The Hesperides

The orchard was beautiful. The few people who had ever seen it deemed it the most beautiful garden in the world. The rarest wildflowers grew alongside the impossibly tall, impossibly long white marble walls. The brightest garden flowers were nurtured carefully, forming colourful, precise drawings on the ground. The most important part of the orchard, of course, were the apple trees. Old as humanity, with thick and solid trunks, lush dark green leaves, and apples made of gold.

The orchard was so beautiful.

And the Hesperides were so lonely.

So angry.

The tales always made them out to be the lucky ones Hera chose to watch over her garden. The tales, as often when it comes to beautiful women, glossed over the ugly, unwanted parts.

The Hesperides were trapped. Punished for being born from the wrong father. Punished by a goddess who couldn’t bring herself to punish the man she loved, but mostly hated.

The Hesperides were tired, but they were also smart. They took their revenge how they could.

Hespera befriended Ladon, the hundred-headed dragon who was supposed to guard them. Ladon could never let them go, but at least he only pretended to hiss at them when they ate from Hera’s trees.

Erythia pretended to try and prevent Atlas from plucking golden apples, and in her useless fight against the Titan, whispered in his ear how to get the best apples without angering Ladon.

Aegle waited for her chance. Just like her sisters, she wanted to be good at being terrible at her job. She only needed someone to try and steal apples, and she would gladly help them. She was giddy at the mere idea of getting to speak to someone that wasn’t her sisters or a grumpy dragon. The problem was, the island was so well-hidden from the rest of the world, the sisters had only seen Atlas once centuries ago, and no one else since. Their only regular visitor was their captor, a suspicious goddess who didn’t trust them.

Hera didn’t need to know how right she was.

Aegle waited, and waited, and waited. Her days were occupied only by tending to the garden and dancing in the golden hues of the apples at sunset.

She was bored, and tired, and lonely, and angry.

When the soldier-girl loudly fell from the high wall and swore, Aegle was ready. She hid behind beautifully carved bushes to peer at the young woman. Under the starlight, the soldier-girl’s hair was the colour of warm honey, falling in loose waves to her waist. She wore the armour of every young soldier, and a short cape dyed purple that had gotten caught on the thorns of climbing roses.

Aegle giggled at the useless efforts of the girl to untangle her cape from the thorns. The soldier-girl startled and finally decided to abandon her fight, unclasping her cape and offering it to the roses.

“Is someone there?” the young woman whispered.

Aegle stepped around the tree trunk and walked to the soldier-girl. The young woman gasped, and Aegle smiled. She knew she was beautiful. She was the goddess of dazzling light, after all. Hair as golden as the garden’s apples, permanently sun-kissed skin, wide curves and flowing movements. Her beauty was magic. She just didn’t have a lot of opportunities to enchant anyone.

“Who might you be?” Aegle whispered once she was close enough that her breath would brush against the woman’s skin.

The soldier-girl was so entranced she hadn’t even so much as reached for her sword. Aegle thought that, if she had wanted to protect the garden, she could have so easily blinded the woman with dazzling light, stolen her sword from its sheath at her hip and stabbed her all the way through the heart. She might even have enjoyed it.

She enjoyed the parted mouth and wide eyes much more, though.

“Perseus,” the soldier-girl said. “I might be Perseus. I mean. I know I am. That’s my name. Perseus.”

Aegle chuckled, traced Perseus’ sharp jawline with the tip of her fingers. She felt the shiver of finally touching someone new go down her spine. With a little bit of luck, she could keep Perseus here all night, entangle her fingers in her hair while they moaned against each other’s lips. She’d enjoy that very much.

“And what do you want from me, Perseus?”

Perseus took in a sharp breath. “Oh gods.”

Aegle bit back another chuckle. “No need to invoke them here, love. Do you need some immortality apples, maybe?”

Perseus startled, her eyes suddenly back into focus. She took a step back from Aegle, a frown on her beautiful face. Aegle already missed the closeness of her body, Perseus’ breath against her nose.

“Immortality apples?”

She looked confused, which startled Aegle. People only ever got here in their quest for the apples. Unless they were gods, in which case they just treated the garden as their personal storage, depositing their prized possessions while the Hesperides slept, barely ever leaving a note as to where they’d hidden their weapons. It was hell to be gardening and suddenly almost step on some godly spear or arrows.

“Oh,” Aegle whispered, realization dawning on her. “You’re someone’s hero.”

Perseus grimaced at the disdain in Aegle’s voice. “Yes? Is that bad?”

Aegle scrunched up her nose. “I cannot help you. But I won’t get in your way.”

“But… aren’t you supposed to? Weren’t you, I don’t know, trying to charm me to better defeat me?”

“Hero, you would already be dead. You are not very good at resisting beautiful women.”

Perseus blushed. Aegle smiled softly. She still wanted to request more time, more touches, but she knew now someone else was watching. Someone Perseus belonged to in a way the soldier-girl probably wasn’t aware of. There was no stealing a god’s precious toy.

“Beautiful people, really,” Perseus mumbled.

“I’d say good for you, but as a hero, that will probably be your doom.”

“You are very cheerful, lady of the light.”

“I have been trapped in a garden with only my sisters and an unfriendly dragon for hundreds of years, I don’t owe anyone cheerfulness.”

Aegle started walking towards the centre of the garden, and Perseus followed her closely, yet not closely enough not to be ogling one of Aegle’s best features. She smiled.

“Trapped? I thought I’d heard you were chosen?”

“Chosen by the queen of the gods might as well mean the same thing as trapped, hero.”

“Good point. Do you often get bored?”

“Always,” Aegle sighed.

“Do you get lonely?” Perseus asked, quieter, now walking with her shoulder brushing against Aegle’s.

Aegle looked at Perseus profile so intensely she turned a shade redder.

“Often.”

“A-ah.”

“Come on, love, I’ll show you the gods’ favourite storing hides. Just tell me who you need to know about.”

“Well, Haides, for sure. I need the invisibility helmet. And, hum. H-Hermes.”

Aegle rolled her eyes. Easy to tell that Perseus belonged to the god in more ways than one.

“Hermes, huh?”

“Hum, yeah. Asked me, to, you know. Go on a quest. Kill a gorgon. Hero things.”

“Well, now I know your inability to resist beautiful people truly will be your doom, if it only takes a god bedding you for you to choose to go and kill someone for him.”

Perseus blushed, sputtered and mumbled refutations. Aegle ignored her. They found the helmet fairly easily. Perseus was lucky it was there, because Haides rarely came to the surface and often kept hir belongings with hir. Maybe hir wife had gotten tired of playing hide and seek and hidden it here. Or maybe Haides had to hide it to avoid hir wife’s shenanigans.

Finding Hermes’ hiding places proved harder. The god was much less consistent than the Liege of the Dead. Though, after Aegle and Perseus had spent a while searching, their hips and shoulders brushing together regularly, someone decided to make his presence known and cleared their throat behind them.

Hermes was leaning his shoulder against an apple tree. His dark curls were in a state of disarray, as if he’d just flown down from Olympus at the speed of light, which might have been the case. His chiton was almost slipping from his left shoulder. His light-brown skin glowed beautifully under the starlight, surrounded by a godly halo of silvery light. He was beautiful, but he was obviously angry at Aegle. She didn’t mind. She wasn’t planning on stealing a god’s toy, but she could borrow it while he left it in her hands on purpose.

“Not a very good guardian, are you?”

“I’m not, but that’s why Ladon is here, isn’t it? And that’s why Hera doesn’t know just how many of you use this place as your personal storage.”

“Fair enough,” the god sighed. “The hero is mine, though.”

Perseus blushed wildly. Hermes shot her a stunning smile, and Aegle understood the hero a little. She didn’t like the gods very much, but she wondered what it would feel like, to have someone who wanted you, who came back to you for more than a quick favour. Loneliness hurt.

“I noticed. You put her right into my waiting hands, though, so you’ll deal with the flirting.”

Hermes snarled, but didn’t seem intent on cursing her. Either because he wasn’t that mad, or because he knew her current life was curse enough.

“Percy,” Hermes said softly. “Let’s just get the sandals and you can go.”

“Sure,” Perseus said, and her whole body seemed to lean towards the god, as if yearning for his warmth, his touch.

Hermes showed Perseus where he’d hidden the flying sandals. Aegle watched from afar as Perseus put them on, and as Hermes leaned into the hero, his hand at the small of her back, whispering instructions into her ear. Perseus tried to fly and fell face first into the dirt after only a minute. She laughed, loud enough to wake up the moon, and Hermes laughed with her. The god helped the hero to her feet, gently brushed dirt away from her cheek. They looked at each other with burning passion and Aegle’s heart hurt at the sight.

Perseus tried and tried until she had mastered the sandals’ powers. Then she put her hands on Hermes’ cheeks, pressed her forehead against his, and whispered quiet words close to his lips. Hermes scowled and complained but seemed to finally relent. He glared at Aegle for a second, then he was gone.

Perseus walked up to Aegle and smiled. She was still half covered in dirt, but she glowed with a happiness Aegle couldn’t quite comprehend. She longed for something like this. Knew she would never get it.

“Thank you for being so helpful. My time here was short but you made it wonderful.”

“Oh, hero,” she sighed. “Keep your flowery words for your lovers.”

Perseus winced, nodded nervously. “Alright. I’m sorry you’re trapped here. I wish I could take you with me.”

“Don’t. Please don’t. You don’t wish that. You don’t know me. You wish you could have come in here and you could have gotten your weapons and your lover and still bed me. You wish saying goodbye to a cursed goddess wasn’t difficult, that you didn’t have to feel guilty that you’re free and I’m not. I will not absolve you from that guilt, because it’s all I have. Feel guilty and horrible that you flirted with me while knowing you were using me for a night. Your guilt might ease my anger, but your excuses won’t.”

Perseus didn’t seem to know what to answer to that. Aegle didn’t want her to try.

“Just go, hero. Slay some monsters in the name of the gods if it makes you feel good about yourself. Forget about me or feel awful when you remember. That’s it.”

Perseus simply nodded, and she left. Aegle knew it was her own wish but it still hurt that the soldier-girl left without another word or touch. She longed to call her back, ask for the rest of the night, beg her to ease a goddess’ loneliness for just a little longer. She knew it was pointless, though. She didn’t need to anger a god just to get herself a broken heart.

She leaned against an apple tree and looked up at the night sky. She felt exhausted and empty. The light of her flirty exchanges with Perseus erased by the knowledge she wouldn’t see anyone that wasn’t one of her sisters for a few more centuries.

She didn’t cry. She couldn’t. She had cried enough about her loneliness over the years. But she started singing, because she was good at it and because it let out the hurt in a way she could control.

Her throat started to ache, but she didn’t stop. Soon enough, her two sisters were hugging her, one on each side. All they had was each other. Sometimes, it was too much, only ever knowing the same two people. Sometimes, often, they got on each other’s nerves. But sometimes, like now, having two people who knew your heart inside and out, people who had seen you happy and hurt and breaking, sometimes it was the only thing keeping you together.

So, the beautiful sisters sang a beautiful lament in their beautiful orchard.

And somewhere outside those walls a hero’s story began.