Danae tugged at the lock for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. It was no use, of course. Her father would be far away by now, no doubt sleeping peacefully, convinced that he was safe. She sighed and slumped against the wall. If she'd been born a boy, none of this would have ever happened. King Acrisius wanted, and had always wanted, a son; but in eighteen years, all he and the queen had been able to come up with was Danae. Tired of waiting, her father had finally gone to the Oracle at Delphi. But the Oracle didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. Instead, she had informed him that he would be killed by his daughter's son.
Danae ground her teeth in frustration. She didn't even have a husband or a lover; much less a son. That must be what her father was trying to prevent, then. If she stayed locked away from the world all her life, she could never have the son Acrisius feared so much.
She looked up at the slowly turning constellations scattered across the heavens. At least she still had the sky. The stars gazed coldly down at her, blinking silver against the blackness. But there was something else--a patch of particularly bright stars that were unlike the rest. They were gold, the most brilliant gold she'd ever seen, and they seemed to be getting closer. Danae stared, mesmerized, as the stars floated downward, until they were falling all around her like a golden rain. She gasped as they sank effortlessly into her skin, her blood glowing like fire.
* * * * *
Two months passed. Finally Danae realized the awful truth. She had no idea how it could have happened, but there was no denying that she was pregnant. She clutched her stomach in terror. Her father would kill both her and her child the moment he found out--so he could sleep at night.
Seven more months passed, and the baby was born--a boy. He was beautiful, golden-haired and blue-eyed, quite the opposite of Danae's dark features. She clutched him and sobbed, knowing that the very next time her father came to her cell, he would know the truth. And sure enough, within the week, he did.
Danae looked her father in the eyes defiantly. "Do what you will," she said. "The gods are watching, and you know as well as I do that they will punish the shedding of innocent blood."
"I'm not ignorant of the ways of the gods," he sneered. "Neither your blood nor his will be on my hands." He turned to the guards who stood in the doorway. "Take them away."
They dragged her, still holding her son, down to the beach, and Danae's heart nearly stopped when she saw the wooden chest. It was just big enough for a person to fit in. She panicked and clawed at the guards, but they forced her into the chest and slammed it shut. The lock clicked. She felt them push the chest out into the water. Then everything went black.
She awoke in pitch darkness. The chest rocked back and forth fitfully, and she could hear the waves crashing against the sides. She screamed for help until her lungs burned, ignoring her son's frightened cries. When her voice finally gave out, she lay in the silence, shivering and methodically stroking the boy's hair. "I haven't named you yet," she murmured. She wished he could understand her. He was such a lovely child; he deserved a name that would set him apart from others--whether in life or death. A name worthy of Zeus himself.
"Perseus," she whispered. "Perseus."
The child looked at her, his ocean-blue eyes gleaming in the darkness.
* * * * *
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