Zoë's POV
"W-What?" Zoë croaked out, feeling her blood freeze. She was . . . dying? Poisoned? How had she even—
Zoë suddenly felt weak in the knees. Okay, she was an immortal huntress, but it doesn't mean she was fearless; Zoë was scared now. No, terrified. Zoë felt her body slowly fall to the ground, partly from venom, partly from shock, her eyelids drooping a little. She felt warm arms catch her, and as she tried to keep her eyes open, she managed to see two, glowing green orbs.
It her state of delirium, she muttered to herself, "Such pretty eyes . . . like Perseus's."
Then, her world slowly turned black as incomprehensible and muffled voices talked back and forth frantically.
Time Skip—Zoë's POV
Zoë awoke slowly, listening to the steady and lulling thump of her pillow, and relishing in the warm feeling that was rising in her chest subconsciously. She felt ridiculous tired and sedated, like someone had pumped her full of anesthesia. She, at the same time, felt the effects of her mortality (not literal mortality, of course, she was still partially immortal); she felt sweat rolling off her in buckets and her muscles were weak and strained, like she had run a triathlon without any training.
She heard muffled voices around her and she managed to peek open her eyes a bit to see a dark hood. She jolted from her sleepy state and was immediately petrified, until the figure spoke to her in a surprisingly soft and caring tone.
"Shh, you're okay, Zoë. You're alright," the masculine voice assured her.
She frowned, and realized she was in the boy's arms. She glared at his dark hood, unable to see anything but two glowing emerald eyes.
"Let go of me, you pervert! Where am I?" She asked angrily, still bewildered and delirious from her poison-induced nap.
It was Zoë's usual defense mechanism. She was in the arms of a boy, and she felt extremely vulnerable. She was weak and unarmed, and this male could easily over power her and have his way with her. So to compensate for her lack of physical ability, she began to yell insult after slur after offense.
"Zoë!" A feminine voice yelled, "Chill out! It's Arcus!"
Zoë identified the voice as Phoebe. But she was a determined man-hater! Slowly the events of the quest came back to her, causing the heat to rise to her cheeks in embarrassment. She looked away from Arcus's piercing gaze, and buried her face into his chest. Her blood froze as soon as she did it.
What was she doing?
She was lieutenant of the hunt, for Artemis's sake! Why was she allowing herself to be weak in the arms of a male! And now she was hiding in his chest! And this ugly but warm feeling arose in her stomach that she hadn't felt since . . . Perseus. And it terrified her. What if this boy wasn't who he said he was?
Arcus was carrying her bridal style, and Zoë was madder at the fact that she wasn't angry with him. She was angry that she enjoyed it.
"You're going to be okay, Zoë," Arcus assured her.
Zoë bounced slightly with each of his steps. She once again turned her face into Arcus's chest, inhaling his sea scent that seemed to calm her down from her furious rage that occurred only several minutes before. She was silent for a while, her onyx eyes stuck on Arcus's chest, which was covered in his stygian iron armor. Where had she seen it before? It was so familiar . . . right on the tip of her tongue . . .
"How long was I out?" Zoë asked finally, her voice raspy and weak.
"Several hours," Arcus's gentle voice responded, "we are almost at the Garden of the Hesperides."
Zoë's head snapped up. "What did you just say?"
"We're going to the Garden of the Hesperides," He repeated, his head still facing wherever he was walking.
Zoë felt the blood rush to face in fury as she recalled her incident with Heracles, but the raging enflamed blood seemed to relax as she remembered Perseus saving her. What she wouldn't give to see him again . . .
"Let me down," Zoë ordered shakily, "I can walk."
Arcus probably rolled his eyes to match the amount of sarcasm in his next words.
"Sure you can. Just like how you could stand up back in the train yard. You know, the one that you collapsed in."
Zoë huffed in annoyance. "I'm fine," she insisted forcefully.
Arcus snorted. "You should see yourself. You're sweating like nuts because of the poison, and your face looks as white as snow. You aren't okay, Zoë. Just relax. I know you hate boys touching you, but I'm going to carry you anyway."
Zoë turned her face towards where they were walking so Arcus wouldn't see the scarlet color on her cheeks. He was being awfully kind . . . for a male.
Zoë clearly saw Bianca and Phoebe in front of them, but didn't see Zane.
Zoë's eyebrows knit together. "Where is the son of Zeus?"
Arcus's grip tightened on her as she asked, indicating that something was clearly wrong. Zoë looked at Bianca, who was now glaring at the ground, seemingly trying to burn holes in it with her eyes. Phoebe continued walking, her facial expression only shifting slightly.
"He . . . he didn't make it," Arcus whispered to her.
Zoë felt a small twinge of sadness for the now deceased son of Zeus. Perhaps she hadn't like him, but that didn't necessarily mean she wanted him to die. The demititan comments hurt her terribly, but she was more loath to strangle the daughter of Athena rather than the son of Zeus. Zoë wasn't unintelligent; it was clear that Annabeth was the mastermind behind all the insults and hurtful actions that the two took up. It was that damned daughter of Athena's fault; she just knew it.
"What happened?" She inquired, eager to find out how the demigod passed on.
"Defective prototype of Talos," Arcus explained, "He sacrificed himself to save the rest of us. He went through a maintenance hatch on the bottom somehow controlled the thing. He ran it into power lines."
Zoë knew the implications behind the last sentence; Zane's death was most likely very painful. Death by electrocution . . . Zoë shuddered at the thought, and tried to push it away, but to no avail. Zoë was actually quite surprised the boy did something so noble. Zoë was getting more and more surprised; she had practically dubbed Arcus the perfect male, and Zane was winning more points. What was the world coming to? Zoë was dying. Zoë found a male she doesn't dislike. Zoë found a male she doesn't entirely dislike. Next thing you know, Hades will freeze over.
The group soon reached the beautiful and elegant garden just as the sun began to set. Zoë stared nostalgically at the place she had met Perseus, which was right outside the garden, just a few feet to her left. There was an empty hole where a pond used to be, making Zoë grin happily, despite her condition of health; Perseus had used that water to throw Heracles into the air all those years ago. There was a small indention in the ground where she remembered Perseus sliding backwards after one of Heracles's hits, but weeds had almost overtaken it.
Four beautiful girls shimmered into existence, almost looking identical to Zoë. In fact, the resemblance caused Bianca to look back and forth between the quartet and Zoë, as if she trying to figure out if she was seeing things.
"Sisters," Zoë greeted weakly.
"We see no sister," one on the left said harshly, "we see a traitor—a betrayer. Why do you disgrace us with your presence? Are you going to let him steal an apple as well?"
She pointed a finger accusingly at Arcus, which filled her with malice. "I am dying, sisters," the quartet paled slightly at the revelation, but Zoë spoke before they could comment, "and I don't care what you think of me. We are trying to rescue Lady Artemis from Mount Tam. We have no need for the apples. Let us pass. This is my dying request, sisters."
The Hesperides stared in absolute shock. Zoë craned her head to look at Arcus.
"Put me down," She ordered.
She could almost picture him frowning. "But—"
"Now," Zoë interrupted.
Arcus gently leg go of her legs, and let them touch the ground. Zoë tried to put weight on her feet, but stumbled. Arcus quickly grabbed her, keeping her from falling. She shoved his arms off of her; she needed to do this alone. Her arms flailed a bit, trying to help keep her balance.
"Zoë," Phoebe said, "I don't think you should—"
"Please, Phoebe," Zoë pleaded, "I need to show them that I am strong, even in the face of death."
Zoë finally stopped flailing and took a shaky step without falling. Her muscles screamed with pain and her veins felt like liquid fire flowed through them, but grit her teeth and took another step, and another, and another. She finally stopped in front of her sisters.
"Let me pass."
The Hesperides just stared at her, all still in a stunned silence. Then, one in the back murmured sadly, "You're dying . . ."
Zoë glared at the one who spoke. "Let. Me. Pass. Now. I have a goddess to save—my real family. Get out of my way, or I will wake Ladon myself."
Three moved aside, but one—the oldest, and the one who despised Zoë the most—stayed still, fixating her own glare on Zoë.
"No."
Silence.
"Ladon, awake!" Zoë shouted.
The oldest Hesperid's face morphed to an expression of sheer terror. "W-What have you d-done? He will kill you!"
Zoë scoffed. "As if you care if I live or die. I'm dying anyway. And I warned you that I would wake him if you didn't move. Now, when I die, you will have to live with the guilt. Have a nice immortal life, sister."
Zoë stumbled forward, the group following close behind her. Zoë's eyes sparkled in anticipation and anxiety as the hundred-headed monster slowly stood from its prone position, eying the group suspiciously.
"Go around while I distract him," Zoë ordered.
"We aren't—" Arcus began.
"Don't question me," Zoë commanded, her old personality showing once more: the leader side of her. Zoë knew what had to be done, and that Ladon would not kill her. She would die by her father's hand, just how the Oracle had predicted. Zoë would not leave this mountain. She only wished that she had another chance to see the only man she ever loved. She shook her head; no regrets now. Zoë had prepared herself for her sacrifice. All she hoped was that it would be enough to free her mistress.
"Ladon," She whispered soothingly, "Zoë has returned to you."
Zoë was vaguely aware of the group sneaking around Ladon, heading towards the pathway that led to the summit. Ladon whined a bit and turned his head sideways, like he was a confused puppy.
"Do you still like lamb, old friend?" Zoë asked, trying to keep her voice steady and pacifying.
Ladon licked his lips as if he was remembering the taste of lamb. Or maybe he was imagining what Zoë tasted like. She wasn't sure, but hoped it wasn't the latter. Ladon slowly edged his largest head—his main one—and sniffed at Zoë's outstretched hand. He then pushed his head forward a little, allowing her to pet his head gently. She urged Arcus silently to move faster; they were only halfway around Ladon. If they moved any faster, Ladon would notice them and burn them to a crisp.
She continued talking gently to Ladon until the other reached the path. Zoë paused as Arcus waved frenetically.
Her pause was fatal.
When he was no longer being petted, Ladon's head looked at Zoë in confusion. Some of the heads followed her gaze and hissed angrily when they noticed the intruders. Zoë's sixth sense kicked in, and she dove away just as Ladon's main head snapped at her. Just before it hit her, she felt a warm hand grabbed her own.
Then, she felt like she was pulled through a frigid blender. It was pitch-black for a second before the world reappeared. Zoë promptly collapsed due to the excessive spinning in her vision. She heard the roar of Ladon, and knew she had escaped him. But how had she—
Arcus's head appeared in her vision. "Gods, Zoë, you're almost as reckless as I am."
Zoë's laughed despite the situation. Gods, what was she doing? Her inner-huntress scolded her for laughing with a man, but the lovesick part of her just cooed in adoration.
"How did you even—"
"I shadow travelled and got you. It was my first time, actually. It was . . . weird," Bianca commented, who Zoë noticed was sitting beside her on her butt. Bianca's skin was pale, and sweat beaded on her forehead. Zoë noted that shadow travel must take a lot of energy for untrained demigods.
"We're almost to the top," Phoebe remarked, staring up the path. About fifty yards ahead the past reached the summit, where Artemis would be under the weight of the world.
Zoë stumbled again, but Bianca caught her and held her upright. Arcus drew his Stygian iron sword while Phoebe loosely notched an arrow. Bianca drew a sword with her free arm, and Zoë weakly grasped one of her knives. Anaklusmos felt heavy in her back pocket, but she knew she was too weak to wield it. She could barely hold the knife without dropping it, so she was even going to attempt to hold the sword.
When the reached the top, they found Artemis. She was on her knees, her hands just slightly above her head. Her jaw was clenched and her chest heaved. Buckets of sweat poured down the goddess's face, and her face was paler than it should have been. Artemis's auburn hair was matted with dirt and sweat, dangling in tangled curls.
"Milady!" Zoë cried weakly, trying to walk to her.
Artemis's head snapped up. "Trap . . . you must . . . leave . . . before—"
"Before what, my dear Artemis?" A voice boomed, cutting the moon goddess off midsentence.
A single being shimmered into existence, right next to Artemis. He was a tall and broad-shouldered man, with raven hair that was slicked back. He wore an expensive-looking suit that fit him tightly, as if he was trying to show off his muscles. A Rolex watch rested on his wrist, and a pen hung on his front pocket. If Zoë hadn't recognized him, she would have guessed that a random mortal businessman had stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Atlas," Zoë spat.
Atlas's mouth grew into a wide smirk. "Ah, the traitor. Hello, daughter. Have you come to die? I believe the prophecy stated that, am I right?"
Zoë opened her mouth, but Arcus cut her off. "She will not die today."
Atlas turned and looked critically at Arcus. "Hmm. Son of Poseidon . . . champion of Apollo . . . and blessed by Hades? What a rather odd combination. And on top of that, you were born in the BCE's as a Spartan . . . your mother was murdered by Ares and—"
"No," Arcus interrupted, all emotion gone from his voice, "Ares did not kill my mother. That was Zeus's fault. Ares spared me and later apologized. The war god has my respect and forgiveness for killing my mother. The blame lies with Zeus, and Zeus alone."
Atlas was quiet again, before a shocked, and mischievous smile graced his lips.
"Gods, you are him!"
Arcus was probably frowning. "Pardon?"
"The one who obliterated Heracles at the Garden of the Hesperides! The one who saved her," Atlas said pointing at Arcus.
Zoë's eyes grew wide, and her heart froze.
"N-No," Arcus tried to assure Atlas, "I'm not him. His name was—"
Atlas flicked his hand, blowing Arcus's hood back, revealing his entire face. He had tousled raven hair, and mesmerizing sea green eyes that entranced Zoë. His face was tan and lean, just how she remembered.
"Perseus," She whispered softly, completing Perseus's unfinished sentence.
The whole time, she wished to see Perseus just one last time . . .
He was there the whole time, protecting her, just like he promised.