After a period of Asterion’s high spirits and theatrics, he often falls into a deep depression. It is indeed like he is in a deep hole, so deep he does not even think to call out. During these times, I cannot rouse him from the floor of his bedchamber. He does not groom, his room gathers dust because he will not allow me in it with a broom and mop, and he seems to age years in a few weeks. The skin around his eyes turns a deep color and his eyes lose their luster. His pearly horns fall off.

Nothing cheers him up except, occasionally, stories about his beloved sister Ariadne. Before he came to his house, he and Ariadne played throughout the palace. She did not fear him or scorn him, as others did.

She tied ribbons around his horns and played hide-and-seek. Her laughter was like flowers. She told him the stories of their family, how their oldest brother Androgeus traveled to Athens to take part in their games. He won several of them and, out of jealousy, was murdered. Ariadne told Asterion that their mother had said that Minos was never the same after the death of Androgeus. Ariadne declared to Asterion that he, Asterion her baby brother, was her favorite. She would say with the seriousness of a child, “Asterion, I could never love anyone as well as you!” Though their other siblings cursed him and insulted him, calling him “Monster!” “Bastard!” “Abomination!” they didn’t dare when Ariadne was near.

Asterion mostly ignored the insults of others, secure in Ariadne’s affection and protection. Because no tutor would go near him for fear of his accursed condition infecting them with misfortune, Ariadne took it upon herself to teach him his letters, sums, the laws of the natural world, the names of the star formations in the sky, poetry, song, and dance. Rules of the court. Military history. Everything a prince would need to know.

Though she was but a child, Ariadne was skilled at many crafts, especially weaving. When Asterion was born, she began a tapestry containing the story of his life. As he became older and wilder, the tapestry became more graphic, disturbing. After his birth, mirrors were outlawed in the palace, and Asterion looked to the tapestry to see how he appeared as he grew.

I wonder if Ariadne has kept up my tapestry, Asterion has mused wistfully since then. I’m sure she has, and I’m sure it is a thing of unrivaled wonder, I have replied. He has, at those times, drifted into unspoken reveries. Sometimes I have hummed, tunelessly, until he has fallen into a light, peaceful sleep.

Part Three: Like a Band of Iron

Nearly nine years passed in relative tranquility in the house of Asterion. I went about my business as usual. There were always a thousand things to do. Adjustments, repairs, improvements, maintenance. Busy as the town’s carpenter, or a housewife with her many children.