Medusa stood slowly, the weight of despair still fresh on her shoulders. Tears clung to her cheeks like raindrops that refused to fall, defying gravity with the same stubbornness she'd always held. The sand beneath her feet whispered of ruin—the ashes of her kingdom now scattered in the wind, lost to a storm she couldn't stop.
"So… what is it?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, broken and brittle.
Tom stepped forward, silent, powerful, his presence thicker than the air around them. His dark cloak fluttered behind him like the wings of some ancient predator, his eyes glowing faintly under the stormy sky. He reached out and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. The gesture was soft—eerily soft—and yet heavy with control.
"Your punishment," he said, his voice laced with a dark, twisted satisfaction, "which is far worse than death… is that I will marry you and make you my wife."
Medusa's eyes widened in disbelief. Her mouth opened, but no words came at first. The wind howled around them like a creature mourning her pain. When she finally spoke, her tone was horrified and trembling.
"What the hell!? I will never marry you! And—first of all—marriage is not a punishment. It's not something worse than death!"
A slow, cruel smile tugged at the corner of Tom's lips.
"Oh, but it is," he said, his tone venomously calm, like a blade dragging across silk. "For you, it's the cruelest fate imaginable. You'll wake every day beside the man who razed your kingdom into nothingness. You'll be bound—body, name, soul—to the one who brought you to your knees. And every time you look at me, Medusa… you'll remember the screams. The fire. The silence."
"You bastard…" she hissed, jerking her chin from his grip and taking a step back. "You're insane if you think I would let you touch me, much less be your wife."
"You don't get to let anything happen," Tom said sharply, stepping closer. "This isn't a request. It's a sentence."
"I am not yours to command!" Medusa roared, her tears finally falling freely. Her voice shook the air with divine fury. "I am the Queen of Stone! The daughter of the ancients! You will not break me!"
Tom's eyes flared with power, and the winds responded instantly—roaring, bending, bowing to his will.
"You're already broken," he said coldly. "And what I'm offering is a crown in exchange for your chains. You become my queen... or I finish what I started."
Medusa laughed, but there was no humor in it—only despair masked by pride.
"You think destroying my kingdom was enough to tame me? Then you're more foolish than you are cruel."
Tom moved even closer, now inches from her face. "Oh, I don't need to tame you, Medusa. I want you wild, defiant… perfect. You'll be my wife. Every time you scream my name, it'll be from a place between hate and hunger."
Her heart pounded in her chest. Her face flushed with fury—and something else she didn't want to name. The worst part wasn't what he said—it was how certain he was. As if this was already carved into fate, written in blood and sealed by fire.
"I will kill you first," she growled.
Tom tilted his head, amused. "Try. Then I'll drag your soul back from the Underworld and marry you anyway."
"You're a monster."
"And you're my perfect match," he whispered.
Medusa clenched her fists. Her snakes hissed violently, sensing her rage. "I hate you."
"I'm counting on it."
Lightning cracked behind him. In the distance, the ruins of her palace still smoked beneath the dark clouds that refused to part. And standing here, amidst the destruction, was the man who had taken everything from her—offering her a twisted kind of union.
Tom raised his hand and conjured a dark sigil in the air—an ancient binding glyph once used only in cursed marriages between gods and mortals. It glowed with ominous power, black and red light swirling as it hovered between them.
"No!" she shouted. "You can't—!"
"I can, and I will," Tom said with finality.
He chanted the spell aloud. The ground beneath them trembled. Chains of light and shadow coiled around Medusa's wrists, ankles, and neck. She struggled, thrashed—but they tightened.
"I don't want this! You can't force this on me!" she cried.
"You should have run when you had the chance," he said, stepping into the center of the glowing glyph. "You should have never made me feel like I was beneath you."
Tom's staff appeared in his hand once again, and he stabbed it into the ground. The glyph pulsed. The chains sank deeper. The skies opened above them and a beam of twilight descended—binding them in an unholy light.
"Do you accept?" Tom asked, his voice now softer, laced with the barest hint of something deeper.
"No," she hissed.
"I don't need your words. Your soul has already answered."
The glyph exploded into a thousand sparks, and the chains vanished—replaced by a ring of dark magic around her finger.
Medusa stared at it in disbelief.
"You'll regret this," she whispered.
Tom leaned close, brushing his lips against her ear.
"No, my queen. I will enjoy this."
Medusa's heart pounded violently in her chest as Tom stepped even closer, his eyes locked onto hers like a predator who had finally caught his prey. The desert wind hissed around them, carrying the ashes of a fallen kingdom and the scent of scorched earth. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms, but she didn't flinch as he leaned in—too proud, too powerful, even in ruin.
"I should kill you for what you've done," she hissed, voice trembling with rage. "You destroyed everything."
Tom's hand caressed the side of her face with an unsettling gentleness. "But you won't. Because now… you're mine."
Medusa slapped his hand away, baring her fangs as her eyes shimmered with defiance. "You think claiming me like some war trophy will make you a king? You're delusional."
A low, dangerous chuckle escaped Tom's lips. "I don't need to be a king. I am something far greater. I didn't offer you love, Medusa. I offered you chains lined with roses—beautiful and binding."
She turned her head, disgust and confusion warring in her expression. "You're mad. You speak of marriage like it's some curse, some weapon."
He stepped behind her in a blink, whispering into her ear, "It is. To a woman like you, who prizes her power and pride more than anything… being touched, claimed, owned—it's worse than death."
Medusa's breath caught in her throat. For a moment, just a fleeting second, she didn't move. Then she whirled around, magic flaring in her palm, ready to strike. But Tom was faster.
He grabbed her wrist mid-spell, twisted it gently yet firmly, and pinned her against a jagged rock that jutted from the desert floor. Her snakes hissed in protest, writhing wildly, but his eyes remained calm, cold—and something darker lingered beneath them.
"You're trembling," he whispered, lowering his head close to her neck. "Is it fear, or something else?"
"You bastard," she growled, struggling against his hold. "I will never belong to you."
"You already do," he said, voice dangerously low. "The moment you begged for your sister's life, the moment your tears fell for me to see—you gave me power over you."
Her lips curled into a snarl. "You're confusing pity with emotion. I will burn you to ashes."
Tom's lips brushed against hers—not quite a kiss, more a challenge. "Then do it," he murmured. "Set me ablaze."
Medusa hesitated. Her magic still burned in her veins, but her hands didn't move. She hated him—gods, she did—but her hatred was starting to twist into something unfamiliar. Something hot and cruel and maddening. Her breath quickened as she felt the weight of his body pressing her into the stone, the intensity of his stare stripping her bare.
"Let me go," she whispered, though the fire in her voice had dimmed.
"No," Tom answered bluntly. "Not until you understand that this bond—this union—is not about love. It's about domination. About survival. About two monsters sharing the same darkness."
Medusa turned her head, lips trembling. "You're insane."
He smirked. "Maybe. But you're just like me."
Silence fell between them, thick and tense. The desert night darkened further as clouds swallowed the moon. The air grew heavier, and still neither of them looked away.
Tom loosened his grip but didn't move back. His hand traveled up her arm slowly, tracing the ancient runes etched in her skin—the marks of an ancient queen, of a goddess fallen from grace. Medusa bit her lip, hating how her body reacted to his touch. The heat of rage and confusion mingled with a deeper hunger.
"I'll never say yes," she muttered, finally breaking the silence.
Tom leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "I don't need your yes. I just need your surrender."
A single tear fell from Medusa's eye—but this time, not out of fear or sadness. It was frustration. Fury. At him. At herself. At the twisted feelings clawing up her spine.
"I hate you," she said, almost like a confession.
Tom smiled. "That's a start."
He stepped back finally, letting her go, but not before sliding a ring onto her finger—black obsidian wrapped in silver vines, pulsing faintly with dark magic. She tried to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge.
"What have you done?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice.
"Our souls are bound," he said simply. "You can fight it, scream, curse me… but you are now the Queen of mine, wife to the one who ended your world."
Medusa stared at the ring, then up at him. Her voice came out hoarse. "You'll regret this. One day, I will slit your throat in your sleep."
Tom grinned, stepping away and offering a mocking bow. "Then I'll have to give you an enchanted knife."
He turned and began walking away, his cloak whipping behind him like the shadow of a storm. Medusa fell to her knees again—not from weakness, but because her mind spun in a thousand directions. Her heart was in ruins. Her pride, torn. And her soul… part of it now belonged to him.
She gritted her teeth, vowing silently. If he truly believed this twisted marriage would break her, he didn't know her well enough yet. Because she would rise again—from the ashes, from the ruin—and when she did, she would either rule beside him… or bury him beneath her heel.
Medusa's pupils narrowed into sharp slits as she took a step back from Tom. Her breathing quickened, the pulse of fury and something darker flashing through her eyes. Then, without warning, her body shimmered in green light. Her towering form shrank, her serpentine lower half curling in upon itself, bones cracking and shifting as she forcefully transformed. In seconds, she was no longer the regal gorgon queen but a sinuous, emerald-scaled serpent no longer than a man's arm—with golden eyes still burning with defiance.
Before Tom could react, she slithered at lightning speed into his robes, wrapping herself tightly around his torso like a living sash. Her coils pulsed with controlled tension, muscles like steel pressing against his chest. Only her head remained visible, perched just below his ear. Her flickering tongue brushed his skin as she hissed softly, "You want to make me yours? Then feel what it means to have me this close... every breath you take, I'll be right here."
Tom tensed for only a moment, his face unreadable—but beneath that stillness was a growing heat. Her body coiled around his torso like a living brand. Her breath tickled his skin, and the amusement in her eyes burned like wildfire.
Medusa's serpent form slithered beneath his collar, her head rising beside his ear like a shadow made of hate. Her voice was low, dripping with venom.
"One day, Tom… I'll rip your heart out through your spine while you're still breathing. And I'll make sure you watch me crush it beneath my heel."
Tom let out a soft chuckle, his tone smooth—mocking, with just a hint of flirtation.
"Careful, my Queen… talk like that makes me think you're falling for me. Or maybe you're just obsessed with touching what's mine."