"I want to visit them."

I paused in my task, scrubbing laundry clean in the temple pool. I turned back to look at Perseus. He sat on a stool, back straight as he worked the large wooden loom leaning against him. He too had paused his work when he spoke, his eyes seeking me out.

"Visit who?"

"My fallen brothers," he replied. "The men you buried. I want to visit their grave."

I admit, it had been so long since the day I had buried those men, that I had nearly forgotten all about it. After all, they were no one, nothing to me. I had not known them, had not even seen them before the moment of their death. But for Perseus, it was different. They had been his brothers in arms, his comrades. Some I suspected, had even been his friends. I had seen in the way his voice broke when he asked about their burial, in the deep mourning in his eyes in the days after the battle. I had not wanted to ask him about it in respect for his mourning. Now it appeared that he wanted to revisit those memories, and it was not my place to stop him.

"Alright," I said. "We can go tomorrow. It's a far journey from here, almost halfway across the island." I hesitated. "Are you sure you're ready for such a long distance?"

Of course, he nodded eagerly. "I'm ready. As long as you show me the way, I can make it."

"Then tomorrow morning," I repeated myself. "Tomorrow morning we will go."

It had been months now since Perseus lost his sight, and he was adept at walking blind. He was able to walk to the garden by himself, no longer needing my guidance anymore, and he was progressing well in our combat training. Yet he had never traveled such a long distance since going blind, and I couldn't help the worry that bubbled up in my chest at the thought.

I tried to banish my worry as I turned back to scrubbing the laundry, even harder than I had before. Perseus was more than capable of the journey, and I would be there with him through every step. Nothing would go wrong while I was there to help.

The next morning, we both rose early and set out shortly after dawn. It was perhaps a five hour walk to the grave site from the temple, and that was at a brisk pace. I calculated that it could take us twice as long with Perseus needing to go slowly and carefully. In preparation, I packed a bag of provisions with me, food and water and even a tarp we could use as a shelter in case we were unable to make it back to the temple before dark. I was being paranoid, I knew, but nevertheless it made me feel better to be so prepared.

We descended from the base of the mountains down toward the thick forest of cypress, pine, and sycamore trees. It was new terrain for Perseus. The only time he had been here, I had been dragging his unconscious body from the battlefield, not even certain if he would live until the next morning. Yet he still insisted on navigating it with minimal help from me.

His lips curled into a scowl as he felt the ground ahead with his staff, the dull wood brushing over dirt and roots.

"More to the left," I offered him. He followed my instruction, narrowly avoiding a large root that would have sent him falling forward. I bit my lip, curling my hands into fists to suppress my growing urge to guide him, to lead him on the right path. I had to trust in him and his abilities. He could do it on his own, I knew it. I just had to let him.

"I think I'm beginning to hate trees," he muttered as he felt his way around another thick tree trunk, carefully stepping over the gnarled roots at its base. "They're conniving bastards, aren't they? Always trying to trip me and make me fall."

I snorted. "I'd watch my words. Soon you might have a troop of vengeful dryads pulling nasty tricks on you."

"Have you truly seen them?" he questioned. "The dryads?"

"Yes." From a distance, at least. "They have the most beautiful singing voices in the mortal realm. Have you truly never seen or heard them?"

He shook his head. "Most nymphs fear mankind and hide themselves well. I imagine here on the island they reveal themselves more easily."

"Perhaps," I said. I recalled the many tales of nymphs and the men who captured them by force. I shuddered. I did not blame them for hiding away.

Our progress was slow. I could tell that Perseus was growing increasingly frustrated by his slow, clumsy pace, yet his determination never wavered. Sweat beaded his brow, his bronze curls hanging over his eyes. By midday we were only halfway to the grave.

I turned to him, about to suggest we take a break. Before I could open my mouth to speak, his foot caught on a fallen branch, sending him toppling to the ground with a cry of surprised pain.

My heart clenched in panic. Immediately I ran to his side, assessing to see if he was alright. He cursed and groaned with pain, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position. He brushed the dirt from his hands, an expression of both shame and anger marring his handsome features.

"Has your wound opened?" I asked anxiously.

At hearing my voice, the anger in his eyes softened. "No. I'm unharmed, just aggravated." He exhaled slowly. "I'm slowing us down. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I scolded him. "We have all the time in the world. There's no harm in going slowly. As long as you're not hurt, everything is fine."

He shook his head. He stared at the ground for a long moment, his jaw tight. A crease forming between his brows and he clenched his hands into fists at his side. I saw the struggle raging in his eyes, between his desire to ask for help and his pride. All heroes had this fierce pride. I knew it from the many stories of bravery and triumph, glory and honor that accompanied their names. I also knew how easy it was for that pride to fall into arrogance and fatal hubris.

Perseus was not a prideful man, but even he would feel the pressure of everything that had been taught to him through history and experience. He needed just a small push.

I reached out my hand for his. His clenched fist instantly loosened at my touch and I clasped our hands together, our fingers entwining.

"It would be my honor to guide you the rest of the way to the grave of your brothers," I spoke, my voice solemn and even. "Will you grant it to me?"

Perseus was not stupid. He knew what I was doing, how I was deftly maneuvering around his ego with my words. But he did not appear angry or even ashamed at it. He looked relieved, and grateful for the veneer of an excuse.

"Yes," he said simply. He flashed a small smile, and then stood to his feet once more. I still held his hand in mine. I glanced down at the place our skin touched, wondering at it. Our intertwined fingers seemed so natural and easy to me, so inevitable. I remembered when I had been afraid to touch him at all, to get too close. I was still afraid, still kept a safe distance between him and my snakes, but something else had changed between us. The boundary separating us seemed to have grown smaller and smaller in the months that had passed, and I found that I was not unhappy with it.

I turned from him and began to guide us through the forest, my chest feeling lighter than it had just a minute before. The trees seemed taller to me suddenly, the sunlight softer and the wind sweeter. We passed under the spotted shade of the leaves, moving at a much faster pace. And all the while, Perseus' hand clasped mine, causing something inside me, something I couldn't even name, to soar.

We made much faster time after that and reached the grave several hours ahead of dusk. We emerged into the familiar clearing, the one where the brief, violent battle had raged months ago. The one where I had first laid eyes upon Perseus, and where he had lost his sight. Before us, his fellow soldiers and his enemies alike were buried in the soil.

I held onto his hand several moments longer than necessary, reluctant to part from him. His face was turned up to the sky, eyes closed as he basked in the sunlight streaming down. It cast a glow upon his features, and glinting upon his hair like dark topaz. I quickly turned my gaze away and reluctantly let go of his hand.

"We are here," I announced.

He opened his eyes, fixing his gaze on the ground. I waited for him to say something, perhaps to tell me more about those who were buried here. But he only knelt to the ground and sat silently, his gaze far away, distant and detached.

A pang of sympathy shot through me. I recognized that distant gaze. It's the one I wore in the year after my mother's death, a look of numb resignation to the fact that she was gone and I would never see her again. A numbness that kept the pain at bay.

Wordlessly, I sat beside him, closing my eyes and letting the beauty of the clearing surround my thoughts. It was so peaceful here, so silent and tranquil. It was hard to believe that a battle had raged in this very spot just two months ago. That blood and bones were buried beneath this very soil.

It didn't feel like time was passing, but when I opened my eyes again, the sun was just beginning to set beyond the trees. I glanced warily to Perseus, wondering if he needed more time. Ideally I wanted us to be gone before dark, but if he asked me to stay longer I knew I'd be powerless to refuse him.

"Perseus?" I asked hesitantly. He jerked slightly at my voice, as if he'd forgotten I was here. I frowned, leaning toward him with a concerned gaze. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, he nodded. "I'm fine." His voice was low but clear. "I needed to say my prayers here. To make my peace with them. I've done that now." He turned fully to me, his eyes reflecting the golden rays of the sunset. To my shock, he bowed before me, bending forward in a gesture of respect. "Thank you for burying my comrades, Andromeda." He said. "Thank you for your kindness and grace. There are not many people who would have accepted the task, but you did so when I was still only a stranger to you."

Flustered, I felt my cheeks flush. "You already thanked me for it," I said hurriedly. "And it was nothing. Anyone would have done the same."

He straightened out of his bow, gazing toward me with inexplicable warmth in his eyes along with something else I couldn't name. "It was not nothing," he said softly. "I remember how hurt your hands were, how exhausted you were. It must have been difficult to bury them by yourself, yet you did it regardless. There are few people as kind as you are, Andromeda."

My cheeks were flaming, my snakes darting to shyly hide behind me, and I hurried to find something to say.

"No, but- I mean, I-"

"Andromeda?" He arched a brow, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. "It's alright to accept the compliment."

I let out a sound that was half sigh and half laugh. He was right. Even if I didn't deserve his gratitude, maybe it was alright to accept this one little thing from him.

"Alright," I said. "Then I accept it. Thank you for your kind words. I-" I cut myself short when Perseus suddenly burst out laughing. I frowned at him, feeling embarrassed and confused.

"What?" I snapped at him.

"Nothing," he said once he got control of himself. "It's just so like you, to thank someone for thanking you. Forget kindness for the moment- if you lived on Olympus, you would surely be the goddess of humility."

I couldn't help it- I laughed. Laughing at a grave was meant to bring good luck, and I sent my own prayers to Perseus' fallen comrades, that they should enjoy peace in the afterlife.

My laugh stuttered to a stop. Perseus had reached out and grabbed my hand, tangling our fingers together. Something warm filled up by chest, close to bursting. I said nothing, and we stood there together, at the graves of the young soldiers, sharing in the comfort that we each were alive and together.