Athena's Revenge

Mercy. That was all I asked for when he trampled on my virtue. According to her, it wasn’t a curse, she insisted she’d helped me.

The water had been a calm, clear blue, the salt sparkling in the sun. I was too beautiful to be chaste, he had said. He grew impatient with me when he confronted me on the beach that day. I have promised myself to Athena, I had told him. I devoted my life to the virgin goddess so I must remain virtuous myself in order to demonstrate my respect and fealty.

I said no, he should know where my allegiance lies. The calm in the air was interrupted by grey winds and the crashing of barrels. He moved swiftly in the chaos towards me, his brow furrowed, his face contorted. How defiant I was. Never had a mortal refused him so, and spoiled gods have vast, quick tempers. I knew what would come, so I ran to the only place I thought safe. She will save me, I had thought. After dedicating my life to her, I had faith she would save me.

I was kneeling by her alter when he caught up to me. He knocked me down onto the cold marble steps. She did not come. He ripped my robes exposing the newly made bruises and fresh blood. She did not come. I cried her name. She did not come. He pinned down my arms. She did not come. I sobbed on those cold steps, my pool of tears being the only item I was able to offer, and still, she did not come. I had never experienced fear such as this, yet, it did not matter. He left me there, bleeding on the steps of her altar like a desperate sacrifice. Only when the last drop of blood was yearning to leave my body did I see a barn owl fly in. With a flash of silver, the wise goddess looked down upon me.

“You dishonor me, child,” she had said coldly, “You defile yourself in my house — on my altar —such a crude insult. Never have I been so offended.” I could barely muster any breath as I was still drowning on the steps.

“He attacked me, dear Goddess. I could not fight him. He was much too strong. I came here for your help as I did not contain the power to save myself.” She stared at me considering my admission.

“Who was the man, this man who slain you?” I lay, confused. Surely she knew who entered her temple.

“It wasn’t a man, dear Goddess … It was Poseidon.” Her grey eyes flickered. I wasn’t sure if it was disdain for me or for the name I had spoken. The silence was distilling.

“Goddess, Athena … I called for you. Did you hear me?”

“Yes, maiden.”

“May I inquire as to why didn’t you come?”

“There was nothing I would have been able to do, child.” I was confused.

“Why?”

She ignored the question as she gracefully climbed the stairs, her foot grazing my arm as she went. I watched as she reached her altar. She placed a pearly hand on the carvings and engravings detailed in her name. Her fingertips grazed the designs. A slight smirk suddenly crossed her deadpan expression. She continued looking forward when she said, “Would you like to be able to defend yourself, maiden?”

“Against gods and men?” I said slowly. It felt like a quiz. She nodded slightly, in a way only a goddess can. Why would she offer me protection when I am no longer in need? When I am no longer suffering? What could she give me to withstand the strength of a god?

“How?”

“Do you forget who you are speaking to child?” She said with a sharp, click of her tongue. I flicked my eyes away, ashamed of my doubt.

“I’m sorry.”

“As you have made me your patron goddess, I will protect you from now on. You will never feel powerless again, you will never be weak, young maiden. No man or god will be able to touch you again.” Her gaze was potent, her grey gloat tearing through me. I had yet to give an answer before it began.

The pain came hissing out of my head. I felt my legs glue together and blend. My body lengthened. My blood was returned, however, it did not warm me as it once did. Many voices flooded through my skull. A biting burn expanded in my eyes. It wasn’t long before the pressure on my skull subsided. Sitting up, I looked down upon my body, now covered in scales. My jaw gaped and gasped.

“What did you make me?”

“Powerful,” her voice echoed along the walls, taking whatever space her presence didn’t already fill.

“I gift you this bow as men will still come to conquer you. However, you will have little need of it.” I understood I was seeping with venom, yet that wouldn’t protect me until they would get really close.

“But, why?”

“Men only pay attention with their eyes, my dear. They were drawn to you for your beauty, and you were attacked for it. Appearance is what drives most men to greed. They will still be drawn to your looks, only out of desperation to see what has become of you; to claim victory over the slaying the hideous monster, Medusa. Though now you are ugly, every man will still be dying to look upon you, yet your face will be the last they will ever see. You will freeze them when they are most panicked, when they are experiencing the same helplessness as you just faced. Pious men will now understand what it is to be weak.”

Silver flared through the temple and I turned to find her gone. I was left bewildered as the luster of day appeared on the altar. Only moments later, I was startled by a fellow priest who entered her house. He saw me and I saw terror. He never turned to run. His expression cemented. I didn’t have to look at myself to know how repugnant I had become. I was no longer befuddled by her speech. The last thing they will ever see.

Mercy. That was all I wanted. She was right, I have not experienced frailty since, but this was punishment and wrath disguised as mercy — whether it was punishment for me or for the pool I once sank in is unclear. She’s made an example of me to strike terror into the hearts of men. I may be strong, monstrous and vicious, however, weakness and fear weren’t ever what I wanted to inspire. Threatening faces instantly transform to panic. I’m forever surrounded by the hopelessness I once knew. I am forced to live a lonely life amongst petrified stone, forever reminded of the tragedy I faced, forever having to relive my worst fear in the frozen eyes of others. Though the seas remain calm, suffering surrounds me at every corner, consuming me in angst. Little did she know, it was my suffering, my angst. Little did she know, her mercy was injustice.