A Legend In Blood

Chapter 1

Medea. That was my name. The legends said many things about me. That I was a princess, a witch, a traitor, a murderer, a mad woman. I can hardly say I did not deserve such titles. Perhaps I was mad. But if I was, then I would have rather died than be sane.

I wonder if my father had the slightest clue before I was born as to what the Fates had planned for me, for him. Did he ever look at his colicky infant daughter and see the sorceress with blood on her hands that he would come to despise? Or had he gazed at me with hopes of beauty and strong grandsons by a handsome son-in-law even as I wailed night and day? Either way, I would become far more than he could ever imagine, for good or ill.

I was, am, Medea, witch and villainess. But what woman can ever live a life without such names?

"I want to visit grandfather," I said loudly as I grabbed my father's large hand.

He looked down at me, King Aeetes of Colchis in his resplendent robes. He opened his mouth to reject the idea, but my mother, her belly swollen with child, placed a gentle smooth hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. Father glanced first at my determined little face, then to mother, then back to me. A sigh of resignation left his lips as he rose to his feet. I beamed with childish glee and silently thanked my mother with my eyes before following him.

As we walked hand in hand, he stooping slightly to accommodate my meager height, I held my head high and stuck my chin out. I wanted to be regal and imposing, but Father coughed to suppress a laugh. The bright summer sun was at its highest point in the sky and shone through the windows. Statues of gods, heroes, and kings were bathed in golden light. The palace servants lowered their heads in respect to the king and his daughter.

To reach grandfather's temple, we had to walk through the royal gardens. You could always smell it a mile off before it even came into view. It was abounding with exotic flowers and herbs from every corner of Colchis and beyond. The moment I set foot within, my nose was flooded with a perfume of pervasive mint mixed with sweet freesia and roses and the sharpness of cardamom, sage, and pepper. The entire place was an explosion of color against a backdrop of lush green. Mother often brought me with her when she visited the garden. Lately she kept placing my hand on her growing belly.

"Do you feel that kick?" she would ask in her soft voice. "It is your little brother or sister. They want to greet you."

"It's going to be a boy," I would reply with utter certainty.

She would then give that motherly enigmatic smile.

"And how do you know that, my little lioness?"

I would then furrow my brow to ponder, but come up with nothing. I hadn't a clue as to how. I just knew as surely as I knew I was alive. It was a boy, plain and simple.

Yet it was not my impending brother I thought of as Father led me through the greenery. He made it a game to point at plants and ask me what they were, how much I knew.

"What is that one?" he asked, pointing to a frilly yellow plant.

"Yarrow," I responded in an instant. "It's used to treat injuries and stop bleeding."

"Very good," praised Father as he stroked my sable brown curls away from my face. "You've been speaking with the healer, I see."

"It's not hard. I just ask and he tells me."

He gave a nod of encouragement. Then he jerked his thumb at a dark shiny thing, its leave symmetrical.

"Mint. It makes a person's breath smell sweet and helps stomachaches."