Page 8 of Crown of Serpents

Suddenly, Perseus felt exhausted. He knew what he signed up for, but what alternative had he had? He explained quietly, to ensure Danae wouldn’t hear, “The only other compensation he would have accepted was Danae as his concubine. You know I could not let that happen.”

A flash of anger and guilt flickered across Dictys’s face. Perseus sometimes wondered if the old man felt responsible for how Polydectes ruled Seriphos.

“If I fail, Polydectes will come for my mother. He has given me until the autumn equinox to return with the gorgon’s head, but I don’t trust that he will wait. I need you to hide her while I’m gone — to keep her safe.”

“You know I would do anything for Danae.”

Perseus sighed in relief. He almost hugged the man, but he had not done that since he was seven. Instead, he clasped his shoulder in gratitude.

However, Dictys wasn’t finished. “But, Perseus, you must promise to come back to her. I have never seen a love as fierce as Danae’s love for you. From the moment I fished her out of the sea, in the wooden crate, you enveloped in her arms, she has fought for you. I will make sure she is safe, but you must return. Because if you don't, she'll perish, even if Polydectes spares her.”

Dictys’s eyes shimmered with fatherly love. Danae hadalways been the daughter he had never had, Perseus, the beloved grandchild. He gulped. He wouldn’t just be leaving Danae behind, but Dictys, too. His eyes started to burn with tears at the thought. Suddenly, it was all too much. He needed to be strong now — for them.

“I will try my best, old man.”

It was all he could promise. He didn’t want his last words to Dictys to be a lie.

Perseus climbed down the wooden ladder, retreating before the old man could see the glimmer of fear in his hazel eyes. Time was running out, and he hadn’t yet said farewell to his mother. His throat grew tight. How would he explain to her what he had done? Maybe he could tell her he would serve in the navy or the king’s guard for a few months. If she knew what he was really risking, she might willingly offer herself to Polydectes to save him.

As if reading his thoughts, Dictys shouted after him, “And, Perseus, when you say goodbye to your mother, tell her the truth. She deserves to be as proud as I am to have raised such a brave young man!”

Still, Perseus hesitated. He even lifted his shaky hand as if wanting to knock on the door to his own home. He inhaled deeply before opening the creaking door. The buttery light from the kitchen greeted him. The smell of rich stew, dried fish, and freshly baked bread mingled in the air, beckoning him inside. He could do this. He had no choice. His crew was waiting for him in the harbour, waiting for him to lead them eastward toward the Lesbos Strait.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thunder rumbled across Mount Olympus. The earth shook beneath Athena’s every step as she strode down the marble hall. A flash of lightning illuminated the throne room of the gods as an icy wind whipped between ornate columns, tugging at the robes and hair of the assembled Olympians. None of the gods seemed particularly impressed by Zeus’ latest display of temper — his lightning bolts were a threat they’d grown accustomed to.

The king of the gods sat with a grim expression on his throne, his dark hair billowing in the storm, grey eyes sparkling with electricity. Zeus’s throne, crafted from solid gold,dwarfed other seats arranged in a semi-circle around it. Athena, goddess of wisdom and warcraft, approached her gilded chair to her father’s right, her steps unwavering, though the presence of all twelve Olympians was a rare occurrence and a clear sign that the matter at hand was of great importance.

Poseidon, lord of the seas, spoke first, his booming voice shaking the marble floor, “I will not tolerate this, Zeus! The seasare my domain, and every mortal setting sail is under my jurisdiction. She threatens my authority, for my worshippers’ prayers have gone unanswered too many times. Too many sailors have died. I demand that this … this creature be dealt with, or I will strike her down myself!”

Zeus’s face remained stoic. The sea and the skies had quarrelled for millennia, but Zeus’s rule over the Olympians remained unchallenged. Poseidon had learned not to openly oppose him.

Athena interceded, her voice cool and smooth, “What is the cause of this uproar, father? Uncle?”

She exchanged a glare with the sea god, whose turquoise eyes were filled with disdain.

“Ah … Athena, my beloved daughter,” Zeus regarded her, his rough features, which looked like they had been carved from marble, softening ever so slightly, “you have arrived just in time to explain why the monster you created is terrorising sailors in the Strait of Lesbos?”

Despite addressing her with untypical warmth, Athena noticed the challenge in his statement. The council of the gods was watching her, judging her, and she knew it.

She surveyed the other Olympians with an assessing gaze, analysing their responses to Zeus’s accusation. Hera, queen of the heavens, had placed a delicate hand on her brother’s arm, demonstrating her support for her age-old ally, Poseidon. Ares sneered at Athena, his bloodred eyes glowing with wicked delight at her wisdom being openly questioned. Deep concern was written across the faces of the remaining gods. Even Hermes’s perpetual smirk had been replaced by a frown – a strange look for the boyish face of the god of trickery and travel.

“I cannot say why the creature has chosen the Strait of Lesbos, nor why it targets sailors. I have no control over the beast,” Athena declared, withstanding the weight of her father’s stare.

Her words were only partially true. While she did not control the beast, the goddess knew why it undermined Poseidon’s rule. However, revealing this knowledge in front of the gods assembled would be unwise. Athena would not risk her standing with Zeus over the antics of a vengeful mortal.

Hera, seated to her Zeus’s left, asked in a sharp tone, “If you have no control over the gorgon, why create the beast in the first place? It’s hard to believe the goddess of wisdom and strategy would not have foreseen the consequences of such an act.”

The queen of the gods clicked her tongue in disapproval, glancing at her husband and king, seeking his affirmation. Yet, the lord of the skies remained fixed on Athena, ignoring his wife as usual despite her regal purple gown and the gilded laurel wreath crowning her as his equal – in theory, at least. Hera resented Athena’s recent gain in influence among the council of the gods.

Ares, god of war and bloodshed, chimed in, his broad hands caressing the hilt of the adamantine broadsword he always carried, “Indeed, what did you seek to achieve by creating such a powerful weapon?”

Poseidon glared at her, his bronze trident glinting dangerously. He bared his perfect teeth, a silent threat that any provocation from the gorgon would be met with swift and brutal retribution.

Athena inclined her head to Hera, “You are correct, my Queen. I foresaw the consequences of transforming one ofmypriestesses into such a vile creature. However, I resent the insinuation that I would have done so to undermine my beloved uncle’s domain.” She turned toward Poseidon with steely eyes, reminding him of his involvement in the mortal’s transformation. She had kept silent abouthis transgressionagainstherdomain. “No one regrets Medusa’s existence more than I, for I cursed her due to the grave insult she caused me. Still, I remind you that every creature, every monster, serves a purpose. They are no mere accidents but tools of the great gods of Olympus, each in their own way.”

Still, Poseidon, brimming with anger that made the wind rise to a howl, would not see reason, “Enlighten me, then, my dear niece, how does this abhorrent beast serve me? By slaughtering my most devout worshippers?”