both though he lights up. "Sagramore, Crowley! Great timing! I want you both to meet someone, this is my beautiful wife, Ariadne." He presses a kiss to her cheek. "Ariadne, this is Sagramore, my lover, and Crowley, my good friend."

[crownedmostholy]

Ariadne is a little preoccupied too: thousands of years of being apart from her husband will do that. But she disentangles herself from him enough to give them both a polite smile and nod.

"Hello. I think I heard something about ankles?" Maybe. She wasn't exactly paying that much attention.

[aflashbastard]

Crowley gives Sagramore a Look. What that Look is supposed to convey, only they know and perhaps even then, they don't really. He nods. "Ariadne. Nice to meet you. We're making sure you're not Count Olaf."

[sagramore]

"That's right," gruffly. "Taking all precautions."

[vineleaves]

The name 'Count Olaf' rings a bell in Dionysus's memory, and through all the haze of being happy to see Ariadne again, he realizes where he knows it from. That show. The Neil Patrick Harris thing, on Netflix, that Roger kept trying to get him to watch (because Roger's in it), based on those kid books, about --

About orphans. ...Right. Sunny. Okay. Damn. Maybe he should have watched the damn show after all.

"Is he here?" As much as he wants to be in bed with Ariadne right now (and he reeeaaaally wants to be in bed with Ariadne right now), if the villain from Sunny's book is here and she's unsafe, then that is unfortunately a more important issue than [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮] or even [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮], or even [▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮], as much as he hates to admit it right now.

[crownedmostholy]

"I can assure you I am not," she replies, and helpfully pulls some of her skirts aside to show her ankles. "By all means, if there's someone that needs looking after, please take care of it." She might even help, if she can find some way to do so.

[aflashbastard]

"Nice ankles," Crowley says, helpfully.<sup>1

1</sup>???

[sagramore]

"Perfectly adequate ankles," Sagramore grits out, and then he can't help it, he really can't keep this up, he adds, "No, I'm sorry, they're lovely." And then to Dionysus, "We think he's here, but it's all right, Crowley and I will find him."

[vineleaves]

"She does have lovely ankles, right?" Dionysus says, giddily, and gives her another kiss. Then, he grows serious again, and says to Sagramore and Crowley, "If you need my help at all, dears, come get me."