So it came to pass in that golden age of heroes that many kings, queens, and oracles came to the same conclusion: monsters, be they from the land, air, or sea, would take tribute.
It was King Minos with his terrible beast of a stepson who started the tribute idea, mostly because he was the first to demand it, and the yearly take became normal for the entire region. The idea of course was a mere Quid Pro Quo: monsters, beasts, we offer you meals or servants in the form of the most beautiful youths, maidens, or children. Please do not attack us.
And for some monsters, the more animal ones, like the Hydra, the tribute was seen as more of invaders of territory rather than gifts. But to those safe from the tribute demands, the ones who organized and thrust the victims forward, the system worked.
The fact was also simply that while oracles could promise deliverance from this monster or that, the hero they insisted was coming could be, at the moment of prophecy, a newborn babe or barely able to hold a sword. Tributes were biding the time and paying the price before the prophecy could happen. Not that this was consolation to those picked, but in a time where such human sacrifices were not atypical, there was some bittersweet knowledge that it was an animal who might be your end, rather than a cold and capricious deity.
The gods, of course, could not ever be called such insults, at least unless the speaker was interested in the legions of the underworld sent after him, or far worse. Nor could anyone not a higher-ranking deity insult a 'lesser' one, the nymphs of the field or stream or trees.
Or the Titans. The male Titans, uncles and cousins to the gods themselves, had long since been cast out or directly killed, or enslaved as Atlas was. The female Titans, aunts and cousins to the gods, were largely left at peace, and in fact it was three such maidens who kept the Titan Atlas company. It was not that his daughters desired to do so, but if their father had been left alone and unattended, he was liable to start stomping earthquakes out with his monstrous feet.
His beautiful daughters were rather lonely in their vigil, for they had been also assigned to guard the Garden of the Hesperides and its tree of golden apples. Heroes would come in search of such apples, and even if the men managed to sneak into the Garden itself, silent and avoiding the upon-high gaze of Atlas, there was another Guardian to be dealt with, and that was Ladon.
Few who had ever seen Ladon lived to tell about the beast, so stories were often far wilder than the reality. The fact was simply that he was not a dragon, did not breathe fire, and lacked the talons and claws of the fabled dragon. But to those few who managed to reach the tree, avoiding the Hesperide daughters, intent to pluck an apple or two, the large green muscular body that circled around the tree trunk several times may as well have belonged to a dragon.
The fact of the matter was that Ladon was a serpent, a mere giant snake who largely fed on those helpless hunters, though he always ignored the swords and baskets and apples themselves. This was not because they did not smell of food, but because, in living with such close contact as the Hesperide daughters of Atlas, their small magic of simple close proximity was enough to stir the beast's mind and grant a dark sentience.
The Hesperides had no clue that the animal that guarded the tree, and to an extent them, was more than a dumb animal; for the most part they kept away from the beast, but Ladon was a good and patient sentinel.
In fact he had many years to wait and watch and see the sisters in action, and being a patient hunter as Ladon was, he knew in the base of his still reptilian mind, that sooner or later, he could strike.
It happened far sooner than he had expected. With spring finally arriving, there had come a near insane influx of hunters searching for the magic tree and its fruit. The garden itself, despite rumor, was not hard to find; it was getting out alive that was the problem.
It was high noon when Ladon felt the first heavy thump through the trunk of the tree, and slowly let a coil of his muscled green lower body droop lower, resting on the thick grass of the ground. Another thump echoed through the dirt, followed by several shorter and lighter punches against the hard-packed ground. Footsteps. And a boat beaching on the far side of the Garden. Simple enough, the snake decided, withdrawing his coil, to wait.
But after an hour, two, three had passed, and there were no more footsteps coming closer, it was time to investigate.
Ladon rarely left the tree, but with it so bright and warm out, there was no doubt that Atlas was not awake. The damn brute, Ladon trusted, was likely napping, as evident by his missing trio of daughters and a lack of earthquakes that often resulted in Ladon losing a meal or two mid-digestion.
Slowly, very slowly and carefully as a predator searching for prey, the monstrous serpent draped his upper half down from the tree, hearing the vibrations of the green protesting from the weight through his scales, and the thick grass covered his body nearly half-way from the bottom of his gleaming form. When there came no roar from Atlas at seeing the long body move through the grass (no doubt to that brute he looked like a snail or ant trekking through tiny blades of grass), the snake continued to the gates of the garden itself, daring to flick his thick pink tongue out, keeping a brilliant yellow eye on the tree, and the other focused on the slit in the gate.
The vibrations of the ground here betrayed far more; he barely needed to look or catch the scent on the wind, but there indeed were three men, human men, and only one of them was armored still. The other two held their swords in scabbards, but their chests were bare, and two of the Hesperides were standing far too close, in Ladon's view, not to be vulnerable. Prey. But from the vibrations of laughs from those four, arrangements were being made, and the snake kept still as smaller trembling reached him, pulses higher, quicker. Sensations of prey excited.
And almost rudely crashing through those delicious sensations was a harder footstep; his attention turned to the other human man, who was standing close to the youngest Hesperide Titan, who was not laughing, whose pulse was not quickening. Ladon could not quite hear voices, but the tension in the bodies, the pulling back from the female Titan, indicated that arrangements here were not being made. In fact, even as the serpent watched, this young Hesperide, Aegle, turned suddenly and stomped quickly back to the gate.
Had Ladon been a normal sized serpent, she would have crushed his head beneath her bare feet, and in fact the girl drew in her breath to scream as she collided with one of his coils. She fell back suddenly, and the alarm was raised nearly as quickly as the still armored human male lifting his sword.
"The beast!" cried the armored man, and for a second Ladon eyed this intrusion; the other two men's voices raised, the vibrations thick through the ground, their pulses far quicker than the Hesperides had ever raised them. The other two daughters were quick, but foolish, felt the snake, trying to grab the men and hold them back.
"Run!" Aegle had quickly pulled away from the coil, and amidst the screams from her sisters, the roars of the men, and the heavy thump of the stupid armored man slashing out and losing his sword as a coil lashed out, shattering the man's arm and blade in one motion, there came a roar of thunder, but louder, deeper, and Ladon withdrew quickly with a speed the Hesperides might have been shocked to witness had they not been screaming still.
It was not cowardice that forced the serpent back to the tree; far from it! The three men would have been a good meal for the rest of the week, but the more pressing matter was not to get crushed.
The Hesperides noticed their father awake nearly a minute after the thundering bellow shattered the garden's once tranquil air, and the human males were ushered off quickly, the two older daughters racing in and sealing the gate, staggering as the earthquake slammed through the ground, their father stomping his feet as forcefully as he could.
A coil, and another, and another and Ladon was curled back around the base of the lowest branches; the vibrations of the earthquake drowned out the smaller hard ones against his back length, but at least Aegle stopped struggling and her screams of terror were drowned out by the bellows above. By the time Ladon had curled around his standard looping location, the girl had hit her head on one of the branches and was thankfully silent and unconscious.
The other two Hesperides had taken shelter in their little cave home, but Ladon was not worried about them. Instead he waited, for the earthquakes to cease, for Atlas' roar to silence, and in fact it was near twilight when the brute had lost his voice, and finally the serpent had a chance to examine the Hesperide far closer.
Carefully he drew and relaxed his coils, passing the Hesperide up and deeper into the tree, keeping his tail looped to catch her in case the girl woke and she thrashed around. But she remained silent, the large knot forming on her pale forehead, and the snake inspected her silently.
In fact, her body close to his head, he could not move, could not even flick his tongue out to taste her, so overcome he was from the sheer heat radiating off her body. His breathing was near choked from the sensation, and barely daring to lest he give in to instinct and devour her whole, he rested his mouth against her torso, licking slightly.
The serpent had heard, not in words from humans or the Hesperides, but from the wind, of how precious and delicious these golden apples he had guarded nearly his entire life were. A taste of godhood. Humans would risk all to taste just one bite, and pressing his tongue to the girl again, allowing himself one flick over her chest, he finally understood why so many hunters came to the garden, despite Atlas, despite the serpent.
She tasted not just of heat, but sunshine condensed, of wild flowers that grew from the tree to spring into apples, of a fresh rainbow. Her sweat and terror and fear barely marred the scent, and for a long while he flickered his tongue over her tear-streaked face, down her neck, and using the end of his tail, pointed nearly as sharp as a spear, he pulled, and slashed, the top of her gown, revealing white breasts.
Snakes of course never nurse from mothers, but Ladon still found her nearly nude form far more appetizing than the gown she wore. A few more flickers and he became aware slowly of his own increased breathing. Her pulse, asleep, but quick still, as if even unconscious she knew what he was inspecting, and tasting, had become one with his own heart, beating and struggling harder with speed.
The snake pressed his mouth to her side, withdrawing quickly when Aegle whimpered. Still unconscious, she wrapped her arms out, and around, not a branch, but a coil from the serpent. Amazed, he held still as she relaxed, even smiling faintly.
He had to continue now.
Careful of the sharpness still, the end of his tail cut the rest of her gown, letting the item slide off of him and the branch, and slowly, aware of every intense breath from her, of how pounding her pulse was, how vibrant the vibrations, Ladon flicked his tongue between her legs, at the crux of dark hair there.
