It had been Ariadne's tears that had first drawn Dionysus in, on that fateful day when he'd found her abandoned and betrayed and half-broken with grief.
And it was fate, Dionysus knew that. The Fates themselves that had entwined his own soul with that of the fair princess of Crete, and since that day she had been his guiding light.
It had been her tears that brought him, but since then it was her smile that kept him. It was her smile like a warm dawn breaking after an icy night, it was the promise of better to come.
He turned his face towards her hand affectionately, a cat pleased with the attention of his mistress, and then looked at her again to say, "thou art fairer than the evening air, clad in the beauty of a thousand stars."