What the Hell... ?
Author: Rabid
Fandom: HtLJ
Rating: R-NC/17
Spoilers: Not
Pairings: S/T/C, ?/? Who the hell knows
Summary: Ahead groove factor 5.....
Disclaimer: I own nada but Tru, just playin'...
Archive Yes, please
Warning: This one's a bit darker than the other two.
Cast: Strife, Cupid, Trouble, Hercules, Deimos, Hades, Hera, Apollo...you
get the idea.
Series: Yes, follows "Is This Deal Negotiable?" and "Rude, Much?" both on
RCoS
Note: This is for Candace and MB, C did the beta with infinite patience,
and they asked.
:
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"Get me the fuck out of here!" Ares' roar echoed thru the yawning
blackness of his temple, followed by the rattle of chains.
Hercules smirked, lazily meandering his way back to the private chambers
behind the throne, dawdling over absolutely nothing, just to get Ares a wee
bit more incensed. He figured he had about one and a half minutes before
the next scream of fury blistered his ears.
Standing outside the door, he counted it down, " ...and three, two , one.."
"Hercules! I'm going to peel the skin off your balls in strips!"
The son of Zeus calmly opened the door and walked in, smiling at his half
brother, the God of War, who was chained naked to the bed by Hephaestus'
restraints. Hercules took the moment to study the dark beauty laid out
before his eyes, before playfully leaping onto the bed, landing on his
knees astraddle the bound God, whose eyes grew wide.
"Did I ever tell you what a gorgeous mouth you have, Ares?" he asked
conversationally, before he drew off the tank top he wore and used it as a
makeshift gag. Ares eyes sparked with fury, and not a little touch of
astonishment. He would never have thought his saintly demi-god brother had
this in him. As Hercules' hands swept teasingly soft over his bared skin,
the fury mutated to eager want.
The tap at the door interrupted Hercules' next words.
"What?" he spat, considering Ares' inability to do so.
"Uh, is Dad busy?" came Deimos' muffled voice through the heavy wood.
"Yes, he's kind of tied up at the moment." laughed Hercules, shifting to
maintain his balance as Ares tried to buck him off with his hips. All he
managed was to make them both groan.
"Ah, uhmmmm, yeah. Never mind." Deimos sighed, resigned to the fact that
he wasn't going to see his father anytime soon.
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As Deimos trudged apathetically back toward his 'office', Discord appeared
in the main throne room, moving at a good clip. He snagged her by the arm
before she noticed his presence, and he ducked her other arm as it flew at
his head in her surprise.
"You don't want to go there," he began, "Herc an' Dad..." Discord cut him
off with a gagging sound.
"Oh, Tartarus. I just got those images out of my head. Ghaaa....gag me
with an SR-71 Blackbird." Eris grumbled, eliciting a giggle as Deimos tried
to envision his aunt with her mouth full of a stealth aircraft. She glared
at him, and shimmered out.
The God of Pain shrugged, trying very hard not to think of anything as the
noises from the back bedroom began filtering out into the main hall. He
blew out a breath of mingled disgust and jealousy, and whisked himself off
to Apollo's temple, where he'd set himself the task of taking care of all
the miscellaneous plants and animals the Healer had taken in. He wondered
idly when Apollo would be released from whatever Hades had crafted for his
punishment, and if he'd even notice that all his strays had been cared for.
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"Go. I'm tellin' ya, get gone. I'll be fine." Tru's voice was low and
mellow, and uncompromising.
"But how're you gonna get around? We can't just leave you here for a
week." Cupid tried the voice of reason. "You could still come with us..."
"Hmph. Been there, done that." she returned, giving the God of Love a
lascivious look. He flushed ever so slightly, knowing he'd lost.
"Okay. You win. We'll go. But I know Strife'll be lonely for you." he
tried one last time, playing on her inability to deny Strife anything. He
watched her struggle with his ace in the hole, then turn antagonistic eyes
to him. He flinched.
"Don't make me cranky. You two need some alone time, just the two of you.
You know I love him. I love you, too. Go do God things and get outta my
hair." Tru rapped out, no longer soft voiced. Cupid sighed, and pulled her
into a fierce hug.
"We both love you, you grumpy mortal, even if I can't figure out why we
put up with you," he whispered into her hair, then released her and stepped
back.
"Yeah. Go on. Shoo! I'll call Deimos if I need anything." she waved him
off with both hands.
In a shower of showy sparks, Cupid was gone, and Trouble was alone in the
Hall of Love.
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"Gerroff!!" Artemis' muffled voice was mostly drowned out by the heavy
sound of panting in three part harmony. Cerberus obediently rose from his
sitting position on top of the Goddess of the Hunt, and waited expectantly
for her next command. Hades appeared behind her, clapping. Artemis' face
flamed red, and she ducked her head to cover it.
"Well, Niece, that is the single most amusing thing I've seen today." he
informed her, tucking his hands up into his sleeves. Artemis looked at him
sourly, brushing vast amounts of drool and dog hair off her person.
"You've been watching that Star Wars: Phantom Whatever again, Uncle." she
retorted tartly, nodding to his still black silk, but Jedi reminiscent
robes. The Lord of the Underworld cocked a brow at her, twirling slowly to
give her the full view.
"Someone told me fairly recently that it never hurts to try new things.
I've found she was right. It's quite amusing. At the moment, 'Seph's
attempting a soufflé, by hand, no powers. I fled." he patted the nearest of
Cerberus' three heads.
"The little mortal girl, right?" Artemis asked, already knowing the
answer. She shook her head, wondering idly if Apollo would perk up if she
got him a mortal of his own.
"Yes, 'Temi. Tru has a corner on the fun-market." Hades said drily, then
snorted with laughter. "You know she's just a mortal. She has some amusing
ideas, but she will die, just like the rest of the mortals. I suppose
that's why dalliances with them tend to go wrong. They die, and the God or
Goddess involved with them is heartbroken for decades after....."
"Well, except in Psyche's case. Look how that turned out. She's a bother
to everyone, an immortal bother. Maybe it's just the mortals Cupid falls in
with. You know, he's never been too stable, being the offspring of Love and
War. Just look at Deimos, he could be the poster boy for mental
irregularity." Artemis gracefully lowered herself to the ground, and was
immediately being licked by all three of Cerberus' heads. "Sit! Stay!" she
commanded, and the monstrously huge canine flopped to the ground beside
her, six eyes watching her worshipfully.
"I wonder if giving you the care and feeding of Cerberus was a good idea
for your so called punishment. I realize I had to levy some chore on you,
but I think you're spoiling him." Hades grinned.
"Uh-huh. I don't care if I end up shoveling the manure out of your chariot
team's stable, as long as 'Pol is kept busy. And as long as that bitch
Demeter is suffering." Artemis' hazel eyes went hard and cold as agates,
and she waited for an answer.
"My dear Mother in Law is learning exactly what it means to be under
someone else's sway. She ruled my wife's every moment with an iron
claw...now she knows what that feels like." he swept the floor with his
robe's hem as he began to pace.
Artemis watched the agitated god stalk back and forth before her, and
grinned, scratching Cerberus' shoulder.
"Hmmmm. Perhaps I haven't done enough. I'm off to make Demeter's lot a bit
harder. Be a dear and compliment 'Seph's cooking tonight, 'Temi, no matter
what it tastes like." he vanished, leaving a single twist of black smoke in
his wake.
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Deimos wandered pensively about Apollo's palace, an incongruous homely tin
watering can in hand. He stopped at every single plant, sticking his
fingers into the soil of each pot, checking the moisture, plucking off
brown leaves, clucking reprovingly at the ones that steadfastly refused to
show progress. When he finished, he set aside the can and made his way to
an open courtyard at the center of the massive complex of buildings. Upon
entering the yard, he was immediately set upon by a lamb, two floppy eared
hounds, one three legged cheetah, and a flock of ducklings, all of which
screamed loudly for his attention.
"Okay, siddown! Gimme a minute, dammit!" he shouted, and was rewarded with
approximately three seconds of silence, before the demands on his time
began again.
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Tru wandered aimlessly, having spent hours at her keyboard already. Cupid's
scrolls were not only caught up, she'd categorized and separated them all
into sections of 'do now', 'do later', and 'maybe sometime'. After that,
she'd played Tai Pei, Solitaire, and Battle Chess, then moved on to the
daunting task of straightening out her clothing, organizing the closet
Cupid had put in just to hold all the gifts from himself and Strife. She
stretched, listening to her joints pop.
Shivering in the empty Hall, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms,
glaring around her in dismay. "Maybe I shoulda worked slower," she said to
herself, wincing at the loudness of her own voice echoing. "Shit."
She jumped, squeaking, at the arrival of a God. She whirled, and let out a
sigh of relief at seeing Deimos slouched against a pillar. He grinned at
her, and she grimaced back.
"You never showed up for my lessons." he informed her, idly playing with
his fringes.
"Oh, uh, sorry, D. Strifey an' Cupe went off on a little vacation, and I
forgot about calling for you."
"No big. You look bored." he sauntered across the room toward her, looking
around as though he'd never been there before.
"Yeah. Uh, what the Hell are you doing?" she asked as he picked up a bowl
and studied it before replacing it.
"Hmmm, wondering how to ask you something." he shifted his gaze nervously
to every point in the room except at her.
"Jeezuz Harold Chrysler, Deimos, I thought we'd gone past this weird
'skirting the issue' shit. Just spill, okay?" she huffed, hands on hips.
Deimos began pacing, animatedly flapping his hands against his sides,
muttering to himself. He ducked the pillow she swung at his head as he
passed her, bounding out of her reach.
"Dammit, Deimos, stop jittering around like Tigger on crack and just ask!"
she roared, and he tittered nervously at her analogy, but halted.
"Okay, but if Strife freaks, I'm toast." he cleared his throat. "It's
like this. I'm not real busy right now, you're bored, uhm, do you
wanna...hangoutforawhileandmaybegosomewhere?"
Tru stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. After a moment, she
shut it with a snap and shook her head. "Could you say that last part a
little slower?"
"Do you wanna hang out for a while, maybe go somewhere...with me?" he
managed, looking a bit hopeful.
"Sure. Why would Strife freak over that?" she asked, puzzled.
"Cuz of the way we met, and, y'know, stuff."
Tru looked at him closely, wondering if he'd respond to medication. She
gave herself a swift mental kick, and beamed a happy grin at him. "Hey,
we're cool, now, right? Pals?" He nodded, and she demanded, " So, if we're
pals, where's the popcorn? Where's the drinks? How the Hell are we supposed
to have a slumber party without munchies an' drinks? What are we gonna
watch? Hey, how about some slasher flicks...Friday the 13th?"
Deimos was speechless for a moment, then snapped to, popping in a
ridiculous amount of junk food, carbonated caffeine, and sleeping bags
while she trotted off to fetch the videos. He grinned to himself, changing
into a pair of baggy sweat pants and a huge T-shirt, then snuggling down
into one of said sleeping bags and wriggling until he was comfortable amid
the pillows. He lay quietly for a moment, then shot into a sitting position
in alarm. A frown creased his brow, and he produced a massive T.V. with
V.C.R. attached, then settled happily to await Tru's return.
"Damn, D. Why didn't you just magic up a whole theater screen?" she asked,
shuffling into the room from the bedroom, her arms full of colorful tape
boxes. Deimos' eyes opened wide at her appearance, and she grinned at him.
"What, never seen a girl in her jammies before?"
"We-ell, they never looked like that." he returned, studying her fashion
statement. She wore a pair of men's flannel boxer shorts, very baggy, very
plaid, and a faded Sid Vicious T-shirt that looked like it had been through
a war...and lost. On her feet were rainbow toe socks.
Tru made a rude noise at him, and strode over, dropping the videos onto his
legs. "It's your creation, you make it play the movies."
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Strife cracked his knuckles loudly, laced his fingers behind his head,
and...lounged. He sprawled. He took up more space than someone twice his
size should have.
"How do you _do_ that? " demanded Cupid, tipping his shades down to stare
over them at his beloved.
"Do what?" Strife asked lazily, stretching out just a bit more, returning
Cupid's stare out of half closed eyes.
"Even being a God has its limits. You look like you've got no bones left
in your body."
"I got one with your name on it..." Strife leered, then squawked
indignantly as an ice cube missile landed in the middle of his pale, naked
chest. "Hey! Whatta ya think yer doing?"
Cupid smirked, pushing his shades back into place and settling down on his
own towel. He knew the gauntlet would be picked up, and quickly.
Strife grinned to himself, and did nothing, certain that Cupid was waiting
for him to retaliate. He wanted to be sure this "vacation" of theirs was
memorable, and keeping his lover off balance was key to his plan. "So,
Cupe, how did Tru talk ya inta this?" he asked conversationally, sitting up
and materializing a tall frosty mug of beer.
Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, the God of Love hesitated before
answering, " She informed me that you and I needed some 'alone time',
y'know, since we haven't really _been_ alone since we got back together.
She said she'd field the incoming petitions, an' to get the hell outta
Olympus for a few days." he paused, thinking for a moment. "I never
thought I'd see the day when a Love God took advice on his own love life
from a mortal, but she was right."
"Huh. Y'know she's got us wrapped around her fingers, right?" Strife
rolled onto his side, leaning on one elbow to look directly at Cupid.
"Yeah. Could be worse, though. At least she's fun, in a demanding, weird
kinda way. I wonder what she's doin'."
Mischief set his drink aside and wiggled his fingers, calling up a window
in the air. Both Gods peered into it, jaws hanging slack as they watched
Tru paint Deimos' toenails black while he pelted her with popcorn, both of
them staring raptly at the mammoth T.V. set up in front of the cushions in
Cupid's temple. Freddy Krueger was just finishing off another victim, to
the cheers of both Tru and Deimos, when Strife dismissed the window.
"Now that's scary. Those two are gonna wreak havoc while we're gone, you
know." Cupid snickered, and Strife nodded, downing his beer. He let out a
belch, and flopped back down onto his towel, resuming his champion sprawl,
long, elegant limbs in all directions.
"I'm glad you thought of this place, Cupe," Strife yawned, wriggling his
butt to achieve maximum slothful repose. "I know nobody else would think
ta look fer us snow bathing on a ledge at the top o' Mount Everest."
"Damn good thing we don't have to worry about weather conditions." agreed
Cupid, and resettled his wings comfortably.
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"Whoops!" Hercules croaked, blushing furiously as he backed out of the
bathing chamber in Ares' temple. Discord growled and flung a waterlogged,
soapy sponge at him, narrowly missing as he yanked the door shut behind
himself. He leaned against the door, breathing a sigh of relief that all
she'd thrown was a sponge, and not a ball of incandescent pain in her ire.
"Sorry Eris!" he called through the heavy door, and hurried back to the
bedroom with his towel clutched firmly around his waist. He sighed as he
took in the wreckage of the bed sheets, sans War God. "Why am I still
here?" he asked himself, and winced as he sat down. "Ooh, that's why." he
gave himself the answer, shifting his hips at the pleasant ache in his
body. His mind drifted to the parting that had occurred only an hour ago.
He'd been awakened by Ares shifting him as he got out of the bed, and
groggily lifted himself up on one elbow, staring at the God of War as he
made himself presentable with a snap of his fingers.
"Goin' out?" Hercules recalled asking, rubbing his hand over his face. Ares
turned to give him a long, inscrutable look. Finally, he sighed and ran a
hand back through his hair.
"Middle East is a huge pressure cooker right now. If I don't get off my
ass and do something to guide those fanatics, it's gonna blow and take a
sickening amount of non-coms with it. I know you think I'm the cause, but
my intervention is the only thing keeping this particular powder keg from
becoming a wholesale slaughter."
The demi-god rubbed wearily at the back of his neck, remembering his
initial reaction. "Don't you start wars to keep up your powerbase?" he had
been genuinely confused at the pained, exasperated look on his brother's
face.
"I don't have a huge surplus of time, here, so pay attention. Human beings
are by nature violent. That mudball they live on is a violent place, always
has been, so they have to be violent to survive. As civilization has
progressed, life, and the maintaining of it has gotten easier; so easy, in
fact, that there are too many now. Instead of fighting just to feed
themselves well enough to stay alive, most people take it for granted that
they'll be cared for. The instincts are still there, though. The violent
impulses. I'll let you in on a little secret, brother: War Happens. I may
be master of it, but it will happen with or without me. I ride it, like a
horse, giving it guidance, making it bow to my will, making it stop when it
gets out of control, egging it on when necessary, and yes, gaining power by
feeding off it. Without control, the passions of mortals would consume
everything in their path. That's what Gods are for. Control." he'd sighed
heavily, as if wondering whether he'd wasted his breath, then disappeared
into empty air, no sparkles, no thunder, just gone.
Hercules had sat, just thinking, for nearly an hour, then rose to go and
bathe, where he'd met up with a wet, naked, and ticked off Eris. He blew
out a breath and rose, hunting up his clothes and dressing, his mind still
processing what Ares had told him. With a shake of his head, he took off
with a purpose, exiting the Halls of War by the main doors.
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Tru sat up, her sleeping bag pooled around her waist, watching in amazement
as Deimos writhed his way off the mound of pillows, cackling so hard he had
tears streaming down his cheeks, fighting to get free of his own sleeping
bag, pointing with shaking finger at the screen, which showed Johnny Depp's
Ichabod Crane being stabbed in the shoulder and flung over the Horseman's
shoulder, over and over again, courtesy of his power. He'd been rooting for
the Horseman ever since the flashback where he'd been shown with his head
still attached. In fact, he'd paused the movie several times during that
sequence, going still and quiet, as if memorizing the character. She'd idly
wondered if he was thinking of changing his 'look' to match the Hessian's.
"Yeah, it's a hoot, but can we finish the friggin' movie?" she demanded,
flinging a pillow at him. It bounced off the top of his head, and he reined
himself in with giggles and the occasional snort, flicking his fingers at
the screen, which continued to play the film normally.
"Oh, th' look on his FACE!!" he crowed, disentangling himself from his bag
and resettling back beside her. "Didja see the look?"
"Yup. 20 times. I like that Horseman. He's way cool." she responded,
cracking open yet another Mountain Dew and chugging it.
"I've never seen a human suck down that much caffeine before." he stared
at her in something close to awe. She grinned and surveyed her pile of
empty cans. There were 21 at last count.
"Yeah. I don't think I'll sleep for a week. At least I just got back from
the bathroom, so I should be safe for at least an hour." she confided, and
he made a face.
The hollow boom that reverberated through the Hall of Love made both of
them jump, and then glance at each other, sharing a grin. The boom was
repeated a few more times before Tru actually got her feet under her and
ran to answer the door. She flung it open to admit a thoughtful looking
Hercules.
"Dude! You look seriously freaked." Tru said in greeting. he nodded
absently, slouching past her.
"Strife home?" he asked, wandering into the 'lounge', where he stopped and
gazed over the chaos.
"Hola, Herc," called Deimos, around a mouthful of marshmallows. He held
out the bag and mumbled, "Want some?"
"What the Hell is going on?" Hercules demanded, his eyes drawn inexorably
to the pile of empty soda cans, then back to Tru.
"Slumber Party!" they chorused, and Deimos conjured another sleeping bag,
popping it in between his and Tru's. "Wanna hang?" he asked. The immortal
hero battled down a shiver of fear and resisted the sudden urge to flee.
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Artemis knocked tentatively on the door to the suite given to Apollo by
Hades, straining her ear in anticipation of his answer. When it didn't
come, she pushed open the massive door and stepped into the room, squinting
to see in the darkness. "'Pol?" she called, hating that she couldn't even
feel his presence. "Apollo, are you here?"
"No," came his soft reply, and she zeroed in on the sound of his voice,
bumping her knees against a divan in the gloom.
"You've been invited to dine with Hades and 'Seph. Don't you think you
could put in an appearance?" she asked gently, settling herself on the edge
of the cushion he rested on, her hand reaching to stroke his cheek. He
flinched from her touch, and she drew back.
His voice was bitter as he rejoined, " I doubt my company is wanted. I just
don't seem to feel perky these days."
"'Pol, tell me how to help you. What happened to my sky-surfing joyous
sunspot of a brother? Where did this brooding stranger come from?" Artemis
begged, holding back the quaver that wanted to come out in her words.
He brushed off her queries with one of his own, " Tell me something, 'Temi,
when we slept, did you dream?"
"Not that I remember, love. Did you?" her hand stroked soothingly over his
back, trying to ease the tension she felt there.
"Have you ever wanted anything so badly that you'd do the unthinkable to
get it?" his voice was low, harsh, and she wished she could see his face.
He shifted away from her, eluding her touch entirely. "I have, 'Temi. I'm
tired, and I want to sleep." he whispered.
Artemis shivered, her arms clutched tightly around herself, waiting for
something to happen, for her beloved brother to say something, but he did
nothing, said nothing. Eventually, she rose and left the room silently,
feeling more helpless and alone than ever in her long, long life.
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Ares, God of War, Protector, Defender, Lord of Battle...moped. He lounged
against the remains of a wall left standing after the building was
firebombed. Around him explosions rained debris on the bombed out street,
the staccato rattle of machine-guns echoed amidst the screams of mortals, blood
and grease and filth coated his boots, but he tuned them all out. He
couldn't get the look on his brother's face out of his thoughts, the
expression of confused, earnest surprise Hercules had worn when he'd let
the cat out of the bag. Abruptly, his head snapped to the right, his
attention caught by the sight of a boy, no more than thirteen, running past
with a wiry man at his heels, screaming, his eyes white rimmed with terror.
He clutched a jammed, ancient rifle, refusing to drop it even as he tried to
scramble away.
Snarling, Ares pulled the pursuer's feet out from under him, and whisked
the boy a safe distance from the main body of the fighting. The child lay
on barren earth, gulping in air, staring around him in trepidation, finding
nothing but hot wind to explain his sudden safety. The God of War gazed
down on the demolished town, and grunted in disgust.
"It's about time to stand down, children. Now put away your toys and go
home to bed," he growled under his breath, exerting his will over the
battlefield. Letting go his shield of invisibility, he turned to the boy,
who watched him appear with gape mouthed fear.
"Get outta here, kid. Go find shelter and live." he directed tiredly, and
vanished.
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In a body not her own, Demeter, mother of Persephone, stared up at... her
mother. Well, the individual Hades had decided would be her mother, at any
rate. She pouted sulkily, refusing to accept that this woman had any say
in what she did.
"Young lady, you'll wipe that look off your face if you know what's good
for you. I'm your mother, and you'll do as I say." lectured Demeter's
'parent', looking down on the exiled, powerless Goddess with a patronizing
expression. Taking her resistant hand, she dragged the protesting Deity
along behind her, trapped in the body of a nine year old girl.
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The immortal hero, the people's champion, the one and only Hercules, ducked
and ran, shielding his head as best he could from a hail of junk food,
pursued by an unholy host of demons in the persons of one Godling of War
and one fragile mortal woman. He kept his head down as they cornered him,
pelting him with Cheetos and mallowmars.
"I give! I surrender!!" he cried, unable to use his strength for anything
other than fleeing, and now unable to even manage that. The siege stopped,
mercifully, and Tru and Deimos looked expectantly at him.
"Well?" Deimos prompted, pulling up his drooping sweat pants where they
hung about his hips.
"Okay, okay. If this'll make up for the stone incident, I'll take you both
out. Anything you want tonight is on me. But I don't want to hear any more
about the Chronos Stone! Are we clear on that?" Hercules gave them both
hard looks.
"Crystal!" they sang out together, and Hercules cringed, wondering if his
Uncle Hades would take him in for a while to keep him safe from the twin
terrors, both hopped up on sugar and caffeine.
"Oh! I gotta go change!" Tru smacked the heel of her palm into her
forehead, and charged out of the room. Deimos watched her go, then turned
back to his Uncle.
"So, what were you lookin' for Strife for? You two got no common ground."
he started the conversation. The demi-god had the good grace to look
chagrined.
"Ares told me some things earlier, and I wanted to ask Strife about them.
He doesn't care much for me, and Fates know I had reason enough to hate
him, but I needed to know, and I figured he'd tell me the truth even if just to
watch me squirm."
"Huh. Good enough for me. I was afraid you'd come by to start something."
Deimos produced a short stiletto from somewhere and began cleaning under
his nails, then poking the tips of his fingers with it.
"Okay! I'm ready." Tru bounced out of the bedroom, and stopped in her
tracks." You are gonna change, right?" she demanded of Deimos.
"Uhhh, sure?" he looked at her askance. She was wearing hip hugging black
bell bottoms, platform boots, and a clingy red and black striped top that
showed off her belly button and shoulders. Her hair was piled up on her
head in a scrunchy, and her minimal makeup was in place.
"How'd you manage that so fast?" Hercules asked, perplexed.
"T'ch. I'm a modern woman. I can completely change outfits and do my make
up in a moving car while driving it, in under ten minutes. Get with this
century, old guys." she stuck her tongue out at them, and pulled on her
leather duster. "So change!" she tapped her foot, her fingers, and bounced
in place.
"Uh, huh." Deimos snapped his fingers, exchanging his 'jammies' for black
jeans tucked into 20 eyelet oxblood Doc's and a Long sleeved red t-shirt
that read:" Do I Look Like A Fucking People Person?" He ran his hand
through his hair, making it spikier than usual. "This okay?"
"Yup. Now him." she motioned to Hercules.
"No. No way. Huh-uh. This is fine," the hero backpedalled, holding his
hands out in front of him.
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Cupid got a firm grip on Strife before he could do anything drastic. "Hey,
relax. No more looking. This is our time." he breathed into his lover's
ear, pulling him closer as the shivers went up his spine. He removed the
viewing portal, and Strife melted into his embrace.
"I don't wanna lose her, not to them," he gasped, even as his ear was
tickled by the tip of a very talented tongue. His reply came on the
susurrus of warm, moist air that was Cupid's breath.
"You can't. She's yours."
"Ours." Strife corrected.
"Yours. She may love me, but she belongs to you, in every way. Even if she
goes out with Herc and Deim, she'll always be back to you. You're her
home." Cupid reassured his beloved.
"Like you're mine," Strife assented, twisting lithely in Love's arms to
face him, straddling his lap.
"Yup." he made himself comfortable in the space between the huge statue of
Buddha's knees, cradling his soulmate, loving him as night fell on the
dense Thailand jungle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I am so proud of you, my dear." Hades praised his wife as he tried not to
look at the remains of her soufflé'.
"You don't have to lie, Hades." she lowered her eyes.
"I'm not. This was a first try at something completely foreign. You did
well, and I am proud of you." he spoke firmly, and she beamed at him,
grasping his hand across the table. Artemis just stared at her plate, not
having tasted anything, not seeing anything. Persephone cast a worried look
in her direction.
"'Temi, can I help?" she asked, seeing Hades' nod in her direction.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, 'Seph. I'm just so confused about 'Pol. I feel
helpless." Artemis tried a wan smile.
"Who heals the healer?" Hades murmured, offering his other hand to his
niece in comfort.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Where are we?" yelled Tru over the very bad house band as she knocked back
another shot of tequila. She glared at the stage, which hosted a flannel
shirt and blue jeans kind of white collar wanna be grunge combo. They were
loud, but had no passion.
"Who cares?" Deimos cried back, downing his own shot, and slamming the
empty glass down on the scarred table top.
"We're in L.A." informed Hercules, grabbing the bottle away from Tru's
fingers as she went to pour another for them.
"Buzz kill." she muttered, poking Deimos in the side to catch his
attention. She waggled her brows at him, and he giggled, producing another
bottle out of nowhere and filling their glasses. With a leer, the blond
godling caught her hand in the act of reaching for the salt. He turned it
palm up and set his mouth over the pulse in her wrist, giving it a long,
slow lick. He winked at her, letting her go and shaking salt onto her
wet skin, then offered her a wedge of lemon. Tru shook her head to clear
it of unruly thoughts, and slammed her shot, then provided the same service
for Deimos. Hercules sipped his coke and rolled his eyes at them, setting
the bottle he held back on the table with a disapproving sigh. They laughed
at him, sounding not unlike two hyenas.
The very bad band cleared off the stage, and an employee, who looked like
he'd rather be enjoying oral surgery with no anesthesia slouched up to the
mike. "Okay, people. Here we go, time for karaoke. Just give me a few
minutes to set up, then you're on." A drunken chorus of "Whoo-hoos"
followed his proclamation, and Hercules groaned, resisting the urge to bang
his head on the table, or at least start drinking heavily.
"Oh, come on! This is gonna be awful. Please tell me we're not staying."
he begged, trying to get the tequila swilling duo to leave. They wouldn't
hear of it.
"NO! We gotta stay!" Deimos focused his hazy green eyes on his uncle, both
of him. "This is gonna be a blast."
"Oh, you just wanna laugh at 'em." taunted Tru, kicking Deimos under the
table, forgetting that if he kicked her back, she'd have a broken leg, at
the least.
"Well, duh! Anybody can get up and make a doof of themselves. It takes a
special kinda loon t' do it in front o' witnesses. On purpose, I mean." He
burped.
"Oh, yeah?" Tru smirked, a gleam in her eye. Deimos watched her face
intently, swaying slightly in his seat to track her yellow eye as she
moved, a far away kind of half smile on his face. The longer he watched,
the smaller the smile got, until his expression went blank, and he
reached out blindly for the tequila.
"Yeah," he returned, ignoring the glass and just chugging out of the
bottle.
"I dare ya." she hissed, leaning closer to him, deviltry in her every
line.
"Huh?" Deimos set the bottle back on the table with a thud. "What?"
"I double dog dare ya. You sing." she prodded, and he goggled at her.
"Are you tryin' ta get a God t' go up there an' make a fucking spectacle
a' myse--uh, himself?" he demanded, and Hercules readied himself to catch
Deimos, or whisk Tru out of his way. She didn't seem to get the hint to
drop it.
"Yeah!" she crowed, and Deimos scowled at her, then grinned fit to crack
his face.
"Okay."
"Huh?" Hercules glanced back and forth between them, his brow furrowed in
horrified fascination. "I have got a bad feeling about this," he muttered
under his breath, nervously watching the parade of drunken humans crooning
on the stage as Tru and Deimos staggered off to peruse the offered song
titles and choose something. He rubbed his face with both hands and tried
to ease the tension between his shoulder blades. It was going to be a long night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ares sat on his throne, staring at nothing, hunched over, elbows on knees,
chin on hands. He didn't even look up as Eris popped in, grinning.
"I can't find him." he said quietly. Eris chortled, and his eyes raised to
track her. "What did you do?"
"Nothing but ensure the privacy that mortal prizes so highly, same as Hera
did when they went shopping. She and Deimos are having a night on the town,
and they took the boy scout with them. No big." she preened her long raven
hair in one of Ares' scrying mirrors. She wasn't expecting the ragged bolt
of power that put her through the black marble wall.
"You dippy bimbo. I wanted to talk to him." Ares informed her as she tried
to sit up amid the debris, blood pouring from her nose and mouth, her front
blackened with singe marks.
"You ruined my outfit!" she shrieked, brushing at the tatters of her
bodice. Her eyes darkened to tar as she drew herself up to her feet. "I'll
never tell you where they are now, you son of a bitch," she snarled,
winking out. Ares just sighed and gestured to the wall, which rebuilt
itself. It looked like it was going to be a long night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After a long line of inebriated closet entertainers, Deimos gave the number
of the song he wanted to the bored looking little man running the
equipment, and tripped his way up to the mike, clinging to it with both
hands to steady himself. He grinned and cleared his throat, then began
swaying when the music came up. With a surprising and soft baritone, he
began singing. The club was dead silent.
"Scattered pictures...of the smiles we left behind/
smiles we gave to one another....."
Somewhere in the back of her muzzy consciousness, Tru started violently,
but all that made it out of her mouth was a worried "Huh?" She was fairly
certain that that was not the song they'd picked. It bore no resemblance to
"Walk on the Wild Side". Her mouth curved up in a grin at the
thought of telling Deimos that he'd screwed up, once their hangovers had
dimmed. She planned to inform him quite proudly that he'd done great credit
to Barbara Streisand's " The Way We Were".
Hercules had his head resting on his arms on the table, trying to block out
the sight of his nephew, on stage, going on about a lost love. He missed
the grin slipping away from Tru's face, slowly giving way to surprise, then
pain as she realized something was very wrong. She reached over and poked
her companion roughly, getting his attention, pointing out the
metamorphosis Deimos was undergoing, his jollity fading into confused
sadness, and then to misery.
"Life was all so simple then.../
or has time re-written every line..."
Tru looked on in woozy dismay as silent tears tracked down his cheeks, his
gaze boring into hers, somehow pleading with her, begging her to take it
back, to make it all go away. Her throat tightened, her chest hitching as
she tried to breathe. Hercules shook his head, his features set in sad
lines. His hand clenched around his glass of coke, shattering it, and
ignoring the cold, sticky beverage that slid over his fingers. On stage,
Deimos wailed, holding the last note and sobbing his eyes out, letting go
of the microphone and collapsing to his knees, his hands covering his face.
Trouble grabbed ahold of Hercules' shirt and towed him along behind her as
she plowed toward the stage. When they reached him, he was too far gone to
even speak, let alone walk, even with help, so his uncle picked him up,
carrying him gently as Tru made her stumbling way after them. A blast of
warm, smog laden air greeted the trio as they exited the little bar,
looking for a place to sit down.
"Deimos, c'mon, sadboy, I gotcha..." Tru cooed as Hercules deposited his
passenger onto a bus stop bench. She sat beside him, and he burrowed into
the safety and comfort of her arms. She looked up at the hero of the hour
and grimaced. "I don't think we're gonna get too far like this. We need a
room or somethin'"
Hercules let out a heavy sigh, and looked up and down the street. "Wait
here," he instructed, still haunted by the very real pain he'd felt coming
off his nephew, and set off in search of some lodgings. "Hope they
don't charge by the hour, this late at night," he muttered to himself .
Less than half a block away, he hesitated and turned back. "Are you two
gonna be okay here?"
Tru glanced up from Deimos, squinting to make Hercules' image focus
slightly, and made a reassuring noise, before returning her complete
attention to her charge.
By the time they'd settled into two very cheap and unpleasant hotel rooms,
Deimos was a quivering wreck who refused to be moved from his Tru security
blanket. "How ya doin?" she asked gently, pulling back to get a good look
at him. He cuddled up closer to her and spoke into her neck.
"I feel like shit. Like somebody stuffed ground glass under my eyelids."
he croaked, sounding raw and broken. He snuffled miserably as Hercules
quietly closed the door and headed for the other room, looking intent on
reaching a bed before he fell face down and passed out.
"Let me go for a minute, and I'll get you something for your eyes," she
cajoled, and his grip loosened marginally.
"You'll come back?" he asked, raising red, puffy eyes that looked like he'd
turned his power on himself.
"'Course. Why woudn' I ?" she slurred back, frowning at him.
"'Cuz I left you, alone and hurt before," he told her sadly.
"Nah. I was alone and hurt when you found me. You jus'...I dunno, finished
tippin' th' scales," she slid out of his arms and walked, slowly and with
great care to the tiny bathroom, returning with a cold, wet washcloth. She
held it across his eyes, soothing him as he re-wrapped himself around her,
seeking her warmth as a comfort.
Deimos sank his head to her shoulder, still shaking occasionally with dry
sobs, unable to produce more tears. She watched the sky lighten beyond the
dingy curtains, one hand holding his head to her, the other rubbing circles
on his back.
"I thought time was supposed to make the hurting stop. It doesn't," he
murmured, drifting into uneasy sleep, curled in her arms.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hera cornered Eris while she was still fuming over her rough treatment from
Ares, surprising her in her own small temple.
"So, daughter, I see your plan backfired. Again." she said in a sly voice,
arms crossed under her breasts.
"Oh, no, not you. Why can't you just keep ignoring me like you have my
entire life?" Eris snapped, turning on her mother with a venomous glare.
"I've never ignored you, you vicious creature. I've always known exactly
where you were, who you were with, what you were doing. You just made it
perfectly clear, when you were old enough, that you wanted nothing to do
with me," Hera informed her, getting a momentary stare of shock at her
words. Then the hateful look was back.
"Oh, really. Where were you when I was given no choice but to have Strife?
That little cockroach was almost the death of me. If you were watching, why
didn't you fix the problem?"
"You had a relatively easy birth. I saw to that. You were made to carry
him as a means of trying to teach you responsibility. Of course we should
have known better. You foisted him onto Ares as soon as possible. But
that's not why I'm here. I want to know why you placed a veil over Deimos,
Trouble, and the stepson. Then I want to know where they are." Hera's
nearly colorless eyes had gone cold as chips of ice, and Eris felt the hum
of her mother's power wrap around her.
"What do you care? Deimos and the mortal mean nothing to you, and we all
know how you feel about Jercules. You should be thanking me for at least
inconveniencing him," she stalled, trying to unobtrusively gather enough of
her own energy to slip through her mother's grasp and get gone.
Hera smirked, and Eris felt an invisible vise start to squeeze her, not yet
painful, but threatening. "You know nothing about me, daughter, or my
motivations. Now speak, or the pain you felt in childbirth will be a
pleasant memory."
Eris, Goddess of Discord swallowed heavily, testing the limits of her
bonds. She gave in with a toss of her head, a sneer on her face. "They're
not worth the effort to defy you," she spat, paling as the vice tightened.
"Fine. I wanted to get Ares alone for a while, get him away from that
pontificating by-blow of Zeus' and get things back the way they were. He
didn't appreciate the gesture."
"And?" Hera waited. She was very still, her only movement the slight
clenching of her left fist, which made the crushing pressure on her
daughter increase.
"L.A.! They went somewhere in L.A." Eris panted, and suddenly she was on
the floor, face down, alone.
"Bitch," she hissed, and jerked slightly as Hera's voice floated back to
her, a mocking laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ares' brows drew together in a menacing expression as he felt the signature
of another god in arrival. The look cleared from his brow as he recognized his
mother.
"Mother," he nodded, formal as usual in his address.
Hera studied her son for a moment, all her rarely admitted to compassion
going out to him. Proud, just like her. All the passion of his father, but
with much more self- control. She snorted inwardly at that thought. Of
course he had the self- control. He was War.
"Tell me, son, what are you thinking, cozying up with the stepson?" she
asked, her tone completely neutral, her gaze clear. Ares looked over at
her sharply, his whole posture tensing. After a moment, he purposely
relaxed into a studied sprawl in his throne, one leg over the
armrest, his hands clasped loosely across his belly.
"What's to tell?" he forced his tone into its usual careless cadence,
eyeing Hera cautiously.
Hera's voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Whatever else I may be, boy, I
am still your mother. I asked you a question. Answer it."
At the steel in her command, Ares instinctually sat up straighter, watching
her eyes to anticipate her actions. She suddenly sighed, turned away, and
conjured up a red velvet wingback chair, which she settled herself in before
training her gaze unblinkingly on him.
"You really should think about some furniture for this place." she
commented, waiting him out.
"Mother...I can't discuss this with you. Your feelings..."
"My feelings are my own. Don't think to second guess me." she rapped out,
interrupting him.
He stiffened as though slapped, and changed his position, both feet on the
floor, bent forward slightly, elbows on the armrests, his long fingers steepled in
front of his lips. "What would you have me say, Mother? That I find his
company congenial? That, after all this time as enemies, we have finally
found, if nothing else, a truce? That we mate like rabid minks?"
"Don't be crass, brat. Who or what you "mate" with is of no consequence.
Who you connect with, that concerns me. You don't let anyone close,
haven't since you lost that mortal boy so long ago. Now you seem to
be...unclenching, just a bit," she matched his pose, waiting
for his denial, his explosion of temper, his withering comment. He did
nothing.
Finally, after a long, indrawn breath, he relaxed, leaning back.
"Perhaps," he offered warily, cautious.
The Queen of the Gods arched a perfect brow at her favorite offspring,
daring him to continue.
"Yes, Mother. I have connected with him, strange as that may seem. Are you
happy, now that I've confessed my sin? What now, will you order me to forsake
my lover and go back to fighting him at every turn?" Hera winced at the
pained accusation in his voice, the hollow, lonely sound making her heart cringe.
"How I have hurt you, my son," she said softly, blinking away the sudden
moisture in her eyes. Ares' expression gentled, for a moment, then hardened
back to the watchful, guarded one he had adopted.
"The past is gone, Mother. Leave it." he spoke sharply. Her hands
clenched, then opened, and she took a deep, cleansing breath, letting it
out slowly.
"I hated Hercules because he existed, not because of who he was. He was a
shining example of your father's contempt for me, for my station, for my
Godhead. He was the eternal thorn in my pride as a wife, a mother. It has
taken a very long time to admit this to myself, let alone anyone else. I
have no more animosity toward him personally. I should like to think that I've
matured past that point." She gave a small, wintery smile, clearly aching
at the admission.
Ares blinked in surprise, completely unprepared for her speech. He cleared
his throat uncomfortably and fidgeted. "Mother, I don't know what to say."
he whispered.
"Then don't say anything. The air was too stale to bear between us. You
needed to hear that, I needed to say it. The step---Hercules is in L.A.,
babysitting an emotionally crippled Deimos and a traumatically drunk
Trouble. I think I may just like that girl," she mused, disappearing
along with her chair in a swirl of mist.
Ares stared at the spot where she'd been, too wrapped in her revelations to
even move. He was amazed that she'd said as much as she had, or that she'd
apparently gone to Eris and pried her secrets from her...for him. It was
a testament to his shock that he didn't even spend a moment gloating at
his place in her esteem, just gathered his power and teleported to Los
Angeles to begin his search.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deimos awoke groggily, searching with his hands to find Tru. She was gone,
and he let out a soft whimper before bottling up his emotions again,
looking around the room with bleary eyes. Light coming from behind the
cracked open bathroom door caught his roving gaze, and he slid out of
the bed with a groan, making his way over to it. Inside, he found his savior
half naked and hanging onto the toilet bowl with a death grip, a look of
agony on her face.
"Hey," he greeted in a scratchy voice. Her eyes swiveled toward him,
watering and blood red.
"Go back to bed," she ordered, the authority in her tone somewhat ruined
by the advent of another wave of heaving. He watched all the muscles under
her bared skin knot with the action.
"I ..uh..I can help with that," he offered, his warm hand lightly touching
her icy back. She flinched and he tutted sympathetically, using his control
of Pain to abate hers. She sighed in relief, and flushed the commode,
wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and throwing
him a grateful look. He reached down a hand to pull her up from the floor.
"I'd kiss your ass for a tooth brush, toothpaste, and mouthwash." she said
as she rose. Deimos grinned briefly, and did her bidding. He left her to
her ablutions, secure in the knowledge that she'd kept her promise and
stayed with him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Through the warm, comfortable darkness of his sleep, Hercules felt the
gentle touch on his face. He recognized it, and leaned in to it.
Consciousness returned slowly, and he blinked sleepily at the saturnine
countenance of his brother. "Ares," he yawned, stretching.
"I always seem to be greeting or leaving as you wake, Hercules." he
commented, neutral territory.
"Uh-huh." Hercules grunted, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed,
scrutinizing the God of War as he sat in the uncomfortable looking wooden
chair by the window.
"I came to find you. When I returned last night , you were gone." Ares'
voice was even, his arms folded over his chest. Hercules had long since
realized the tone and posture signified that his brother was unsure about
something. His brow furrowed in thought.
"I just went to see Strife, who wasn't there, and got dragged into a
slumber party. Remind me not to do that again." he glanced up to see his
dark brother's wariness ease somewhat. Hercules rose and padded to the
bathroom, calling back over his shoulder, " Boy are you gonna be surprised
when you hear about last night."
Ares cocked his head to one side, thinking. His eyes were vacant as
Hercules returned, fastening his jeans. "So why were you looking for me?"
he asked, " I kind of figured you'd at least want to avoid me for a while
after what you told me yesterday."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you." he hesitated for a moment, then
forged on, " I hadn't intended to tell you that, at least, not that way."
"I can understand that. In a way, it makes sense. What you told me, I
mean. I can comprehend it, intellectually, but the concept will take some
digestion, emotionally." Hercules said, looking down at his hands, missing
the startled expression that flitted across the face of his brother.
Silence sat between them for a while, then Ares stirred. "So, what was so
interesting about last night?"
"Oh, just the usual. Sleeping bags, junk food, the dynamic duo on a sugar
bender, tequila, karaoke, and Deimos having a nervous breakdown in public."
Hercules said nonchalantly, keeping a sly eye on Ares from under his
lashes. He smiled to himself as his brother lurched forward in his chair.
"Deimos?" he closed his eyes momentarily, muttering, " She said he was..."
he blinked, settling himself. "It would seem you have a story to tell,
although, why my son would break down after Tru sang badly, I can't
understand."
"Tru didn't sing. Deimos did." Ares' mouth hung open at that news.
"Educate me, brother. Tell me what happened."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stepping lightly, Artemis moved silently through her brother's suite,
clutching an apple to her breast. She found the table by Apollo's couch and
stealthily placed the fruit on it, turning to leave as quietly as she'd
come. A solid, warm grip on her wrist halted her and caused her to cry out.
"Still trying to look out for me, 'Temi?" his new, coarser voice asked in
the cloying darkness.
"'Pol, I'm getting more and more worried about you," she said bluntly,
absently rubbing her wrist when he let go of her. She stood before him,
watching the place she thought his face would be, trying to pierce the
gloom with will alone.
"Why? What is there to worry about? I'm alive. I'm still a God, if we ever
get done with this farce. There's no sense in fretting over me." he tried
to make his inflections light, but to Artemis it sounded more like he was
choking on his words.
She sat down on the edge of the divan, her questing fingers finding his
shaggy, soft hair and brushing through it. For a brief moment, they fell
into patterns of the past, Apollo leaning into her touch, soothed by their
connection. Artemis felt the bond of their twinship again, just for a
moment, before it was severed by Apollo's pulling away, getting up and
stalking to the other side of the room, unhindered by the furniture.
"You should get some rest, 'Temi. You have your 'punishment' in the
morning, and I have mine, listening to the pleas of the dead and helping my
son with that lunatic child of Zeus'. "he said crisply, refusing to speak
Athena's name.
Artemis shook her head, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, and
made her way to the door. She looked back toward where his voice had
emanated, and whispered, "'Pol..."
"Goodnight, Artemis," he spoke firmly, and she fled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tru sat quietly on the bed, watching Deimos watch cartoons on the grainy
black and white t.v. pretending that nothing had happened the night before.
Making up her mind, she joined him at the foot of the bed, both of them
lying side by side on their bellies, propped up with elbows on the bed and
chins on fists.
"So, you wanna tell me about it?" she ventured, and felt him tense up
beside her, then sag into resignation. He dropped his arms and laid his
head on them, turned in her direction.
"Not particularly. Bad enough I hadda do that with witnesses. I don't
wanna think about it again," he responded honestly. She glanced over at
him, then back at the t.v.
"Right. Y'know where I am if y'wanna talk," she nudged him with her leg
"Yeah. Thanks." he nudged her back, and gave a sour laugh. "Is this what
it means to have a pal? Somebody gets t' watch your worst moments and ya
can't even take the memories away?"
"Yup. But hey, at least you got to be witness to my crowning achievement,
pukin' up my entire digestive tract." she said with another nudge, a little
harder.
"Oh, thanks so much. It was a real Kodak moment," he scrunched up his face
at the thought of the visual her words triggered. He pushed her again,
sending her tumbling off the bed. She rose, rubbing her rump, and glaring
daggers at him.
"Uh...Oops?" he chuckled, and moved to sit up. Her tackle caught him
unbalanced, and left them both splayed across the bed in a tangle of limbs.
Tru righted herself, pushing herself up off the godling who stared up at
her in astonishment, eyes wide.
"Oops, my ass, D! Human, here! Y'don't shove yer pal off of furniture."
she grumped, and he couldn't hold back a giggle. Her eyes narrowed as he
continued to laugh, and she bounced from her seat across his stomach.
"What?" she demanded, and he tried to sober himself, with little success.
"Not your ass. Mine." he wheezed as all her weight landed on his
diaphragm. "You said you'd kiss my ass if I got you a..."
"Toothbrush, toothpaste, yadda yadda. Yeah. So you callin' in what I owe?"
she asked, and he nodded, laughing so hard he couldn't speak.
Tru stared at him. She couldn't believe he'd switched gears again so
quickly. He made her PMS look tame. "Well?" she prompted.
"If I said yes?" he returned, lacing his fingers behind his head since the
pillow had long since been lost.
"You darin' me, D?" she instigated, scuttling backwards off him and onto
the floor.
"Yup. You ain't got the stones t'do it." he taunted back, rolling up onto
his knees and presenting her with his posterior, wiggling it at her.
"In case you didn't notice, I don't have any stones." she volleyed, then
commanded, "Bare it!"
Deimos' hands flew, stripping open the button fly of his jeans and shoving
them down around his thighs, waiting for her to back down. The next thing
he knew, there were a pair of soft, warm lips pressed firmly to his right
ass-cheek, and his father and uncle were standing in the doorway amid a
nimbus of blue light.
"What the Hell...?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hades groaned inwardly, rubbing his fingers across his brow. He wanted
nothing more than to go hide in his rec room and ignore everything for a
while. He looked up at the soft touch on his arm, and smiled into
Persephone's eyes.
"What is it?" she asked, coming to kneel between his feet. He leaned
forward on his throne and hugged his wife, burying his face in her sweet
smelling hair. She returned his embrace, smoothing her fingers over the
heavy fabric covering his back.
"I think it's time I had a chat with Aesclepius. 'Temi is slowly worrying
herself to a frazzle, and 'Pol is refusing to do anything about whatever is
eating at him. It's definitely time to get involved." he decided, and let
her go with a final squeeze. She let him assist her up and watched as he,
too stood, then disappeared.
"Huh. Why does that make me nervous?" she asked the empty room, before she,
too, made herself scarce on a cloud of flower petals.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cupid stared at his companion, at a loss. Strife'd been frantic when he
discovered he couldn't find his mortal, and now he was rolling on the
ground, holding his ribs, and crying with the effort to still his laughter.
They'd tried again, after reaching the Gobi desert from Thailand, and found
themselves watching the impromptu wrestling match between Deimos and Tru.
When Ares and Hercules had popped in at the precise moment Deimos had his
ass bussed by Tru, Strife had lost it, and the image had dissolved.
"Oh! Oh,my! That's my girl!" Strife gave a final giggle, and bowled his
lover over from where he'd been kneeling beside him on the cushions in
their conjured tent. "That was, bar none, the best scandalized look I've
ever seen on Herc's face," he gloated, nuzzling at Cupid's throat.
Cupid pulled Strife closer, hiding the pensive expression on his face.
"Hmmm," he temporized, thinking about Deimos, and wondering what had made
his little brother so upset, so lost looking when Tru had asked if he
wanted to talk. He wasn't terribly surprised that Strife had missed the
look, since affairs of the heart weren't exactly his beloved's forte. He
was just happy that Mischief wasn't jealous. By the time Strife actually
let him go enough to pull back and look him in the eye, he'd managed to
find a smile for his love.
"You don't mind my checking on 'em, do ya?" Mischief asked, his face
showing that he was worried Cupid would feel slighted by his straying
attention.
Love smirked, " Don't be a putz. I care too, y'know. If you didn't check
in, I would. And that was the best reaction I've seen out of Unca Herc
since I don't know when. "He rolled them both, freeing his trapped wing,
and proceeded to make it impossible for Strife to reply by consuming
Strife's mouth with his own, his hands worshipping the lanky body beneath
his, turning his fellow God into a mass of writhing, needy flesh with no
mind to speak of.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The pair on the bed stared over at the God of War and the demi-god, Deimos
with a deer in the headlights kind of look, and Tru with a cat that ate the
canary grin. Ares stood in all his glory, black leathers tight and
immaculate, one arm crossed over his chest, hand holding the opposite
elbow, his hand covering his face, with one eye peeking out between parted
fingers. Hercules was somewhat less impressive, in the rumpled clothes he'd
worn the night before, and a state of shock.
"I really don't want to know, do I?" Ares intoned, settling both hands on
his hips, feet apart.
"Uh, no?" Deimos tried, hastily doing up his pants.
"Tru, what were you thinking? What if Strife and Cupid were watching?"
Hercules began to build up momentum, and Ares rolled his eyes, leaning back
against the wall, preparing to wait out the lecture.
"They'd get a good laugh." Tru stood, pushing Deimos over so she could sit
next to him on the bed. Hercules' mouth moved, but nothing came out. He
looked over to his brother for assistance.
"Don't bring me into this, Hercules. This is your moral bugaboo, not mine."
came his answer in an amused, smoky voice.
"It was a bet, ya big party poop." Tru explained, giving them her back as
she bent down to hunt under the bed for her boots. She popped back up with
her prey in hand. "What, you thought 'cuz D was outta sorts I'd take
advantage of him?"
Hercules blushed, stammering, " I ..uh..no! No, I was worried..." he ground
to a halt, shoving his hands in his pockets, shifting uneasily on his feet.
"He means he thought I'd try and molest ya while ya took pity on me."
Deimos cut in, an unpleasant, brittle smile masking his features. "Y'don't
do that to pals, Herc."
Ares couldn't hold back the guffaws a moment longer, and, still choking on
his laughter, zapped them all to his Hall. "You two miscreants vanish. I
have things to attend to." he mock growled as the lightshow settled, and
Deimos grabbed Tru, whisking her off with a leer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"D'you really think we should be here? " Tru asked in a hushed voice,
staring around wide eyed at the compound that belonged to Apollo. Her wide
eyes took in the heavy gilt furniture, the thick white velvet upholstery,
and the rich, overdone tapestries with a strange mix of awe and distaste.
The huge white marble fountain in the middle of the room was empty, and the
deep relief carvings thick with dust. It felt a lot like what she had
always imagined a ghost town would, gaudy and wasted.
"Well, since he's gone, there's nobody around to take care of his things.
They're all just forgotten," Deimos replied, elbowing her lightly to get
her moving. She inched forward as though afraid that someone was going to
demand their reason for intruding at any moment. Pain smiled indulgently,
and ushered her to the courtyard, letting out a high pitched whistle. All
around them, low decorative bushes rustled and erupted with squawking,
barking and rumbling life, bowling both of them over in greeting. Deimos,
prepared, fared better than Tru, who had been on the brink of flight when
she'd gone down.
Tru looked up from the cheetah sitting on her chest to see her companion
gazing over at her, his whole posture relaying to her the request for
understanding without prying. She closed her eyes a moment, then asked, "
Can you get the kitty off me? I'm allergic."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You know, if I hadn't been so surprised I would've seized a golden
opportunity today," Hercules mentioned absently, splashing warm water at
Ares as they relaxed in the hot tub.
"Hmmm?" his brother barely acknowledged, refusing to open his eyes or alter
his supine state.
"When Tru was giving Deimos' butt a big old smooch. That was blackmail
material for eons to come. I should've had you zap up a camera."
Ares' astonishment was so great, he sank underwater for a brief second,
coming up blinking and sputtering, spitting water out of his mouth. "Are
you really Hercules?" he coughed, surveying the man opposite him carefully,
a towel appearing in his hand to wipe his face.
"What'll you give to find out?" Hercules grinned, stalking Ares through
the chest deep water.
"Make your play," the God of War purred, ebony eyes dancing wickedly. He
waited until Hercules was only inches from grabbing him, then locked his
arms around his brother and transported them both, still naked, still
grappled together, to a bare room with only a mat on the floor.
"Wha...?" Hercules found himself pinned on his back by a very warm, wet,
and smug Ares.
"Fancy a little wrestling, brother?" Ares grinned down into the bright
blue eyes below him.
"Sure, _brother_," the demi-god smiled sweetly in return, and wrapped his
longer legs around Ares' hips, locking his ankles. Their burgeoning
erections ground together, eliciting groans, and Hercules darted his head
forward, biting savagely into Ares' throat, claiming him. War grunted with
surprise, his fingers digging into the shoulders he was braced against, and
then pulled away.
Hercules felt him retreat, and let go, opening his eyes to look up
confusedly.
"I changed my mind. I want something different." Ares said quietly,
sending a chill down his sibling's spine. At the hurt expression on
Hercules' face, he chortled, " Not a different partner, dummy, just a
change of pace." In a flash of light, they moved from the mat to a huge
fur rug, laid out on the ground under the stars in the middle of nowhere.
"I don't understand..." Hercules began, but a shushing noise and a
volcanic but gentle mouth silenced his words, the lips against his
devouring him with a sweet but undeniable fire. Ares shifted to the side,
aligning them so they faced each other, for once not taking, but sharing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A harried Aesclepius looked askance at Hades, as if to ascertain if he'd
lost his mind, too. "Did I hear you correctly? Did you just ask me to
confront my father and demand an explanation?"
"I believe that's what I did, yes," came the laconic reply from Hades, who
refused to enter into the rooms assigned to Athena, which was where the God
of Physicians had been staying. They were holding their conversation in one
of the longer hallways in Hades' keep, their voices echoing.
"Oh, wonderful. I had hoped the madness wasn't contagious." Aesclepius
commented acerbically, rolling up the sleeves of the simple cotton robe he
wore. He scowled, the expression ill fitting on his thin, aristocratic
features. He ran his hands back through his disheveled long brown hair,
vainly attempting to smooth it all back into the tail it had escaped from.
"And I suppose this needs doing immediately, if not sooner?"
"You've worked with your father every day since this obscene debacle
began. Can you honestly tell me he's not getting worse? I'm worried I'll
have to set him up next to Her Majesty, down here." Hades growled, and
Aesclepius backed up a pace, wary of the vastly powerful, moody god
standing far too close.
"I get the picture, Lord," Aesclepius said soothingly, taking another step
back. Hades focused his attention directly on the Godly healer, and chuffed
in annoyance.
"You haven't called me Lord since long before you took up your Godhood,
you quack. I'm not angry at you, just frustrated with the situation. Stop
backing up, Aesclepius, and put your mind on the problem. Your father is
fast becoming more dour and morose than I ever was, and that's saying
something." Hades frowned, and began to pace. Abruptly he stopped and swung
around to face his grand-nephew. "Athena is showing no progress, as yet.
She can afford to languish down here a great deal more than Apollo. Let
your underlings see to her until this matter is dealt with one way or
another."
"As you wish, Hades. I can only try." Aesclepius nodded once, and
vanished, leaving the Lord of the Underworld alone with his thoughts.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey! Check this out!" Strife yelled, drawing Cupid nearer to his position
amid the rubble of what had once been one of Ares' favorite temples.
"This is kinda creepy, Strife," Love hedged, hovering on his broad wings
rather than touch down in the ruins.
"Yeah, but it's cool, too. I don't think anybody's been here for a damn
long time." Mischief said without looking up, engrossed in what he was
digging through.
"C'mon, let's get outta here. When I said we should visit the old stomping
grounds, I didn't mean we should unearth one of Dad's old hiding places.
Anything that's still here is here for a reason. Dad wants it left dead an'
buried."
Strife glanced up finally, seeing the look of remembered pain and fear on
his lover's face. He stood and brushed himself off, stepping delicately out
of the scattered debris. "If it means that much to ya, we're outta here."
he held up both hands, and Cupid picked him up, drawing him into an aerial
embrace and bearing them both to less dangerous ground.
"Y'wanna tell me what pushed all yer buttons?" Strife asked as they
touched down on the top of a softly rolling green hill. "I only ask 'cuz I
found some things, and I figured I'd try asking first, before I hurt yer
feelings by going behind yer back.":
Cupid regarded him in silence for a very long moment, then cleared his
throat nervously." I, uh, appreciate your givin' me a chance to explain."
"I love ya, Wings, but that don't mean I ain't on my way to being really
pissed at ya, right now."
Cupid nodded, eyes downcast. "I guess you found the sarcophagus, then."
"Yup. Unc would never have put that there. If he had, no way would the
place've been demolished. This has all the earmarks o' your work, and I
wanna know what went down." Strife parked himself in the tall grass, one
leg drawn up to his chest with his arms around it, the other stretched out
in front of him, expectantly watching his lover.
Cupid sighed, and dropped down tailor fashion beside him, pulling up
handfuls of greenery aimlessly." You remember when I told you I couldn't
visit you because it hurt too much?" At Strife's nod, he swallowed heavily
and plowed on. "Well, I kinda skipped over some stuff. What I did, was, I
went a little crazy. In fact, for a while there, I made Deim look pretty
damn stable. One of the worst things I did was steal Darian. Nobody knew
how much Dad loved that man, how much it cost him when Darian died at sea.
Dad changed when his mortal was killed. I knew how much pain I would cause
when I stole him. I took him from Dad because if I couldn't have you, then
he shouldn't have even the bones of his beloved. After the divorce, I meant
to fix it, but..."
Strife was staring off into the distance, his face blank. "Did Unc ever
find out?"
"No. No-one knew. I was too depressing to be around, so nobody paid
attention to anything I did. I meant to set things right, later, but
everything was so confusing, and I was afraid," Cupid shuddered, waiting
for the proverbial axe to fall.
"I know the loss of that shrine woulda done some serious damage ta Ares.
He went ballistic, huh?" Strife's voice was gentle and deep, but he made no
move to touch his mate.
"The wars were horrific. It was worse than if there had been no God of War
at all. So many died..." he choked, covering his face, his wings mantling
to hide himself.
"They died because of you. Because of me." Mischief reached out and pulled
Cupid's hands down. "Finish the story."
"No one could stop him, no one could reason with him, and I was glad,
because I wanted everyone to know my pain. By the time my brain clicked
back to rational, it was over, and Dad had closed himself off. He was fine
on the outside, but nobody got close, not like they used to."
"You can't even think about telling me Unc didn't take any more lovers.
Not gonna buy it."
"Oh, that's a big duh. He took more lovers than any other three Gods
combined. He was gettin' more leg than I ever thought a God could, but it
was all empty. He fucked 'em an; forgot 'em, just like that," he snapped
his fingers, and cringed. "He buried Darian and grieved, built him a
shrine. He had moved on until I stole the body, desecrated the shrine. I
broke his heart."
Strife didn't say a word, just dragged Cupid into the shelter of his long
arms and held him, his mind whirling with the information and what to do
with it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With a last pat to the docile crippled cheetah, Tru straightened and rubbed
her swollen eyes, sniffling. Deimos handed her a big square of silk to wipe
her sore, runny nose with, and shooed the animals away.
"So, what now?" he asked awkwardly, and she shrugged.
"We already know where I live. How 'bout you? What's your place like?"
Deimos winced, and asked, " Are you sure ya want t' know?"
Tru eyed him strangely, and nodded, then made a terrible face, followed by
a rapid succession of sneezes, barely covering her face with the hankie in
time to avoid spraying her friend. She smiled sheepishly after wiping the
offending residue away again. "You don't have a cat, do ya?" she asked.
In a blink, they stood in a dimly lit...junk heap. There were
unidentifiable bits of stuff everywhere. Shiny rocks competed for space
with gorgeous paintings, an 8-track tape player sat askew atop a pile of
rusty swords-- in short, chaos reigned. Even the bed was festooned with
wires and innards from a disassembled radio or five. Tru coughed once,
shooting Deimos a look out of the corner of her eye, and said, " So, you,
uh, collect stuff?"
Deimos blushed a bit, and shuffled his feet. "Well, yeah."
"So, is this, like, your place, your crib?" she wandered the room, not
touching anything, until she ended up next to him again. "Is this whole
place filled like this?"
"Ah, no. This is my personal space. The other room's empty." he replied.
"Other room?" she raised her brows at him.
"The Hall. This's my temple. The outer room has to be for the altar,
y'know," he mumbled, and shifted everything over to make a place for her to
sit at the edge of the bed. "I, well, I keep meanin' to clean it up, but,
hey, I got things t'do."
"You want some help?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Head bowed, a look of supreme concentration on his face, Hercules leaned
down over Ares, one of the God's legs hooked over his shoulder, the other
wrapped abound his waist. His hips dipped teasingly, long, slow strokes
making the God of War writhe, panting curses.
"Oh, you sneaky son of a bitch! Uuuhh, just fuck me!" Ares grunted, his
hands clenched into his lover's shoulders with bruising force, trying to
buck up under the maddeningly slow pace his brother set. Hercules spared a
wolfish grin down at Ares, leverage and position trapping the Olympian, and
added a slow roll and twist of his pelvis, making those fantastic dark eyes
roll up in their sockets for a moment, and a low groan rumble in the deep
chest.
The eternal hero's arms shook slightly, and his shoulders and back gleamed
with sweat as he lowered his head to capture the gasping mouth of War, who
strained up to meet him, tongue flickering eagerly to taste. As the kiss
changed, so did the pace, to Ares' muffled shout of delight, becoming hard
and deep as Hercules' control shredded. With a final, shuddering cry, the
demi-god slammed his cock home brutally in Ares' body, spending himself.
Ares howled under Hercules, the sudden hard use after such drawn out
gentleness triggering his own climax, aided only by the friction of their
bellies against his erection.
Huffing, they disentangled cramping limbs, and stretched out on the rug,
ignoring such mundane things as wet sticky fur or rapidly cooling sweat in
favor of re-introducing their mouths to each other.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Here, c'mere," Deimos directed, looking back over his shoulder to make
sure Tru was there. She nodded, red faced and out of breath, and he turned
fully to put the hilt of a huge sword in her hand. "Take this out to the
other room, huh?" he released it to her grip, and turned away, only to
wrench back around at her loud yowl of complaint and the clang that
followed it.
"You tryin' t' kill me, D?" she gasped up from her new seat on the floor,
the sword hilt across one of her thighs, the blade thankfully angled away
from her.
"Oh, shit," he giggled, then tried to wipe the amusement from his
expression. "I forgot again. sorry,"
"Uh-huh. That thing has t' weigh as much as I do. What's it made of?" she
asked, shoving the offending hilt off her leg and struggling to stand,
brushing herself off. Deimos bent down and scooped the sword up, doing some
quick fancy tricks with it before disappearing it with a thought.
"I think it's bronze. Damn thing's been in here forever, even before I got
this dump. Hand me downs, y'know. Sucks being the youngest inheritor." he
answered conversationally, and dived back into the last pile of stuff left
in the room. Tru coughed at the raised dust, and waved her hands in front
of her face. She retreated to the safer area around the bed and gathered
the cleaning supplies Pain had provided, waiting for him to finish his
voyage of discovery.
"You were right, y'know. It is more fun to go through all this crap by
hand. I forgot about most o' this stuff." his voice floated back to her as
she perched on the bed.
"So why is your altar a big flat rock balanced on two other big rocks?" she
asked, swinging her feet.
"Altar's a requirement. It's in the rules, somewhere. I just put those
there to shut anybody who bitched up. Didn't need to bother, anyway. Nobody
comes here." he responded. Tru stared at his back.
"Nobody?"
"Not for a thousand years, well, except me." he stepped away from his
triumphant room reclamation, and gestured her over to dust the previously
inaccessible corner.
"That would explain why your Throne is an inflatable Oakland Raiders
armchair, complete with an empty beer can in the armrest cupholder." she
nodded, spraying furniture polish and chasing the light foam with a rag.
"Yeah, I guess. Why bother decorating when there's only me to see it? I
just sleep here, sometimes. Nobody to impress, nobody to share it with,"
his tone had gone desolate, and she gave him her full attention, waiting.
"C'mon, D. You got that look again." she said gently, smoothing out the
dust rag.
"You wouldn't understand. There's no way you could comprehend being so
damn lucky to find a lover, a love who is so perfect, so beautiful, so
powerful it makes my heart stop to think about it even now, and have him
love me...me!" Deimos paced in a small circle, his hands waving jerkily.
"I'm a fuck up. I was then, too. Always doing things that made everybody
pissed, screwing up plans left and right, and he loved me." He paused to
look at Tru, but wouldn't meet her gaze ducking his head. "I look funny,
it takes me forever to learn anything, I'm too nervous and jumpy, and he
loved me. I could never figure out why. I kept waiting for him to tell me
it was a joke, that he'd just taken me under his wing as a quick laugh,"
His shoulders slumped, even though his hands still twitched with nervous
tension." I never deserved him. I...lost him." he stared into space, agony
naked in his dry eyes.
Tru wiped her wet cheeks on the dirty rag, smearing dust and grime across
her face and thought about her own odd relationship with her two gods, her
gut clenching at the thought of losing them. She cleared her tight throat.
"Yeah, maybe I could understand," she offered, arms open. He fell into
them, resting his head on her shoulder, hugging her tight, as though he
thought she could keep him safe. Her own grip on him pulled tighter, and
she made soothing noises into his hair, reflecting to herself that she'd
never seen him so serious for so long about anything.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Father!" Aesclepius scream cut through Apollo's fugue state, centering his
thoughts on his surroundings.
"What?" the Sun God demanded crossly, blinking in the light of the single
candle the physician carried. Apollo was incensed that his son had taken up
his sister's habit of breaching his sanctum without invitation.
"You were fading, Father. You've spent far too much time hiding in the
dark." Aesclepius snapped briskly, mincing no words. He grunted unhappily
at the once vibrant God's appearance, now that it had been brought to his
attention. Apollo made a depreciative noise at his son's announcement,
glowering.
"I find darkness soothing, these days." Apollo offered in a huskier,
slightly more raspy version of the voice he'd used since time immemorial.
He chuckled to himself, humorlessly. "How sad is that?"
"It's a damn shame, is what it is. Instead of one useless deity lounging
in Asphodel, it seems I've got two to look after." came Aesclepius' waspish
reply, clearly out of patience. The tone brought Apollo's head up, his
cerulean eyes narrowing dangerously at his offspring.
"How dare you?" he hissed, uncoiling from the divan, his paler, thinner
form giving him the aspect of a rapier, or a whip, ready to crack. Even
with his powers held in abeyance in the rooms provided by Hades, he reeked
of potential deadliness. He stalked his son, knowing he intimidated the
younger god. Aesclepius, however, didn't back down.
"I dare because you have forced me to abandon my patient and turn my
resources to you, Father." he stepped forward to intercept his sire,
grasping the hands that reached for him, and using his grasp to shake
Apollo. "I dare because you are wallowing in self pity, and dragging Aunt
'Temi down with you. You're making Hades cranky, and you're scaring me!"
Apollo looked deep into his son's dark blue eyes, and read fear there. Fear
for him, for the father he loved, and Apollo felt a tiny prick of shame.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sun had set, darkness blanketing the land before Cupid could pull
himself together enough to squirm out of Strife's embrace, his face flaming
with embarrassment and self loathing.
"Go ahead," he said roughly, and Strife pinned him in place with a direct
stare like twin lasers. Cupid withered under that steady regard. "This is
where you tell me what a fuck up I am and how much I disgust you," he
added.
Mischief didn't dignify his lover's words with a response. He stood,
unfolding sinuously until he was upright, and faced the God of Love dead
on. "I know ya feel guilty for what ya did, and ya should, but don't use
that as an excuse to fuel any insecurities ya may have about us. I said I
love ya, and I mean it. This don't change that. What _you_ gotta do is
figure out how yer gonna make this right. I saw the preservation ya did on
the sarcophagus. It's still pristine, even though it's buried under a ton
o' shit. Deal with yer demons, Cupid. I'll wait for ya. Y'know where ta
find me."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Deimos and Tru sat in folding lawn chairs on opposite sides of the big flat
rock Deimos refused to get rid of as his altar, shuffling white cartons of
Chinese take out back and forth between them. Tru used her chopsticks to
steal the last eggroll out from under his grasp.
"Hey!" he rebuked, and flung a foil packet of soy sauce at her. She ducked,
grinning, and stuffed half the eggroll in her mouth, biting it off and
offering him the truncated remainder. Mollified, he took it and crammed it
in his own mouth, grinning goofily.
"So," she began after swallowing, " what about a bathroom? Ya gotta have a
bathroom."
"Why? I know most of the others have these huge, fancy baths, but I just
pop the dirt away, same as with the, erm..evacuation. Saves time, y'know."
Deimos mumbled around a mouthful of sweet and sour something.
"Got enough fer guests?" Strife's lazy drawl interrupted the conversation,
and Tru choked a bit in surprise at his sudden appearance.
"Sure," Deimos popped out and back in behind Tru to give her a very gentle
swat on the back to dislodge whatever had stuck in her craw. She nodded
gratefully at him, and he nodded back as he waved in another lawn chair.
"Place looks...uh, " Strife tried for something complimentary, but Tru
leapt to cover.
"Under construction." she declared, and Deimos squirmed, torn between
embarrassment at having someone in his Temple, and giddy joy at the same
thing.
"So, where's Cupe?" Deimos tried to shift the conversation to a safer
topic, sure his cousin and his friend would be happy to discuss the third
member of their triad. Strife gave him a perfectly blank look, and he
quailed. Obviously the wrong topic. Tru's eyebrows drew together in a
concerned frown, and she leaned toward her God.
"Is he okay?" she asked cautiously, and let out a sigh of relief at
Strife's curt nod. "Yer not gonna tell me, are ya?" she ventured, setting a
big container of beef and broccoli in front of him. He blinked suddenly,
and shivered, settling his long body into the proffered garden furnishing.
"Yeah, Tru, I'll tell ya. He did something way not cool right after I
died. While we were traveling around, I decided to go exploring and
accidentally found out. Now he's gotta fix it, face the consequences."
Strife gave her the short version, toying with the food in front of him,
but not eating it.
Deimos let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in, and
materialized a cold six pack of Japanese beer. Nervously he opened one, and
leaned back in his seat. "Sorry your vacation was derailed," he offered
lamely, uncertain and off balance in his own territory.
"I wanna tell ya more, but I can't. This's his mess t'clean up." Strife
gave up on the food and opted for a beer instead. "Gotta tell ya, though,
I got me some interesting snapshots while I was gone," his demeanor changed
with no warning, going from pensive to garrulous in less than a heartbeat.
"Cool! When do I get to see 'em?" Tru jumped at the chance to lighten the
mood.
"Howzabout now?" A small stack of photographs appeared on the rock, and
she pounced, grabbing them up and starting to leaf through them. Deimos
felt a stab of fear go through him when her face paled and she swallowed
convulsively.
"Strife..." she began in a strangled voice, tossing the photos down.
Deimos eye caught the image on the topmost one, a full on view of Tru
kissing his ass. He did the only safe thing available. He fainted.
"Gotcha," Strife grinned, as Tru stared at the unconscious God of Pain,
her mouth hanging open.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You gotta love Klingons," Ares said amusedly, out of nowhere. Hercules
craned his head to look up at his lover from his position, curled around
the God with his head resting on a warm, bare shoulder.
"Uh, okay. Where did that come from?" He asked, hitching himself up onto
one hip and rising up on his elbow to gaze down at the smiling face of War.
"Oh, just a random thought. Consider, a whole race of warriors, concerned
more for their honor than their continued survival. Pretty picture, but
really impractical. Nice to imagine, but the logistics wouldn't work out
too well."
"You are a strange one, Ares." Hercules chuckled, laying back down and
pillowing his head again on his brother.
"So I've heard. Dawn'll be here soon. I think we should go. Wouldn't do to
give the nuns heart attacks." Ares smirked, his arm clasping around
Hercules' shoulders, feeling the hard body against him jerk in reaction.
"Nuns?"
"Uhmmmm," agreed Ares cheerfully, sitting up and drawing Hercules with him,
pointing down the meadow toward a large stone building just visible in the
dim pre-dawn light. "Convent. Hence, Nuns."
"Ares!" Blue eyes stared into warm brown ones in shock. "We just.." his
voice broke.
"Well, you like peaceful. It doesn't get much more peaceful than a
convent. Besides, it's not as if we disturbed their odd little lives."
"That's like having an orgy in one of Hestia's temples!" Hercules
sputtered, sending Ares into a fit of giggling. "You didn't!"
Ares nodded frantically, unable to speak. The demi-god rolled his eyes,
chortling, getting caught up in his brother's mirth. "She caught me, and
oh, was she pissed. Ohhh, the look on your face..." he finally gasped,
clapping Hercules on the shoulder.
"Okay, yeah, but don't let's get between them and their religion, however
it works."
Ares eyed him strangely, and snorted, " I guess you missed the really early
days of their mythology, when Pan and Thanatos decided to pal around and
mess with their heads by playing "The Devil". Now that was a hoot. I don't
know what got into Than, but he came boiling out of the underworld like a
whole swarm of pissed off wasps, hooked up with that old reprobate, Pan,
and off they went, not looking back. Pan dropped out of the running not too
long after, when the sleep hit, but since Than was one of Hades', it didn't
affect him. Wonder where he went."
Hercules just listened with drooping eyes, absorbing what Ares was saying.
The God of War took in Hercules' look of sleepy wonder, and smothered a
brief urge to continue cuddling where they were. Instead he flashed them
both to his bed, piling on another cover to curl under, and snugged down in
comfort. His last thought was that his do-gooder half brother had corrupted
him, since he couldn't remember the last time he'd snuggled without being
coerced.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Apollo winced as the door slammed shut in his son's wake, and tried to ease
himself back into the calm of his introversion. He couldn't, not with the
candle Aesclepius had left burning on his bedside table casting its glow
across his eyes. He tried to blow it out, and found he couldn't. Cursing,
he flung aside the coverlet over his legs and stormed over to the hallway
door. Flinging it open, he strode out naked in search of Hades.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alone, Cupid sat in the ruins of Ares' ancient hidden temple, having flown
back after Strife left him to think. He glared about him in the eerie half
light, wondering what to do. Only bolstered by the certain knowledge that
he would reclaim his love, he sunk his head into his hands and moaned.
After a long, cleansing cry, he straightened, standing tall. A plan had
come to him, not an elegant one, perhaps, but heartfelt.
Cupid marshaled his powers, pulling every last erg of personal energy he
had to the fore, and set to work. His first act was to remove the crumbling
black marble, clearing the way to the sarcophagus, which he checked over
thoroughly by hand, every inch given his complete attention. Satisfied it
had survived in precisely the condition it was in when he'd stolen it,
Cupid settled it onto a perfectly level octagonal slab of obsidian. At each
of the eight points, he erected a pillar of granite, four of red, four of
black, each color alternating. Finally, near the end of his endurance, he
conjured a domed cap for the funereal shrine, formed, as the rest had been
out of his power alone. Shaking, he fused all of the pieces into a single,
solid structure, adding a shield of protection as a final touch.
Exhausted, he slumped down outside the mortuary cage, noting that his
endeavors had taken all day. Sweating and shaking, he drew an unsteady hand
across his brow and ignored the grit on his skin. Rising to his knees, he
looked quietly at the gleaming dome, one solid piece of smoky quartz, and
cleared his mind. Releasing his breath, he groveled in the rocky dirt, down
on his knees, and began to pray.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ares awoke with a start, hearing something he'd almost forgotten, his
blood, begging for forgiveness, in a place once consecrated to him. With a
glance at his sleeping brother, he dressed with a thought and followed the
voice, after throwing a shield over his Temple.
"Father - " Cupid's low voice came from knee level, and Ares looked down.
His eyes widened at the sight. Cupid, God of Love, knelt before him,
filthy, lines of sweat streaking a body coated in fine black grit. His
wings were dull grey, as was his hair, and tear tracks made a bizarre mask
of his beautiful face.
"Why are you here?" Ares queried, and bit off a curse as his son's hand
indicated the memorial freshly built, containing ..."Darian."
"I'm sorry." Cupid bowed his head, waiting for the lightning. He flinched
when his father's hot, hard hands gripped his upper arms and lifted him to
stand on his own two feet, but didn't try to escape his punishment. Ares
shook him, making him raise his face and meeting him eye to eye.
"I've waited for this a long time," the War God growled, dragging Cupid
closer. He wrapped his arms around his son and hugged him, brushing a kiss
over each cheek. Cupid shook, waiting for the pain to begin, but was
unprepared to be let go, and stumbled. Ares caught and steadied him.
"I did it, Father. I stole him to hurt you, to make you hurt everyone
else. I wanted..." Ares cut him off.
"I know what you wanted. You are my son. I didn't know then, but I got
around a lot while everyone was asleep. I found out what you'd done. I
won't deny I wanted you dead, wanted to hurt you for eons, but I had a
great deal of time to think. I understand." Cupid saw a whole wealth of
emotion in his father's enigmatic eyes, none of it easily categorized. He
breathed in heavily through his nose, then let it out.
"I expected you to attack me." Cupid confessed, dropping his eyes.
"Would you feel better if I beat you to a pulp?"
"I don't know. I know I did you dirty." the God of Love rasped.
"Straighten up! You are the son of War! Don't you slouch there like a pile
of dirty laundry, you hold your head up." Ares snapped, getting an
immediate response from his son. "Yes, you did wrong. I don't forgive
easily, but you kept him safe, regardless of your vendetta. You left him in
a place that was mine, and now you've built him a shrine." he paused,
scowling, then his expression cleared. "I accept your apology, Cupid. But
be very glad so much time has passed, and I'm in such a good mood right
now. Otherwise, rest assured You'd be a very wet stain on the landscape,
Zeus' rule be damned."
"It's more than I deserve, Father," Cupid said, still formal.
"What is this 'Father' crap? Do I look like my Father? No, I think not.
Now go get cleaned up, you stink." Ares blustered, fists on hips.
Cupid tried to pop out, and fizzled, his energy depleted from creating the
mausoleum completely out of his own power, creating things whole that had
never existed in nature. He looked sheepishly at his sire, and blushed.
Ares chuckled, sending his son to Olympus before settling down to watch the
sunset with his first love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tru hovered over Deimos, patting his cheeks, and occasionally sending a
glare over her shoulder at her God. Strife just grinned back at her,
completely unrepentant.
"If you could be a God, what would you be God of?" Mischief suddenly
asked, and Tru, distracted, answered without thinking about it.
"Inappropriate Behavior," she muttered, and was rewarded by a weak titter
from Deimos, who was awake.
Strife snickered, and stepped forward to help his cousin up off the floor.
He roughly brushed any detritus from Deimos clothing, and clapped him on
the back in a comeradely fashion. "So," he taunted, " you and Tru made
Herc crazy, huh?"
"Hmph!" remarked Tru, watching them both closely. She wondered exactly
where the questions were leading.
"We didn't..." Deimos blurted, making rude gestures, his normally warm
skin tone flushed hotly. Strife soothed him with a gesture.
"I know. I was just yanking yer chain. You two're just catastrophe waiting
for a place to happen. Pretty fun to watch." Strife folded himself down to
the floor to sit by Tru, who leaned up against his side.
Deimos snapped his fingers, and the quiet was broken by the unique voice of
Leonard Cohen.
"Give me crack and anal sex/
Take the only tree that's left/
Stuff it up the hole/
In your culture..."
Head nodding in time with the hypnotic rhythm, he zoned out, focusing on
something only he could see.
"I've seen the future, brother/
It is murder/
When they say repent (repent)/
I wonder what they meant..."
Strife watched his cousin sing along, never still, unable to relax. His arm
rested lightly across Tru's shoulders, the only part of his body moving at
all were the tips of his fingers, brushing over her upper chest in time
with the beat of the music. "Deimos," he said at length, and the God of
Pain snapped to attention, milky jade eyes wary with apprehension, his
expression guarded.
"Wha-at?" Deimos drew out the word, turning his head away and observing
them both sidelong, from beneath pale lashes.
"I'm as gung ho for self- destruction as the next God of Aggression, but I
think you've started t' push the envelope. Either let him go or storm the
gates and take him back. This torch yer carrying is starting to burn ya."
Strife told him matter of factly. Tru moved at his side, and he held her
still with an implacable grip. She quieted, and kept her mouth shut,
recognizing his blunt mood.
"Can't do either one, Cuz. I'm stuck. Don't think I haven't tried to move
on, I have." Deimos called another beer to his hand and popped the top,
chugging half before lowering the bottle.
"It's been a long time." Strife pursued.
"What the fuck d'you know about it!?" exploded Deimos, flinging the half
full beer bottle across the room to shatter against the wall, completely
forgetting his awe of his cousin in his fury, losing some of his control
over his power. Tru winced as her body started to ache, and Strife absently
shielded her from the emotional storm, basking in the response he got from
his cousin.
"I was dead, Deimos. I was in Asphodel. Y'don't think it escaped anyone's
attention, do ya? Not when you burned your way outta there aimed straight
fer Olympus and never came back?"
Deimos lurched up and began pacing agitatedly, shooting baleful stares at
Strife. The God of Mischief flung his consciousness out, and found Cupid
back in his home temple. With a decisive nod to himself, he spun around on
Tru and grasped her shoulders. "I'm sending you to Cupid. I'll be there
soon," he kissed her forehead and banished her without waiting for her to
object.
"'Kay, so now we're alone. Whatta ya got to say?" The God of Pain demanded
belligerently, moving to stand toe to toe with his darker almost-twin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cupid was in the bath, soaking away his aches and fears, when Tru popped in
out of nowhere just above him, falling onto him, and consequently, into the
water, as well. Both of them came up sputtering, and Cupid had to hold her
head up so she didn't drown while she tried to find her footing.
"Son of a BITCH!!" she shrieked, raking hair out of her eyes. Cupid's grip
on her loosened at her expletive, and she used her freedom to climb out of
the pool, water sluicing from her and puddling on the floor. With furious,
jerky motions, she ripped her sodden clothes off and stomped naked to the
bedroom, leaving a confused God in her wake, his jaw hanging slack.
In flurry of motion, Cupid was out of the water and darting after her,
sopping wet. He caught up with her by the huge bed. She tried to circumvent
him, heading toward her clothing, but he grabbed her and flung her onto the
bed, landing atop her to keep her still. "What the fuck is up your ass,
girl?" he demanded, amazed at her wild struggles.
"Strife!" she ground out, as if that would explain everything. Cupid
waited until she figured out that her writhings were doing nothing more
than turning him on, and tried again.
"Did he hurt you?" Cupid asked, and she stared up at him in shock.
"No! I'm afraid he's gonna hurt D," she returned, breathing heavily. "He
just flicked me off and..."
she got no more chance to speak, as her mouth was suddenly full of a very
hot and eager tongue, her hands held captive above her head in his, and his
hips were nudging their way between her thighs. Lessening the brutal
pressure on her lips slightly, Cupid growled at Tru.
"Shut up about my damn brother!" he mumbled angrily into her mouth, and she
tensed, groaning in the back of her throat, pushing her hips up into his.
He'd never been anything but gentle with her, and the new, darker side he
now showed was exciting her, much like Strife's did.
"Won't hurt 'im," he gasped when he released her lips, and then hissed
"Much." before biting her sharply just under the hinge of her jaw and
letting one hand go to slide his fingers into her sex, making sure she was
ready to receive him. As he plunged in, she realized he was distracting
her, and sunk her teeth into his shoulder. His jaw clamped shut in
reaction, and his hips slammed down into hers. Tru whined into her bite as
he bottomed out inside her, and used her free hand to dig her nails into
the bunched muscles at the base of his wing. Cupid groaned, pulling his
mouth from her bloody throat. Their bodies ground together hard, neither
showing any mercy, grunting like rutting animals, each concerned only with
their own pleasure, and punishing the other.
"Fuck!" he screamed, plunging savagely into her. He barely noticed when
she stiffened in climax, shortly before his own.
Wheezing, Tru freed her teeth from his shoulder, eyeing the clearly defined
marks that seeped blood with alarm. When she pulled her hand up into view,
there was skin under her nails, as well as sticky redness.
"I guess that's as good a way to deal with anger as any other," Cupid
smiled ruefully at her, rubbing gently at the wrist he still held. It was
ringed with fierce red marks that were sure to become black bruises on her
pale skin. "Maybe I was a little jealous, too." he allowed.
She looked up at him, mismatched eyes enigmatic in a face shrouded with
tangled red hair.
"Huh," she shifted her weight, and he slid out of her. Tru fingered the
burning, still bleeding bite on her throat. She rubbed her foot against his
calf and asked, " You got a band- aid?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Discord stared at the twisted wreckage of the small twin engine jet she'd
sent careening into the much larger structure of the public school in rural
Scotland. The wails and shrieks of pain and horror were not as soothing to
her bruised pride as she had hoped. Breathing in the oily smoke and the
sweet stench of blood and despair, she snarled and left the scene, in
search of bigger game.
Stealthily she tried to worm her way into Ares' Temple, but found her way
blocked. Her eyes glazed over in thwarted rage, and she dragged her nails
down her own face, leaving long red welts, searching her mind for a victim
that would be unprepared and accessible.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Apollo stood in front of Hades' throne, angrily tapping one bare foot, his
arms folded over his chest, naked.
"Oh, did you need something, nephew?" Hades glanced up from his scroll
disinterestedly, hoping Apollo would take the bait and run with it.
"Don't play coy, Hades. You wanted me out of my rooms, fine, here I am."
Apollo grunted, spreading his arm wide to take in the whole room.
"While you were undeniably lovely, at least before you let yourself go, you
needn't parade around bare, you know." Hades smirked at the annoyed look on
the Sun God's lean face.
"This is a nasty scene," Persephone giggled, emerging from a door behind
the throne.
"Hush, love," Hades reproved with a smile, enfolding her hand in his.
"I demand you..." Apollo began, but was cut off by Hades letting go
Persephone's hand and surging to his feet, a wall of his power crashing
over the dis-empowered God. The Lord of the Underworld towered over his
nephew from his stance on the dais, his face a thundercloud of ire.
Apollo was struck still and silent.
"I. Have. Had. Enough!" Hades boomed, and the palace shook, its denizen
diving for whatever cover they could find. Even Persephone cowered a bit
behind the throne, shielding her ears.
"Make one thing perfectly clear in your mind, boy. YOU do not demand
anything of ME." Hades snarled his words, stalking down to the floor where
his prey stood. "The only reason you are not suffering in Tartarus even
now is because of my clemency. I believe you were forced into that mess
along with your sister, but I do not have the forbearance that 'Temi does
for you." he straightened his posture and reclaimed his aloofness. "I will
make this very simple for you, infant. Get your head out of your ass and
get on with your life and Godhood. If you cannot manage that, then go to
Zeus and beg him to make you mortal and kill yourself. You'll end up here,
again, but I won't have to put up with your pitiful selfishness. You'll be
just another corpse."
Apollo swallowed painfully, ice in the pit of his stomach. He'd never seen
Hades anything but controlled. He shivered, bowing when he found he could
move again. With as much dignity as he could muster, he walked out, knowing
he was fleeing with his tail between his legs.
As the massive doors shut behind the Sun God, Hades sat back down on his
throne, heaving a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Persephone patted
him on the shoulder consolingly.
"The infuriating thing about him is, even in his abject apathy, he was
still the arrogant snot he's always been. I hope he got shaken up enough to
do some good. If not, I fear a long slow roasting over the pit is next on
the agenda." Hades looked up at his best beloved and gave her a weary
smile.
"Go on to your hidey hole and watch something mindless, husband. I'll
bring your slippers." Persephone kissed him softly on the cheek. "Maybe
later we can play a game, when you unwind."
"Now." Hades rose in a swirl of black cape and swept her over his shoulder,
disappearing mid-stride, leaving a burned patch to mark his passing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Strife didn't back down from Deimos' show of defiant courage. Instead, he
stepped into his cousin's body and slapped him sharply. "Newsflash, buddy.
I ain't yer punching bag. Tru has a soft heart. She'll letcha go on
blubbering forever. I won't." he said softly, making Deimos strain to catch
all his words.
"Contrary to popular belief, I like you. I got lots of relatives, but very
little family. You follow what I'm saying?" Strife backed off slightly, at
least physically. "I sent Tru away because she seems to have become yer
guard dog, and I wanted t' talk without having her on my ass for hurting
you."
"She adores ya. You can do no wrong," Deimos snorted, crossing his arms
protectively, waiting.
"Uh-huh. Not. If I didn't love her, she'd be ashes by now, some of the
things she's said and done. I came home one time covered in blood, stinking
of hot guns and death, and was she happy to see me? Anti. She ordered-ya
get that? Ordered me into the bath before she'd come near me. T'ch." he
clucked his tongue reprovingly. Shaking his head to get himself back on
track, he continued,
"Any way, the point here is that I don't need to coddle ya. I'll tell ya
straight up, ya gotta stake yer claim or get a new partner."
"You got your lover. Lovers. You don't feel the..." he groped for the
right word.
"Loneliness? Howzabout so empty it hurts to breathe? Close? Try abandoned,
lost, dead inside. Any of those work for ya?" Strife demanded, burning
electric blue eyes narrowed to slits, thrusting his face in close to
Deimos'. "You had your mate for close to a thousand years, you sniveling
brat. I was trapped in the underworld, with myself. Try it. It's a hell of
a learning experience."
"Yeah, maybe," Deimos muttered, "You're right, I know, but that don't make
it any easier." He collapsed into a chair, summoning yet another beer and
rolling the cool bottle across his forehead.
"Look. I like ya, Tru likes ya, Yer Cupe's brother, so he loves ya. If
nothing else, we're yer family. Ya got us." Strife dropped down next to
Deimos, somewhat more gracefully, whisking a chair under his descending
rump from across the room.
"Yeah, maybe. Thanks." Pain said despondently, then grinned at his cousin.
"You really like me?"
"Ugh. Yeah, you pain in the ass."
Deimos snickered at the play on words. He noticed the Cohen still playing
darkly in the background , and stopped it.
Discord chose that moment to flash into the room, still wearing the same
ruined dress from her run- ins with Ares and her mother. She was looking
for a whipping boy, and gave a nasty smirk at the sight of both her son and
nephew within easy reach. A look of crazed retribution gave her scratched
face a bestial air.
"Oh, look, two weasels, no waiting," she said, readying a ball of fire in
her right hand.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ares stood at the side of his bed, looking down on his still sleeping
brother, a contemplative expression on his dark face. Hercules rolled over
with a muffled groan, his eyes creaking open.
"More work?" the half- awake half- god asked in a drowsy voice, and Ares
grinned, his white teeth gleaming predatorily.
"Not at all. I was just wondering if you were going to require a cattle
prod to get your ass moving."
"Is that the only part I need to move?" Hercules asked innocently,
propelling his tall, rangy form out of the bed to stand in front of his
lover/nemesis/brother, a crooked smile on his lips.
"I'll let you know later. Now, we have things to do." Ares couldn't stop
grinning
"What things? Are they things we need clothes for, or are garments
optional?"
"I feel the need to drive really fast." Hercules heard the words, and an
instant later found himself clothed in jeans and a sweater, in the
passenger seat of a Lambourghini Countash S, flying down the Autobahn in
Germany, Ares at the wheel.
"Oh, shit," he said flatly, reaching for something to hold onto as he
watched the speedometer whirl into triple digits.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Artemis tapped on her brother's door, then stepped in, expecting darkness.
She winced instead into the blinding light of the sun itself.
"'Temi," Apollo greeted, stepping out of the glare, dressed in skin tight
white jeans and a golden yellow muscle t-shirt. He no longer wore the hair
thin Hephaestian chain that negated his power.
"'Pol?" she squeaked, as he pulled her into a hug, the first he'd offered
her in ages, instead of just returning hers. "What happened?" she asked
sharply.
"I was browbeaten by my son, and called on the carpet by our genial host.
I realized how pitiful I'd become that I let those two talk to me like I
was some sort of lost soul and not the God I am. I'd like to say I was just
biding my time, thinking things over, but we both know that's a lie. I
think I've had enough introspection for the rest of eternity, though." he
smiled at his twin, and she tentatively smiled back.
"Don't think I'm going to be all bubbly with joy, sister, not all the
time, but dark and dull is over," his voice was still more gravelly than it
had been, and his gaze was fiercer, but Artemis could feel the shift of his
mental state.
"I should have known. I should have hit you, not soothed you. Arrogant
swine." she grinned at him.
"Nagging shrew," he returned, ruffling her hair. He reached around her and
undid the clasp of her own Hephaestian chain, throwing it on the floor. "
Time to go say goodbye to our uncle."
"He's busy, just now," Artemis blushed, and looked him in the eye. "Why
don't we go and see Aesclepius for a while. I haven't checked up on the
brass plated bitch since we got here, and I wanted to see if she's stopped
screaming yet."
Apollo grimaced, the taste of ashes in his mouth at the thought of Athena.
"If we must."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Well, ain't this a Hallmark moment?" Strife sneered, not bothering to get
up, while Deimos scrambled out of his chair, darting worried glances
between Eris and Strife.
"What a loving son." Eris remarked harshly, and let the ball of fire in
her hand fly at her offspring. It splattered in messy fireworks, destroying
the chair, but Strife had already popped out. Eris snarled in
disappointment, readying another.
"Still a rabid hyena, huh, mumsy?" Strife asked pleasantly, appearing
behind her, his fist hammering the back of her head. She staggered forward,
whipping around, the ball of energy going off point blank in Strife's face.
He shook his head to clear it, and his eyes went cold and empty. A
malicious grin plastered itself across his face, and he advanced.
"You should be on your ass across the room," Eris noted disbelievingly.
"That's the thing, ain't it, Discord? You never think before you act."
Strife said conversationally as he rammed his knee into her stomach,
grabbing two hands full of her hair as she doubled over. He pulled her head
up so he could look into her face. "I don't have to take your shit any
more."
She clawed up at his eyes, and he brought her face down onto the same knee,
then threw her backward. She landed on her rump, skidding back a few yards.
With a roar of fury, she was up again, both hands glowing white. "You
filthy little bastard!" she screeched, and dove toward him.
Deimos watched mother and son, wondering if he would get thanked or
flattened for interfering. A lucky shot of Eris' to Strife's groin answered
him, and he flung a huge ball of green glowing pain at his aunt, backing
her off for a moment. Strife rose and nodded to his cousin, then waded back
into the fray while his mother was wracked and unable to move. A sweeping
kick to the side of her head toppled her, but she released her double shot
of power as he connected, flinging him through the air to rebound off the
opposite wall.
"Hey, anybody still alive in there?" Cupid's voice rang into the temple as
he opened the door, Tru trailing him in, still wondering why they'd walked
over from the Hall of Love. They both stopped short, taking in the scene
before them. Tru saw Strife lying against the base of the wall nearest her,
and broke away from Cupid's arm around her shoulders, running to her God
and falling to her knees. Strife glanced up, prepared to blast his mother,
but halted the attack when he saw Tru, and beyond her, Cupid.
"Get her outta here!" he commanded, and shoved her away, jumping up to
stand between her and Eris' position.
"Not enough power yet! I can't," Cupid replied, but summoned his bow and
one of the arrows he kept for hunting, barbed and tipped with a head forged
by Hephaestus. "Get behind me, Trouble."
Deimos felt the shudder of Eris' power, and she laughed. "No leaving. The
temple's sealed."
Cupid drew his bow, aimed, and let fly, the arrow burying itself in Eris'
hip, knocking her back and to the floor. She staggered up, a bloody grin
across her pale face. Her fingers found the shaft of the arrow and broke it
off at the head, which was lodged in bone. "You have to do better than
that," she coughed, and limped forward, dragging her useless left leg.
"It's over, Eris. You lost." Deimos tried to stay her, but her burning
gaze slipped over him.
"No way, you useless, perverted little worm. I don't lose to that insipid
twit I birthed, or to his fluffy catamite." She hissed, refusing to note
that all three Gods had formed a front united against her. She did notice
that they'd left their pet's back unguarded, and smiled. She could still
win, just not in a head- on confrontation. In a sudden trifold action,
Discord vanished, flashing in beside Tru, and jerking her around by the
shoulder to face her. The others spun, but were not in time to stop the
slim dagger from sinking into the mortal's soft belly, or to stop Discord
from lifting her shield on the room and escaping.
Tru's face showed only shock as she slowly sank to her knees again, both
hands covering the wound. She stared directly into Strife's eyes, and fell
back. With a shriek that shook the whole mountain, the God of Mischief
relived his own death, from exactly the same blow. She was instantly in his
arms, his body wrapped around hers, shielding it from the others' sight.
A rumble under their feet startled them. There were no earthquakes on
Olympus, so it had to be something else. Cupid looked to his lovers, and
drew in a sharp breath. Strife was glowing, an angry red light, shot
through with black mist. The ground around him was rippling as he lost
control of the wild power he had stored away. The ripples began moving
outward, starting to shake the temple itself, then the surrounding temples,
and still growing. Wracking, dry sobs echoed in the House of Pain.
"APOLLO!" bellowed Deimos, breaking himself out of his daze, and Cupid
joined him, screaming for Hades.
** I would have thought you'd call me.** a dark and insidious mind voice
answered, jerking Deimos around as if he were on a leash. He gaped at the
sight of Thanatos, leaning one hip against the edge of Deimos' altar, arms
folded over his thin white chest, long, slim, black vinyl encased legs
crossed at the ankle, his head down, acid yellow eyes peering out at him
through a curtain of long inky hair that slid and moved like black water
down his body.
"You can't have her." Deimos croaked, one corner of his mind wondering why
he'd picked that moment to defy his former love.
** Why would I want it? ** Thanatos riposted drily, his dark serpentine
tongue flickering momentarily from between smirking lips.
"Why are you here?" demanded Cupid, torn between trying to calm Strife's
reaction and stop the quakes, and trying to maintain an upright position
on the wildly shifting floor, his wings out to steady himself.
Thanatos shrugged, supremely unaffected by the uproar, his black, leathery
wings making a dry rustling sound at the movement. ** There was a
discrepancy. That wasn't supposed to be called yet.** he unfolded his arms,
holding one hand up to examine it, then trimming at a cuticle with his
teeth. ** I do have duties, you know, ** he finished, stretching his wide
wings out, then snapping them folded again.
Hera, in a rush of color, descended on the chaos. She took in the situation
at a glance, and frowned. "My peacocks are in a state." she finally
commented, as though she were discussing the weather.
Strife looked up, bleak rage on his face. Hera tutted at him, and swatted
his head lightly. ' She's not dead yet, silly boy. Apollo is on his way,
and your Grandfather is having a discussion with his daughter about trying
to break things that don't belong to her. You know how he gets when a God
damages another God's worshippers. I think you can stop shaking the
mountain, now."
Mischief opened and closed his mouth several times, clutching Tru closer,
and squeezed his eyes shut, wrenching his power back into himself. The
world stopped moving, and he felt a weak heartbeat. Still dry but red eyes
begged answers from Hera when they opened again.
"Eris has very bad aim." was all she said, and vanished as Apollo arrived.
"I should have known. You are nothing but trouble, the lot of you, " the
healer grumbled, his voice husky, as he set his hands over the injury. A
moment later, he sat back, a golden glow in his eyes.
"You made the underworld shake, too, danger-boy. Knocked Hades right out
of his bed. I don't know if it's a good thing he wasn't sleeping or not."
his lips quirked for a moment. "She's not in danger, but she still needs
to heal. Give her a week or so before you engage in anything energetic."
Apollo sneered as his fingers brushed the red, scabbed over bite wound on
her throat, and Cupid blushed.
Things were moving too fast for Strife and Cupid, who only blinked when
Apollo disappeared. Deimos noted that his friend was safe, but his entire
being was focused on Death incarnate, who was perched tailor fashion on his
altar.
** Hmph. Waste of my time, ** Thanatos snipped, and hopped off the big
rock, adjusting the drape of a belt around his thin hips. He looked
pointedly at Deimos' hand when it reached out to touch his arm. The
offending appendage was retracted.
"I want to talk to you." Deimos summoned his courage and insisted.
** I don't recall having moved in the last few thousand years. You know
where to find me.** Thanatos returned coolly, moving away.
"I didn't think I'd be welcomed back. You told me to leave."
** I told you to stand on your own, idiot.** the mind voice was sharp and
exasperated. ** I didn't direct you to leave and never come back. **
Deimos digested the information in silence, which Tru broke with the soft
words, " Wow. He's way cooler than the Horseman, D." Her voice was weak,
but full of humor. Pain grinned, remembering his obsession with the the
headless horseman and his bloody kiss to the witch; he'd made Tru scream
from backing up to watch it so many times. Her comment earned a sniff of
disdain from Thanatos, before he went back to completely ignoring her.
Strife rose, carrying Tru, and collected Cupid with a nod, transporting
them to the Hall of Love, leaving his cousin alone with Death.
"I still want to talk." Deimos repeated, and Thanatos favored him with a
smile, showing his dagger teeth in a shark's grin.
** And you still know where to find me, ** came the not- quite invitation
as Death dematerialized.
Deimos felt the soft, silly smile spreading across his face. He hadn't been
welcomed with open arms and big sloppy kisses, but if he had, he'd have
known it wasn't Thanatos. He cleaned himself up and zapped himself to the
Underworld, preparing for his talk.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tru found herself ensconced in the middle of the huge bed, propped up on a
mound of pillows, unable to move because she'd been tucked in so tightly.
She pulled the blankets loose so she could move freely. Strife was
shuttling around the room, casting worried glances in her general
direction. He jumped slightly when she cleared her throat and asked, " So,
I assume that th' dude with the batwings was D's one and only?"
"Yeah." Strife replied, moving to stand closer, but not close enough to
actually touch her. "That was Thanatos...uh, he works for Hades." he
skirted rather widely around the issue of what, exactly the Reaper did for
Hades, not wanting to let her know how close she'd come to death.
"Could ya sit with me?" she asked, and he gingerly planted himself on the
edge of the bed.
Tru huffed in annoyance. "Closer?" she waited until he had squirmed up
against her, then snuggled up to him, her head on his shoulder. "I'd be
more comfy if you lost the clothes and held me." she informed him. He did
as she suggested, and she resumed her position, her face pressed into his
chest. His arm curled around her, holding her close as she fell asleep. "
Love ya," she murmured, her only such admission, as she drifted off.
Cupid, bustling around in the lounge cleaning up the remains of the slumber
party, heard her, and felt the rush as she admitted her feelings. "Note to
self, talk to Gramma Hera about an apple pie for Tru's birthday," he
grinned, and went back to work, eager to join his lovers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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FiniS