Megara

Meg: Megara’s skin changed color from looking as if someone had coated it with glass to a purple sheen that glowed from the inside. A humming noise filled his ears, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he was losing his mind or if this crystallization process was to blame. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: King Creon was a very serious man. Meg liked to think that he did love his children, but she doubted whether or not she would ever be seen as herself, rather than as a political tool for the betterment of Thebes. The only thing she had heard from her father for months was how important it was for her to be the perfect wife. Meg felt a chill run through her at the thought of being married to one of Creon’s many noblemen and counselors. She was only a girl! Menoeceus wasn’t expected to have to marry for another ten years, at least. It seemed brutally unfair that she would have to give so much of herself to another person when she’d barely even begun to live her own life. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: Meg was unique in that way, and prophets from all over Greece had said her eyes were a special sign from the gods. She was used to being reduced to her looks, though it still bothered her. Since the age of seven, men in her father’s court had been calling her an unparalleled beauty, kissed by Aphrodite herself. Meg had squirmed under the men’s gaze not unlike the way her youngest sister was wriggling in her formal clothes now. At the head of all of them, on the throne of Thebes, sat her father, King Creon. His deep brown hair had been besieged with gray, and his muscles had begun to soften with age, but no one could mistake him for a pompous, overfed king like the one who currently sat on the throne of Athens. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: Meg could barely process her family’s congratulations. She’d been dreading this day ever since she’d first woken up to blood on her blankets. It wasn’t that she never wanted to get married. She did like the idea of falling in love with someone. But she didn’t want to be married off like cattle or a slave, before she was ready. She felt like she’d barely begun to live her life, and all of it had been strictly regulated, from the moment she was born. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: Meg had spent much of her life out in the palace’s wonderfully verdant gardens, losing herself in the scents and sounds of the nature that encircled the palace. Whenever she had a spare moment, she came out to enjoy the statues that depicted lovers in tight embraces and the trees covered in beautiful flowers. It was the only place in the palace where she truly felt free. So when she decided to make a run for it, she knew it would take the soldiers ages to find her in the expanse of the garden. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: She didn’t have a plan, other than getting away. But she’d contemplated running away from the palace more than a few times before and already knew the best way to make a break for it. It was a trellis covered in flowering vines, leading up the palace walls. Meg had climbed it once or twice as a little girl, but had never made it up. Today, that would change. She tore the obscenely large gold earrings out of her ears and threw them into the grass, then hiked up her chiton. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: Meg clasped her hands in front of her, trying her best to stand properly. Her mother had been furious with her when Menoeceus had brought her back, and Meg was trying to prove that she could be on her best behavior-even if she didn’t particularly want to be. She had sat through many visits with potential suitors, so she did her best to pretend that she was just gathering with her family to watch another idiotic soldier give her fancy jewelry. END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: Meg pulled away from the god instinctively. “I don’t want to live there,” she protested. “Look, call on me whenever you want, but you’re not going to make me live with a bunch of corpses, I don’t care what you’re the god of.” END_OF_DIALOG

Meg: They both froze, Meg keeping her hands on the centaur’s face just in case he tried anything. They both turned to the source of the voice. Meg was surprised to see a human standing in front of them. He had some of the biggest muscles Meg had ever seen in her life. His arms were huge. He wore an expression that she was sure he thought looked tough. But she could tell by looking at him that he couldn’t be more than eighteen. He had the rounded features of youth. She glanced at him again. He was nice-looking enough, she supposed, with orange hair and tanned skin. And she guessed that he thought he was some kind of hero based on the symbol of the gods on his tunic. But she didn’t have time for this. The kid was just going to get himself killed and make Nessus angry. END_OF_DIALOG