Work Text:
We all know the story: a woman turned monster at the hands of a wrathful goddess. Once a figure of beauty, with flowing, golden locks of hair, a priestess at Athena’s temple. Now, a hideous monster. Suffering a sentence she didn’t deserve, she was blamed for the wrongdoings of another god. There were once three of them, three sisters, now all that was left was Medusa, on her lone island, only the dryads to keep her company.
Medusa stood in her garden, her linen draped over her beautifully. If one were to see her, one'd say she was captivating; the problem was, no one would be able to survive. The issue was that her hair, instead of being the gorgeous, flowing locks of her youth, was now beautifully colored snakes. All hissing, looking off in every which direction, greens, browns, blues, and orange, the woman's head was covered in rainbow snakes.
The sun peeked through the ivory. It was a peaceful island that Medusa had settled on, far from the mainland, far from the temple, far from humanity. You could stand on one end of the island and see the other if it weren't for the dense forest that grew. The only building was her home, which she had built herself, and she had grown her own food. The forest spirits had taken pity on her ever since they had found out that her time in Athena's temple had been so painfully cut short. She was happy now, but alone.
A shrill cry echoed in the fog of the morning air before it was sharply cut off.
Medusa shot up from her plants. The island was small, so where the cry had come from wouldn't be hard to find. As Medusa walked through the greenery, another cry called out. It angered her that the cries were her only friends, the dryads, even if they could never talk face to face. They had still helped her, kept her company, and offered trade. They were beings of life and beauty, and someone was hurting them. They were falling at the hands of a-
"Monster!" The words cut through the forest, causing Medusa to stop in her tracks. Off to her right, a statue now stood. I'm the monster. The woman thought as she turned towards the exclamation, as if she was not living here peacefully on the islands since her banishment.
"It's Medusa!" That name, it's been a long time since she'd heard someone else say it. Her story must have run through Athens like wildfire, and now, either people have grown so fearful or the gods are finally growing merciful towards her. Footsteps quickly reached towards her before they stopped, just as their yells stopped. They had forgotten, or not known, that the sight of her is what would kill them, not a blade, no time to fight back, just how she had suffered.
Medusa looked around at the troupe of statues now surrounding her, some holding weapons, running away, arrows being pulled back on the bows. But their faces, contorted into fear, an expression she can never run away from, for she was the beast they dreaded, the monster they so desperately wanted to kill. All were stone now, their souls trapped in the rock cage their fear brought them to.
Medusa walked towards one of the warriors, her steps light, but still crushing leaves. His sword pulled back, about to swing, before he was cut short. This one was the leader just based on his clothes, and if he hadn't met her, he might have been a great hero, only maybe, but probably would have faced a more gruesome end if he had lived to see another day. She stayed there for a long time, looking over her new statues and weather to keep this bunch as a warning, or to get rid of them.
A branch snapped as footsteps approached. "Hello? Stamatios? Anyone? Where did you go?" A woman's voice cut through the bush.
Medusa grew sorrowful; this woman hadn’t done anything, nothing to hurt her, or in hopes, but now she was going to meet her. Medusa never liked hurting anyone. She was forced to; a glance at her would extinguish anyone and anything, she was well aware of this. This woman was going to join her Stamatios soon enough in her statue collection. Medusa could also hide in hopes that the woman might not see her.
The woman stumbled into the clearing as her foot caught on a root, her hand landing on one of the statues to stabilize herself. "Whoever lives here must be an amazing artist; these sculptures are all over the place." She pushed herself up. "Stamatios? Are you around here?"
Medusa observed her, but the woman never took notice of her. Didn't even glance her way, just stared ahead as her hands guided her around the statues and trees. Her bear feet grazed across the ground. She had a thin complexion, hair as dark as the night, and a green wool toga draped over her shoulders. Her head didn't turn, but her hands grazed around to guide her.
Medusa stepped back, but a twig snapped under her foot. The woman stopped in her tracks, her hands on one of the frozen warriors. "Stamatios? Was that you?" When the woman's body turned, her eyes finally met Medusa's. "Stamatios?"
The feared monster, who has killed hundreds with a single look, watched as someone stared at her. Medusa felt as though she might turn to stone instead. Medusa stood straight as she noticed the woman's eyes weren't normal; they didn't look like the eyes of someone who was looking death in the eyes. They looked far off, like she was staring into the world beyond.
"Who's over there? I know there's someone. I had heard you, so there's no need to hide any longer." Medusa took a step towards the woman; she didn't know why a stone statue didn't stand in place of the woman, why her curse wasn't affecting her, but she wasn't going to waste this chance.
"Hello, are you looking for someone?" Medusa asked as the snakes hissed in her ears.
The woman sighed in relief. "Yes, I'm Damalia. I'm looking for the men who were on the ship with me when we boarded the island. More specifically, I'm looking for Stamatios." The woman stood in the middle of the clearing, where Medusa had stood moments ago when the ambush occurred.
"I see," Medusa looked down. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I do not believe that your crewmates will be joining you anytime soon. In fact, if you take a good look at the statues around you, they may seem familiar."
"I have some unfortunate news, but I was cursed never to see again, the Gods saw it fit for my actions," Damalia informed. "Now what do you mean by the statues?"
Is that why she's not dead? That she's blind and can't see such a creature that I am? That- “Why don't you come back with me for something to eat? You must be famished after being on that boat for so long. I can and will explain then."
"That would be lovely." Damalia smiled before holding out her hand for Medusa to take, a gentle act of kindness that she wasn't used to, not anymore, while it seemed so natural to Damalia.
Medusa was hesitant, but Damalia kept her hand out and a soft smile on her face. Medusa thought that at the mere touch, Damalia would turn to stone, would crumble at the touch of her hand. Medusa took hold of her hand, and against all her fears, Damalia didn't collapse, wasn't petrified. Medusa sighed with relief, the softness of her hands easing her fear before she walked off through the trees. A silent promise to lead Damalia to safety and without hazards, to protect her, to keep her around for as long as possible while she thought of what to do.
The crumble of the leaves echoed through the trees before they appeared at Medusa's home, her prison from the gods. Medusa helped Damalia to a seat and started preparing something.
"Can you tell me about the statues now?" Damalia broke the silence.
"Yes, there lives a monster on this island, one who you may have heard of," Medusa started as she placed a plate of bread and fruit in front of Damalia. "Before she was a monster, she was once a priest at Athena's temple. One day, she caught the attention of another god, Poseidon, and the priest was blamed for the misdeed when it had been the god's fault. The priest was punished for it and turned into a monster. Now, she lives here in solitude, cursed for if anyone were to gaze at her, they'd turn to stone."
"Were you that priest?" Damalia asked, picking at the grapes on her plate.
"Yes, I was," Medusa answered. "Now a gorgan, along with my sisters who have left this place long ago. Forced to live in a garden of those who wanted me dead."
"Maybe, but while you see it as punishment, I see it as protection from those who want you gone. Maybe Athena wanted to make sure no one else could hurt you again. I owe you a thank you for that." Damalia declared.
"Excuse me?" Medusa was confused. She expected fear and hatred from Damalia and to run away.
"When I was young, I was sold to them. The men on the ship were using me for years. Stamatios was the worst, but still treated me with a bit of kindness." Damalia informed Medusa and was now grateful that those men stumbled upon her path. "I tried running away many times, and eventually, my punishment from the gods started. I slowly lost my eyesight, and I stopped running away. However, it led me to you, and because of my blindness, I live while the men parished. So, thank you, you saved me from a situation far worse than death. And if you would be so kind, if I may stay a bit longer in your company."
Damalia reached out, her fingertips grazing the linen Medusa was wearing before tugging lightly on the clothes. Medusa looked over; it was hard, for fear that Damalia would still turn to stone at her gaze. When she finally willed herself to look, Damalia was looking up at her, her eyes staring up at Medusa. A soft smile spread across Damalia's lips, as Medusa's eyes welled up with tears.
Medusa hadn't looked someone in the eyes for a long time and hadn't felt the true gentleness of a touch in years. They were safe, together, and not alone anymore.