Medusa’s Truth

Come in, my dear, and fear not. You are safe here.

Yes, I know what the stories say, but like so many stories told by powerful people who suddenly have reason to fear, they are wrong...

Well, no, not entirely wrong. My visage is a fearsome one, and does turn anyone who threatens me to stone if I will it. That was Athena's gift to Medusa, as she sobbed out her trauma and pleas for forgiveness, that no-one, man or woman or deity, could ever again take what had never been offered.

Men would call it a punishment, for submitting to Poseidon in Athena's own temple. Those same men are the ones who would claim that good looks and politeness are an invitation, because they cannot fathom the concept of being refused.

Gods are petty, and the Lord of Storms, the Earthshaker, is even slower to let go of a slight than most. She could not undo the past, but Athena made sure that he would never touch his victim, never even look at her, again, and that her consent would be required for anyone else to do so.

Gifts are very much in the eye of the receiver, after all. However temporarily.

There, you see, laughter may not cure all ills, or fix what troubles you now, but it does help. Tell me why you have come here.

Ah.

Your king is not the first to send someone he wishes to be rid of on a quest he thinks is impossible. No doubt he hopes you will die trying, or be too ashamed to return, leaving your mother unprotected from him.

It speaks well of you, and of your mother's raising of you, that even now you hesitate to trade my life for her safety. Others have come this far, with less noble reasons, and failed. You will succeed, but success will not destroy the sanctuary we have built.

I will tell you the secret that no myth will reveal: I am not the first Medusa.

No, don't panic, didn't I just tell you that your quest will succeed?

Medusa was transformed, but she was still mortal, with a mortal lifespan. When her time grew near, she begged from Athena and from Artemis, the protector of young women, one final request: that the sanctuary she had built would live on after her, with a protector to guard it.

So, when the first Medusa died, one of the women she had protected and helped to rebuild accepted the duty of continuing her work, and was transformed into the next Medusa. I am the fifth Medusa, and there will be others after me. You will not be killing me, young Perseus. I am sacrificing my life to save many other women who do not deserve the fate that will befall them if you return without my head.

Of course I'm being cryptic. The Grey Sisters aren't the only ones who know things, nor are Oracles the only ones to have glimpses of the future. Allow me some of life's simple pleasures.

I have one request for you. Treat it as a Last Wish or Command if you must.

The power of my gaze will only last until your wicked king has felt my wrath. Once that is done, it will fade, but the fear will remain.

You are the king's nephew by marriage. You will inherit from him, and I expect you to be an improvement on your predecessor.

That is not the request. I want you to create a sanctuary for victims of abuse in the kingdom you will rule. Mount my head above the door lintel, so that all who pass will know that it is a place of safety, and any abuser who sees it will know the fear of what awaits them in the afterlife.

Now take your sword and strike true, so that a new Medusa will rise, and my death will serve a good purpose.

What more can anyone ask for?

The Medusa symbol, either full bodied or just the head, was a common symbol of protection, particularly on homes, temples, or shields carried into battle.

In modern day, the Medusa’s head tattoo is commonly understood as a symbol of solidarity among survivors of sexual assault.