The man appeared outside the cave and approached cautiously. It had taken months for the people of the outside world to learn fear from what resided within. Now, the only ones who dared approach were heroes. Heroes out to kill a monster.
She cowered further back into the cave.
He passed the overhang, slipping into darkness. Out of the blinding sunlight, his details were paradoxically more visible in silhouette. He wore a helm and carried a sword and shield. His clothes were simple, except for his feather-ornamented sandals.
She curled up tightly, trying to be silent and invisible.
He raised his sword and held out his shield. He moved slowly. He moved like a soft breeze: almost imperceptible by ear. Now that he was fully inside, his form was hard to distinguish in the shadows.
He stopped. She didn't breathe.
Hissssssssss.
He looked at her. Not directly. His eyes stared at her from his glassy shield. She raised a hand to her face. The cloth still covered her eyes, thin enough for her to see, thick enough to hide her face.
They stared at each other. He opened his mouth, but closed it again without speaking yet. He tightened his grip on his sword.
Hissssssssss.
He flinched, and she mirrored him.
“Show yourself, monster.”
He pointed his sword at her. She remained petrified.
“Come forward. I will not kill a shape in the dark.”
“Then why should I not remain a shape in the dark?”
He advanced.
“You cover your face. I was told your eyes were a deadly weapon.”
“I do not wish to hurt anyone.”
“I don't understand. You are the one I seek, are you not? Your hair... You are... Medusa?”
“Yes.”
“And yet, you fear me–as much as I fear you?”
“More, I feel.”
“Athena told me…”
A sobbing laugh left Medusa's lips when she heard that name.
“What?” he asked.
“Don’t listen to everything the gods tell you. Even her.”
“She is the very embodiment of wisdom. Who are you to speak against her?”
“Did she tell you she's the reason I look this way?”
The man cocked his head, and his sword slowly lowered.
“She did not tell me, no.”
“Are you a child, thinking them infallible? Some of them are like infants, without restraint.”
She hugged her knees.
“I–I am–you might say I am one of them. Partially, at least,” he said.
She sneered.
“Half? What divine indiscretion made you? No, it's plain to see from looking at you. I seem to see gifts from them on your person. A son of Zeus wants for nothing.”
“You have grown more bold. Or at least your tongue has.”
“Don't mistake me. I am stricken with fear, but you're the first to listen to me. Apparently, I am inclined to speak.”
“Others have come here?”
“The gravel under your feet has an odd texture, does it not?”
He stepped back in shock, staring down at the cave floor.
“I haven't always been a pacifist. I don't know what it is about you…” She trailed off.
He was floating now, his winged sandals keeping him off the floor.
“It probably wouldn't matter,” she said. “If I tried to kill you. The others have been mortal, without the patronage of any gods.”
It was almost a relief to accept this inevitability.
“I swear I will not hurt you,” he said. “I can’t imagine it, now. I want to understand. I ask you to… tell me your story.”
“Are you sure?” She asked. “It would probably be easier not to hear what I have to say.”
The man alighted softly, on a clearer patch of ground. He drove his sword into the rock, and Medusa flinched. He approached her, stepping gingerly.
Hissssssssss.
He reached out his hand. She tried to pull back further, but she was up against the cave wall.
“Don't touch me, please,” she whimpered.
“It's all right, I won't hurt you. Give me your hand.”
“Don't touch me!”
He withdrew his hand but stayed close.
“I'm Perseus. My ears and heart are open.”
Why did this murderer have to be so kind?
She gathered her courage with a breath and told her story.
“I have no adoration for her now, but I used to be a devoted priestess in Athena's temple. As she wished, I was a virgin. I lived by her words. I always loved her, since I was a child. I did everything I could to be as close to her as possible: I took up weaving as my craft when I joined the temple; even though her warlike nature was my least favorite of her aspects, and it still is, I learned how to defend myself from some of the other priestesses. It didn't help, not when my assailant was immortal.”
Medusa took a slow uneven breath.
“Poseidon, Athena's rival, sought a way to spite her. He visited the temple where I was and when he saw me...I was helpless. There's nothing one of us can do when one of them wants something. He took what he wanted from me, there in the temple, and left. The goddess herself found me. She is–she sees the world in stark contrasts. Everyone is either her ally or her enemy. That day, because of what Poseidon did to me, she saw me as her enemy. She accused me of defiling her temple, and of betraying her by losing my virginity. She cursed me, she made me a hideous monster, and ever since she has sent heroes to destroy me. I will never understand why she gave me such fearsome powers as well, perhaps it was some small gesture of protection? It kept me safe while I hid here, broken, terrified, and pregnant. It is for the best I was not able to carry Poseidon's–offspring–to term. I will not be responsible for the result of what he did to me. I have too many reminders of that day is it is.”
Medusa saw Perseus’ hands gradually ball into fists at his sides as she spoke. He was practically shaking by the time she finished. Then, he seemed to deflate.
“I’m sor-”
“Don’t. You’re listening; that’s enough. More than anyone else has done.”
“It’s not right,” he whispered.
A tense silence followed.
“Why did she send you, when before she sent lesser, mortal heroes?”
“She was not the original cause of my quest. She encouraged me and equipped me but I was the one who sought her aid.”
“You came to kill me of your own free will?” Medusa spat, the hurt and contempt redoubled in her voice.
Hissssssssss.
“No! I was sent, I did not want to come. A man I hate is trying to force my mother to marry him. He saw me as the only remaining threat to his control, and he told me that he would allow her to live her own life if I brought him...your head.”
Medusa gasped. Perseus continued.
“I believe he meant for me to meet the same fate as all the others before me.”
“You care much for your mother, to rush into what you believed was certain death...”
“–She raised me, I owe her my life–”
“... But not enough to complete your task,” said the mocking voice from the shadows.
“No! Stop! I love her very much, but I was told, even by Athena herself, that you were an inhuman monster. I'm not prepared to destroy a terrified woman.”
Perseus looked at her, through the reflection in his shield, squinting to see into the darkness.
“You don’t seem like a monster at all.”
She shifted nervously and toyed with the cloth wrapped around her face.
“You don't really know what I look like. It's dark back here.”
Why don't you come out, so I can talk to you face-to-face?”
“You don't mean that. I might hurt you.”
“I think I'll be safe. Come on out.”
She didn't move. He slowly stood up and backed out into a lighter part of the cave, then hunkered down. He stayed there, watching her cautiously. She came up to a crouch, then stood. She stepped forward, one foot after the other, her soles crunching across the floor of the cave. She approached the gleaming sword projecting from the rock. She could see it shine even through the fabric of her eyes. She tentatively extended a hand to touch the hilt. It was hot on her fingertips as if there was a fire inside the metal. She moved past the sword, putting herself between Perseus and his weapon. In her mind, a debate occurred. On the one side, she saw him as stupid for leaving himself defenseless. On the other hand, she saw it as a strong gesture of goodwill. She came just to the edge of the light near the mouth of the cave. Perseus stood, not suddenly but easing himself up, to face her.
“Will you come all the way out?” he said.
It was as if there was a physical wall before her, at the terminator of the cave shadow. She shook her head, silently.
“Well,” he said. “I can see more of you, at least.”
He looked her up and down, without the lust or fear she felt from other men, but with an open face, radiating curiosity. Still, she shrank from the scrutiny. She looked down, away from his gaze. Her once smooth skin was scaled, and her delicate nails had become claws. She had seen her reflection, in the water when it rained. It was no wonder that men turned to stone at the sight of her ghastly eyes, predatory beast’s fangs, and her hair. Her hair. It had been glorious before. Her most treasured quality. Long, curling, dark waves. The virgin priestesses had nearly turned her away, saying such a beauty should not be trapped within a temple. How bitter that memory had become. If only she had allowed herself to be deterred.
“You looked so happy for a moment. What happened?” Perseus said.
He wasn't looking her over anymore, instead staring searchingly at her blindfold.
“I was reminded of the past.”
Perseus nodded slowly, his anguished eyes wandering away from her. Then he glanced back, a look of surprise replacing his sadness.
“Medusa.”
It was so odd to hear her name spoken the way he did. Even the first time there was no malice, and now it was bordering on gentle.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “More than I can express, or even truly understand, for what has been done to you. I would never wish such things on anyone.”
His voice broke but he continued.
“But I cannot truly wish that things had happened differently.”
She recoiled.
“I do not mean I am happy you were hurt! Only glad that we met.”
“Why?” She asked cautiously.
“I think it is possible for us to help each other.”
The words barely made sense to her.
“I came here at the behest of Polydectes, who covets my mother, but why should I kill someone who has done me no wrong? Why not turn my anger on the true aggressor? I cannot fight him alone; his soldiers would overpower me, even with these glorious gifts, but with your protection, no man could stand in my way. You can free another woman from the grasp of a lustful and selfish man. And I would rest easy, knowing that my mother was safe from one she does not love, and could choose who she would marry freely, if she so wished. This is what I would beg of you. In return, I can only promise my word, my voice. Athena is my sister. Though I am half-mortal, perhaps I would not go unheard by an Olympian. If she is as wise as I believe, she may listen to me. The chance of reparation is slim, from one so stern and stubborn as she, but I swear to do my best to make her see the wrong she did you.”
Medusa, stock still, arms hugging her body, a tear trickling from her covered eyes, took in a breath she hadn't known she’d missed. She couldn't make her lips form a reply. Perhaps Perseus mistook her stunned silence for impassivity, for he dropped to the ground and reached out his hands as if to clasp them around her knees.
“I can’t complete the task set for me–I won’t! This means you may be my only chance to keep my mother from a sorry fate. I know I have little to offer in return–”
“–Little? Advocacy before the Goddess? You call it little to save my life, and to speak for me when I have never been heard? Perseus, I am grateful for merely the hope you've given me.”
His face lifted, and his eyes sparkled like gold.
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
Her eyes locked on his while his roamed her cloth wrapped face.
“What happens now?” She asked.
“I ask you to follow me,” he said and rose to walk out of the cave.
He made it to the rocky slope outside before turning.
She found herself going to him. The sun on her skin and hair made her feel like she was bathing in a soft and loving fire after so long in the dark. Every scaly part of her, including those serpentine locks atop her head, stretched to its fullest extent as she basked. Perseus was smiling up at her as he backed slowly onto a large smooth stone. Suddenly she turned, and she heard a sound of protest from him as she rushed back into the cave, but he quieted when she returned holding his gleaming sword. She strode over to him, and after a moment of uncertainty, she handed the hilt to him.
“I will not let your trust be in vain.”
He strapped the sword and shield to his back and opened his arms.
“You'll have to hold on tightly.”
“Why?”
“We must fly, and Hermes’ sandals have no siblings.”
“No need.”
From amidst the folds of cloth that her back unfurled wings like those of a giant eagle. Perseus stepped back and his jaw dropped.
“Another beastly aspect to make the monstrosity complete,” Medusa muttered.
“Not at all,” Perseus said softly. “They're magnificent.”
She turned away.
“I'm ready to leave,” she said. “Lead the way.”
He leaped into the sky on his winged sandals, and she followed with colossal beats of her own wings. When they were high above the rocky ground, he noticed that she was straying from the path of his flight. She was hovering to his side and turning about in the air.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“I can’t stop staring. I didn't realize it would be so beautiful. The world has seemed ugly to me for a while now…”
She gazed at the clouds, and the mountains, and the glittering sea beyond.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I wouldn't have seen any of this but for you.”
“I’m glad you came with me. It wouldn’t do to hide away forever.”
“What's happening there?” She said, pointing.
He turned in the air and squinted.
“I can't see,” he said.
“There's a woman on the water's edge. She isn't moving.”
“That doesn't seem right. Lead me. Perhaps she needs aid.”
“I'm not sure.”
She didn’t welcome the prospect of being around people.
“I’m going to investigate, and I hope you’ll follow. I may not be able to help her alone.”
Perseus began a slow dive to the coast, and after a brief hesitation, Medusa followed. They drew closer to the figure on the boulder-strewn beach.
“I can't believe you saw her from so far, and with your eyes covered!”
“It seemed plain to see.”
They approach the woman, and it struck Medusa that she was chained to the rock on which she stood. The sea frothed, and the waves seem to reach out and pull at her feet. They were close enough to hear her crying.
Before they reached her, from the depths rose a gargantuan form. It was almost entirely teeth, lining a mouth the size of Medusa's cave.
“Perseus!” Medusa screamed. “Save her!”
He looked at her with anguish in his eyes.
“I am only a minnow to that beast. I will try to free her, but I feel there's nothing I can do to stop it.”
He swooped down to the rocks and began to swipe at the chains with his sword. The sea monster began to coil and rear back.
“Perseus! It's coming!”
“I can't fight it, Medusa!”
“Then break her chains!”
“I'm trying! “
Medusa was torn between fear and desperation. As the serpent from Poseidon's depths moved toward the rocks, she wheeled before it, reason and caution gone from her mind. The massive thing paused as she hovered in front of its face.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Hissssssssss.
She ripped the cloth from about her brow and met the leviathan’s baleful eye. Like frost, black basalt stone spread outward from the creature’s eyes, which were transmuted to cracked crystal. The great form crumbled soon after, chunks of dark stone churning the surface of the water.
Medusa alighted carefully away from the others and closed her eyes tight before turning. The first words she heard were not from Perseus but from the bound woman.
“You saved me. Are you a goddess?”
Medusa was almost startled enough to open her eyes, but she covered her face with her hands.
“No, kind one. I'm only another monster.”
A crack and a rattle sounded as Perseus finally broke the chain.
“You descended from above like a heavenly thing to smite the beast that would have been my doom. You are divine to me.”
“You committed a heroic act, Medusa,” Perseus said.
As Medusa turned away, she heard the woman murmuring to herself.
“Medusa. Medusa.”
Medusa looked down at the ragged strip of fabric in her fist. This was the first time in recent memory that she had taken it off, and she was reluctant to put it back on. The world was even more wondrous than she remembered. The turbulent waters before her were a perfect complement to the serenely swirling clouds above. Sharp, narrow beams of sunlight impaled the waves and rocks. Goddess, she never wanted to wear the blindfold again; it was all so glorious. Behind her, Perseus spoke again.
“What is your name, and why were you chained here?”
“My name is Andromeda, princess of Ethiopia,” the young woman said. “I was promised in marriage to my uncle, Phineus. When I tried to escape, he became enraged, and he and my father Cepheus gave me to Poseidon as a sacrifice.”
Hissssssssss.
Andromeda gasped.
“Your hair!”
“Yes,” Medusa said sadly.
“It's hypnotizing.”
Medusa's heart seemed to strike at her ribs as if to force its way out of her chest.
“No, it's disgusting,” she said numbly.
“Medusa,” Andromeda chided.
Something about the way this woman spoke her name tugged oddly at Medusa’s heart.
“Medusa, look at me.”
“I can't.”
When had she ever wanted this badly to gaze harmlessly at another person?
“Why?”
Medusa pointed at the calming depths before her.
“All it took was for me to look that thing in the eye, and it turned to crumbling stone.”
A pause.
“Then simply hear me when I say I don’t find you disgusting. Quite the opposite.”
Medusa felt her hair stretch to meet a hand which had grown close without quite touching her, and with a strange and indistinct awareness she’d grown accustomed to, she perceived Andromeda’s fingers. To her surprise, the coils wound themselves gently between those delicate digits. Andromeda giggled. The barrier Medusa had built around her heart over long lonely months began to weaken. She found the strength to wrap the blindfold once more around her brow. Having protected the others from herself, she turned. Andromeda smiled. Perseus studied her, face quizzical, his sword resting on his shoulder.
Andromeda's hand was still entwined in Medusa's hair. The snakes were calm, an unprecedented state for them. An unfamiliar sensation condensed in the center of Medusa's body. While Perseus had seemed to accept her well enough, Andromeda was outright enthusiastic about her appearance. Medusa didn’t know how to handle someone like that. It was not entirely unpleasant, but it made her grow increasingly nervous until she had to turn away. Her hair lingered and stretched out as she retreated from the unintentional intimacy.
None of them knew what else to say, but the silence was taken from them by a cry of rage from up the rocky beach.
“What's this? The sacrifice has been thwarted? Poseidon will not stand for this!”
A man stormed toward them, backed by several soldiers and flanked by a solemn couple.
“Brother,” the man yelled. “You told me I could not have her! That she was Poseidon's if she would not marry me willingly.”
“Mother, Father, Uncle...” Andromeda said to those approaching. Her father’s face matched that of his brother, but her mother’s eyes held tears.
“Great hero,” Andromeda’s mother said to Perseus. “You must have been sent by the gods to return our daughter to us.”
Perseus looked around and saw Medusa behind the rock. She shook her head at him, but he spoke up.
“It was not my doing alone. I had powerful aid, another hero who defeated the monster while I only struggled with these chains.”
“Where is he?” Andromeda's father asked.
Perseus glanced back at Medusa. She prayed he wouldn't reveal her.
“Hero!” Andromeda's uncle shouted, despite being close by now. “If you think you can save her and take her for yourself, I will strike you down. Someone's blood will pour down these rocks and reach Poseidon.”
“I won't hurt anyone unless they attack me…” Perseus said.
He brandished his sword nonetheless.
“Uncle, please. I would not have been saved if the gods wanted me to die,” Andromeda pleaded.
“Shut up, girl. I'll teach you a lesson once I'm done with this boy.”
Hissssssssss.
Andromeda's uncle drew his sword and advanced. Andromeda wailed. Her parents closed their eyes and did not intervene. The soldiers bristled. Perseus stood firmly but lightly, ready. Behind her rock, Medusa shivered in fear.
“I, Phineus, will cut you down for defying me and my god.”
He lunged, and Perseus caught the blow on his shield but stumbled back at the force of it. Perseus was lightning fast, but he couldn’t help gradually giving ground to Phineus, who was clearly the more experienced soldier. In each exchange, the younger man seemed to come out worse, taking hit after hit, while Phineus maintained the upper hand. Finally, Perseus landed a deep cut on Phineus' left shoulder, and the older man’s shield slipped out of his hand. Perseus drew back for a killing blow, but when he swung he was blocked by one of Phineus’ men, and another soldier sliced Perseus’ back.
“Medusa!” Andromeda screamed.
Murmurs of confusion spread through those on the beach.
“Please.”
She couldn't–these were people. She had decided never again, not even in self-defense. But her peaceful anticipation of death had already been disturbed by that foolish demigod. He and this maiden had looked at her like a person. She felt a bond. And those men were cruel.
With the doomful sigh of a single wing beat, Medusa rose above her rocky hiding place, casting a shadow over the combatants. Perseus, who had been struggling against a full five men before she appeared, crouched and covered himself with his shield. Andromeda covered her eyes, and her parents looked at her in confusion before mimicking her. Phineus and his mob, however, stared up at Medusa as she pulled down her blindfold. Her eyes flashed with the sharpness of Atropos’ deadly shears, which cut short the thread of every mortal life. Every one of those bloodthirsty men lost their color and became like a forest of marble statues. Phineus' face remained whole but for a single crack, his shock and fear eternally preserved.
Medusa alighted on top of the stone that had been her hiding place and Andromeda’s altar. Again, she replaced the cloth over her eyes. She heard Perseus’ labored breathing and the moans of Andromeda's parents, along with the ever-present roar of the surf.
“It is safe,” Medusa said, turning away.
She heard movement behind her, but couldn't directly see what was happening. She sensed Andromeda's parents mourning their lost brother and his men, and no doubt silently cursing Medusa for what she had done. The two of them retreated up the beach after a moment, speaking quietly to one another Andromeda went to Perseus, doing what she could to tend his wounds. Medusa's hands twitched. She knew Andromeda must be struggling since the princess wouldn't know much about medicine. Perseus groaned, and Andromeda muttered worriedly to herself. Sighing and steeling herself, Medusa turned and went to the wounded demigod.
“Let me,” Medusa said, taking up the scraps of cloth Andromeda had been trying to use as bandages. “It was a rare occurrence, but the temple would sometimes be called upon to aid the sick or wounded. I will gladly accept your assistance, however.”
“Temple?” Andromeda asked.
Medusa did not wish to relive those memories a second time this day–but Andromeda’s earnest voice and sweet expression persuaded her, and far easier than she would have liked. Medusa told her story as they worked. Perseus breathed well enough but was not awake to listen. It was almost as if the women were alone for a time. After Medusa finished speaking, they worked in silence. As they were wrapping the last of dozens of wounds on Perseus' body, Andromeda’s parents approached. Medusa tensed and did not look their way.
“Andromeda…” The woman said.
“Mother,” Andromeda replied coldly.
“Child,” the man, Cepheus, said sharply. “Speak to your mother with respect.”
Hisssssssssss.
“Oh, yes, Father,” Andromeda said. “You would much prefer me dead, rather than insubordinate.”
“Quiet! Insolent girl. Cassiopeia, dry your weak tears and help me make our daughter understand how she has affronted the great Poseidon.”
Cassiopeia only sobbed. Cepheus stomped in frustration. He made as if to speak again, but before he could, Medusa had risen and stepped in front of him. He recoiled.
“Your daughter is innocent,” Medusa said quietly but intensely. “Her only transgression, it seems, is disobeying you and your brother. That, and continuing to breathe. Who has affronted great Poseidon, then? Not your daughter, who you try to browbeat, surely. Who, then?”
Cepheus’ mouth worked silently. Medusa stepped closer, her serpentine hair twisting threateningly around her partially hidden face, her dark wings spreading toward the edges of Cepheus’ vision. She advanced slowly, not charging the way a warrior would, but creeping like a predator. Cepheus’ muscles twitched as he struggled to stand his ground, and something approaching a whimper escaped his throat.
“Who should you confront in your righteous anger, Cepheus?
Hissssssssss.
Medusa felt a light touch on her arm. Andromeda was gently holding her hand back from the cloth covering her face. Medusa lowered her hand in shock. Had she so quickly begun to use this weapon unthinkingly? When she glanced back at Andromeda, she knew this wasn't the case. She felt such a strong urge to protect her, she been willing to destroy. She wasn't sure if this worried her more or less than careless violence. Andromeda was practically a stranger after all.
“Medusa,” Andromeda said quietly. Please take me away from here. Wherever you’re going, it will be safer for me than with a murderous family.”
Medusa followed Andromeda away, though she felt an angry pull on her scalp for a few steps. They returned to Perseus, who was sitting up now and grimacing as he struggled to stand and buckle on his sword and shield.
“Well, son of Zeus, you recover quickly,” Medusa said. “Are you ready to fly?”
“I suppose,” he said, finally managing to get his feet under him, and stepping gingerly into the air on his enchanted sandals.
Andromeda made a small tentative sound in her throat, rising like a question.
“Perseus,” Medusa said. “Aren't you going to offer to carry her, as you did me?”
“I would be happy to if I weren't certain to get blood all over her,” he replied. “Besides, you are surely much stronger than I am in my current state.”
“It seems,” Medusa said to Andromeda. “That if you wish to follow us, you're stuck with me for transportation.”
“That suits me fine,” Andromeda replied quietly.
“Let us be off,” Perseus said. “I worry, leaving my mother alone for so long.
Andromeda stepped closer to Medusa, who opened her arms much as Perseus had done before. After a little bit of awkward fumbling, the two women found a way to comfortably support Andromeda. Medusa spread her wings and took off in a rush of wind. They shot past Perseus, who only caught up after they were all out over the ocean. Andromeda clung tightly to Medusa, alternating looking out at the receding Beach and burying her face in her protector's shoulder. Medusa kept the tight grip on her waist, trying not to think about how good it felt to hold her this way. Perseus took the lead, and they sped across the water. For a time, there was no land in sight. They were so high above the water that it almost looked like a smooth surface.
“Medusa,” Andromeda said in her ear.
“Yes?”
“I'm slipping.”
She said it almost calmly, despite the height. Medusa felt a spike of fear in her heart. She could feel her grip sliding up Andromeda’s body.
“Please excuse me,” Andromeda said. “This might be strange.”
Medusa was puzzled until she felt Andromeda's legs wrap around her waist. She silently and grudgingly thanked Athena for her inability to blush.
Shortly after Andromeda made herself more secure, an island came into view ahead. Perseus gestured with his hand and began a gradual descent. Though the island grew in their vision as they approached, it was still a small one. They headed towards a port that was tucked into a little cove on the southern shore. They landed just outside the edge of the small city. Andromeda carefully climbed down from Medusa. Perseus turned to the women with a grim expression.
“I find it suddenly difficult to ask for further aid, Medusa,” he said. “After all you've already done. I dragged you into the fight with the leviathan, and you saved my life afterward. If you wish to consider your side of our deal complete, I will give you this helm to hide you until I find a way to speak to Athena, and I will deal with Polydectes myself.
“Is stupidity an innate quality of all heroes?” Medusa mused. “You're in no condition to deal with anything. What I have done until now has been by my own choice, and I choose to honor our partnership, not out of obligation, but as thanks for your empathy. You may be a fool, but your heart makes up for what your mind lacks. Lead me to these men, and I will do what I must to free your mother.”
“I thank you, Medusa. You are a truer compatriot than I’ve ever known.”
As he led them toward the town, Medusa couldn't help a jab to cover her discomfort at the compliment.
“A man has praised a woman for her constancy, and yet I do not feel the earth crumbling beneath me.”
Andromeda giggled, and Perseus matched Medusa's smirk.
Inevitably, they–or rather Medusa–drew instant attention when they entered the city. People crowded around them, and some men went running and returned with an older man who held himself like a king, despite his relatively humble surroundings. Behind him strode a woman who put on no airs, but who looked still more regal than her haughty counterpart. With them came several dozen soldiers, fully equipped and marching in file.
“Mother!” Perseus cried, ignoring the men, and ran to embrace she who had given him life.
“My son!” She said tearfully. “You live! And who have you brought with you?”
She looked right at Medusa, and there was worry in her eyes.
“Mother, I have so much to tell you,” Perseus began, but before he could continue the king directed his soldiers to move between the mother and son.
“Polydectes,” Perseus said. “Why, if you love my mother, do you insist on keeping her son from her?”
“Love her?” Polydectes said. “What makes you think I love her?”
“You have been obsessed with her since we first arrived on your island.”
“Of course, boy. I saw something I wanted, and I took it.”
“Why?” Perseus asked, distraught.
“Because I could. Now, what is this you have here? You claimed you would bring back the monster’s head, but you said nothing of bringing the body with it.”
It took Perseus a moment to fight through his disbelief and respond.
“I realized it suited me better to leave her unharmed,” Perseus said. “We've even reached an understanding, she and I. I think I prefer not spilling blood when given the choice.”
His mother smiled at that, but her face was still wary as she looked at Medusa. Every face held fear, except Perseus’ and Andromeda’s. Medusa was full to the brim with tension from standing in an unwelcoming crowd. But she took strength from her two allies and stood straight and tall.
“Perseus tells me,” Medusa said to the king. “That you would marry his mother, though she does not want you. It rankles me to see a man force himself on a woman.”
Hisssssssssss.
Polydectes did not address her, but looked her over suspiciously, even showing a little fear for the first time.
“How do I know, boy,” he said. “That this is not a trick, some sort of illusion? I’m not a fool–everyone knows Medusa has never allowed someone to leave her lair, yet you come here claiming to have reasoned with the creature?”
“Do you dare to search her eyes for the truth?” Perseus asked. “If you do not, I will allow you to exile yourself from my mother’s presence forever, and leave us in peace.”
“Exile?” Polydectes said with amusement.
His emotions were openly at war on his face, but his masculinity was clearly stung. He hid some of his apprehension with bravado and stepped forward to inspect Medusa, circling her with an appraising demeanor. He caught sight of Andromeda, who still stood behind Medusa. A predatory gleam appeared in his eye.
“Ah, who is this sweet nymph?”
Hissssssssss.
Medusa stepped back and snapped one wing out between Polydectes and Andromeda. He reached out and tapped her wing with a finger, testing it. She beat her wing angrily, blowing him back.
Hissssssssss.
“This is quite convincing, Perseus.”
Medusa stepped right in front of him.
“Face what’s before you, cur.”
She raised a hand to her eye covering, and once again, Polydectes showed fear. He wasn’t able to mask it this time, even with his words.
“Let's see your face, imposter.”
“Very well,” she said and lifted the cloth from one eye.
He met her gaze with his own terror-filled orbs, then relaxed when he did not immediately turn to stone. He sneered. Medusa paused, savoring this moment, giving in a little to the heady feeling of the power she felt within her. She took in this man before her and allowed her rage to surge ever higher as she thought about what he’d said and done. Her lip curled, and it was as if she stole his smirk, his face falling as she raised the cloth further, revealing her other eye. She felt her power leap from her visage like a palpable, living thing. She glared at this man, taking out her resentment on this convenient proxy. His face shattered even as his body hardened, leaving a headless statue. The contingent of soldiers broke ranks and scattered. She closed her eyes and lowered the blindfold back into place. She sagged at the knees, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to her, and was surprised and grateful to feel Andromeda holding her up.
“Look, Mother,” Perseus said. “You're free once more to live as you wish.”
“In order to free me from Polydectes, you allied yourself with a monster?”
“Mother, no. Do not judge her for how she looks. Medusa is a friend, not a foe.”
The apprehension remained on his mother’s face, and she would not even look at Medusa. Perseus sighed, and looked lost.
In that moment, Medusa felt an oppressive sensation of foreboding, and she knew it was not from the disapproval of Perseus’ mother.
“Idiot child!” Said a voice like spears beating against shields and owls’ screeches piercing a silent night. “Do not presume to comfort your mother after defying the gods, or your words shall be proven lies by my vengeance.”
“Sister,” Perseus said bravely to the tall shining figure who now stood among them.
“Half-brother,” said Athena, but her harsh frown was aimed at Medusa.
Medusa felt herself collapse to the ground–whether fainting or prostrating herself, she did not quite know. She looked up through her hair meekly.
“Give back your gifts, half-brother. You do not deserve them.”
“Gladly, sister, but I beseech you to listen to me.”
“You have no right,” said Athena imperiously. “I rescind the respect I previously showed you. Being the product of one of my father's many dalliances does not make you deserving of anything from me. Now give me back those boons.”
“No, Athena,” Perseus said calmly, rising into the air to come face-to-face with the goddess. “You will listen.”
Athena screamed, grew even taller, and shone so bright it hurt the eyes of all, even Medusa through her blindfold. The war goddess plucked a spear from the air and drove its point forward to rest at Perseus’ throat. The head of the spear dwarfed Perseus’ entire body, yet he seemed to grow even more calm.
“Stop behaving like the wild and furious Ares and comport yourself as the goddess of wisdom should.”
Though he spoke softly and was so small to her that she could have crushed him with one hand, Athena recoiled and stumbled at his words as if struck by a deadly blow.
“Medusa told me her story,” he continued as he gently turned aside the giant spear with his hand. “It appears to me that in all matters concerning her your vaunted judgment has been mistaken. She was devoted to you, she was dedicated to serving you, and not only did you let her be harmed in your ongoing rivalry with Poseidon, you saw fit to punish her for his misdeed. In what way is this just? Is virginity so precious to you that you could fault another woman for her own rape? Is virginity worth more than the woman herself?”
Athena shrank with each condemnation until she stood at the same height as the mortals, and her spear vanished. Perseus hung slightly above her still.
“Medusa loved you, sister. You were her life, yet you tossed her aside. I urge you to listen to all the women who pray to you as a creator, a craftswoman, and a teacher, and not just the men who worship you for your battlefield prowess. Women like Medusa are just as devoted to you. She deserves your guidance. She deserves better than condemnation for events beyond her control.
Silence fell. Athena stood, hand to her mouth, completely still. Being a goddess, she did not even breathe, although her form almost seemed to fray at the edges like an unraveling tapestry. Every eye was fixed on her. Her own eyes seemed to look beyond the edge of the world, beyond the sky, searching for an invisible truth. After a momentary eternity, she gathered herself again.
“I was wrong,” she whispered.
“Yes,” Perseus said.
“I'm never wrong,” she said.
“Is that because of your infinite wisdom, or because it is easy for you to deny what contradicts your word?”
Athena turned and fell to her knees before Medusa, who was still limp on the ground. The goddess reached out to her erstwhile priestess, but the mortal woman flinched away. The reaction startled Athena. Medusa closed her eyes, not willing to see that penitent face.
“What have I done to you?” Athena said.
Tears wet Medusa's eyes, and her breathing grew ragged as the wave of emotions built in her since she was cursed finally crashed into her.
“I want to make it right. I swear I won’t hurt you again.”
Medusa looked at the goddess then and saw that she was crying, too. She relaxed as much as she could, and let Athena touch her face. The goddess’ fingers felt like silk on her skin. She focused on the feeling and stopped listening to the voice in the back of her head that whispered of danger.
“This face,” the goddess whispered, a wisp of a smile haunting her lips. “I see that as hard as I tried in my blind rage, I could not make you truly ugly. I think that would be impossible to do to one such as you.”
Medusa gasped, not quite believing that she heard kind words from the one who sentenced her to a monstrous life and a grisly death.
“No, that face could never be ugly. But I see I can do one thing that might ease your anguish.”
Medusa nodded slightly. Athena's hands moved over her face, brushing over the rough, scaly skin. At her light touch, the skin began to peel away, shedding like a snake’s. As her fingers moved over Medusa's face, they push the blindfold aside, and Medusa had to close her eyes. Soon Athena held a mask of skin in her hands.
“Little brother, give me my shield, please.”
Perseus stepped down to the ground and cautiously handed over the shield. Athena turned the burnished surface toward Medusa.
“Look.”
For a moment, Medusa was sure that nothing would be different. She forced herself to open her eyes, to once again trust her goddess. The shield filled her sight almost entirely, so no one could look right at her face. She could see her reflection, though, and Andromeda, staring from behind her.
Her face, though still covered in scales, now was smoother and softer, and while it was hard to tell in the metal-tinted reflection, it looked to be a bright blue-green color. Medusa felt the skin sloughing off the rest of her body as well, and soon she saw a new self on the surface of the shield. Not the woman she had been, but also not a monster.
Medusa saw wonder on Andromeda's face.
“Gorgeous,” the princess whispered, then covered her mouth with her hand.
Embarrassed, Medusa replaced the blindfold over her eyes and stood. Athena stood with her, still holding the shield and the mask that had been Medusa's face.
“Thank you, Great Athena,” Medusa said.
“I feel the desire to do more, but in the case of your gaze, it seems you have been wiser in the use of your power than I have been with mine. I leave it to you, to protect yourself and those you care about.”
Her eyes flicked almost imperceptibly over Medusa shoulder to glance at Andromeda, then she looked down at what she held. She pressed the mask to the front of the shield, and when she took her hand away the glaring face remained as if embossed on the metal.
“With your permission,” Athena said. “I might use this face that was yours to protect others.”
Medusa beamed, and bowed to the Goddess in assent. Athena took back some of her former height and spoke to the crowd.
“Let it be known, and let it be told, that I acknowledge my fault. Further, I declare that anyone, mortal or Immortal, that assaults Medusa shall be struck down as though they had assaulted myself. Medusa: live. Perseus–”
She smiled.
“I must still reclaim what you have borrowed.”
“I can now return these borrowed wonders happily, sister. You are truly wise, to admit when you are wrong, and to listen to those that speak against you.”
“I think I would find it entertaining to see you speak to Ares as you spoke to me today. Be careful, little brother.”
With those words, and a smile still lingering on her lips, she left. No one saw her go, but in a moment she was no longer there. Just then the reality of the events that had just transpired dawned on Medusa. She looked at Perseus.
“You did as you said you would, hero! You advocated to Athena on my behalf. And you convinced her!”
“It seems I did,” he said, looking poleaxed.
Medusa went to him and extended her hand which he clasped firmly in his.
“Though our debts to one another are paid,” she said, “let us not part ways.”
“I would certainly feel better with you around. Not only safer, having such a strong ally, but happier, having such a strong friend.”
Medusa shook her head in amazement. A friend? She could not have imagined such a thing when he stood outside her cave.
Perseus’ mother looked on with a dazed expression. She did not speak to Medusa, but she no longer seemed apprehensive. Medusa decided to be content with that.
After a moment she sensed Andromeda's presence behind her. She turned, and they stood close enough to each other that they could hear each other's breath. Andromeda took Medusa's hand, but she did not grasp it as Perseus had. She held it as she might have held a flower, delicate and precious to her.
“What will we do now?” She asked.
“As great Athena said,” Medusa replied. “Live.”
“I don't want to return to my old life,” Andromeda said.
“Then don't.”
“I want to stay with you.”
“I can't imagine leaving someone like you behind.”
“Someone like me?”
“Yes. I know how I look, and I know that people find me fearsome and grotesque... No, don’t argue. I’ve gotten used to it by now. I had given up on finding someone different. Someone who says the things you do. Who treats me so fondly, and enjoys the way I look, despite all reason. I feel as though–along with all the strange parts of me–your eyes pierce to my heart, and you really, truly, see me.”
After speaking those words, Medusa felt that Andromeda's hands on hers were not enough. She pulled Andromeda into a tight embrace and felt it returned. With that strange dim awareness, she sensed Andromeda's face on her shoulder, nestling deep into her waving hair and breaking into a contented smile.