A house sat on a hill overlooking a rather unimpressive little village. Within it, a father and son were arguing.
"I am going after him, father!" Hesiod shouted furiously, stomping through the house. In his right hand was the grip of a sword. A newly-forged sword. The sword that was a gift.
Haemon followed his foolish son, "Your story is ridiculous! A god spoke with you at the temple?"
"You don't need to believe me! You just need to let me leave," Hesiod growled, jaw clenching. "I'm going after Y/n, father, whether you let me or not."
The shouting boy disappeared into his room, roughly shoving provisions and drachma into a thick, coarse sack made of gunny. His father watched on, frustrated.
"It is not you nor the gods I doubt," he spoke shortly. He couldn't disbelieve in the face of his son's resolve.
However, his son wasn't listening. Hesiod threw the pouch over one shoulder and came storming his way out. Haemon slammed a hand to the crudely-cut doorframe wall, stopping the boy's hasty exit. Hesiod's golden eyes shot up to meet his.
"Tell me again why you think you have to do any of this?" Haemon spoke haltingly, trying not to succumb to impatience. The true lunacy after all was at the root of this precise question.
"I told you before, the gods spoke with me and told me precisely where Y/n is. They obviously want me to find him. Would you ignore the gods?"
"No," Haemon shook his head, voice devilishly quiet. "They told you because you prayed for it."
"Well, yes I did but I don't see what that has to do with anything?" A furrow appeared between Hesiod's brows.
"You, Hesiod, are the one who wants to save the blind boy. I doubt the gods could care less."
Hesiod took a step backward. "What are you saying, father?"
"Son," Haemon spoke gruffly, "the boy is blind. He's useless and not worth hunting a Gorgon for — if that's even where he is truthfully."
For the first time in Hesiod's life, he felt disgusted by something his father said — simultaneously, he felt an acute sympathy toward Y/n. He had never given it much thought before. To how everyone who passed Y/n, learned of the boy's affliction, would end up with the simple, cut-and-dry assessment: blind is useless. Hesiod had said it, G/n had said it to the boy repeatedly, and now Haemon was saying it.
His father wasn't saying anything new — Hesiod was aware of what Y/n was. Yet, somehow now it made Hesiod feel ill. Because it was being used as an excuse to abandon Y/n — to condemn the (h/c) boy to death. To whatever fate that the Gorgon would give the blind boy.
And it felt wrong.
"You still haven't learned the most important thing: honor!"
Hesiod remembered laughing at a frazzled Y/n only a mere fortnight before. Where was the honor in abandoning Y/n? Where was the honor in ignoring the gods? Where was the honor in what his father was suggesting?
Hesiod shoved his father out of the way. "That is where he is, and I'm not leaving him there."
With a pack over one shoulder and a sword gripped tightly in his opposite hand, Hesiod stormed out of the house.
A hand on his shoulder prevented him from leaving the house entirely behind. Hesiod turned a harsh glare to his father.
"Where do you think you're going alone?"
"I told you —" Hesiod stilled. "Wait..."
Like Haemon was the type of man to leave his only son to foolishly hunt a Gorgon. His father inwardly chided his young, brash son.
"I would not leave you to complete this task alone, my son," Haemon informed Hesiod with a smile. "I will go with you."
Hesiod returned his father's smile.
_____
Y/n heard the instant Sophus returned to the cave. Immediately, he was hovering around the other, asking him a barrage of questions.
"Where were you? What's this thing you had to get? Did you end up needing money after all?"
"Breathe, Y/n," Sophus urged, sounding equal parts amused and exhausted.
"Oh, come now! You've been gone for an entire day. As your disciple, I think I reserve a right to know —" A hand meeting the (h/c) man's shoulder cut him off.
"Of course you can know, Y/n." Y/n could hear the smile in the man's voice. "Just... follow me."
Y/n eagerly allowed himself to be led a decent ways into the cave. Sophus had left early the day before, claiming he had something of utmost importance to do — and whatever Y/n did, the (h/c) man was expressly forbidden to leave the cave. Now, though Sophus had returned and Y/n did not have to be alone in the blackness of his world any longer.
Y/n was brought out of his thoughts by tripping over a stalagmite. Sophus easily caught him and righted him.
"You really must learn to be careful."
"People who have working eyes still trip all the time," Y/n remarked, flushing in embarrassment.
"I wasn't attributing your tripping to your blindness. I was telling you you're clumsy."
A surprised laugh left Y/n's mouth. It's strange, Y/n silently admitted to himself. Ever since Sophus had allowed him to map out his face, the other had been... more at ease? Relaxed in Y/n's presence? It was — a good kind of strange. Y/n found himself liking the other — like, a lot.
And the (h/c) man of course had no idea what to do about it. Y/n had never had anything close to a friend before. Much less an opportunity to grow close to someone who treated him like an equal.
"Here," Sophus announced, halting Y/n with his hand still firmly gripping the other's shoulder.
"Wow," Y/n injected sarcastic enthusiasm into his voice. "This is different from every other part of this very dank cave."
A quiet laugh was Y/n's only warning before the hand left his shoulder and returned to shove harshly at a spot right between his shoulder blades. Y/n was unbalanced easily and this time there was no hand coming out to stop him from falling forward. Just as lifted his arms to brace himself against undoubtedly rocky floor, Y/n gasped as something soft caught him.
"What...?" Y/n's hands began exploring the soft cotton texture underneath him. "What is this?"
The surface dipped as a second weight landed on it. "I recall a certain someone complaining quite loudly about sleeping on a stony floor."
"This is a bed?" Y/n's voice was muffled by the blankets.
Sophus hummed in affirmation beside him.
"How did you get this?"
"All that matters is that it is here now," Sophus informed him.
Y/n shoved his face into a pillow. "Fair enough."
_____
Perhaps it was wrong, Medusa quietly admitted to himself as he watched Y/n succumb to sleep (so easily lured by the comforts of a bed). Perhaps it was wrong to give Y/n such things. To provide for him for the purely selfish reason that the Gorgon didn't want Y/n to leave. To ever, ever have a reason to.
The moment Y/n complained of sleeping on the hard rocky ground? Medusa would gift him the comforts of a bed. The moment the (h/c) man wanted anything... the Gorgon would be there to give it to him. Anything at all because...
Medusa raised a hesitant hand, watching its subtle shadow cast itself against Y/n's cheek. Because the Gorgon wanted this. More than he had ever wanted anything before.
And yes, it was an unfamiliar feeling. Medusa had gone from being wanted to being unwanted and never in between had he ever wanted something for himself. For Medusa had always been the best choice. He had been the most talented warrior at Athena's temple, he had been the most gorgeous creature in Greece, and then here... he had been entirely alone in his exile (where he was the only choice).
It is different now though...
His hand found Y/n's cheek, fingers hooking around a (h/c) lock and tucking it behind the man's ear.
Because here — now, now there is Y/n. Who was beautiful far below the surface. Who did not let his disability break him. Who bravely and foolishly ran ahead without thinking (something the old warrior in Medusa recklessly admired).
Now, Medusa felt this irony as raw and burning as if a hot iron rod poked the inside of his chest. For now he was the one wanting, and Y/n was the beautiful creature so far out of his reach — and yet, not.
Because Y/n was here.
And the Gorgon would do anything to keep Y/n here. Medusa's fingers flexed against (s/c) skin of the man's cheek, before they trailed upward into (h/c) hair.
Yes, Medusa desired this.
_____
In Aegium, the only innkeeper in the entire settlement was currently experiencing a vicious episode of déjà vu. Zosime could not put her finger on it, but something about the two men's "we're not here to buy anything from you, we're here to hear what you have to say about the Gorgon creature Medusa!" was very, very familiar.
The woman looked between the two travelers. One was much older than the other and based on their similarity in features she would say the pair was father and son. Still though, what sort of father and son, donned in armor, would come in here demanding information on the Gorgon? Warriors clearly; intent on felling the foul monster.
But no, Zosime was not sending more men to their deaths!
As she serviced an older gentleman next to the pair, she turned shrewd eyes on them.
"I know nothing of this Medusa you speak of!"
"Ah," the younger of the two gave his father an unsure look.
Haemon took over, "Perhaps you know of something else then?" Zosime glared at the two mistrustfully. "Have you seen a blind boy pass through here? His eyes would be... sort of strange."
The Gorgon was not the most important thing after all. Retrieving Y/n was; ensuring the boy's safety.
Zosime's eyes widened minutely. Very few strangers she remembered but she did not forget the blind boy. She could hardly stop taking notice of his strange eyes.
"Yes, there was a blind man here — a few weeks ago, I'd say."
Hesiod perked up immediately, throwing a pointed glare at his father as if to say, "I told you the gods told me where Y/n was."
Haemon ignored it, leaning forward on the bar top, "And what was he doing here?"
"Asking the same things you two are," Zosime nodded at them. "Asking about Medusa."
Hesiod intervened then, quite eagerly, "This boy — was his name Y/n?"
"Er, don't recall," Zosime scratched her head, feeling awkward.
Hesiod sighed. "Did he have (h/c) hair?"
"Yes, possibly."
"It's Y/n," he told his father. "It has to be."
Haemon looked from his son to the innkeeper. "We're... friends of his. We believe he foolishly went after the Gorgon. If you could tell us where he possibly went to look for the monster, then would you tell us?"
Zosime harrumphed! "I think not. I will not be responsible for any more deaths!"
The déjà vu came full circle when a familiar old man turned in his seat and declared, "I'll tell you what you want to know. I'll tell you about Medusa."
Zosime threw a tankard at the man. Both Hesiod and his father jumped as it crashed into the wall barely an inch from the man's head.
Like it didn't even happen, the old man continued, "If you're looking for the creature, you'll look on the coast. Medusa lives in a cave on the shore."
This time when Zosime threw a tankard, her aim was true and the old man had to now occupy himself with nursing his unnaturally bent nose.
"Now, wait you two — oh, for the love of Hera!" Zosime shouted in frustration as she turned back to find the two already gone.
Like telling a mutt to fetch, the innkeeper rolled her eyes and vowed to find someway to permanently shut that old man's mouth. He was getting too many people into trouble!
I mean, honestly! Zosime sighed. Their friend, the boy, is probably already dead if he had the misfortune of finding the blasted creature. Now, they've gone to die too.
She wished this madness would just end.
_____
As the Gorgon bent over a barely-started fire, his poisonous green eyes were trained on Y/n who stood ankle-deep in the seawater a few paces away. The (h/c) man had been taking an extraordinary amount of time to catch one silly fish.
"Having trouble?" Medusa called out to him.
Y/n turned around and faced his general direction, water sloshing and swirling around his feet. "I was thinking, Sophus..." the (h/c) man stretched his arms behind his head.
Green eyes unashamedly dropped to the sliver of skin revealed by the movement. The starchy tunic Y/n had over worn lifted easily at his stretching, baring the skin between his hips and navel. There were many reasons why Medusa preferred Y/n's blindness. Unabashedly worshipping the (h/c) man with his eyes was simply one of them — a rather new and quickly developing one.
"Yes?" the Gorgon prompted slowly, understandably distracted.
"...That if I eat another fish I'll turn into one!" the (h/c) mortal moaned in despair.
A foreboding feeling instantly erupted in the Gorgon's stomach.
"There is not much else to eat." Medusa hesitated, "Even in the town," he continued quickly, "there is not much else besides fish."
Don't leave, Y/n. Don't leave for the town — or for anywhere else — for food, for a bed, for anything.
Medusa knew his desires were selfish. So putridly selfish. But he cannot help them.
"I will literally take anything as long as its not scaled," Y/n grumbled. "Which means," he brightened a second later, "I was wondering if you would mind if I left for a bit?"
The stick Medusa was planning to use as a skewer snapped in the Gorgon's grasp. The fire cracked and popped, hissing loudly as if sensing the atmosphere descending upon Medusa.
Y/n, naturally, remained oblivious.
"Leave?" Medusa echoed. "Where to?"
Y/n pointed up the coast, where the rocky beach gave way to grass and underbrush. "Just up there. I want to see if I can find anything that's palatable and did not come from a body of water."
Medusa's eyes scoured every nook and cranny of the vegetation ahead. His green gaze dragged back to Y/n. The (h/c) man was so entirely blasé about the idea, the Gorgon felt himself relax in kind.
"If you return before dark," Medusa allowed. Then his eyes flicked upward. "It looks like it'll rain soon as well so..."
Y/n slowly walked up and out of the water, acknowledging the Gorgon's words with a lazy nod.
"And you promise me to be careful," the Gorgon added as Y/n slowly made his way up over the rocky shore.
"Yes, yes," the mortal waved a nonchalant hand, unafraid of finding his way through the unfamiliar underbrush.
Eyes followed Y/n all the way until he disappeared amongst the vibrant growth. Storm clouds gathered overhead.
_____
Y/n was sure he had just hit the jackpot. He had been stumbling around for quite a while, finding nothing but useless leafy green plants and a few painful encounters with thorn bushes. However now, the (h/c) man was certain he was holding berries of some kind in his hand. His fingers told him he held blackberries, but his nose made him doubt. They felt like blackberries but they did not smell like blackberries.
So, these were either the type that were poisonous... Y/n measured the weight of the berries in his palm. Or they were edible.
Edible and very delicious blackberries. They were sure to taste of the earth and of the water. So sweet and so bitter.
Or, they were very poisonous creeper berries and Y/n would be dead before he could even contemplate their taste. The blind man put his unoccupied hand up to his chin.
I just don't know what to do, Y/n hummed in contemplation. It would help if he could see them. He had a real dilemma here. Of course, he could always take a few handfuls back to Sophus and ask the other man.
...But Y/n was hungry now.
Hmm.
It was then Y/n heard it — crashing. Someone's footfalls — definitely. Y/n straightened and turned to face to sound, thinking it awfully convenient —
"Sophus?" he called. Y/n didn't imagine a lot of people would choose to live around here.
...A hesitant voice answered, "Y/n?"
Y/n's brows drew together. Alright, this was definitely not Sophus but still, "Sophus?" Y/n said again like the stranger would suddenly become his mentor if he said his name enough times.
"Y/n!" excitement colored the unknown voice.
Then that someone was hurling toward Y/n, leaves furiously crunching underfoot; rapidly coming closer, Y/n's heart leapt up to his throat (Sophus was right, he could feel the movement) and the (h/c) man only had a split second to react.
"OW! What, BY ZEUS, was that?"
And his attacker was officially taken care of. One palm punch to the face made by a blind man later.
Though, the angry exclamation had Y/n blinking rapidly in realization. "Hesiod?" the (h/c) man spoke in utter disbelief. He would recognize that boy's angry voice from anywhere.
"Yes, why did you hit me? How did you even —?! No never mind! That's not what's important right now."
"I'd say so," Y/n nodded vigorously, a bit dazed, voice squeaky with surprise. "What are you doing so far from home? Aren't you supposed to be leaving soon? You know, to Athens?"
Why on earth was Y/n running into Hesiod here of all places? The other boy had no business here! There was no logical reason to why Hesiod was here; here! Y/n couldn't believe his ears. But they didn't lie:
"Me?!" the voice sputtered, and it was so undeniably Hesiod's.
It was strange, Y/n thought belatedly, to hear a voice other than Sophus's.
The (h/c) man was quickly brought back to the present when Hesiod snapped, "What about you?"
Y/n cocked a brow, "I don't think I'm invited to Athens. Apparently, my dad lives there and he threw me off a cliff so no, I don't think I'll be invited there anytime soon —"
Y/n heard something that suspiciously sounded like skin smacking skin. "No, Y/n," Hesiod gritted his teeth in exasperation. "The gods told me the Trickster fooled you into going after the Gorgon — Medusa, isn't it?"
Y/n felt the cold slap of those words. "Huh?" he blinked. What was Hesiod saying?
"Look, when you just disappeared, Y/n, of course everyone was worried and so I prayed for the gods to tell me where you were so I could bring you home..."
"Wh — what?"
Hesiod stepped closer. "Look, the gods came to me in a vision when I was praying at the temple and they told me you were in danger. That you had been tricked into believing you were destined for some sort of divine quest — to kill the Gorgon. That the Trickster had come to you and made you believe this foolishness."
Disbelief chilled Y/n. He slightly retreated from Hesiod, letting his hands fall from the berry bush, their sweetness forgotten. "What are you saying?" Y/n tried to piece the other boy's words together. "The Trickster?"
"Yes," Hesiod stepped forward, voice alight with determination. "You know him as I know him, the way he deceives and plays with mortals for his own amusement."
Y/n took a step backwards, "But I wasn't," his voice choked off.
"He played with you too, Y/n," Hesiod's voice was so much stronger than Y/n's own. "Honestly, did you really believe any of this? You're smarter than this."
Within the blink of an eye, disbelief turned into anger. "I wasn't tricked! I was asked; chosen —"
"By who?" Hesiod asked sharply.
"By Hermes," Y/n snapped back. "The Messenger of Olympus!"
"No," Hesiod denied. "Don't you see? It was just a trick. Dolos is capable of many things, Y/n, and he's capable of deceiving you too."
"But I could see — in the vision the gods shared with me, Hesiod, I could see. So, it had to be —"
"Y/n," Hesiod sighed. "Any god could grant you vision in a dream. If Hermes had truly come to you, then he wouldn't have left you so ill-equipped to undertake this task. No, it was Dolos who forged himself to appear like Hermes."
"Medusa turns people who can see into stone!" Y/n argued. "It only makes sense to send a blind man in to kill it."
"Oh does it?" Hesiod took another step forward, voice lowering to a dangerous octave. Y/n felt it. That preternatural tingling that warned him... "Then, tell me this. How do you expect to defeat Medusa if you can't even defend yourself from me?"
"What do you mean by that?" the (h/c) man quickly put on a brave face. "I totally hit you earlier — and you were shocked!" Y/n gave a terse laugh.
It promptly died as Hesiod easily struck the other boy down. And Y/n had known the blow was coming but he could still do absolutely nothing to protect himself from it.
Y/n found himself on the ground, hand reaching up to cup his stinging cheek. "Damn you Hesiod," he growled under his breath.
The other boy stood above him and Y/n could just gratingly feel himself being looked down upon. He had truly forgotten this feeling but now humiliation (his old friend) was rearing its ugly head once more. Y/n felt the strongest pull then, in his heart.
He wanted Sophus. Y/n didn't want to be struck down and leered at. He didn't want to be subjected to those who stomped on his dreams; who eradicated his faith in himself.
Sophus believed in him.
Y/n felt all the more alone and pathetic. He could feel himself in Hesiod's shadow. It was an awful feeling.
"When are you going to wake up, Y/n?" Hesiod snarled. "You can't be a warrior, you weren't chosen for a gods-given quest, and right now, you're being deceived. And it's cruel — I know it is, but please believe me. I'm telling you the truth."
...But no matter how much Sophus believed in him, Y/n was full of an innumerable amount of doubts. So, he listened. Y/n really and truly listened to Hesiod's words. Dolos, the Trickster God, was notorious for both his artistic craft and his deceiving nature. He was a self-serving god, who placed his own amusement above everything else.
But how and why had Dolos targeted Y/n? Was it terrible coincidence? Fear and uncertainty wreaked havoc in the (h/c) man's mind. Was it true? Was it not?
"So, you're saying Dolos tricked me into going after the Gorgon?" Y/n's voice was barely louder than their surroundings. Bugs chittered away, their songs a low hum. "But —" Y/n's lips trembled. "But why?"
Suddenly, the dull, overcast sunlight was back warming Y/n's face as he felt Hesiod crouch before him.
"I can't know the answer to that, Y/n. Not for sure," Hesiod's voice broke and paused. "But," he continued a breath later, "I believe there is an appeal there. Watching a helpless blind boy be led right into the Gorgon's lair — and then slaughtered."
Y/n blinked, feeling all at once quite dumb. "But how do you know —? But how can this be?" he whispered helplessly to himself. "I mean, isn't it possible that Hermes really did come to me and give me... this quest...?" his voice lost strength with every word.
"If he did, Y/n," hands suddenly came out to clasp Y/n's own. The (h/c) man flinched at the unexpected touch, but Hesiod didn't let go. He merely squeezed Y/n's hands reassuringly as he soldiered on, "Then I don't think I would be here, right now, intending to take you back home."
It was true, Y/n had to admit. There would be no reason for Hesiod to be here other than for the reason he was being told. After all, how could Hesiod have known he was in Aegium going after a Gorgon, if the gods had not told him? Y/n had only made his intentions somewhat known to the innkeeper in Aegium — and no one else. Well, besides Sophus — but Y/n highly doubted the other would sneak off and spread that information.
"Besides," Hesiod spoke, his exhalations barely brushing Y/n's face, "You cannot honestly believe the weapon against a deadly Gorgon creature would be blindness?"
"...Maybe I did," Y/n said hollowly.
Y/n could feel Hesiod shaking his head despairingly, "No, Y/n. I bet there are a thousand more ways to fell a creature such as that and none of them would require your disability."
Y/n didn't respond for a long time. Instead, he just sat on the ground, cheek stinging, and humiliation still burning the tips of his ears.
Hesiod silently feared the other boy would not believe him. That Y/n would stubbornly keep to his foolish belief — but no.
What was the oldest proverb in the book after all? Truth is harsh. It is never kind.
Y/n was raising his head a second later and looking so utterly devastated. "I knew it. I knew this was too good to be true." Y/n took a fist of dirt and crushed it until it hardened into a palm-shaped rock. He then tossed it some ways away where it broke upon impact with a tree root. He set milky eyes on Hesiod, "Is Medusa even real?"
How many days had Y/n been made a fool of? Training for something that Y/n had no evidence even existed in the first place?
Gods, Y/n felt so confused; so discouraged all of the sudden.
Hesiod hesitated before admitting, "Well, yes, that part is real. There really is a Gorgon here — Actually." Hesiod paused, just remembering something. "The god back in the temple told me you were being held hostage by it."
"Held hostage by what?" Y/n glumly asked.
"The Gorgon."
The puzzlement on the (h/c) man's face was all too real. "No — Maybe the gods tricked you, too." Y/n snickered.
"Then where have you been?" Hesiod questioned.
"I found a mentor."
"A mentor?"
"Mm-hmm," the (h/c) boy nodded. "Someone who actually sees potential in me. You know, he even convinces me that I can be..." a warrior, those words died in Y/n's throat. This encounter had many ugly thoughts rearing back up in Y/n's mind. "...At least able to function by myself one day."
"So, you've been staying with this 'mentor' of yours this whole time?" Hesiod queried, frustration growing within him. What if Y/n was right? What if the gods were messing with both of them? And to think, he had been tearing himself apart at the thought of Y/n being hurt. "Where, in the town?"
"No," Y/n shook his head. The thought of Sophus eased the burning ache in Y/n's chest somewhat. He cupped his mouth and leaned in to whisper conspiringly to Hesiod, "He's kind of a social hermit. He lives in a cave."
Hesiod had the most violent urge to smack himself again in the forehead.
Y/n blankly listened to the sound of flesh smacking flesh once more.
"Y/n," Hesiod put on his most patient face. "Did you know that the Gorgon also lives in a cave?"
"Yes," Y/n snapped, loathing the thought of being patronized even more — wait. "Wait," he echoed his thought aloud a beat later, "What are you trying to say...?"
Hesiod smacked the back of Y/n's head, "You fool! Have you been willingly staying with the Gorgon this whole time? Has it tricked you? Deceived you as well?" Hesiod straightened, coming to stand over Y/n once more.
"What? No!" Y/n shouted, scrambling to his feet as well. "No, my mentor's name is Sophus and he's a perfectly fine person! Hear 'person' and not 'Gorgon tentacle monster'!"
"It's probably cast an illusion over you, Y/n," Hesiod mumbled mostly to himself.
"No, it hasn't," Y/n crossed his arms over his chest, irked. "I'm not that blind."
Not everything was deceptions and illusions!
"Perhaps I should decide that for myself. Where is this cave you speak of?" Hesiod glanced around at all the unassuming vegetation.
"Ha, I think not," Y/n grouched. "I'm not going to lead you back to the cave just so you can accuse my mentor of being some horrible snake monster!"
A hand snatched Y/n's arm and pulled the boy forward. The tip of a very sharp blade met his chin.
"Yes, you will, Y/n or so help me..."
"I thought you said the gods sent you here to save me?" Y/n replied flatly.
"Yes, well, it's me who decides it in the end: whether I save you or not."
"Hesiod," a new voice suddenly cut in. Branches swished and leaves crunched underfoot. Y/n's confidence left as he realized belatedly, Hesiod was not alone and he could not recognize the owner of this voice as easily. Because Hesiod, Hesiod Y/n could handle... "Don't threaten the boy now."
Hesiod tsked and roughly released Y/n. "Father, Y/n says he has been staying with the Gorgon in its cave —"
"That's not what I've been saying — wait, 'father'? Haemon?"
"Yes, hello Y/n," Haemon replied kindly. Like that, the voice was identified. Y/n didn't know why, but he was a tad shocked Haemon was here. The man seemed far too level-headed to entertain such shenanigans — and that was what it now felt like: a shenanigan. Not some gods-given quest...
Y/n sighed quietly.
"Father!" Hesiod implored. "Are you listening?"
"Yes, you've said Y/n has been staying with the Gorgon?"
"Yes!" Hesiod exclaimed. "And now he refuses to show us the way to the cave."
"We do not need to know the way to the cave," Haemon's even voice silenced his son's sputtering. All of the sudden, a heavy hand set itself on Y/n's shoulder. He nearly crumpled under the weight of it. "All we need to do is return this young man back to his grandmother."
Y/n blinked before he quickly retreated from the both of them. "Wait, wait, wait. I have no intention of returning to the village — or to G/n."
"Don't be foolish, young man. There is nothing out here for you. You need the support of the village," Haemon reasoned.
"No — because I'm staying with someone here. And they're great — and they're my friend. They're not..." Y/n didn't continue, hoping he was directing a rather pointed glare in Hesiod's direction; hoping that was enough of an answer.
"Don't be stupid, Y/n!" came Hesiod's hotheaded approach. However, his father silently held him back.
"Well, we are not here to force you to do anything against your will, Y/n. I just hope you keep in mind how much your disappearance has shocked G/n and how much she wishes for your wellbeing and safety."
Y/n felt a twinge in his heart but he held strong. "You are not going to manipulate me, old man. I'm staying here. Just return to the village yourselves and tell her — tell her I'm fine. Just fine."
"As you wish," Haemon replied easily.
"What, father, no —!"
"Hush," Haemon squeezed the back of his son's neck until the boy quieted himself.
Y/n, who couldn't see the significance of their interactions grimaced at them before making a move to leave. "I'm going now so leave me be. I'm fine, I promise."
Haemon kept his son at bay as the (h/c) man passed them and disappeared back into the infinite green sea of vegetation.
"Father what are you thinking?" Hesiod gasped out as soon as his father released him.
"You will learn a very important virtue today, my son," Haemon spoke as his eyes followed the trail Y/n was leaving behind.
"What's that?" his ignorant progeny asked.
"Patience."
_____
By the time Y/n had managed to make his way back to the cave, a light drizzle had started and his clothes were fairly damp; his hair slicked against his neck and forehead. His cheek still throbbed and his mood had considerably darkened after seeing Hesiod and his father again. He felt foolish, frustrated, and confused.
What had been a lie and what hadn't been? Had Y/n been deceived by the Trickster God? If he was, then it would explain why Hesiod received his vision. If he wasn't then there was no logical reason for Hesiod to have traveled after him. But then, how could it all be a deception? Everything seemed to work out perfectly!
Escaping the village, finding Aegium, and even discovering Sophus — it was like he was being prepared for the task. Except... Well, if the Trickster God was fooling him... the only question Y/n needed to ask himself was: how far would the god go? Is it reasonable that the god would do all this just to delude Y/n into thinking he could actually face the Gorgon in battle?
Oh... the gods are cruel... Y/n found that it made sense. It was the only way to explain why Hesiod was here — it was the only explanation that fit all of this. Y/n was being deceived, Hesiod was cleaning up the mess, and the gods — well, honestly screw the gods.
Yes, so Y/n was feeling particularly miserable. Drenched and miserable. But... Sophus made it better. The second Y/n stepped further into the cave, he found himself being accosted by the other.
"Where have you been, Y/n? It's nearly past dark now and it has already begun to rain..."
"Breathe, Sophus," Y/n teased the other.
Sophus made a faint sound of amusement. "Clever — Y/n," the air froze at the man's suddenly frigid tone. "What happened to your cheek? It's..." a hand came up to gently prod at the bruised skin.
Y/n's small smile withered. "Oh, that. I was hit."
"Hit?" Sophus echoed. "Hit by what?"
Something in the other man's tone had Y/n mentally reeling back. Perhaps it was not such a good idea to admit how exactly he had come upon his injury. Then again...
"An old friend," Y/n made an unpleasant face. Still, Sophus hovered incessantly at his left.
"An old friend? Y/n, what do you mean?" Gentle fingers brushed across his swelling cheek. Y/n sighed.
"It is nothing," Y/n exhaled, lifting his hand to place it over Sophus's. He gently tugged it away. "When I was out I happened across Hesiod, a boy from my village."
Sophus was silent for a moment. The faint drizzling of rainwater echoed hollowly throughout the cavern.
"He hit you?" his mentor asked (for it was the only thing in Y/n's words that he found truly mattered), voice in tandem with the steadily growing storm. "Why?"
Y/n grimaced, turning his face away from the other — knowing, just knowing, Sophus's eyes were still scrutinizing his face. "He was attempting to prove a point."
"What point was that?"
Y/n tensed; Sophus's voice was becoming increasingly quieter but it was not soft. "I don't know," Y/n paused. "I suppose ultimately, he was just here to take me back home."
Rain was pelting the rocks above their heads now. A distant rumble of thunder sounded. The tumultuous waves of the sea turned ever more so violent; their echoes clashing unbelievably loud in the silence.
"...And?" came Sophus's query.
"And what?" Y/n folded his arms across his chest.
"Are you returning home, Y/n?" There was a real and true rawness in the other's voice — one that had Y/n stopping for a moment to ruminate.
When it came down to it: Sophus's treatment of Y/n was heaven when compared to how the village had always regarded him. Seeing Hesiod again had reminded Y/n of that cold truth.
"No," the (h/c) man answered, voice firm, before he reached out to the source of that disgruntled voice. "No, Sophus, I have no intention of returning home. I want to..." a hand reached out to meet Y/n's. The boy smiled as he clasped it. "I want to stay here — with you."
_____
"I want to stay here with you."
Medusa found that answer to be more than acceptable. He observed the hand in his grasp. Smaller than his, more unmarred than his, and far, far more beautiful than his. Without thinking, the Gorgon tugged it — hard. Hard enough that Y/n let it out a surprised exclamation before the mortal was colliding with Medusa's chest.
And then he was held there as the Gorgon wound firm arms around him.
"I want you to stay as well, Y/n," he admitted breathlessly into the bed of Y/n's soft (h/c) locks.
"Well," the mortal pressed his face more firmly against Medusa's chest (to hide his furiously flushing cheeks), "good." And then Y/n's free arm was steadily wrapping around the Gorgon's waist. His other hand was still captured in Medusa's unrelentingly, possessive grasp, crushed between their chests.
Perhaps Medusa was a monster. For wanting Y/n so much he was intending on having him. Perhaps that was what set Medusa apart from his infinite mortal admirers. Where they would forever admit and limit themselves to their thoughts of unworthiness, Medusa would disregard it.
No, he did not deserve Y/n. He was not worthy of such a beautiful creature, but that was not going inhibit the Gorgon from coveting — fulfilling — his desires. His grip tightened momentarily before it loosened.
"So," Medusa hummed, voice eerily level. The Gorgon needed to address this, "you ran across another while you were off attempting to save yourself from the fate of a fish supper?"
Y/n nodded against the Gorgon's chest. "Yes, Hesiod like I said. I had just found some berries too. I think they were blackberries," the mortal moaned mournfully at their loss.
Medusa raised his arm, sliding it up Y/n's back, feeling the curvature of the other's spine before his hand skimmed up the nape of his neck where it finally stopped, cupping the back of Y/n's head. The Gorgon's fingers began combing through Y/n's truly unruly (h/c) locks.
A proper comb, the Gorgon quietly reflected. The mortal would need a proper comb one of these days.
"And what was a boy from your village doing here?" Medusa asked, voice not giving an ounce of his volatile feelings away. However, the hissing asps atop his head grew more lively.
Y/n's arm tightened around the Gorgon and Medusa found that sensation very pleasing.
"Nothing," the mortal's voice was muffled by the robes the Gorgon had taken to wearing. "He believed I was being held hostage by Medusa —"
His name falling from Y/n's lips struck him like lightning. Though quickly following the wicked sensation came dread. An indescribable amount of pure dread. The Gorgon's hold on Y/n loosened. He suddenly found himself wanting to be away —
Y/n held more firm as he continued, "— but of course I told him he was being an idiot and to leave me alone."
The Gorgon stilled and blinked rapidly. Y/n's face upturned, no doubt feeling his loosened hold.
"Sorry," Y/n admitted in a soft voice, "I just can't remember the last time I was hugged."
The feeling of dread evaporated so quickly, it might as well have never existed. Medusa once more pressed Y/n flush against himself and held onto him tightly.
"Neither can I."
And then Y/n was beaming at him like Medusa put the stars in the sky — and the Gorgon loved this. His hand quickly found Y/n's cheek; he watched the boy's eyebrows furrow in slight confusion as he bent his face lower. He could feel's Y/n's breaths against his lips. So close now; so damning.
Medusa wanted this.
But just as his lips were a mere centimeter away from Y/n's, lightning struck nearby and a terrible, foreboding sound echoed throughout the chamber.
Voices.
_____
Y/n was confused a bit, unsure of what Sophus was doing bringing their faces so close like he was, but the (h/c) man didn't exactly hate it. Nor did he intend on protesting. Y/n liked Sophus. He truly did. Sophus was kind, treated him well — far better than Y/n deserved if he was being honest. And warm. Sophus was so, so very warm.
But then lightning struck and the thunder rumbled and the very ground beneath them shook. Then there was:
"Y/n!" a loud, caterwauling shout that reverberated around the entire cavern.
Y/n found himself being ripped away from Sophus's warmth; his embrace and for a moment the (h/c) man was truly lost in the darkness of his world. Until he calmed down and could hear the drag of Sophus's steps close by.
"I've come to rescue you! You've been deceived!"
Hesiod's ringing voice fell on deaf ears as Y/n quickly tried to reach out to find Sophus.
"I'm sorry," Y/n choked out, stumbling after Sophus's quiet steps. "That's Hesiod. He's just a fool."
But Sophus didn't respond.
"The monster has tricked you! Come out, Y/n! I'll take you home where you belong!"
Y/n followed Sophus blindly, tripping and fumbling. Hesiod's righteous shouting grew louder and louder. It was all — everything — was rising, rising to a crescendo.
And the crescendo was: Sophus's feet stopping. Y/n stopped beside him, reaching for him, but he couldn't find him.
"He will just see," Y/n breathed. "He will just see what a fool he is, Sophus —"
(But Sophus wasn't his name.)
Y/n was cut off by a forceful hand shoving him forward. The (h/c) man blinked in utter shock as he rocketed forward, barely finding his balance on the smoother floor of the cave's main chamber. He didn't quite fully grasp what had happened until a hand was snatching his arm and Hesiod was yelling in his ear.
"Y/n there you are! I don't know what that monster has you believing but this is the cave of the Gorgon!" And there it was. The shouted words. Right in his ear.
(The truth but he did not know it.)
Y/n found himself being pressed into Hesiod's side. Hesiod who was drenched in rain and sounding so valiant. Y/n faintly heard the sleek unsheathing of metal. Belatedly he realized Hesiod had drawn a sword.
"Stop!" the (h/c) man shouted, finally finding his voice. His hand latched onto Hesiod's sword arm. "What are you doing? There is no one here but Sophus and I!"
"No, Y/n, you don't understand," the voice was softer this time, Hesiod's yelling dying down but the storm outside was raging evermore.
"Medusa has tricked you."
Was said into his ear.
"With me, Hesiod!" a voice boomed — Haemon's. Sounding every bit the warrior Y/n had always known him as. He imagined Haemon's sword was already drawn...
"No, stop! Medusa is not here —" Y/n's voice was lost in the moment — in the man's own discordant confusion.
He tried to wrench away from Hesiod's grip but he couldn't. Y/n was weak, confused, and blind.
Just like he had always been. From the very beginning.
And then the noise, the panic, the confusion... it all died away the moment he heard Sophus's unsettling voice.
"They never leave me alone."
"Well, come now, warriors," he goaded them. "Do you dare draw your swords on me?"
Y/n felt his heart drop straight to his feet.
Everything happened too fast. Y/n was in denial. This was Sophus, this was Sophus. Hesiod's grip was chaining his arm.
Haemon was yelling a panicked, "No, don't, Hesiod! DON'T TURN YOUR EYES TO HIM!"
And Y/n couldn't think, Y/n couldn't think. He felt Hesiod move forward, bring his sword into an arch and then Y/n was lost.
Because he couldn't feel Hesiod moving anymore.
"NO!" came the vicious shout, metal clanged against metal, and then everything went quiet.
So quiet.
Y/n's thoughts were breaking. He tried to step away — run away — he was panicking now, but something was still attached to his arm. Something was still holding him — but it didn't feel like flesh.
Y/n's chest was rising and falling rapidly, he was hyperventilating. He brought quivering, confused — blind — hands to the thing still holding him.
"W-w-what?" his voice shook, his mind unable to comprehend the thing gripping him was still Hesiod's hand. It felt like it. Y/n's shaking fingers ran over the shape of four digits and a thumb — but it couldn't be a hand because it wasn't flesh.
Y/n whimpered, trying in vain to rip his arm away from the stone hand that kept him there. Y/n's free hand reached and collided with more stone.
And horror, unlike any other, encompassed Y/n as he realized — hand moving over stone in the shape of what once was warm, solid, breathing flesh — as he realized impossibly...
As he realized Hesiod had turned to stone.