#👑🐂 the king and the bull (thesterius) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thesteriuswife · 16 days

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okay one more h.ades fic this is a thesterius one and one of my favs that i've made... it's mostly a comedy / "fluff" but it does also discuss Internalized Racism (💔) there's also some very small suggestive moments

this was basically at attempt at making an in-universe reason for why theseus' portrait in game doesn't really Look like him (though the real world reason is simply that it's recycled concept art)

When the vile hellspawn sauntered into the arena, and announced to Theseus that he’d commissioned a portrait of the king during his princehood, he at first thought of it as a foolish attempt at a diversion. That Zagreus— did his vile schemes have no end? It was not the first time he’d attempted to drive Theseus into a tortuous rage, and it certainly would not be the last. And besides that, what use did he have for such a painting? As Theseus once again pierced Zagreus’ flesh with his ruby spear, and once again sent him back to the bowels of hell, he concluded that his words must have been nothing but lies. One day or night, however, the Lord Hades called Theseus to his dank house for a performance review (it was brief, of course. Lord Hades had his complaints, but the simple fact of that matter is that there was no one else within Blessed Fields who desired the title of champion). Not yet ready to return to Elysium, he wandered around the place, observing the many changes that had occurred in the time between his last visit and now. Upon entering the small west hall (and passing by the Great Achilles who had dismissed him with I’m working right now, King Theseus…), he found a piece of his own legacy hanging upon the wall there. The portrait was familiar: a near perfect replica of one he'd posed for in life. His father Aegeus had commissioned it soon after claiming Theseus as his son, but it was not completed until after his return from Crete. Despite this it was still completed with his father's specifications in mind, to honour him after his untimely death; the prince within the portrait had his ambiguities removed, and therefore looked rather unlike Theseus. One would mistake the fantasy-prince as being a grandchild of Pandion, with his pale skin and smaller nose. But the Theseus of reality shared no blood with the former king.

He remembers the discomfort he felt at the time, feelings he wasn't able to put into words. Aegeus had wanted his son to look like a proper prince, but what exactly did those words mean? To this day, he didn’t know. Theseus scowled. Were the painting not rightful property of the underworld’s lord and master, he would have gladly pried it from the wall and tossed it into the Styx to drown. All he could do for now was leave and hope that next time he appeared, it would be replaced with something more tasteful. -----------------------------------

When Theseus returned home, Asterius was sitting outside, half buried in their garden of wildflowers. The bull held in his hands a large book, its pages decorated with golden detailing. Butterflies of shimmering light would occasionally flitter onto his horns, then leave just as fast. Theseus’ heart swelled at the sight. How fortunate he was to have Asterius in his life! He didn’t have many kind words for his prince-self, but he could appreciate that even back then, he sensed that there was something special about Asterius. Theseus stood before him, then dropped down to his haunches. Asterius’ ears twitched in response. “Asterius, my dear friend… what are you reading?” Asterius looked up. His head tilted inquisitively, but if he noticed something amiss, he did not mention it. “A lone warrior is attempting to rescue a princess. But it is not his true quest.” “Oh yes? May I read it alongside you?” Asterius patted the ground beside himself, inviting Theseus to sit. He wasted no time positioning himself next to Asterius with his head resting against the bull’s sturdy shoulder. Theseus listened closely as the bull read out loud to him. It was something they’d done more times than he could count, often with Theseus voicing the most theatrical characters. For now, however, all he wanted to do was be comforted by the sound of Asterius’ sweet voice… “Theseus…” “Hmm?!” Theseus jolted, blinking blearily at Asterius. “Ah, did I fall asleep? I apologize, my friend!”

Theseus yawned before lazily throwing himself over the bull’s lap. In any other scenario he would have rolled onto his back so he could gaze lovingly at Asterius’ shapely jaw, and the cute shape of his snout. Asterius was perfect in every which way, and needed no portrait to immortalize it… unlike himself, apparently.

“I take it your meeting with Hades went poorly.”

“Not quite, dearest. My meeting with the Lord Hades went wonderfully! I am upset for… other reasons.”

“Such as?”

“Such as— that damnable portrait he has hanging on the west wall! Depicting myself, as a prince.” Theseus gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “The boy within its frame is a stranger to me. He is the one who killed you so very long ago, and…”

“And?”

“Even physically he is different. His skin paler, his nose smaller, his jaw more elegant! It is a perfect replicant not of myself… but of a portrait my father once commissioned, long ago…” When Theseus arrived within Athens as a young prince, he was thought of as a foreigner. His father, being born of Egypt, did not help in this regard. While there were plenty who followed the teachings of Apollo in that foreigners should be treated with grace, there were others who looked at Theseus with disdain due to his lack of Athenian noble blood, and many more viewed Aegeus as some kind of usurper. In an attempt to solve this problem, Aegeus had a multitude of portraits of himself made. He was so very similar to Theseus’ grandfather, obsessed with the idea of being preserved through history. But those portraits always depicted Aegeus in the way he wanted to be viewed, rather than how he truly was. Looking at paintings alone, there was no doubt that Aegeus was the son of Pandion, descendant of Erichthonius. But to look at Aegeus himself, and to compare him to his siblings, or even Athen’s previous rulers, it was clear there was no blood shared between them.

Preoccupied as he was with his thoughts, Theseus did not hear the sound of Asterius’ book closing. It was only when the bull’s furred hand cupped his jaw, brushing its thumb over his cheek, that Theseus’ attention returned to his dearest friend. “You are handsome and true, king. None in Elysium could hope to compare to you.”

“Oh, bull!” Theseus gasped, “How kind you are. But your praise is not needed! In fact, allow me… I simply must reward you for allowing me to nap besides you, after all.” “You slept for a mere few minutes…” “Even so!” Theseus planted a firm kiss against Asterius’ snout. “You, my bull…” he sighed, “Are without parallel. You’ve a unique beauty that cannot be rivaled. And more so than that, you are the most handsome Minotaur in all of Elysium!!” “The only Minotaur in all of Elysium,” Asterius corrected. When Theseus pouted in response, Asterius gave a soft snort in laughter. “You deserve a better portrait, king.”

“It is you, my bull, who deserves a portrait! Perhaps, after this, I will find an artist to hire for the task…”

“I would paint you,” Asterius replied. “I would capture your beauty in truth.”

“Oho? Are you being quite truthful, dear bull?”

“I am. I will.”

“Such kindness from you, such generosity… Asterius, Asterius…”

As Theseus continued to plant kisses against his most cherished companion, the topic of painting was soon forgotten by him altogether…. But Asterius remembered.

And so, it was a few weeks later when the bull surprised his king with this:

“King, allow me to paint you.”

“You want to… oh! Oh, yes. That conversation…”

Theseus hummed, lost in thought. Ah, how he loved the idea of posing for his beloved bull! But Theseus knew himself well, and knew that every time he posed for a portrait, he quickly grew antsy, impatient, and most of all restless. Indeed, he was a famously difficult client to deal with even as he lived! Asterius was a patient bull (something Theseus appreciated immensely), but he did not wish to put him through that sort of trouble for what was at the time merely a passing thought. Theseus wracked his brain for a solution, though he struggled to come up with something satisfactory. Still, Asterius deserved an answer, and Theseus intended to give him one.

“I must admit, my friend, that I find myself somewhat intimidated by the idea of posing for a painting! It has been quite a long time since I’ve last done so.” As he spoke, Theseus’ words and his budding thoughts tumbled into one another, and his next words became an impulsive suggestion. “Perhaps, instead of a painting, we could try sketching one another…?” Theseus’ expression turned grim at his own words; what was he thinking? He had of course dabbled in art before just as any king would, but his skills were next to nothing. But darling Asterius’ eyes lit up in excitement, glittering like two gemstones. He loved the idea, by the gods. “King, if you are willing…”

"Ah, w-well!” Theseus desperately tried to think of a way to retract his offer, but Aasterius looked so joyous at just the idea, and Theseus was loath to deny him such a simple request. “...Alright, my friend. From this moment onwards, the two of us shall temporarily relinquish our title as champions, and take on the role of artists!" -------------------------------------

There was a small area behind Theseus' home where a pond glittered with blue water. While the pair had plenty of fish tanks inside their home, the pond held many larger, exotic species. It was one of Asterius' favourite places to come and relax after a battle, especially when ghostly waterfowl would occasionally come to swim upon the surface.

It was here that they sat out their supplies to begin painting together. Theseus had long ago asked the shade of a carpenter to create an easel big enough for Asterius to comfortably use, which then led to the construction of paint brushes and other such items meant for his larger hands. Theseus wanted to have them engraved with an array of intricate patterns, but Asterius had pointed out that they would end up becoming decorative items by that point, rather than tools he could actually utilize.

Still, Theseus felt his heart swell with pride at the sight of Asterius elegantly seated across from him, his hair unstyled, falling in loose curls around his bullish face. Asterius of course looked handsome in any scenario, but there was something special about seeing him without his armor, relaxed and idling. There was none other within Elysium who had this unique privilege, after all, and Theseus would be sure to cherish every moment he could— “...King.” “Ah? Yes, my dear bull?” “You’ve been staring at me.” he snorted, clearly amused. “Get to work.” Theseus pouted, but did not complain as he finally turned his eyes towards his easel and the blank parchment upon it. Though it had been quite some time since he took lessons in art, he still remembered some of the basics. Where to start, though? Theseus supposed, with the head.

Asterius' bullish face was gorgeous in its uniqueness. From his luscious eyelashes, to the rich brown of his eyes, to the soft caramel-cream tone that coloured the bridge of his snout. However… it was not the easiest thing for a beginner artist to draw. If he broke down the shapes to their bare essentials, Asterius' head was something of a rectangle. He would begin there. Theseus pressed his pencil to the parchment. Somehow, his attempt at a rectangle looked more like a lopsided disc. Theseus tried again— this time getting something more akin to an elongated tube. A third time, with a furious determination, and somehow his clumsy hands managed to create a perfect square. Theseus was baffled beyond all reason- but it was good enough for now. With a shaky hand, he used this as a base to render the rest of Asterius’ head, including a glittery eye with long lashes, an adorable snout with a shimmering nose ring, and two tall horns… The end result was something more of an giant and overdetailed eye with long hairs growing off of it attached to a pair of overly long rods. Theseus’ hand hovered over the drawing, half tempted to tear it up and just take it from the top. But he knew that even if he did start over, his second attempt would not be much better.

(As his dread grew, Theseus couldn’t keep himself from once again focusing on Asterius. The Minotaur was working with intent, as if he knew what he was doing. Surely he wasn’t experiencing this same childish panic Theseus felt...) If he could not draw Asterius’ head properly, then perhaps his body would be easier. He had touched his muscles many times up until now, felt them beneath his hand, pressed against his body both in combat and in… other scenarios. He knew them as well as he knew his own! Yes, this would be simple! It was not. While Theseus could be proud that he’d managed to capture the shape of Asterius’ forearms fairly well, the rest of it was disproportional, not to mention the fact that he had become… engrossed while depicting his companion’s chest, and may have exaggerated more than is appropriate. The idea of starting on his legs was intimidating, now. Could he depict them in all their glory? He could at least do this properly, couldn’t he?

Theseus pressed his pencil to the page, and scribbled passionately. The end result was two awkwardly bent sticks, one slightly larger the other, both ending in round clubs for feet. Gazingly blankly at the page, the king sat in stunned silence.

He wasn’t particularly skilled in this regard, true, but he’d assumed he could at least do better than this. The drawing in its current state was a clear insult to Asterius’ beauty, and that was unforgivable. Theseus again looked over at his partner. Dear, sweet Asterius was so concentrated, no doubt creating a masterpiece that would make Theseus cry tears of joy once he laid his eyes upon it. And what did Theseus have to repay his kindness with? A drawing that looked as if it was created by a child. No— a child could surely do better than this! Perhaps he should start over after all? So long as he does so before Asterius completed his drawing— “...Theseus.” “Hah? Ah! Yes, my friend…?” Much to the king’s surprise, Asterius’ voice was tingned the slight irritation of having called out to him several times now, though Theseus, lost in thought as he was, did not notice. “I’ve finished.” “Ah! You’ve finished!” Typically Theseus would admire the speed at which Asterius could work, but at this moment it was an absolute hindrance. He could not help but to wonder if it would be possible to subtly (intentionally) dump his canvas into the pond water and request a do-over. So preoccupied he was with his plans that he nearly did not hear Asterius’ sighing:

"Mine did not come out great…” he admitted. "I was nervous."

Theseus had grabbed his easel in preparation for shoving it over, but Asterius’ words stopped him in his tracks. When Aserius looked at him strangely, Theseus sat back down with an awkward chuckle,

"Nervous…?" Theseus mused, trying to hide his own anxiousness. "From gazing upon my handsome visage, I'm sure!"

"Yes." Asterius’ honesty always shocked Theseus, even now. "I wanted to draw your features properly. I was nervous."

"I… I see!" Theseus was sure his face was heating up, now. How was it that Asterius was able to fluster him so easily, without any effort? "Well, I'm sure it's not any worse than mine! Shall we, erm…?"

Both men awkwardly clung to their canvases, seemingly unwilling to let the other gaze upon his creation.

"In that case!" Theseus eventually said "I suppose I shall go first! Promise me you will not laugh?"

“I prom— huh.” Theseus flipped his canvas so Asterius could see his creation in all its lopsided glory. A snout that had been erased and redrawn so many times it began to look more like smudged pencil marks than anything resembling a head, horns growing out sideways from its forehead. His overly-large chest was at a strange contrast with his comparatively smaller body, which became stranger still with his oddly proportioned legs.

Asterius did a good job of not laughing… for a mere few seconds. But soon his body tensed, and his shoulders shook, and a strange wheezing noise came from his throat. And Asterius- he laughed, guffawing at the drawing Theseus displayed to him, his body shaking so terribly his art supplies got knocked over. Theseus pouted, offended. “Is my art truly so funny?! Show me yours, th— hmm?!”

Theseus’ words devolved into strained choking when Asterius showed the work he’d created. Theseus’ nose was large, but here it was drawn exaggeratedly. His posture was some bizarre cross between the elegance of a swan, and the buffoonery of a satyr. At some point the bull realized he’d drawn Theseus’ chiton over the wrong shoulder, resulting in him wearing what appeared to be some type of bizarre tunic, and that goes without mentioning the lopsided grin he wore. Theseus was baffled. But beyond that, he loved it. He loved the drawing so much he could only express it by slumping down to his knees, and burying his face in his hands to muffle his increasingly high pitched wails of delight.

"That bad, is it?"

"Asterius, I adore it!! I simply must have it framed somewhere in my bedroom at once!"

Asterius gave a haughty snort, causing his nose ring to sway. "Absolutely not."

"Asterius, please, I am begging! See, I am already on my knees. In turn, I'll allow you to do whatever you'd please with the work I created! I’m sure you’d give Patroclus quite a chuckle if you showed it to him, next time you are together!" “Hmm…” Asterius tilted his head in thought. “I have a better idea.” “Oh yes?” The two champions began to gather up their art supplies, all while Asterius told his king of his idea. Soon they were distracted and found themselves sitting at the end of the pond, chatting eagerly as they watched Elysium’s false sky transform into a watercolour of orange and pink, before fading into a starry night sky.

--------------------------------------- Within their shared home, Theseus and Asterius posed together as the shade of an old painter prepared a portrait for them both. Asterius was used to sitting still for an extended period of time, but Theseus couldn’t help but to shake his leg, or rub Asterius’ hand, or try to start a conversation (leading to him quickly being hushed). Just as he predicted, Thesus still found the process of being painted to be an extremely sluggish affair. Rather than sitting and looking nice next to Asterius, he’d much, much, much rather be busy with cherishing him. But they had all the time in the world for that, he supposed. He could attempt to ignore his own restlessness, at least for now. And yet… When the shade announced that they’d finished, Theseus could not help but to groan out an exasperated “Finally!”, and even Asterius slumped backwards in his seat with a sigh, exhausted from having to hold his pose for so long. Within the painting, Theseus was wearing the blue cloak he once treasured as a youth, with Asterius wearing a matching one in a slightly darker hue. He sat poised on the bull’s broad lap, his smile vibrant, and Asterius’ curls were decorated with all his favourite flowers. Though it was just a painting, he could still feel the love Asterius had in his eyes. How strange it was, that his heart swelled with joy seeing this version of himself— the version of himself that had Asterius by his side, for now and for always. Soon the painting was placed within a frame of elaborate gold (Theseus had rushed out and purchased it mere minutes after Asterius suggested the idea of a professional painting, impulsive as always), and hung within their main room, next to several smaller paintings of Theseus’ family, and some created by Asterius himself.

(And on the wall immediately beside the portrait, folded up within a simple wooden frame, two amateurish paintings rested side by side, both signed with pride by their artists.)

#📚 codex #👑🐂 the king and the bull (thesterius)

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