her he made his bride, queen of the sea
Dec. 22nd, 2007 07:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mycursedfaceThe whale was young, not yet fully grown. A young buck, full of pride and daring as any adolescent boy. A handsome creature, too, and you need only to meet his eye to know that he was clever. But for the recklessness of youth, he could have as majestic as any of the other grandfathers of the sea. Indeed, in some other parts of the world and most certainly in another part of time, it was not yet too late for the young whale. Beached he may be, drying out as the tide leaves and internal organs crushed underneath his own weight, but it was not too late for him to be rescued.
Medusa lands lightly on the sand near him, but in her gaze is nothing but the pitiless hunger of a predator.
Pitiless, but not cruel (not today), and when she walks towards him it is with every intention of ending his misery. But intentions are nothing but that, and they can be stopped easily enough. In this case, by a woman.
Or at least, a woman-shaped being. Tall as most would reckon it, with an abundance of curls the colour of the deepest ocean restrained by a net and dressed in a chiton all the shades of the sea. She had not been there when Medusa had landed.
The Gorgon didn’t move and, for a long moment, didn’t say anything. Then, tilting her chin up, she opened her mouth.
“Amphitrite Halosydne, daughter of Nereus the Old Man of the Sea, and she who is Queen of the Waves. Sister. Greetings.”
Amphitrite looked over her shoulder, and turned around. She was beautiful, and while one might say ‘naturally’, for all nymphs are beautiful, Amphritrite stood out even among them. She smiled, faintly, and inclined her head. One queen to another, and the dark eyes that glittered (with anger, with sorrow, with amusement; it was impossible to say) were a mirror of Medusa’s own.
“Medusa Gorgos, daughter of Phorcys, the Old Man of the Sea, and she who is Queen of Gorgons and Mistress of the West Gate. Half sister.”
“Only if you want to be technical,” and Medusa’s tone was bland.
“We do not share a mother.”
“Agreed.”
“So your blood is but half mine.”
“If it means so much to you.”
“You have been avoiding me of late.”
“Have I?”
“I do not lie.”
“Neither do I.”
“Would you care to tell me why?”
“Not particularly.”
Amphritrite’s lips didn’t press into a tight line at that, but the serenity of her face grew more than a little hard edged. The whale moaned in distress, and the sea-goddess gently laid her hand against his side. She stroked his skin with all the gentleness of a mother, and didn’t look at her (half) sister.
“I hear rumours, Medusa. I hear rumours of what happens on shorelines and in caves. The sailors in their little fishing boats talk to me, cajoling and chatty. The fish, seals, dolphins…all my children listen and they, at least, are faithful.”
Medusa’s hands remained by her sides, but she couldn’t help flexing the fingers of her left. Claws out, claws in, and she didn’t look for her triplets. They were in the air, flying towards where she came down in the tactics of large birds hunting in pairs and groups – they would get here when they can.
She still felt very, very alone.
Amphritrite’s hand stilled and the whale’s breathing stilled with it. She got up in a swift, angry gesture, spinning around and walking forwards until she was within arm’s reach of Medusa.
“Thoosa bore Poseidon a son.”
Medusa didn’t back away, and she didn’t look away. And if her mouth suddenly turned dry and it was hard, oh so hard, to breathe around the stone in her chest, the little Gorgon gave little outward sign of it.
“I was not aware.”
“Your sister.”
“And yours.”
“Half.”
“Still. We all share a father.”
“According to the laws of men and gods, that would make him her brother.”
“Half brother.”
Amphritrite’s hand, the same with which she had killed the whale, flew out towards Medusa’s face even as she stepped forward. Medusa didn’t move, didn’t look away, but when instead of a slap her sister merely rested her fingers against her cheek, she blinked.
“Thoosa welcomed him with a kiss. I hear that -”
“I said no.” If Amphritrite’s voice was the roll and break of the waves, Medusa’s was the wind that tore at tents and trees alike.
Softly, “I am sorry, little sister, for what my husband did to you.”
Medusa stepped away sharply. She didn’t rub her face, but her hands were fists. Amphritrite just watched with her large, heavy-lidded eyes before she shook her head slightly and looked out over the cove.
“I came to warn you,” she said then, as if the proceeding conversation hadn’t occurred.
“Oh?”
“Rumours. A bastard son washed ashore with his royal, beautiful mother. A protector turned unwanted suitor. A challenge. A…a dare. You know what mortals are like.”
“A dare.”
Amphritrite regarded her with something akin to indifference, and Medusa’s jaw clenched. Poseidon had forced her sister into being his queen, all that time ago, but now he was her husband and father of her children. Amphritrite might apologize for the sake of their shared blood, might warn because of some remembered loyalty, but she was still as fickle and jealous as any of the gods.
“Do not be reckless, Medusa Gorgos. You are cursed now, and all your pride and anger will not do you any good if your time is up.”
“If my time is up, than there is nothing I can do about it,” Medusa pointed out practically. “You, however, I would like you to leave. This is not your kingdom sea.”
“Indeed it is not.” Amphritrite stepped back into the waves, but even as she started to melt and meld with the water, she turned around. “And Medusa?”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations.”
“…On what?” But even as she spoke, her half-sister vanished into the ocean. “AMPHRITRITE!”
The only reply was an echo and the startled squawking of sea-gulls.
Medusa lands lightly on the sand near him, but in her gaze is nothing but the pitiless hunger of a predator.
Pitiless, but not cruel (not today), and when she walks towards him it is with every intention of ending his misery. But intentions are nothing but that, and they can be stopped easily enough. In this case, by a woman.
Or at least, a woman-shaped being. Tall as most would reckon it, with an abundance of curls the colour of the deepest ocean restrained by a net and dressed in a chiton all the shades of the sea. She had not been there when Medusa had landed.
The Gorgon didn’t move and, for a long moment, didn’t say anything. Then, tilting her chin up, she opened her mouth.
“Amphitrite Halosydne, daughter of Nereus the Old Man of the Sea, and she who is Queen of the Waves. Sister. Greetings.”
Amphitrite looked over her shoulder, and turned around. She was beautiful, and while one might say ‘naturally’, for all nymphs are beautiful, Amphritrite stood out even among them. She smiled, faintly, and inclined her head. One queen to another, and the dark eyes that glittered (with anger, with sorrow, with amusement; it was impossible to say) were a mirror of Medusa’s own.
“Medusa Gorgos, daughter of Phorcys, the Old Man of the Sea, and she who is Queen of Gorgons and Mistress of the West Gate. Half sister.”
“Only if you want to be technical,” and Medusa’s tone was bland.
“We do not share a mother.”
“Agreed.”
“So your blood is but half mine.”
“If it means so much to you.”
“You have been avoiding me of late.”
“Have I?”
“I do not lie.”
“Neither do I.”
“Would you care to tell me why?”
“Not particularly.”
Amphritrite’s lips didn’t press into a tight line at that, but the serenity of her face grew more than a little hard edged. The whale moaned in distress, and the sea-goddess gently laid her hand against his side. She stroked his skin with all the gentleness of a mother, and didn’t look at her (half) sister.
“I hear rumours, Medusa. I hear rumours of what happens on shorelines and in caves. The sailors in their little fishing boats talk to me, cajoling and chatty. The fish, seals, dolphins…all my children listen and they, at least, are faithful.”
Medusa’s hands remained by her sides, but she couldn’t help flexing the fingers of her left. Claws out, claws in, and she didn’t look for her triplets. They were in the air, flying towards where she came down in the tactics of large birds hunting in pairs and groups – they would get here when they can.
She still felt very, very alone.
Amphritrite’s hand stilled and the whale’s breathing stilled with it. She got up in a swift, angry gesture, spinning around and walking forwards until she was within arm’s reach of Medusa.
“Thoosa bore Poseidon a son.”
Medusa didn’t back away, and she didn’t look away. And if her mouth suddenly turned dry and it was hard, oh so hard, to breathe around the stone in her chest, the little Gorgon gave little outward sign of it.
“I was not aware.”
“Your sister.”
“And yours.”
“Half.”
“Still. We all share a father.”
“According to the laws of men and gods, that would make him her brother.”
“Half brother.”
Amphritrite’s hand, the same with which she had killed the whale, flew out towards Medusa’s face even as she stepped forward. Medusa didn’t move, didn’t look away, but when instead of a slap her sister merely rested her fingers against her cheek, she blinked.
“Thoosa welcomed him with a kiss. I hear that -”
“I said no.” If Amphritrite’s voice was the roll and break of the waves, Medusa’s was the wind that tore at tents and trees alike.
Softly, “I am sorry, little sister, for what my husband did to you.”
Medusa stepped away sharply. She didn’t rub her face, but her hands were fists. Amphritrite just watched with her large, heavy-lidded eyes before she shook her head slightly and looked out over the cove.
“I came to warn you,” she said then, as if the proceeding conversation hadn’t occurred.
“Oh?”
“Rumours. A bastard son washed ashore with his royal, beautiful mother. A protector turned unwanted suitor. A challenge. A…a dare. You know what mortals are like.”
“A dare.”
Amphritrite regarded her with something akin to indifference, and Medusa’s jaw clenched. Poseidon had forced her sister into being his queen, all that time ago, but now he was her husband and father of her children. Amphritrite might apologize for the sake of their shared blood, might warn because of some remembered loyalty, but she was still as fickle and jealous as any of the gods.
“Do not be reckless, Medusa Gorgos. You are cursed now, and all your pride and anger will not do you any good if your time is up.”
“If my time is up, than there is nothing I can do about it,” Medusa pointed out practically. “You, however, I would like you to leave. This is not your kingdom sea.”
“Indeed it is not.” Amphritrite stepped back into the waves, but even as she started to melt and meld with the water, she turned around. “And Medusa?”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations.”
“…On what?” But even as she spoke, her half-sister vanished into the ocean. “AMPHRITRITE!”
The only reply was an echo and the startled squawking of sea-gulls.
