Page 12 of The Conquest of Medusa

It was Andromeda. The princess stepped out of the shadow of the tower entrance and stared at them with imploring eyes. Medusa stilled to see her beauty. All the rumors were true. Late-afternoon sun pierced the gloom as if to shine purposely upon the cloud of dark hair trailing to Andromeda’s knees, held back from her beautiful brown face with a net made of golden squares and coins. In fact, she was dripping in gold, delicate shimmers of it beaming from her as though from a miniature star. How had she survived here, in this dreadful place, looking as pure and perfect as if she’d just come from a throne room instead of a crumbling pile of stones?

There was such sweetness and sadness in her gaze. “Please stop hurting each other.” She lifted her hands toward Medusa, who didn’t respond.

“What are you talking about, Andri? He’s going to kill you,” Perseus exclaimed, still prying open the eye while Medusa kept the glowing silver rope gripped in her hands.

“He’s not my captor. Not anymore. He’s my lover.”

“Yourwhat? Andri, are you under a spell?” Perseus asked, panting.

“I know how it sounds,” the princess said quickly. “I didn’t come here of my choosing. But he’s only doing this because Poseidon commanded him to. And since I’ve been here, I’ve grown to know him. Care about him. You have no idea who he is, what he can teach me. And if I go back now, expecting his child…”

“A child? What the—? How did that even happen, Andri?” Perseus asked, releasing the eyelid and jumping to the ground by Andromeda’s side. “He’sthisbig and you’re…You know what? Please don’t tell me how. But you can’t raise a child here. This is no place for a baby or for you.”

“What if the child doesn’t look human?” Cetus asked. With Medusa still grasping the rope, he sunk to the rocks, resting on them wearily. Little rivers of blood still poured from his wounds. “What if it’s like me? You know what the humans will do to it. It’ll be tortured, cast out, hunted, if they don’t kill it the moment it’s born.”

Medusa landed on the shore and gazed up at him, understanding all too well.

“She’ll have to take that risk. But she can’t stay here, and you know it. Let her go,” Medusa said.

Cetus’s shoulders drooped.

“I am tired of everyone making decisions for me. I’m staying,” Andromeda said, lifting her quivering chin in defiance.

The great Cetus rose from the rocks, making sure to keep his face turned away from Medusa to avoid her gaze. His red, reptilian eyes, full of ages of wisdom and warfare and magic, were instead turned toward the tower where Andromeda stood looking up at him. He opened his hand, and the princess grasped the thumb. The mind link they shared was private; Medusa couldn’t hear what was being said but she gathered Andromeda was hearing something that reduced her to sorrow. Her face collapsed and she sobbed, “No. I won’t go.” But before she could run back inside the tower, Cetus scooped her up like a doll and carried her across the channel, dropping her down gently onto the ground beside Medusa.

Up close, Andromeda was even more beautiful despite her anguish. After a time, she settled her shoulders with resignation. Together they waited for Perseus to swim back across the water and surface, his clothes dripping wet. He shook his hair and upper body like a wolf, and Medusa grinned a little, despite how serious he looked.

“What happened to you, Perseus? And what are you doing with her?” Andromeda asked, seeming to finally notice his altered appearance.

“It’s a long story,” he replied. Gently, he asked, “So what now, Andri? Will you let us take you home?”

“Yes. Take me back,” Andromeda said heavily with defeat. “Show my family I’m fine but after that, I am done being their pretty, perfect princess. There’s an old village in the countryside. I’ll live there. The women of the village will take care of me….and Helios,” she said, pressing her hand to her belly.

“Helios? That’s a good name,” Perseus said, looking to the water as Cetus slowly sank beneath the water with a low moan.

“Where are you going?” Medusa asked the giant.

“To Northern seas, where a different God of the Water reigns. Poseidon can’t order me to hurt anyone else if he can’t find me. Goodbye to you all. I’ll return someday to meet my child.”

Andromeda watched the beast go, tears trickling down her smooth cheeks. Medusa felt an equally strong flow of anguish rippling from beneath the surface of the water as Cetus swam away with powerful strokes. He’d done the honorable thing, even if it meant leaving with a broken heart. It was a lesson; it showed her what she had to do next.

“Well. I guess that settles that,” Medusa said. “Before we leave, we can track down Stone Carver, get the medicine and fix you. After that, you take Andromeda back home. Save your mother however you can. And then, you and Andromeda raise this baby.” A great heaviness lay in her chest as she gazed at the beautiful pair in front of her. “You two could be happy together.”

Andromeda only sobbed, shaking her head, while Perseus sighed.

“Excuse us for a minute, Andri?” Perseus asked.

Taking Medusa’s hand, Perseus stopped where the sand and the rocks gave way to the jungle. The minions had disappeared. In the dappled light, he pulled her closer again and kissed her. She shivered, not at the ticklish feel of his sharp fangs lightly scraping her lips but because Perseus wasn’t gone. Noble, brave, a little arrogant—well, very arrogant—he was still there. Still Perseus. And she loved Perseus, she realized. Olympian or not, whether it made sense or not, it was real.

“I’m going to say it one more time. Andri and I don’t want each other. I want you. You’re caustic, in more ways than one. Tough. You’ve got the best weapons. Who wouldn’t want that?” Perseus cajoled, and Medusa smiled. He touched her hair, his own face softening. “So, stop fighting me. Let’s take Andri back to her people, we’ll take down Polydectes, and then you and I can be together. And I don’t need to be fixed, unless you prefer me the way I was. I’ll leave it up to you. But something tells me you don’t mind it.”

“I don’t mind it at all,” Medusa said, and found her way back into his arms. Their kiss was brief but tender. “But I won’t be able to satisfy you in the end. You’ll always need more than I can give.”

“No, Medusa,” Perseus insisted, shaking his head. “No. You have everything I need. It’s a small thing compared to what we could have. Please don’t let that be what keeps us apart. If you do, and you spend all your years alone, Athena wins. They all win.” His eyes blazed, not just with anger but with what she sensed was a growing desperation.

“They’ve already won. Your family will never stop coming up with ways to harass me or otherwise try to get me killed. And I’ve spent too many years of my life hating them. It needs to end. I need to be free, once and for all. Like Andromeda. Like Cetus.”

“What are you suggesting we do? We can’t fight them. They can’t die.”

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