Inside a lavish room, the air was infused with the delicate scents of exotic perfumes, mingling with the vibrant hues that adorned the space. The walls were graced with exquisite artworks, each piece a testament to the room’s opulence. In the midst of this splendor, a strikingly beautiful woman sat, the centerpiece of the room’s grandeur.
Medea, Princess of Colchis and daughter of King Aeëtes, was seated before an expansive mirror. She meticulously combed her dark hair, each stroke deliberate and graceful. The reflection of her smile in the mirror was enough to captivate any onlooker. Her most enchanting feature, however, was her eyes—each a different color.
One shone a deep, fiery red, while the other gleamed a vibrant green, adding to her allure and mystique.
At seventeen, Medea’s beauty was unparalleled. Her presence radiated a mesmerizing charm that could ensnare any man. She had been blessed with magical abilities since childhood, a gift from the Goddess of Witchcraft herself. Her talents surpassed the wildest dreams of ordinary children and even the aspirations of adults.
These gifts, combined with her stunning appearance, had attracted numerous suitors from far and wide.
Despite the many suitors, Medea remained unimpressed. Each man seemed more ordinary and uninspired than the last, their attempts at wooing her nothing more than the same repetitive, insipid flattery. She had grown weary of such trivial pursuits.
Fortunately, her father, King Aeëtes, understood her sentiments. He sought a match worthy of her extraordinary beauty and talents, someone who could truly appreciate and complement her. With a great war looming between the Greeks and the Trojans, many sought alliances with Colchis, hoping to secure Medea’s magical prowess through marriage.
The kingdom had received emissaries from both sides, but the king remained undecided, biding his time to choose the best course for his people and his daughter.
Amid this uncertainty, Medea found herself disheartened by the constant stream of unworthy suitors. Yet today, a glimmer of hope flickered in her heart. Her father had asked her to don her most exquisite dress, for the guests arriving were of extraordinary renown.
The illustrious visitors were none other than the heroic Jason, rumored to be the son of Poseidon; Orpheus, said to be the son of Apollo; and Heracles, the mighty son of Zeus. These were not mere men but legends, their names whispered with reverence and admiration throughout the lands. Each was considered one of the most charming and heroic figures in existence.
Medea felt a surge of excitement and anticipation. These men were not like the others. They were heroes, demigods with stories of bravery and adventure. She could hardly wait to meet them, hoping that perhaps, among these extraordinary individuals, she might find someone truly worthy of her affection and respect.
After adorning herself in a resplendent dress and accessorizing her hair and neck with exquisite ornaments, Medea enveloped her body in a delicate perfume. Her maids meticulously styled her hair, adding the final touches to her breathtaking appearance. With a deep breath, she exited her room, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
The journey to the throne hall took only a few minutes, yet each step heightened her excitement. As she neared the hall, the voices of her father and their esteemed guests grew louder. Upon entering, Medea’s eyes widened in awe.
Standing before her were Jason, Orpheus, and Heracles—the three most handsome men she had ever laid eyes on. Orpheus had an almost ethereal beauty, his features delicate and somewhat feminine. Heracles, on the other hand, was imposing and ruggedly handsome, his towering, muscular frame exuding strength, though he didn’t immediately capture her interest.
And then there was Jason. His charming smile was captivating, and as their eyes met, Medea felt a flutter in her chest. Her father, King Aeëtes, noticed the exchange and smiled warmly.
“Let me introduce you to my daughter, Medea,” the king announced proudly.
Medea approached with grace, her smile radiant. “Welcome, esteemed Heroes. I have heard much about you from the disciples of Apollo. It is a great honor to meet you,” she said, her voice melodious and welcoming.
Jason, his eyes twinkling, responded, “The honor is ours, Lady Medea. Your beauty and talents, inherited from your Aunt Circe, are renowned across the lands.” His praise was accompanied by a charming grin that made Medea blush slightly.
“You are quite the flatterer, sir,” she replied, her smile growing.
The king’s voice cut through their exchange. “My daughter, our guests have come for the Golden Fleece.”
Medea’s heart sank a little at the mention of the Golden Fleece. She had hoped that they had come seeking her help specifically, but it was well known that Jason and the Argonauts were on a quest for the prized relic. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment.
“Ah, the Golden Fleece,” she said, masking her disappointment with a polite smile.
Jason, ever observant, quickly spoke up. “Indeed, we have come for the Golden Fleece, but after meeting your beautiful daughter, my king, I may have to reconsider our priorities,” he chuckled.
His words had the desired effect. Medea’s smile brightened, and she found herself growing fonder of Jason. King Aeëtes, observing the interaction, allowed a small smile to grace his lips. He wasn’t opposed to the idea of his daughter marrying Jason, who had clearly been blessed by the gods to have come this far.
The king’s thoughts turned strategic. ‘So we will align with the goddesses Hera and Athena,’ he mused silently. The kingdom of Colchis had thus far remained neutral in the great feud, but now a decision had to be made. The rivalry between the goddesses was well known, sparked when Paris had chosen Aphrodite over Athena and Hera as the most beautiful goddess.
Aphrodite had sided with the Trojans, while Hera and Artemis had thrown their support behind the Greeks.
King Aeëtes had hesitated to antagonize either side, but now, with Jason’s arrival and the potential union with his daughter, the path seemed clearer. A decision was imminent, and Colchis would soon choose its allies in the brewing conflict.
But the Golden Fleece was a different matter entirely. King Aeëtes was fiercely proud of it and had no intention of making Jason’s quest easy. After all, the legendary Dragon guarded the prized relic.
“You should know—”
BA-DOOM!
Before the king could divulge the location of the Golden Fleece, an explosion rocked the hall. The grand doors shattered into countless fragments, sending the two guards stationed there flying, their bodies landing in a heap, battered and unconscious.
A heavy silence fell as slow, deliberate footsteps echoed through the hall. Out of the smoke and debris, a figure emerged, walking with a menacing grace. Jason, Heracles, Orpheus, and Atalanta, along with the other guards, readied their weapons, tense and alert.
“Who dares to enter my domain?!” the king shouted, his voice trembling with fury.
“Shut your mouth.”
The cold, commanding voice belonged to the intruder who stepped into the light. He had dark hair swept back, and his left eye gleamed gold with a vertical slit, while his right eye was obscured by a black eyepatch.
Medea’s eyes widened in astonishment. She had never seen such a strikingly handsome man before. Jason and the others paled in comparison. Yet it wasn’t merely his looks that captivated her—it was the aura of danger and power that radiated from him, an allure that thrilled and unnerved her.
“I asked to speak with you, but your dogs wouldn’t let me in, so I let myself in,” the man said, his voice dripping with disdain as he continued his approach.
“You, do you have a death wish?” Jason demanded, unsheathing his sword.
The man’s single, piercing eye flicked to Jason, narrowing slightly. Jason felt a shiver run down his spine, goosebumps prickling his skin. ‘Am I scared?’ he thought in disbelief.
“He’s dangerous, be careful!” Orpheus warned, his voice tense.
Heracles clenched his fists, ready to fight, but the intruder merely frowned, unimpressed. The king, regaining some composure, demanded, “Why are you here? For the Golden Fleece?!”
The king asked even though in any way he had intentions to give to him.
“The Golden Fleece?” The Samael’s lips twisted up as he snickered.
Behind him stood a magnificent woman, her eyes filled with apprehension. She looked at her Lord Commander nervously. Samael didn’t scared a bit of the situation they were in.
Samael shifted his gaze to Medea. Her body tensed, and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks under his intense scrutiny.
“I want your daughter. Give her to me.”