Page 1 of Heroines of Olympus

1

MEDUSA

“Stop that!” Medusa swats at one of the infernal serpentine vermin he cursed her with.

It recoils and its small tongue flicks out in irritation.

“Just leave me alone for five Fates damned minutes.”

Medusa sighs as she leans her head back and lets the ripples of the hot spring caress her aching muscles. Never knowing when she will have to fight for her life again, her body struggles to relax in the therapeutic warmth of the water.

Her cavern is bright at this time of day. The noontime sun streams in through the large open areas at the top, casting beams of light around the space, often falling directly on the many statues that litter her sanctum. Do the Fates wish to punish Medusa further by spotlighting the many terrible things she has had to do to stay alive? Their faces haunt her even in her dreams when the guilt creeps into her heart - thorny vines pricking and poking every tender spot of her soul, leaving a raw open wound. These men had all come to kill her. Why should she carry the weight of their deaths any longer?

The snake from before, and an additional one, hiss in her ear, pulling her out of her thoughts. She rolls her eyes and dips below the surface, staying under momentarily to drown out the world. Hopefully, the water will quiet them down for as long as Medusa can hold her breath.

She pops above the waterline, sitting on a rock along the side of the pool. Submerged only up to her collarbone, Medusa rubs her hands along her arms to remove any lingering sweat and dirt. The patches of scales on her skin are rough beneath her fingers, ever-present reminders of whathedid to her. For a moment, she can still see the soft pink of the skin she used to have, instead of the current reptilian greens and golds.

Her muscles are firm underneath, toned from eight years of fending off the world as it sends countless soldiers to erase her existence. She absentmindedly rubs the arrowhead birthmark on her wrist - an action that is a compulsion at this point, though she will never understand why. The nature of her survival has been gruellingly physical. The result is thighs that are thick and powerful, abs that are solid, cushioned by curves over her wide hips and a soft belly. She has the body of a warrior.

The serpents, where her long cherry hair should be, slither around aimlessly. Their hisses and tongue flicks occasionally tickle her neck and ears. Her yellow-green eyes meet her reflection, filling her with bitterness and shame as the image taunts her. Medusa splashes the water, watching as her face dissipates amongst the ripples.

Medusa soaks for a while, forcing herself to relax and unwind. Her defensive lifestyle requires her to maintain her training nearly every day, partially to keep her skills honed but also out of boredom. Sparring with poor substitutes for training dummies helps release the frenetic energy coursing through her when there is little to do.

She reaches over to the side of the pool and picks up the novel she has been reading. Books are among her most treasured items that she rarely gets the chance to enjoy. Medusa savors the books anytime she ends up with a new one brought in by the Heroes, but she gets so wrapped up in them she forgets and flies through them.

The latest one is a cheesy romance, and she enjoys the comfortable ease of a read like that. She raised an eyebrow when she found it amongst the possessions of a particularly burly man that she assumed was a mercenary. It reminded her that you can never judge someone’s literary tastes by appearance.

Barely a chapter into her reading, more of her serpents slither intently around her face. Annoyed, she swats them away, but their insistence on annoying her is unrelenting.

“What are you doing? Stop that!”

The sporadic hisses are now in unison, building into an overwhelming cacophony in Medusa’s ears. Realizing something is wrong, she pushes aside her initial irritation with them.

She is not alone. No one has ever made it this far into her sanctum without her knowing, but it can be the only reason for her serpents to behave this way.

The bubbling water masks the sound of her movement as she carefully slides to the very back of the pool. As silently as she can, Medusa lifts herself out of the water, picking up the nearby sword and pressing herself against the wall.

A flicker of a shadow catches Medusa’s eye on the other side of the cavern. There. Found him.

His footsteps are silent. Had it not been for her serpents, she would have been ignorant of his arrival. She had been sitting there, completely exposed. She kicks herself for being so foolish, for letting her guard slip even for a moment. The Pantheon has made certain there is no rest for monsters.

The sand sticks to Medusa’s bare, wet feet as she stealthily stalks toward her attacker, using the statues of his fallen brethren for cover. Why can she not hear him? No one is this silent.

Her serpents are wild around her head, but the hissing has stopped, recognizing her need for silence.

All at once, every serpent jerks to her right and they hiss together once more. Medusa shushes them so she can focus, only stopping when a ray of light glints off of a shield in the direction they are hissing.

With barely any time to react, the shield gets closer. It is large and bronze, easily concealing the bulk of his torso and face.

She pulls her sword back and moves into a defensive stance. Digging her heels into the ground, like Nikolas taught her all those years ago, Medusa prepares for his attack.

Her blade rarely gets any use, as her serpents usually get the job done before the attacker is in swinging distance, but this one seems to have come prepared.

When he is a few feet away, the shield moves to the side in a flash, creating enough space to allow an arm and a sword to swing at her without exposing him to her snakes.

She parries and blade meets blade, the reverberation traveling up her arm, but she holds firm. He quickly retreats behind the shield and circles her. She turns with him, never letting her sword drop. They play this game for a few more minutes before Medusa has had enough. She will not be toyed with.

She lunges at him suddenly and grabs the bottom of the shield, flipping it upward with every ounce of strength she has. He must not have been expecting her to come at the bottom of the shield and it flies up and over his head easier than anticipated.

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