This is done for Aeron Thana's Color Challenge. The first prompt is Zoë Nightshade, angst, and something red. I chose roses.
Number One
Hercules
He descends the mountain, triumphantly holding the golden apple of immortality in his hand. He makes his way toward her, the least assuming of the five sisters who tend the garden. A gold band holds her dark curly hair back, and gold encircles her wrists. The only thing that separates her from mortality is the faint yellow aura around her body. She smiles nervously as he approaches the sprinkling of freckles on her nose crinkling.
He swipes a blooming rose from a nearby bush, clutching in tight in his free hand as he makes his way over to her.
The remaining sisters hide in the bushes to watch the drama.
He drops to his knees before her. He kisses her hand, then presents her with the rose. "For thou, my lady. Thank you for thy help."
A tinge of pink appears on the girl's face.
The eldest sister snorts derisively from her hiding place.
The small girl takes the rose, and says, "Thank you, kind gentleman."
He stands again, whispers a goodbye in her ear, then kisses her briefly on the cheek. Then he slips from the garden.
The hiding sisters wait in silence.
The girl strokes the spot where his lips touched her skin, looking awed and innocent in the large garden.
Then the eldest sister steps out from behind the bushes. "Well, Zoe? What have thou to say for thyself?"
The small girl stumbles backward. "I-I didn't-"
"It's too late, sister. This cannot be ignored again. I'm sorry." She looks at the hundred headed dragon sleeping behind her. "Ladon! Wake!" The heads instantly shoot up, fangs bared, poison dripping from hungry mouths. "This being has broken our laws," the girls intone. "It must be punished."
The smallest girl stumbles backwards, terror evident on her face. "No-no-NO!"
Sheer miracle keeps her alive, and she dashes for the exit of the garden, hitching her robes more firmly around her, sandals flying off her feet in haste, dodging poison spray and heads and necks. Just as she reaches the gateway to the world outside, her sister calls, "Goodbye, sister. Best of luck to thou."
Then the girl ducks under the wreath of flowers, where Ladon cannot follow. Immediately, the sounds and smells from the garden stop, and when she looks back, the garden has ceased to exist. The small girl, barely thirteen in looks, midnight blue robes ripped and torn, smoking with poison, bare feet cut and bleeding, collapses to the unforgiving ground. "Hercules!" she sobs. "Hercules!" She knows he's close, the air crackles like it does when he's around.
But he never comes, and when the night slowly fades into the morning, there's just a small, small girl, clutching a slightly wilted red rose, the last gift from the hero who broke her heart.
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