Serpent and Stone

Chapter 15

We formed a sort of routine, Perseus and I. In the mornings, when the sun dawned above the mountain peaks, we'd go together to the garden for me to collect the food and medicinal herbs I wanted and care for the plants. Each time, I helped Perseus along by telling him where to step, when to turn, so that he wouldn't trip over anything.

But he grew accustomed to the staff I had given him, and he quickly learned how to use it efficiently. After hardly a week, he no longer needed my guidance to reach the garden, but knew the path well enough to get there on his own.

When we returned to the temple in the evening, he would sit and weave with the loom while I prepared and stored all of the plants I had picked. By now he had more than enough clothing to wear, but he'd taken a genuine liking to weaving. He was good at it too, so good that I marveled at how someone could pick up the skill so fast and with such precision.

We talked during the day, about anything and everything. I asked him more about Argos, Seriphos, and the other cities outside of my island. He was a good storyteller and was happy to share what he knew. He told me of the wars and struggles between the rival cities that dotted the land, and the role that each of the gods had played in their battles. He described the great tragedies that were performed before vast audiences in the amphitheaters and the newest dances that spread like wildfire from town to town.

In turn, he asked me to describe everything he could not see, from the cliffs on the far side of the island to the thread I used on the loom. I felt like I had exhausted my vocabulary trying to do justice to everything he asked for. I still felt inadequate for the job, but he always seemed satisfied with my descriptions at least.

"I have my question," he said. I paused where I stood grinding herbs down to a powder before resuming my work a moment later. I had kept true to my promise to him. Every day he asked one thing about my appearance, and I answered him. Of course, he would never know the lies. That my hair was not really black, but a scaly green, a living viper's nest. That my eyes were not really brown, but an unnatural glowing gold to mark my curse. I was slowly but surely learning how to lie to him.

"Alright," I replied. "What is it today?"

He expertly moved the reed back and forth on the loom. "How tall are you?" he asked.

I exhaled slowly, a breath to calm myself.

"Only a little shorter than you," I said. "The top of my head about reaches your chin." If you don't count the snakes, that is.

He hummed in acknowledgement, seeming to think on my answer. "You're tall for a woman then."

I continued to grind the herbs, ignoring the small ache in my chest. "I suppose." Not that I would know. The only other women I'd ever seen were my own mother and the few unfortunate ones who fell victim to my curse.

I waited for him to continue the conversation, to make some sort of teasing comment or ask more questions. But a heavy silence seemed to fill the air. Without even having to look at him, I could sense he had that pensive expression on his face as he thought deeply about something.

"I've been thinking more about my blindness," he said slowly. "That it's most likely permanent." He shook his head and sighed. "This whole time I've been trying to convince myself it wasn't, that someday I'll get it back. But deep down I know I'm being delusional. My sight is gone forever. I need to come to grips with it."

He took a shaky breath. "If I'm going to be blind, I don't want to be helpless. I still need to slay Medusa. The more I think about it, the more I start to believe that this blindness might be my Fate, the gods' way of telling me that I'm meant to kill the gorgon. Who better to defeat a monster that turns those who look at her to stone than a blind man?" My blood turned to ice in my veins. Very slowly, I put down my tools and turned to face him. His hands had stopped moving on the loom, and he was frowning, his pale blue eyes bright with determination. "If I'm going to face her blind, I need to be ready." He turned his gaze in my direction. "So? Will you help me learn how to fight blind?"

I tensed. "I never told you I know how to fight."

"I know," he said. "But I suspected it." He arched a brow. "Do you?"

I released the tension in my shoulders, focusing on slowing down my pulse. "Yes, I do," I admitted.

"And will you?" he pressed. "Help to teach me, I mean."

I didn't answer him right away, taking a minute to contemplate his proposal. I wanted to laugh out loud, laugh at the bitter irony of it all. He believed it was his destiny to kill me, yet here he was, asking me to teach him how. I had no doubt that the Fates were at play here, but I knew that they weren't trying to show Perseus his destiny. No, they were roaring with laughter somewhere at the little joke they'd played on me, the situation they'd trapped me in. I could picture their cruel joy so clearly, I could almost hear their snickers like a ringing in my ears.

It was clear that I should say no to him. Hand-to-hand combat was fast and unpredictable, difficult to teach to someone who was unable to see. And most dangerous of all, it would force us to be in close proximity, close enough for him to accidentally discover who I was if I moved the wrong way.

I dreaded that now more than anything. Over the past weeks, I had learned to live with another human being for the first time in years. I had begun to look forward to seeing Perseus' smile when we stepped out into the sunlight in the mornings, to yearn to talk to him while he sat weaving when the sun went down. When I held his hand to guide him somewhere a fluttery feeling filled my chest and when I caught him wearing his usual expression of deep concentration I couldn't stop myself from staring at it, as if he were a work of art crafted from marble.

It terrified me, and I knew it was wrong. Monsters didn't have friends, nor did they care for the humans whose lives they destroyed. He was a hero, destined to bring the heads of creatures like me back to his city in triumph and glory. This was merely a temporary fantasy, an unnatural twist of fate that allowed us to be together like this for a small amount of time. Soon enough, his ships would return and he would leave with them. I could live with that, I thought. I could accept the time limit, could accept the fact that I would have to be apart from him forever.

But I don't think I would be able to handle it if he ever discovered that I was Medusa, the monster he had come to kill. I closed my eyes and saw his beautiful blue eyes filled with revulsion, with fear and disgust as he realized the one who had been with him all this time was the hideous creature who turned men to stone with a single glance. Then he would see me as I saw myself: a horrifying being with so many innocent lives on her hands that she didn't even deserve the peaceful life of isolation that she led.

The look in his eyes stopped me before I could open my mouth to refuse him. He had that determination shining in his gaze, that expression of unwavering conviction and hope like a candle in the darkness. He truly believed this is what he needed to do, what he was meant to do. And beneath that conviction, I could see the confusion and pain. He needed to have an explanation for his lost sight, to believe that his suffering had some greater purpose. Underneath his firm gaze and strong build, he was as fragile as glass. I recoiled at the thought of being the one to make him shatter.

I met that gaze of his and my weakened will caved. "Alright," I said, looking away. "I can teach you."

I glanced back at him. His face broke into a grin that, despite everything, made me smile back.

"Thank you, Andromeda," he said. "For everything. I could spend an entire lifetime trying and never do enough to repay you for all the help you've given me."

He wants to slay you and bring your head back to his king, a dark voice whispered in my mind. He just doesn't know it yet.

I swallowed thickly. "It was my choice to help you. I don't need your gratitude." I took a long inhale, closing my eyes and focusing my mind. "Get some rest. We'll begin in the morning."