InsaneJournal

Who: Theseus [Narrative]
What: Theseus finds Phaedra dead, and has Hippolytus killed after being falsely accused of rape
When: 1300's BC
Where: Athens
Warnings: Murder, mentions of rape, over-emotional moment
Notes: A little creative license in the death



Theseus had overcome battles before. He'd slaughtered beasts, and triumphed over any obstacle he faced. He couldn't match Hercules in strength, but Theseus made up for that with his cleverness. He managed to swindle his way out of a situation that he may have run from. One choice would forever change how deeply he cared about anyone. His first son had reached the age of twenty, his youthful charms and good looks became prey to his second (and most favored) wife Phaedra. Unbeknownst to any of them Aphrodite had cast her love spells on Phaedra. The cost of that pushed Theseus over the edge into a place he didn't think was possible.

The note was simple. Her virtue while given to Theseus had been tainted after Hippolytus forced himself on her. The papyrus was crumbled and stained with tears. As Theseus looked up to find his wife hanging by the noose of her own hand he could only imagine what her last moments had been. He reached for her hand, her fingers already stiff as he came far too late to have done anything about it. He cut her down, the burning rage and tears engulfing him like a fire that could not be tamed. That vengeance coursing through his veins was one akin to his father. His own son had destroyed him, and he must be punished.

The pyre he burned with her body set off across the river, and he watched coldly as it burned out. It was in that moment of weakness he swore to his father that Hippolytus was to die. He couldn't let that burden his heart, he'd never be able to see his son's face again with any love.

Hippolytus was an avid hunter, his chariot something of a prized possession. Theseus took to it that night, removing the hub from the wheel, and cracking some of the spokes. The next day when Hippolytus went out for a morning hunt, Theseus followed by horse and watched as the wheel gave way, the horses dragging what was left of the chariot down the ravine. The animals slipped loose, leaving Hippolytus with a broken leg and covered in forest. Theseus jumped down, rushing to his son's side. At first he helped him to sit up, giving him some water from his pouch. He looked in his son's eyes which were so bright and young, hopeful even amidst the pain. "Why?" was all Theseus could ask him, and even though the boy had not been at fault, he didn't give his father a convincing answer. He'd denied ever having done anything to Phaedra. But, the fact that he'd not even shown for her burial was enough to prove his guilt, and it burned into the dark corners of Theseus' mind. His brows creased, and Hippolytus knew even before the knife was drawn across his neck that there was no love left in his father's eyes.

The knife fell immediately with a clank against the wooded ground, Theseus grabbed at his son's neck as if he could stop the blood flow. The boy gasped for, the deafening sounds of the blood gurgling in his throat until life slipped away. With a bloody hand, Theseus laid him back and covered Hippolytus' petrified eyes. What had he done? His hands were shaking, his heart racing in pain. Horrified he stood up and took off, tripping over his own feet until he reached his horse. He didn't look back, but the memory was branded in his mind for all eternity.

Almost in an act of praise, Poseidon let one of his own monsters slip from the sea and onto land, creating a new story that not only protected Theseus, but tried to bury the dead into the calm waters of the ocean. Theseus had cursed himself to rip his feelings out and forever travel the ocean to put the past behind him. Myth would change and grow into a whole new history, but buried in Theseus' mind was the truth. His soul turned black that day.