The snakes in her hair lie languid in sleep. She needs their warmth for her children, you see.
Swollen, ever-pregnant with memory, Metegorgos waddles about the dark, wet ruination of her ancient home. Long forgotten, she has not been allowed to forget. Again and again, she births wretched reminders of her tragic past.
Untold ages has the cursed Queen suffered for the most cardinal of sins: she dared to make herself powerful and better the world around her. Such slights the awful gods do not forgive.
Still, above all else she is a mother. Still yet does Metegorgos love her torturous children, and so too do they love her.
