Winter, c. 260 B.C, Rome, Italy
Note: Having done some research on the time of Heracles (Hercules) and his life, I figured the one millennia mark of Zoë's time in the Hunt would be around the date mentioned during the Roman Empire, just before their war against Ancient Carthage which raged on for a little over two decades. Once again, you are welcome to correct any factual mistakes I make.
Parts of the story is inspired by "The Flowers That You Pick" by 4Eirlys. Enjoy.
"Come now, my dear. The one thousandth anniversary of your time in the Hunt is supposed to be a celebration, not a time for moping."
Zoë threw a very half-hearted glare at her goddess as she sat down heavily, leaning back against the rough but cool tree trunk. "You know why I am discontent, my lady."
And of course, she did. Her goddess knew everything - and by that Zoë meant literally everything, physically and mentally - there was to know about her, from the small, leaf-shaped birthmark right underneath her belly button, exactly the size of the tip of her pinky finger, to the one single grey strand of hair, positioned at exactly the top of her head. They have slept in each other's embrace for far too much over the past seven centuries or so for Artemis, as the keen and observant Hunter she is, to not notice all the small blemishes and marks on Zoë's body; hunted with each other far too many times for her to not notice Zoë's quirks, the way her face twisted into a scowl whenever something unpleasant occurred, whether it was being "accidentally" splashed with mud by Ari or when Apollo decided to pay a visit with his divine lyre; the way she attempted to hide her smile with a raised eyebrow whenever something amusing but, ahem, inappropriate was said, especially if it was about them.
Zoë liked to think that she knew all there is to know about Artemis too. She knew exactly what to say to cheer her up when she was sad; exactly where to kiss her when she was angry or disturbed. She knew about the sensitive spot to the right of her jaw; knew about the small, triangle-shaped scar on the inside of her ear Zoë had accidentally given her while sparring with wooden practice knives, exactly three hundred and fifty-nine years, four months, three weeks and a day ago. She remembered that event as clear as day: her stroke, meant as a parry, through some miracle by the gods, turned into an unintentional stab when she tripped over a stray rock on the ground and lunged forward, somehow evading Artemis's slash while also managing to graze her earlobes. She recalled them rolling on the ground laughing their heads off in a rare moment of uncontrolled mirth from both of them. Of course, Artemis, being the goddess she is, could have simply erased the scar with a flick of her finger, but she had decided to keep it as a tribute to that particular incident, something which Zoë in equal parts found sweet and hilarious.
So, yes, Zoë believed that she knew all there is to know about her goddess too - and she trusted her goddess enough to tell her any secrets concerning her well being or anything else, really. They functioned with mutual love, trust and respect for each other, knowing all there is to know about each other, especially the fact that they would tell each other everything and help each other with anything.
So, it was no wonder that Artemis would know about the reason for her sullen mood this evening. Even with the beautiful, golden sunset filtering through the canopy of the forest and the blistering laughter of her sister-in-arms as they ate, drank and mingled around the campfire, Zoë couldn't find it in herself to participate in the festivities. This day brought back rather unpleasant memories, after all.
In fact, the sunset only served to dampen her already low spirits. The orange sun illuminating the few lingering wisps of cloud in the horizon looked so different yet so similar to a place where she held conflicting emotions for. A place she yearned to forget, yet strived to remember. She had been so carefree, so blissfully ignorant alongside her sisters in their garden, believing that they would spend eternity there, alongside her ever-cursing father underneath the sky, planting Moonlace flowers in the fertile soil, hoping against hope that they'll bloom and shine despite the permanent twilight of the garden, feeding Ladon his favorite treat of raw lamb's meat while petting as many of his heads as possible at once. So blissfully ignorant that she believed the fairy tales of the Greek heroes, the sons of the gods - Perseus, Theseus, Bellerophon, and most impressive of all, Heracles. So blissfully ignorant that she believed the world to be a pure place, and that the heroes were untainted with the mortal failings of human beings; that they were all incredibly strong, forever loyal, and eternally loving when they fall in love.
How foolish had she been, to believe in such an innocently idealistic view of the world? She knew that gods were not perfect - she knew about the womanizing ways of Zeus, the promiscuity of Apollo, the unpredictable temper of Poseidon, and the vengeful heart of Hera. She had seen firsthand how cruel the gods could be - sentencing her father to eternity underneath the sky, chopping Kronos into a million pieces and casting his remains into Tartarus, sending an eagle to peck out Prometheus's liver simply because he sympathized with the struggling mankind at the time - a species which later, the gods had become rather familiar, and in many cases, intimate with anyways. She knew the gods were not perfect, not even her goddess, and yet she foolishly believed that the heroes would be exactly that. Or perhaps, that they'd at least be better.
That naïve belief was shattered in an instant. The day she heard of Heracles's labors, the day she caught wind that he was going to come to the Garden of Twilight, she had been giddy with excitement, although of course she suppressed it in front of her already suspicious sisters. At the time, she has long since yearned to meet a hero - no less the supposedly greatest hero of them all. And she believed that maybe, just maybe, he would be able to take her away into the mortal world. Life in the garden had began to feel quite monotonous and repetitive, so it was no wonder that the Zoë at the time yearned for a change of scenery. Little did she know, she would get more than she bargained for - much more than she had been prepared to handle.
When he arrived, in his renowned lion-skin cape and wearing only a loincloth, his huge, celestial bronze club decorated with spikes casually sling over her shoulder, it was...not necessarily love at first sight. Zoë had matured greatly over the millennia spent in Artemis's Hunt - mature enough to know that love was not a word which should be so easily thrown around. She no longer believed in silly terms such as love at first sight. To love someone, to completely devote oneself to another, you had to know them, inside and out; you had to appreciate their qualities and bear with their imperfections and love them regardless. So how can one love another when they've barely met? It had taken Artemis and her nearly three centuries to come to terms with their mutual feelings. No, her attraction to Heracles had been just that - an attraction, an infatuation, a pull too weak to be called love, but strong enough to be impossible to ignore. She had felt the same for Artemis when they first encountered each other - an unmistakable chemistry between the pair, which, when put together, may produce a brilliant reaction - or a terrible mishap.
Perhaps it had been her curiosity of the outside world which had been the last straw, but in a spontaneous moment of courage - or foolishness - Zoë decided to help Heracles with his labor. She had gifted him with Anaklusmos and ran to the other side of the garden, distracting Ladon as the son of Zeus, shielded by the sword's familiar scent of her, plucked an apple from the tree of immortality. She remembered her last words to him right before she ran off, which to this day rings in her ears with regret.
"I will help you," she had said. "On one condition."
He raised a thick yet handsome eyebrow. "And what might that be, pretty one?"
She bit her lip nervously. "Take me with you."
He had promised. Oh, how he had promised, with a certain, strong voice that he will take her anywhere she wished to go. And on that day, Zoë learnt that any promise, short of a binding oath, was worth nothing.
I suppose curiosity did kill the cat, she thought with dry amusement, a bitter smile playing on her lips.
"What was that, dear?" Oops, had she spoken that last thought out loud? She attempted to give Artemis a reassuring smile.
"Nothing my lady," she said, as if trying to convince herself. "Just some unpleasant memories."
Immediately, she winced at her own words. Their relationship was, as aforementioned, built on mutual trust and respect for each other, which included telling each other everything that bothered them, leaving out no details. And her thoughts were much more than simply some unpleasant memories. So, so much more than that. Artemis, however, simply raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"You know you cannot hide anything from me, Zoë," she said. "Come, tell me what is bothering you."
Zoë attempted to put a wry smile on her face, but it felt more like some twisted version of a grimace. "You know very well what is bothering me, my lady."
Artemis took a seat besides her and clasped her hand comfortingly. "You need to let go, dear heart. It has been many centuries since that particular incident, far too long to hold a grudge for."
"It is one millennia now, my lady," Zoë corrected. "And you have been telling me the same thing for as long as I have been at your side - I wonder if perhaps one day you will finally give up."
Her attempt to subtly divert the point of the conversation did not go unnoticed by Artemis, who smiled wryly. "I will stop as soon as you learn to let go, Zoë. This has been weighing on you for far too long."
"I have gotten better though, have I not?" Zoe pointed out. It was true, at least in her eyes - she had gotten much better at controlling her emotions over the past few centuries, especially relating to this particularly sensitive subject. In fact, she thought it was rather unfair that her goddess was being so insistent on the topic, when this had been her first, ah, episode in nearly five decades.
"Better, perhaps, but not good enough," Artemis rolled her eyes. Zoë huffed indignantly. If this wasn't good enough, what was?
She repeated her thoughts out loud, and was given a very definite answer which brought a scowl to her face. "When you no longer have these periods of silent brooding, my dear, it will be good enough."
"It is impossible to completely forget, my lady," she argued. "Such incidents cannot be simply set aside."
Artemis remained silent for a moment, long enough for Zoë to almost believe she had won the argument, before she spoke again. "Tell me, my love," she said, leaning her head back against the tree trunk and closing her eyes. "What is it that you cannot let go? My bastard of a brother, perhaps? Your sisters? Your garden?"
What was it that she couldn't let go? It certainly wasn't Heracles, that was for sure. She had lost all positive feelings for that man a long time ago. Was it her sisters, perhaps? Maybe, but after how they had heartlessly cast her out, Zoë cut all familial ties with them - especially Aegle, that arrogant girl who saw herself as a queen, she never liked her anyways - and never saw them as sisters anymore. The garden? No, the wild was much better, so much better in her opinion. The cool wind which brushed her hair as they trekked through the grasslands, the growl of a lion as it prepared to pounce on its prey, the thrill and rush of adrenaline which coursed through her body as she faced off against a particularly tricky monster…
And most importantly, the stars. The Garden of Twilight, in its permanent state of right before sunset, never had any stars. Only when she had left the garden had she first encountered the twinkling lights from outer space. No matter how many centuries she had lived, Zoë never got tired of simply lying down in the wild and gazing up at the stars, preferably with her goddess next to her. The vast expanse of them, so densely scattered they seemed to form a lake of white, twinkling and blinking, never failed to take her breath away. They - along with Artemis - had been the ones which kept her going in the early days, when the memories were still so raw and painful; the light to her darkness, the beacon of hope in her storm of near-depression. No, she would never trade the stars for her garden. They could not be compared, for the stars were completely out of the garden's league.
"I truly do not know, my lady," she shook her head slowly. "I have everything I ever wanted right here."
"Do you miss them, perhaps?" Artemis inquired. "Your sisters, I mean."
"Occasionally," Zoë admitted. "My time in the garden has always been enjoyable, if not monotonous. Maybe I just wonder…" she shook her head, dismissing that thought. The notion she had just come up with was so unbelievably selfish that it was unworthy of even a sliver of her attention.
Artemis, of course, heard and wouldn't let it go. "Wonder what, dearest?"
Zoë muttered a few strong words in mixed Greek and Latin about her goddess's overly keen hearing. "Nothing, my lady."
"Zoë." Artemis nudged her with a hint of exasperation and resentment. "You cannot hide anything from me. I thought I made myself quite clear on that."
"I do not wish to speak my thought out loud, my lady," Zoë replied. "The thought is unworthy of being mentioned."
"I will not judge." Artemis leaned in and pressed a kiss to Zoë's cheeks. "You know I won't, my beautiful Nightshade."
"Fine," Zoë relented reluctantly. "I just thought...why did it have to be me? Why could it not have been one of my sisters? Why did the Fates choose me to endure such pain? It is selfish, I know," she continued, determined to not let her voice crack for the sudden rush of emotions through her. "But I cannot help but think that it is unfair…why me?"
She lowered her head, discreetly blinking furiously in an effort to fight back tears. "Why me?" she whispered.
A hand lifted her face up by the chin gently, and Zoë found herself staring into the living eyes of Artemis. "Come with me to a place," she said. Zoë made no objections as she closed her eyes and felt the weightless sensation of teleporting. She didn't need her sisters to see her like this, right now - their supposed leader, the person they looked up to, reduced to a crying girl.
When the weightless feeling disappeared and her gut unclenched, Zoë opened her eyes once again to find herself standing in the middle of a flower garden. No, calling it a flower garden would be like calling Heracles a jerk. The sea of flowers spread out in front of her could've filled up dozens of Gardens of Twilight, present in every imaginable shape, size and color, ranging from the large yellow petals of the sunflower to the tiny, purple buds of the wisteria. A myriad of smells assaulted her nostrils - all of them sweet and relaxing. Glancing around, she made out a few dozen or so bees, zipping through the flowers as they collected honey for their homes. It was all...so amazing. Unbelievably stunning. Indescribably beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the stars.
"The Garden of Demeter," Artemis reaches out and took her hand. "Incredible, is it not?"
"Indeed," Zoë breathed out after recovering from her shock. "But why did you bring me here?"
Artemis ignored her question. "Tell me, my dear," she said, gesturing at the vast expanse of colors around them. "If you were to pick a flower from this garden, which one would you pick?"
An unusual question, Zoë thought. Nevertheless, she decided to humor her goddess. Sweeping her gaze over the wide field of blossoming plants, she let her eyes wander until they settled on an especially bright, red flower, right on the edge of the garden. "That one," she pointed towards it.
"A beautiful flower indeed," Artemis agreed. "The brightest of them all. When picking flowers, anyone would pick the brightest of the bunch. That is why you were chosen by the Fates, Zoë. You are brighter, more beautiful, better." She pressed a kiss to the tip of Zoë's nose. "Only you could have gone through what you went through, because you are the strongest, the best of them all. They would have been broken, you were not. You thrived instead, and now, one millennia into the Hunt, you are the brightest flower of them all."
Zoë's world seemed to slow down as the words poured out of her goddess. All these years, all these centuries of moping, sulking, wallowing in self-pity, and she had never seen it this way. That she might have underwent her experiences because she was better. Because she was brighter. Because she was the brightest.
"And besides," Artemis continued softly. "You have a home now. You have new sisters, new adventures every day, everything you wished for with that pig of a man." She pulled her into a hard kiss, full of passion and love and care and more love and Zoë just wanted to melt into her goddess's embrace right there and then-
"You have me," Artemis whispered once they broke apart, both of them panting slightly, out of breath. "You have love. I love you, you love me. Is that not enough?"
Zoë couldn't help but smile as she gazed into her goddess's loving eyes. "I suppose it is," she agreed. "As long as we are together."
Artemis laughed, a bright laugh which made Zoë's heart flutter and her breathing hitch, just for a split second. "Then are we ready to rejoin the girls? They will be wondering where we have been."
"I can already sense the incoming jokes for the next century and a half," Zoë muttered as she allowed her goddess to whisk them back to the clearing. The sound of laughter and clinking cups once again reached her ears as the couple, unnoticed by the Hunters for now, gazed at the campfire, where the girls were sitting. Zoë's smile widened as she noticed Phoebe attempting to wrestle Ari to the ground with her face covered in smudge while the latter tried to evade her relentless pursuit. Some things never change.
In hindsight, why was she ever bitter? Why was she ever resentful of her fate? Sweeping the campfire with her eyes, taking note of every single happy girl, she shook her head in confusion. As she observed a quick, chaste kiss between Naomi and Cynthia, completely unnoticed by the others, she realized there was no need. She was - and still is, still will be - happy here, happier than she had ever been in the garden; happier than she would have ever been with that bastard son of Zeus. She might have lost a family, but she gained a new one, a better one that however good her sisters might have been, they would never have been able to surpass this.
She pretended to not notice as Artemis rested her head on her shoulder, her goddess's mess of auburn hair spread messily over her chest, arm and back, but couldn't fight back a smile as she squeezed her hand and tilted her head back. The stars blinked and twinkled, a pool of millions of tiny little lights shining down upon them. They couldn't have looked more beautiful in that moment.
"I think I have moved on," she told her goddess softly.
A flicker of a teasing smile played on Artemis's lips. "Are you sure, my brave one?" she challenged, her voice dropping to a husky whispering as she pressed her lips to Zoë's ears. "If that is the case, then I think that calls for a...celebration later tonight, doesn't it?"
Zoë shivered in anticipation as Artemis nipped at her earlobes. "If...if you insist, my lady."
"It is your day today, my dear." Zoë could feel Artemis's smirk on her ears. "If you insist..."
"That sounds like a suitable arrangement, my lady," Zoë managed to breathe out, despite her throat seemingly trying to choke her as Artemis trailed kisses down her jawline. She felt her goddess's triumphant grin against her face as she wrapped her arms around her body.
"Then tonight, I am yours."