A/N: TRIGGER WARNING for implied rape, as follows Medusa's story. Italics are speech, except for "(unrelenting)" which is emphasis/commentary/something of that sort. Hopefully speakers are clear enough, should make sense in context.
Unrelenting
Athena's priestess finds blessing in a curse.
When he smiles at her the first time, she pays him no mind.
Her sisters giggle, call her shy, say she should have some fun with him. Lord of the sea, master of earthquakes - by all accounts he's handsome, with a thick beard, glinting dark eyes and muscles hardened by the unrelenting beating of waves - but she just smiles softly and shakes her head.
His smile is open and relaxed, like honey drawing flies, but she continues on her way, her sisters' words barely tracing a path in her memory.
Her sisters frown, then, call her cold, say she should be grateful for his attentions. Why does she refuse him, when so many would kill to take her place? Does she think herself so beautiful that she can find better - better, than the master of the wine-dark seas? Her brow creases and she shakes her head again, more quickly.
His smile is determined, insistent (unrelenting), and her sisters' words jump to her mind - but do not change it. She blinks, purses her lips, and walks away.
Her sisters snarl, now, call her selfish, say she should step aside if she will not step forward. While she dallies and occupies his sight, they say, he sees no other. Either of them would gladly lie with the god, if he would just tear his eyes from their sister's form. Sleep with him now, they say, or get out of the way. She frowns, lips tight, but only nods. They are her sisters.
His smile is small, now, dangerous (unrelenting), and he grabs her wrist as she moves to pass him by once more. His words are questioning, Don't you know who I am?; his smile is promising, You will; his eyes are threatening, I am unrelenting. Her, swallowing, eyes down - Lord Poseidon. She casts her sight around her and finds they are alone. She sees her sisters across the field - but she recalls their words to her, and their emotions; they would be closed to her screams even if she dared to voice them.
Come with me. There is no question in these words and his smile falls silent; no more promises. Only his threatening eyes and inescapable grasp continue unchanged (unrelenting) as he whistles up his chariot.
She does not remember agreeing to go with him; she has only spoken two words in answer to a question, but an unwilling, unthought, unspoken yes seems to echo in his unheeding ears.
His eyes roam over her clothes as the chariot flies above the sprays of salt. Priestess. Athena? They are emotionless, calculating. She nods. They are hard, raging (unrelenting). We'll visit your temple. Short, tight words. No question.
He steps off onto the foot of the temple. She does not, but his arms fill in for her feet and she is beside him as he stalks between the columns. Darkness shrouds her view but not the feeling of his fingers around her wrist.
The smile returns, staring down at the olive-tree engraved on the altar. Bitter. Challenging. You won that one, didn't you. He might be reminiscing, if he spoke to a lover. But she is not his lover, and he does not speak to her. His eyes turn to her, but his words remain distant. Not this one.
His hands turn to her as well, and now it is her words that are distant to his ears. He does not seem to hear. No. He is not used to the word. Stop. He has not heard it before. Let me go. He has never bothered to listen to the mortals' words. No. Perhaps he simply does not understand.
His eyes flick up to the altar. They are burning (unrelenting); his smile, victorious. No. Eyes to her, disinterested. No. Smile, cruel; he understands. He simply does not care.
When he rises, his eyes are bright with satisfaction and his smile spits vengeance upon the altar. Hers are bright with tears and her smile has fled with the light of day.
Footsteps. His smile widens. Niece, exuberant, what a surprise this is. Rage boils beneath the new arrival's skin even as divinity sears the priestess' eyes. Uncle, repressed, begone. No more.
That smile, that smirk sits upon the air even as his body leaves the temple; it sits constant (unrelenting) upon her memory like the sky upon Atlas' shoulders.
The goddess' eyes, famed grey, spark an angry, muted black. They look down upon her, suppliant, and anger turns thoughtful. Responsibility, an unreadable voice begins, considering. Your choice? Tear-struck eyes widen at the thought. No. Hard, defiant, heard too late and by the wrong ears.
A nod, slow, thinking. His? A flinch is response enough. He is a god. She knows this is true. He rules the seas. This, too. He is untouchable, answers only to himself. He could return (unrelenting) without fear of retribution. Fear pounds on her heart, knocking to be let in.
Yet punishment must be given. You answer to me. Fear knocks louder; surely doom is at the doorstep, waiting. But the goddess' ears hear what others did not. Do not fear me, loyal one. Mortal eyes snap to divine; a smile eases through grey-black anger, relenting. Her breath catches suddenly, as hope dares rear its head.
Beauty drew him first of all. Find that beauty gone. Hair grows ropy, scaly, even; hissing comes in silent splendor's place. Fear slows, tempered by confusion. She never feared snakes. If this is her punishment, it is strange, but worse fates have fallen from the stars for other legends.
Words failed to stop him. Words, useless, when action overrules. Therefore, find yourself possessed of a curse overruling action.
Confusion deepens; Curse?
A last smile, cold, razor-sharp, but pleased. Your words could not stop him. Now your eyes can. A stony fate awaits any man whose eyes dare challenge yours again. Children will speak of you for ages, call it Medusa's curse. Know it for a blessing. You are safe.
Understanding, now, replaces confusion, sidelines fear. A smile, a true, vicious, relieved smile grows across her face. It is her smile that now holds a promise for the future, her eyes that will threaten refusal and lack of agency. Hers is the promise of a stony fate, never-ending, solidified in indignity - unrelenting.
A/N: This was an interesting experiment in style, perspective, syntax; reading Latin poetry makes stating silly little things like verbs and articles and subjects and conjunctions seem less important. Leave the full, expounding sentences to Cicero.
Anyway, I love Medusa's story because it's so open to interpretation beyond the basic plot. I like to think that Athena would not be so grossly victim-blaming and irrational as others *cough* Hera *cough*, so, here we are.
Reviews always gratefully accepted!