The day before the wedding of Athenian Duke Theseus and Spartan Queen Hippolyta started out well. The morning was beautiful, the weather clean and pleasant, and birds sang sweet songs and small woodland creatures frolicked in meadows.
But the day started out better for some than for others.
Dawn found Duke Theseus and King Iphicles of Corinth sleeping comfortably in a tangle of bedclothes after a long night. In the next bedchamber, Queen Hippolyta and her bodyguard Hermia were in much the same position, snuggled in each other's arms, although neither woman would ever admit to snuggling.
Demetrius, the steward, was already up and scurrying through the hallways, trying desperately to explain to Hercules exactly why King Iphicles wasn't in his bedchamber and why his bed was neatly made.
"I'm telling you, I know Iphicles isn't an early riser," Hercules said.
"Well, sir, perhaps he took a walk...?" Demetrius had to take two steps for every one of Hercules', and he felt rather like a small dog chasing after a determined horse.
"No," Hercules shook his head, "he hates walking in the morning. When we were kids I had to throw a bucket of water on him to get him out of bed. Even then he was lucky not to stumble into a wall until after he ate."
"I'm sure nothing's happened..."
"Then why doesn't his guard know where he is? He said Iphicles went in there last night. People don't just go into rooms and then vanish."
"Um. Perhaps he climbed out the window?"
"It's the third floor. Besides, the man is a king! Kings do not climb out of windows!"
"Well, you obviously haven't spent much time around kings," Demetrius muttered to himself. "Sir, if you could just wait in the inner hall downstairs, I'll go speak with Duke Theseus and let him know King Iphicles is missing. I'm sure we can work something out."
Hercules nodded his assent, running a hand nervously through his hair. "All right, I'll be waiting. Can you send the Captain of the Guard down there also?"
"As soon as I speak with the duke. I'm sure this will all work out." Demetrius tried to look reassuring, but since his face was perpetually set in a worried expression it didn't quite work. And so he scurried down the hall to the Duke's bedchambers, wishing that for once he could work for a nobleman who would just sleep with his wife like a normal human being.
Reaching the door, he rapped quickly three times. After waiting a moment and not hearing anything from inside, he rapped thrice more. He heard a mutter from inside that sounded close enough to 'what is it' for him to enter. Closing the door behind him, he unconsciously barred it with his body. He saw the duke in bed, a lump next to him completely hidden by the covers.
The duke rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Morning, Demetrius. What's the crisis this morning?"
"Well, sir, it's King Iphicles."
"Iphicles?" The duke poked the lump next to him, which stirred and mumbled something unintelligible before settling down again.
"Yes, it appears that he's not in his bedchambers."
Theseus raised an eyebrow. "Do tell?"
Demetrius looked at his feet. "And his brother came to visit."
"Oh." Comprehension dawned in the duke's eyes as he shook the lump rather more aggressively. Demetrius was surprised when the king of Corinth's head popped out from under the covers next to the duke's feet, his eyes bleary with sleep and his hair sticking out in several directions. The king, Demetrius thought, needed a haircut.
"Wha..?"
"Wake up, it's your brother again."
"Oh, fuck." Iphicles pulled the covers over his head again.
Demetrius stepped forward. "Your highness, your brother came to see you this morning. He was quite... excited. The guard told him you were in the room, and when you didn't answer their knocking they became worried. They let themselves into the room and found your bed hasn't been slept in."
"I'm surprised that bed isn't covered with dust." Iphicles poked his head out again and ran his fingers through his hair in a futile effort to straighten it. "So, my brother is assuming I've been kidnapped or something like that?" He shook his head and yawned elaborately, glaring at the world in general.
"Exactly." Demetrius nodded. "He wanted me to send the Captain of the Guard to see him."
Iphicles sighed as Theseus looked on sympathetically. "Why don't you just tell your brother? I'm sure he can be trusted."
"Oh, he can be trusted, all right. It's just that he's got some strange ideas about sex and I don't want to deal with his hang-ups."
Demetrius suddenly remembered stories about Zeus and Leda, and fervently hoped that that wasn't quite what the King had meant.
"Strange how?" Theseus looked interested.
"He believes in true love," Iphicles began, throwing his arms wide in an expansive gesture. Theseus quirked an eyebrow and rolled his eyes.
"You only sleep with someone if you love them, preferably only after you've married them," Iphicles continued, "and they must be of the opposite sex. Very important. Hercules used to insist that men who slept with other men were, and I quote, 'icky'."
"How old was he when he made this declaration?" Theseus asked.
"I dunno. Ten or twelve or something."
"And what did he say about women?"
"Thought they were icky too."
"Ah. And of course he hasn't changed his mind about any of that."
"My brother's very inflexible."
"Runs in the family."
"Shut up."
"Sorry," Theseus said, not sounding at all contrite. "I believe you were detailing your brother's twenty-year old sexual hang-ups."
Iphicles glared. "I will if you'll stop interrupting and rolling your eyes at me. I saw that, you know."
Theseus grinned. At least Iphicles' rantings about his brother had lost the vitriolic edge they'd once held. "Fine, I'll be quiet." He let out a long-suffering sigh.
Iphicles looked skeptical, but continued. "Adultery is definitely out. I think it's some sort of reaction to his father or something."
"Interesting." Theseus looked innocent. "What? I was just remarking upon your comment, that's all. You know, making conversation, acting like I was paying attention."
Iphicles rolled his eyes. "He used to get mad at me when we were kids and I'd sneak out at night on dates." Iphicles paused as he tried to work a nasty knot out of his hair. "So, what do we tell him?"
"That you enjoy sex with married men?"
"I don't think so." Iphicles shuddered. "I don't even want to think about the lecture."
"Maybe you should give him a chance. Talk to him, feel him out about it." Theseus stopped and stared at Iphicles' aghast expression. "I said 'feel him out', not 'feel him up'. Get your mind out of the gutter."
"It's morning," Iphicles protested, yawning again. "I don't hear so well in the morning."
"You don't think so well either, and that has nothing to do with the time of day." Theseus ducked as Iphicles swatted ineffectively at him. "But for the sake of argument and avoiding one of your sulking fits, we'll go ahead and lie to your brother."
"Enough about my sulking fits. I'm a king, you know. I can have your head chopped off or something." Iphicles' lips quirked as he tried to suppress a smile.
Theseus pondered for a moment. " I doubt you'd do that. Who else would put up with you?" He grinned as Demetrius stood by, pretending to be invisible. "I think it's best to stick close to the truth. The less complicated the cover story the less likely it is to be discovered."
"Agreed." Iphicles nodded, giving up on his hair, and turned onto his back, looking at the ceiling. "So, exactly who was I in bed with?"
Demetrius cleared his throat as both men looked at him. "This may not be the best idea, but it may work. Last night King Iphicles was flirting with Hermia. Perhaps he could say he was with her all night?"
Theseus looked at his steward in wonder. "Brilliant. And to make it even more elegant, her room's right next door, so if he's seen in the hallway he can say he was over there. Give yourself a raise, Demetrius"
Iphicles snorted. "Great. So much for me trying to hire him away from you. Okay, I was in bed with Hermia last night. Got it." His arm snaked under the bed and began retrieving his clothes. He squinted at his shirt, which had several buttons ripped off of it. "Hm. Looks like Hermia was pretty desperate last night."
Theseus kicked him, provoking a laugh. "Demetrius, please tell Hercules his brother has been located. Just don't specify where. Iph'll be along shortly."
Demetrius nodded his assent, greatly relieved, and left the room. He scurried down the hallways, trying to figure out how best to lie to the son of Zeus. He certainly hoped this wouldn't cause any of the gods to become angry with him. Of course, King Iphicles seemed to be in good health and it appeared that he made a career of lying to his brother. He found this somewhat comforting.
Demetrius arrived in the small hallway where Hercules was waiting, pacing frantically in dizzying circles. He was so focused on his worry that he didn't even notice the steward until he cleared his throat.
"Um. Sir? I've located your brother."
The relief on the demigod's face was visible. Demetrius almost felt bad for lying to him.
"Is he okay? Where was he?"
"Well, he was... That is... There was another bedchamber..." Demetrius trailed off dramatically, waiting for the hero to grasp his implication. Frankly, it took longer than Demetrius had thought before he saw understanding dawn in the blue eyes, as his face grew red.
"Oh. Oops."
"Quite. He should be here shortly." Demetrius nodded and backed away, looking forward to having a normal day after this morning.
Others were also starting the day out on the wrong foot. In a small, somewhat seedy inn near the outskirts of Athens, Gabrielle was snuggled into her pillow, enjoying the luxury of sleeping in a real bed with real sheets, in a real inn (albeit a rundown one) with a roof over her head.
But she had a problem. Something kept tickling her nose. She wiggled her nose, trying to make it go away, but that didn't work. She tried ignoring it but had no luck. Finally, she opened her eyes, only to find herself nose-to-nose with a certain small flower fairy. She sighed and turned over as Mustardseed jumped on her bed.
"Morning, bunkie!"
"Ugh." Gabrielle groaned and closed her eyes, hoping that her latest hanger-on would take the hint. But naturally, she had no such luck. Mustardseed began bouncing up and down on the bed.
"You should get up it's a really beautiful day and the sun's shining and there's no clouds and the birds are chirping and I don't have to cook breakfast and I went downstairs for food and by the way I took some of your money and they had this stuff called kaffe or something that sounds like that and it was really yummy and I had four cups of it and it was really cool and wow! Look at that sky and up and at 'em girlfriend!"
By this point the flower fairy was using the bed as a trampoline and all but hitting he ceiling. Watching her bounce up and down and up and down made Gabrielle faintly nauseous. Luckily it ended when Mustardseed landed a little too hard, sending the mattress crashing through the frame and onto the floor with a loud crash. Gabrielle glared as her companion grinned at her.
"Cool! Can I do it again?"
Gabrielle pulled her blanket over her head.
Joxer, on the other hand, was having a wonderful morning. He slowly drifted out of his dream, not quite willing to let go and wake up. He heard birds chirping outside, and felt sunlight on his forearm. Yawning, he snuggled further into his pillow, delighted at the feeling of clean, soft sheets, a soft bed, and a warm body pressed against his back.
Waitaminnit.
He really didn't want to wake up. But he definitely remembered that he hadn't gone to sleep in a bed last night. Nope. He had been... on the floor. Sitting with his back against the door. Fighting to stay awake. Why? Was he keeping watch? Questions bubbled up from within the depths of his subconscious, but he was missing something important.
Okay. He had been keeping watch. And he had obviously been drugged or hit on the head or something because even Joxer knew that one simply did not keep watch in a bed. It kind of defeated the purpose of keeping watch, after all. So, someone had conspired to knock him out (because Joxer the Mighty wouldn't fall asleep while he was on guard duty) and tucked him into bed and was snuggling with him? Again, this just did not make sense. Usually getting knocked out on watch left him tied up or yelled at or smacked around by Gabby, but definitely not tucked into bed.
Let's back up to the watching thing. He had been keeping watch to... guard against bad guys? Nope, that didn't feel right. Felt like he was watching someone inside the room... a prisoner? Damn. He just didn't want to wake up, but this was as annoying as a loose tooth. He couldn't just leave it alone, he had to wiggle it. Memory returned as he felt a large hand snaking its way under his shirt.
Ares.
Fuck.
Which was apparently what his companion had in mind. Big surprise. Even as a mortal he was a walking hormone. Was the God of War some sort of adolescent god? This was a frightening thought. He was distracted from the image of a teenage Ares as the party in question began running a rough finger in circles around his left nipple.
Joxer gasped, and felt the bed shift as Ares, behind him, raised himself on one arm and licked Joxer's neck, right where it joined his shoulder.
Joxer started to get dizzy, and finally gave in and opened his eyes. Ares, apparently taking this as some sort of signal, pulled the smaller man over so that he was lying on his back, and then blanketed the smaller body with his own. Joxer blinked and found himself looking up into a pair of deep black eyes and an entirely too self-satisfied smirk.
Ares licked his lips.
"Morning," Ares said. The voice was low, purring. Joxer couldn't look away from those eyes, even though the smirk was beginning to irritate him. Just who did Ares think he was? (Duh. The god of war, a small voice in his head replied.) Snapping out of this inner dialogue, Joxer realized that Ares' lips were awfully close, and moving closer. His dark eyes were half-closed, and he wasn't paying much attention, which was why Joxer was able to attempt an escape.
Growing up with older brothers who liked to beat the crap out of him and hold him down had actually proven to be a wonderful learning experience for Joxer. Taking a deep breath, he shifted one leg and wiggled, throwing Ares off balance. He then began scooting away, but his leg got caught and the next thing he knew, there was an extremely shocked and disgruntled Ares lying on the floor next to the bed glaring at him.
"What the fuck was that all about?"
"Um. Well, I... that is, you.... I mean..." How was he supposed to think when Ares was glaring at him like that? His brain began spinning, frantically churning out words and ideas. He grabbed the nearest one, all but sighing in relief when he found it made sense. "Sparta. We have to get you to Sparta."
Ares was still glaring. "It wouldn't have taken that long."
Joxer raised an eyebrow. "Oh. I assumed it would take quite a while, but I guess I underestimated you." Fuck. His mouth was obviously still asleep, because it was trying to get the rest of him killed. Joxer gulped.
The glare grew more intense. It was a positively menacing glare; the kind he assumed would leave him a smoldering pile of charcoal briquettes under normal circumstances. As far as glares went, this one qualified for a throne of its own. Joxer quaked as the former god stood up and brushed himself off, practically growling. Joxer smiled his most ingratiating, yet least offensive smile as he cringed and closed his eyes. They flew open when he felt a mouth pressing against his, a tongue forcing its way inside, and all the air being sucked out of his lungs. He sat, paralyzed, as Ares continued to glare while smirking his trademark smirk.
"We'll see about that."
At least Joxer's mouth was happy - Ares was a good kisser, but way too aggressive for Joxer's taste. His brain, on the other hand, was down for the count as he realized his mouth was opening and closing soundlessly. He imagined he looked rather like an indignant fish.
Ares leaned against the nearest wall, an extremely self-satisfied look on his face.
Joxer stared, suddenly realizing that even as a mortal, Ares still looked like, well, Ares. The self-satisfied look was quickly replaced by confusion, which was masked with irritability.
"What? What is it?"
"You still look like yourself."
"What'd you expect?" Ares said, the 'duh' practically audible. Ares was obviously not following the same reasoning Joxer was. "Should I maybe look like Aphrodite?"
Joxer knew what he wanted to say, but not how to say it. Especially how to say it and not get his ass kicked.
"You're not exactly the most popular god on Olympus."
"So? What do I care?"
"Because you're mortal." He obviously wasn't getting it. Joxer sighed and tried from another angle. "Okay. Lots of people don't like you. Lots of people blame you for bad things. And if they see someone who looks just like Ares, but he's mortal..."
Realization dawned. "Fuck. I might as well put a sign on my back that says 'kill me'."
"Exactly." Joxer nodded, pleased that he had managed to get his point across without any bruises or bloodshed for once.
"Any suggestions?" Joxer was surprised at the question. It was almost like Ares was taking him seriously. He studied the other man for a moment, making some simple changes in the image in his mind.
"Okay. We should cut the hair. But first we need to get rid of the beard. Definitely."
Ares' jaw jutted forward, an obstinate look with a hint of a thundercloud. "No. No way. Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because when I don't have the beard I look like someone else."
It took some effort to bite back the 'duh', but Joxer was proud of himself for doing it. "That is kind of the idea, you know."
Ares ran a hand through his hair, idly twirling a curl around a finger. "I mean, I look like a specific someone else, and I can't stand him."
"Oh. Who?" This was an interesting tidbit. The God of War had a lookalike?
The reply was mumbled, and Joxer was shocked to see what looked like a slight blush from the other man, who was staring at his feet.
"What'd you say?"
Ares took a deep breath. "Ares, God of Love."
"Huh?"
"Don't ask." This glare made the earlier glare look like a pussycat. Joxer decided to let the subject die before he did.
"Okay, whatever. But don't blame me if you get the crap beat outta you." Suddenly, he had an idea. It was low, but how often would he get a chance to lay a guilt trip on a god? The rather more sensible part of his mind screamed at him not to do it, but the rest of him was already committed. He turned on the puppy dog eyes and looked up at Ares through his lashes. "And since we'll be traveling together, I'll probably get the crap beat outta me. But that's okay." He debated adding a sniffle, but decided that would be overkill and went for a shaky insincere smile instead. "I'm used to it. I heal pretty fast, and I'm used to the pain."
It was hard to suppress the smile of victory at the look on Ares' face, but Joxer did it. How many people could say they had ever seen Ares look guilty, much less been the source of said guilt? He actually felt a tiny bit bad about manipulating his companion, but rationalized that it was for his own good. Not to mention that it would help keep them out of too much trouble.
Ares sighed and grimaced, then closed his eyes. And opened them, a confused expression replacing the scowl. Joxer watched with interest as he raised his hand to his face and explored it with his fingers, still confused. Finally, Ares turned to him.
"How do I get rid of it?"
Joxer smothered a laugh and tried to look serious.
"You shave it off."
"Shave?" The gods obviously didn't know much about everyday mortal life.
"Shave. Like, with a knife." Joxer took pity on the other man and rummaged in his pack to locate the small kit he used for shaving. He hadn't shaved this morning and had some stubble, so he might as well demonstrate. "Here. Let me show you."
Joxer crossed the room to the washbasin and pitcher and poured some water into the basin. After opening his kit, he shaved some soap off of the small rough ball into a mug, then added water until it foamed and applied the foam to his face. The entire time Ares dogged his steps, looking like this was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Well, at least until he took the small knife and began to scrape the stubble off his face - this earned him an expression that was both incredulous and horrified, but quickly masked.
Once finished, Joxer carefully cleaned the knife and handed it to Ares, who spent several long moments staring at it before actually attacking his face.
Suffice to say that the God of War has never been known for patience, nor for finesse. Joxer winced in sympathy and even cringed several times during the operation, which left Ares looking like he had lost a fight with a pack of cats. Of course, it left him looking very un-Ares-like, which was the goal. The god's eyes challenged him to make a comment, but Joxer wisely held his tongue as he cleaned the knife and hacked at the hair.
Once he was done, Joxer stood back to survey his companion's new look. It wasn't quite what he expected. Without the beard, Ares looked younger, again reminding Joxer of a teenager. And the new haircut could have been better - the curls had a tendency to stick out every which way. He looked like a farmer whose wife got mad at him while giving him a haircut.
And so, ignoring the glare from Ares, Joxer began packing, wondering how it was that he managed to keep stumbling into these messes.
Iolaus was having a wonderful morning. Everyone in Athens seemed to know him, and they all smiled and waved. Being Iolaus, he smiled cheerfully and waved back at them all. He was wolfing down his breakfast when an extremely grumpy- looking Autolycus joined him.
"Morning!"
"Mmgh." Autolycus watched Iolaus suspiciously. "Why are you so damn cheerful this morning?"
Iolaus was amazed that anyone could even ask such a question. "Look around. It's a beautiful day, we're in one of the finest cities in all of Greece, eating great food at a nice inn. Life doesn't get any better!"
"Hmmmgh."
Iolaus shrugged and decided to ignore the thief. He was having much too nice of a day to let anyone drag him down, especially Autolycus. He continued to shovel food into his mouth as Autolycus sat and watched, fascinated.
"How can you eat all of that?"
"Mmmph?"
"That's enough food to feed a small family, and damn but did I just sound like Hercules?"
Iolaus swallowed his food and grinned. "Yeah."
Autolycus shook his head in despair. "I swear, he's been such a bad influence on me. Next thing I know I'll be robbing the rich and giving to the poor or something." He shuddered. "Speaking of his demigodly self, where is he this morning?"
Iolaus shrugged, having shoveled more food in his mouth. He chewed quickly and tried to speak around the food. "I dunno. He was gone when I got to our room this morning."
Autolycus eyed him calculatingly and leaned closer. "So, you spent the night elsewhere?"
"Yeah. Met a real nice girl, her name's Phoebe. Or maybe it's Lysistrata. I dunno. Anyhow, I spent the night with her."
"And that wasn't a problem for Herc-ola?"
Iolaus stared for a moment. "No. I mean, sometimes he lectures me, but he's mostly given up on that. Except when they're married."
Autolycus opened his mouth to clarify his point, but before he could speak, Salmoneus descended upon them, dressed in purple robes and beaming.
"Good morning, everyone!"
"Don't see what's so good about it." Autolycus glared as Salmoneus sat next to Iolaus.
"You gonna eat all that?" Salmoneus indicated Iolaus' still-full plate.
"Yeah." Iolaus looked indignant as the con artist ignored him and began helping himself to the food.
Salmoneus looked around the room and smoothed his hair. "Have either of you seen the ladies this morning?"
"Nope." Iolaus barely paused in his eating, as Autolycus, still glaring, shook his head. Salmoneus looked disappointed.
"Oh. I had hoped to run into the Widow Twanky. I was hoping we could do some sightseeing, maybe see a play or something..."
Autolycus cranked his glare up a notch. "After last night?"
Salmoneus looked thoughtful. "You know, you're right. She's starred in a play, she'd probably be mobbed by autograph seekers at a theatre." Iolaus perked up at this, but continued eating. "Maybe we could just go for a walk." He sighed, his eyes focusing somewhere off in the distance as Autolycus looked at him in amazement.
Before anything more could be said, the Widow Twanky herself descended upon the table, Althea in tow.
"Ah, what a glorious morning!" Although she was inside, the Widow twirled her parasol with verve as Salmoneus beamed at her and Iolaus looked as if he were contemplating diving under the table. Autolycus smiled at Althea, since she seemed to be the most normal of the group, but she didn't notice. She watched every move the Widow made, obviously sucked in by the older woman's energy. "Since the feast is tonight and the wedding is tomorrow, Althea and I were planning," she paused dramatically, "to go shopping!"
Salmoneus' eyes widened. "What a wonderful idea! Perhaps I could accompany you lovely ladies?"
The Widow beamed at him, and he beamed back. He extended his arm and she took it, and the two strode off, still beaming, not noticing Althea tagging along like an excited puppy.
Autolycus watched them go, gaping. "Man, does he have it bad."
Iolaus, looking relieved, resumed eating. "Better him than us."
Autolycus had to agree with that one.
Iphicles, clad in a clean tunic and pants, strode down the hallway to the room where his brother waited. He took a deep breath and smoothed the tunic, fighting yet another fit of laughter at the thought of Hercules playing a lion. He'd been fighting these giggles through the entire damn castle, and constantly losing. If he didn't bring it under control the servants would soon believe that the King of Corinth was quite mad. At the door, he took a deep breath and thought of sewage systems, long sessions with his council and discussions on taxes. He opened the door with a sober look on his face, but when Hercules turned to face him he suddenly found himself bent double with the damn giggles again.
Hercules felt his face getting redder. It was a good thing he and Iolaus were such good friends, because this little plan had gone extremely awry. It seemed like everyone in Athens was getting a case of the giggles when they saw him this morning, but at least they had the decency to try to hide it. Iphicles wasn't even doing him this courtesy. He tapped his foot, impatient, as Iphicles gasped for air and looked up at him.
"Are you finished?"
His brother nodded and made an attempt to straighten up, but the moment he opened his mouth still more laughter escaped until he was forced to clutch the back of a chair for support. Hercules reviewed his mental list of ways to kill Iolaus, not to mention the plan to move to some foreign country, change his name and become a hermit. The things he did for his friends...
Iphicles looked up, tears streaming from his eyes as he gasped for breath. "Sorry. I'm sorry about that." A few giggles punctuated the sentence, but on the whole he seemed to be regaining his self-composure. He sat, wiping the tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand, and indicated the chair across the small table from his, motioning for his younger brother to sit. Hercules sat and rested his chin in his hand, his eyebrow raised as he gave his brother a chance to recover. He poured a glass of water and pushed it across the table.
"Thanks." Iphicles drank the water, only snorting once. "Really, I'm sorry. Last night must've been..."
"A nightmare?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah. And it's all Iolaus' fault." Hercules looked a little embarrassed, but Iphicles had to admit his brother was taking the entire situation with more grace than he would have. It hurt a little as he thought about the relationship between Hercules and Iolaus. They were more like brothers than he and Hercules had ever been. He wondered briefly if Hercules would ever humiliate himself in public for him, but quickly dismissed the idea. He might be expected to reciprocate, and he honestly wasn't sure he would be able to. Maybe it was best that Hercules had someone he could count on.
"So, what happened?" he asked.
Hercules rolled his eyes. "You know Iolaus, he loves being the center of attention. When this started out, he was going to be in the play and I was going to help out backstage. But there weren't enough people, and I got dragged into being on stage, and then I got stage fright. It was horrible." He ran his hand through his hair, looking embarrassed enough that Iphicles really felt badly for him. "I figured we were so bad we wouldn't even have to go on, but for some reason we ended up being the first ones out there, when everyone was watching." Iphicles neatly avoided his brother's eyes. "I still can't believe this. I'm considering moving to some foreign country and changing my name. Any idea how Gaul is?"
"I hear the weather sucks. Cold and wet."
"Maybe Egypt."
The brothers sat in silence as Hercules chewed on his lip, staring off into the distance. He started when Iphicles began to speak.
"So, why're you here this morning? In the palace, I mean."
Hercules shook his head, clearing the cobwebs. "Oh, yeah. That. There may be a problem."
"Problem?" With Hercules, a problem could mean anything from a peasant with farm trouble to a fire-breathing dragon heading for the city.
"Yeah. Last night I heard several people say they saw someone who looked just like Ares in Athens."
"Ares? Here?" Iphicles frowned at himself as his voice squeaked slightly. Kings' voices did not squeak.
"Yeah." Hercules nodded, suddenly focused. "My bet is he's not too happy about this wedding and will try to stop it any way he can. The idea of peace between Athens and Sparta has to be pissing him off something fierce. And with you here too, and you being my brother, there's a good chance you're a potential target too."
"Oh joy. Any ideas about what he might be up to?" Iphicles tried to sound nonchalant as he wondered what might be going on.
"With Ares, I haven't a clue. I don't know how his warped mind works, and I really don't want to. I suspect that you, Duke Theseus and Queen Hippolyta may be in danger."
"Great." Iphicles settled lower in his chair and tried not to worry. So much for the vacation. But he couldn't believe Ares was really in the city, not right now. It didn't fit.
"You should stick close to the Duke, keep an eye on him."
"I can do that." It would be his duty. Yeah. He'd stick very, very close to the Duke. Hercules noticed his brother's grin and changed the subject.
"So, I guess I kinda caused a problem, barging in this morning?"
"No problem. Just a little embarrassment. Nothing compared to what you had to deal with." He couldn't help himself; he had to get just a little dig in there.
Hercules just glared at him, then asked politely "Should I ask where I can find you in the future?"
"Um. Ask Demetrius, he can get me if I'm not in my room. I guess I should tell you," Iphicles contrived to look embarrassed, lowering his gaze to the floor and lowering his voice suitably, "I kinda met Queen Hippolyta's bodyguard, Hermia..." he decided to trail off suggestively and hope his brother was capable of making the requisite leap of logic. Luckily he was.
"Ah." Hercules looked surprised. "Hermia, huh?"
"Yeah." Iphicles thought of Theseus and managed to leer, but cringed inwardly as his brother's face grew serious. "C'mon, no lectures, okay?"
An innocent look from the big blue eyes, followed by an exasperated sigh. "I wasn't planning a lecture, Iph. It's just that you're a king now. People watch everything you do. You have to be careful."
"Tell me about it." Iphicles shuddered as he thought of the secret passageways between his quarters and the Duke's.
"Look, just be careful, okay? Like I said, I'm sure Ares is up to something, and knowing him it probably involves lots of violence."
Ares was planning to kill someone. He wasn't quite sure who he would be killing, but he really wanted to do some damage. His father was definitely at the top of the list, followed in no particular order by most of his family. He was trying to decide whether to kill them in alphabetical order, or in order by age or rank. In any case, just trying to mentally count and sort them was giving him a headache.
The headache, though, was the least of his problems. Much as he hated to admit it, Ares was beginning to think that the mortal version of his body wasn't quite living up to its potential. He and Joxer had been walking all morning, and while Joxer was still bounding along with a spring in his step, Ares was dragging behind and sustaining his pace with willpower alone. The sun beat down mercilessly, and Ares glared at the few puffy white clouds suspended in the blue of the sky, wishing they'd just move their fluffy selves in front of the sun for a while so he could have just a little bit of shade. The road was dry, and each step kicked up small clouds of dust. He was hot and sweaty, which meant that the dust clung to his skin like a set of armor made of dirt. He was caked with a light film of it, and was frankly disgusted.
Sweat was something he'd never dealt with before in such an intimate manner. In fact, the sweat was what convinced him that although his clothes looked damn good, they were about as useful as a dart in the middle of a full scale battle. The tight black leather, which looked so good when one was standing in a temple full of adoring worshippers, was binding when wetted by his sweat. His knees felt like they were being constricted in a slimy vice. And it didn't dry out; it just clung to him wetly, like a disgusting piece of seaweed. He was beginning to feel such revulsion that he was ready to offer to trade clothes with Joxer. And the sun heated the metal ornamentation on his vest enough that it burned him whenever he brushed against it. Because of this, he had to move his arms in an unnatural rhythm, making his shoulders sore. Plus, as if that weren't enough, his arm kept whacking the hilt of his sword, which was a duplicate of his real sword and therefore quite large. He kept adjusting the sword belt (which was also wet and constricting around his waist), but this had merely resulted in his repeatedly tripping himself with his own sword and going down face-first into the dust of the road, adding more dirt to his collection.
And not to be left out of the misery, his feet were sore from all of the walking. He was a god; gods never walked long distances. Of course, as far as he was concerned, the honey on top of this particular honey cake was the smell. The sweat, the wet leather, the dirt, the little gifts left along the road by passing livestock, all served to create a stench that made him want to throw up, despite the fact that he was ravenous. At this point he wasn't sure he'd be able to eat even if food were available, which it wasn't. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be able to escape the stench, since a particularly strong odor seemed to be wafting from his armpits.
Not only did mortality suck, it stunk.
Ares continued plodding doggedly along in Joxer's footsteps, occasionally tripping over his sword and trying not to notice Joxer's backward glances of concern, which the little man was trying to hide. At least Joxer was allowing him some dignity, which was more than he had expected. Ares took a moment to thank the Fates for placing Joxer in his path instead of his brother and Iolaus, who would never, ever let him live this down.
The little man was clanking along quite cheerfully, and while Ares hated cheerful, he couldn't help but find it endearing in Joxer. This dichotomy alone was enough to drive him over the edge. He stopped in the middle of the road and yelled at Joxer.
"Okay, that's it! I'm taking a damn break!" He glared, daring Joxer to say anything. Instead, the younger man cheerfully clanked toward the shade of a tree at the side of the road. The two sat down in the shade, Ares glowering at life in general as Joxer fished around in his bag, triumphantly holding up two apples.
"Ta da!" he said. He continued to grin as he took a swig from his water skin.
"Ta da?" Joxer ignored the fact that the voice was dripping with sarcasm.
"Yeah, ta da. Lunch!" He held out an apple to Ares, who glared at it as if expecting it to bite him.
"You call this lunch?" In love or not, Ares just didn't have a very good disposition. And at the moment he was tired, sweaty and hungry and could probably eat an entire orchard. "This is a snack."
Joxer merely shrugged and bit into his apple, his tongue flicking out to lick up the juices, which promptly caught Ares' attention. Noticing this, Joxer stopped and began taking tiny, utilitarian bites, avoiding his companion's gaze all the while. Ares gave up and began eating, although the small apple did little to fill the empty void in his stomach. Grabbing the water skin from Joxer, he swallowed a large amount and choked slightly, water running down his chin, before lying back to rest against the reassuring and cool bark of the tree trunk.
"How do you do it?"
"Do what?" Joxer had laid back, his head pillowed on his arms as he watched the clouds.
"How do you live like this?"
"Like what?" The reply was merely curious, not sarcastic or challenging, which came as a relief. Ares still kept expecting Joxer to turn on him and take his revenge for all of the slights, all of the snarky remarks, and all of the downright nasty things that the god had done to him over the years.
Ares spread his arms. "Like this!" He grew frustrated at Joxer's blank look. "It's hot. It's dry. I'm hungry, I'm thirsty, I stink to Olympus from all the sweat, I'm covered with dust from the road, my clothes are sticking to me, my feet hurt, I'm bored and this is only half a day! How do you do it, day in and day out?"
Joxer smiled. "Actually, it's not that bad."
"Not that bad? Hades could get some great ideas here!" Oops. Not too loud. At this rate he'd be sampling Tartarus soon enough, and he didn't want his uncle making things any worse down there than they currently were.
The smaller man shook his head. "Nope. This isn't bad at all. Look around you - the sky's clear, the road's straight and flat, there's plenty of food growing nearby, and I can hear a stream. This is the good life." He frowned as he sat up and looked at Ares. "But you're right about your clothes. They look good but they're not real practical."
"I'm the God of War. I don't need to be practical." Ares leaned back against the tree and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. Just because he agreed that didn't mean he wouldn't argue about it.
"Fine. But if your feet hurt now, imagine how they'll feel after a few days of this." Joxer knew he'd scored a point by the grimace on the god's face. "And it can be boring sometimes. There's things you can do to keep from being bored though."
"Like what?" The other man was plainly suspicious.
"Let's hit the road again and I'll show you."
Joxer sprang up with only a slight clatter and crossed to the road, a spring in his step. Ares, on the other hand, was stiff and sore from his break. It took him a few minutes to catch up with Joxer, and he noticed that his feet hurt even more than before they had stopped.
"One good way to pass the time is to talk."
"What do we have to talk about?"
There was a moment of awkward silence. "Good point. Okay, there's always singing."
"I don't do singing."
Joxer looked surprised. "Why not?"
This time Ares was the one who gaped, making motions in the air. "Because I don't!"
"Oh. I just figured, you being a god and all, you could do anything you wanted." Joxer smirked inwardly at the challenge. Needling Ares made him feel guilty, but it was so much fun.
"I can. I mean, I could sing if I wanted to, but I don't want to."
"Why not?"
"Is there anything in your vocabulary other than the words 'why not'?" Ares regretted snapping as he saw Joxer's mouth tighten.
"Sorry. If you don't do singing, there's always games."
"What kind of games?"
"Well, one I like but Xena and Gabby don't is where you name something you see and you have to do the alphabet."
"Huh?" Ares mentally kicked himself - he was saying 'huh' and 'what' way too much lately. Gotta maintain that "all- knowing god" image, even if Joxer knew better.
Joxer sighed. Didn't the gods do anything fun? "Okay, I'll start. I say something like, I spy with my eye something that starts with alpha. And you have to figure out what it is. Then you do beta, and I do gamma and so forth."
There was an expectant pause.
"Maybe we can think of something to talk about."
Joxer sighed. He'd really been hoping that they'd be able to play a game and avoid talking. Ares looked good, but he wasn't much of a conversationalist.
The streets of Athens were awash with color. Merchants had set up stalls in every square and along every road. The air was filled with the scents of spices and flowers and the sounds of laughter and music. Which, Xena reflected, made their situation even more frustrating. It was peacetime, there were no villains in sight, yet she and Gabrielle were reduced to running flat out, ducking and weaving among pedestrians, until coming to a halt behind a clothing stall. Gabrielle stood next to her, breathing deeply, her face flushed as she looked around in panic.
"Did we lose her?"
"Shhhh!"
"Sorry," she lowered her voice, "Do you think we lost her?"
Xena fingered her chakram and looked around, searching the crowd. Finally she relaxed and nodded. "I think we lost her."
Gabrielle leaned back into her companion's arms. "Oh, thank the gods. Any gods, I don't care who. The first shrine we pass, I'm leaving an offering."
The only response was a snort. "Even if it's one of Ares' shrines?"
"Even if it's one of Ares' shrines. At this point I'm kinda hoping he'll show up and... and... step on her!"
Xena smothered a laugh and tried her best to sound serious. "That doesn't sound very peaceful. Maybe you should meditate, relax, and try to enjoy her company. Maybe this is a test of some sort."
"I tried to meditate. This morning. Have you ever tried to meditate when someone's bouncing up and down on your bed and making little 'yippee' noises? Let me tell you, it's impossible." She shook her head, frustrated.
"Maybe that's why you're in such a bad mood. Look, just relax, we managed to lose her and now we can spend the rest of the day having fun. And you can meditate tonight."
Gabrielle sighed, letting the tension flow out of her body. "You're right. I need to get something nice to wear for the wedding. And so," she turned to Xena, a wicked gleam in her eye, "Do you."
"Me?" Her voice fairly squeaking, Xena managed to look both offended and indignant. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
"Xena! It's leather!"
"Leather never goes out of style." Xena crossed her arms defensively. "Besides, I hate getting dressed up. Every time I get dressed up I end up getting in a fight, ripping up the nice clothes and wishing I was wearing decent shoes."
"Come on, it'll be fun." Xena knew better than to argue with Gabrielle when her friend got that gleam in her eye. Sighing, she resigned herself to an afternoon of tedium as Gabrielle dragged her away from their small oasis.
They had only taken a few steps when they heard a voice behind them. Xena winced as Gabrielle's face turned red and a vein began throbbing in her forehead.
"Guys! There you are! I lost you in the crowd!" Mustardseed was still bouncing, a bundle of limitless energy.
"Darn. But you found us." Xena spoke in a flat voice, noting Gabrielle's clenched teeth. "How'd you find us, anyhow?"
"Oh, flower fairies are great trackers. My dad, once he tracked a mortal through a river and a mountain almost two seasons after the mortal had gone that way. We have a very keen sense of smell, better than dogs even!" Gabrielle made a strangled noise. "So, if you guys get lost, it won't take me but a few minutes to find you, so don't worry about me! In fact, I was kinda slow catching up to you cause I made a few stops."
For the first time, Xena noticed that the fairy was carrying several bundles. "I see. What's that?"
Mustardseed glowed. "I got us all matching gowns for the wedding, see?" She pulled out three gowns, one in pink, one in purple and one in sea foam. All were flowing, covered with bows and frills. Xena grimaced as Gabrielle looked nauseous. "And I can do all of our hairstyles so they'll match too! We'll put flowers in our hair, and bows and lace! This is gonna be so cool! Hey, what's wrong with Gabrielle?"
Xena turned to see Gabrielle wandering off, muttering to herself about karmic retribution and looking for Ares.
"I think she's having second thoughts about her path in life."
Mustardseed shrugged. Mortals.
While the streets of Athens were humming with activity, the castle was a veritable cyclone of energy. People dashed through hallways in barely controlled panic trying to deal with last minute arrangements. Demetrius, ever cool, glided nonchalantly through the frantic activity toward the great dining hall. Opening the doors, he entered the small glade of sanity and quiet, namely, Theseus, Iphicles and Hippolyta having a simple lunch.
Theseus looked up as the massive doors clanged shut. "Demetrius! The cook's looking for you!"
The steward nodded. "I've taken care of the problem."
"The tailor?"
"Taken care of."
"The musicians?"
"Taken care of."
"Demetrius, why am I the duke and not you? You run this place." Demetrius didn't respond, merely giving the duke a cool look. "So, is there anything I need to do?"
"Merely show up for the wedding tomorrow." This was followed by a pointed glance at Iphicles, who was attempting to nibble the duke's ear.
"What?" The king managed to look offended. "He'll be there!"
Demetrius continued to glare, as Iphicles looked baffled. "Sire, it's your brother."
"Again?" Theseus looked amused. "At least we're not in bed this time."
Iphicles just shook his head in frustration. "Didn't he leave?"
"No sir. He's with the Captain of the Guard. They're going over security. I gather he's driving the captain quite insane."
"I can't imagine. Okay, I know he's annoying but he means well. And, much as I hate to admit it, he knows Ares. I mean, admittedly he tends to see Ares behind every tree, but he's usually right. And if he's right this time and Ares plans to do something to stop this wedding, which I seriously doubt but you never know, having Herc around could come in handy."
Demetrius nodded. "So, what shall I do about the Captain of the Guard?"
"Give him a raise and tell him he can take a nice long vacation once this is over." Theseus dismissed the steward, who glided back into the hallway.
Hippolyta looked disgusted with the entire situation. "Your brother, does he have a history of paranoia?"
Iphicles shrugged. "A little, but you can't really blame him. The gods have put him through a lot."
"But if Ares wanted to stop the wedding, all he had to do was tell me so," Hippolyta said. "Besides, it was he who convinced me to go through with this farce." She glared meaningfully at the two men. "I agreed because he's my father, and because he made certain promises to my tribe."
Iphicles decided to look innocent and ignore the barb. Instead, he leaned over and licked Theseus' neck. That was much more fun than dealing with Hippolyta.
Theseus tried to be a polite host, despite Iphicles' licking. "Will Hermia be joining us?" He swatted Iphicles away.
"No," Hermia sighed.
Iphicles wondered if that was why Hippolyta was in such a bad mood. Not that he really cared, he decided, as he leaned over and began nibbling at Theseus' neck again.
"Where is she, anyway?" Theseus made a half-hearted attempt to dislodge his lover, who merely renewed his attack.
"Shopping." The word fairly dripped with contempt. "Apparently someone told her leather wasn't appropriate for the wedding so she went to purchase a gown."
Both men looked up at this. "A woman who doesn't like shopping?" Theseus said as he laughed, but Hippolyta's glare quickly killed his amusement.
"We're not all like the vapid women you have here in your palace. Believe it or not, many of us have concerns past what we wear, what we look like and who we can attract."
Iphicles stepped between the two almost-hissing spouses to be. "Look, he didn't mean any offense. I know you're an Amazon, but as of tomorrow you're going to be a queen, like it or not. You and Hermia are going to have to adjust, just like we did." Hippolyta continued to glare. "It's not going to be fun, and it's going to drive you nuts for a while. The people around here are used to a ruling class that's completely helpless."
"He's not kidding." Theseus broke in. "After my family died and I inherited the throne, I was ready to just walk away. Or throw myself off the battlements. I had people who insisted on cutting my food for me, on bathing me, on waiting on me hand and foot."
Iphicles leaned forward, licking Theseus' ear. "My servants were shocked when I actually dressed myself and insisted on wearing sensible clothing."
Hippolyta moaned. "This sounds like Tartarus." Theseus patted her hand, ignoring the jealous look from Iphicles.
"At least you'll have me to help," he said.
The queen sighed and stood, stretching. "This is so depressing. I think I'll go take a nap and hope it's all gone away when I wake up."
As soon as she left, Iphicles grabbed Theseus and kissed him with a passion that left them both breathless.
"I should flirt with my bride more often."
Iphicles ran a finger down Theseus' chest. "Don't even think about it. There are things I can do," he leaned forward and unbuttoned two buttons, licking the exposed flesh, "That she's probably never even heard of."
"You're cute when you're jealous, you know that?"
"I like proving myself superior," Iphicles said with a mischievous grin.
Theseus shivered, but quickly straightened himself as a servant entered and began clearing the plates. Standing, he leaned over and whispered in Iphicles' ear. "My room, fifteen minutes."
Iphicles nodded his assent and tried to look innocent as he popped a few grapes into his mouth.
Lysander, the Captain of the Guard, was in Tartarus. Oh, he had heard of the exploits of the mighty Hercules. He'd dreamed of meeting the demigod. But now he just wanted to do his job without being pestered regarding every minute detail related to castle security. He knew what he was doing and being constantly challenged wasn't helping his temper, despite the whispered offer of more money from Demetrius. He took a few deep breaths and turned to face the demigod, who was, as usual, looking helpful.
"And you have how many men delegated for the ceremony itself?"
"A full garrison, sir. With two others on standby, just in case." The answer had been the same the last three times he'd been asked the question. Lysander was beginning to wonder if the demigod was dense or just not paying attention.
"I see. And you'll have bowmen ready?"
"Yes sir." He decided to test the hero. "And chickens. We'll have chickens ready."
"I see."
Yep, Hercules was definitely not paying attention. He was staring off into the distance, a look of intense concentration on his face. It looked like helpful concentration, though. He paced, rubbing his chin, suddenly stopping in mid-pace and turning on Lysander.
"Secret passageways!"
Lysander looked around, puzzled. "Secret passageways?"
"All castles have secret passageways. This is a castle, so it must have secret passageways."
Lysander nodded, thrilled to see signs of logic from Hercules. He'd really begun to worry for a few minutes there.
"We have several secret passageways." He hoped he wouldn't have to give a tour.
"I want to see them. If there's going to be a surprise attack, people could be in the passageways."
Lysander sighed and refrained from telling the hero that the only person in the secret passageways lately was the king of Corinth.
"Follow me, please." Lysander grabbed a handy torch and neatly twitched aside a tapestry, revealing a door. He opened the door and led the demigod into the small, dusty corridor.
"Not very clean, is it?" Hercules reached up and brushed at some cobwebs that had tangled themselves in his hair.
"Well, sir, it would defeat the purpose of having secret passageways if we were to send in the cleaning staff on a regular basis."
"Good point." The two men meandered through the corridors as the guard pointed out various exits and Hercules looked extremely...helpful. They were nearly at the end, both covered with dust and cobwebs, when they saw a shadowy figure at one end of the corridor. Hercules stiffened.
"You! Wait!" He took off running, shoving an indignant Lysander out of the way and caught the figure in a flying tackle. Lysander hurried to catch up, sighing, as he had a good idea of who had been tackled.
All Hercules knew was that he had tackled someone big and male, who was kicking and struggling to get up, and putting up rather a decent fight. He grabbed the flailing arms and pinned them to the ground as he saw Lysander advancing with the torch.
"All right, who are you and what are you doing... oops." Hercules broke off, chagrinned, as the light shone on his big brother. "Iphicles! What're you doing skulking around here?"
Iphicles' face went blank as he tried to think of an explanation. "Hermia! I was going to visit Hermia!" He ignored the snort from Lysander. "Now what in Tartarus are you doing, running around and tackling people?"
"Sorry about that." Hercules offered his brother a hand up, and both tried ineffectually to brush the dust off their clothing. "Just trying to check out security." He put on his most helpful face, which merely made Iphicles sigh as he felt a headache coming on and the mood definitely dying.
"Yeah, well, it's safe, okay? Go check out the garrison or something."
"I'm really sorry." It was obvious that he meant it.
"It's okay. Just quit worrying so much. Oh, and that way's out." Iphicles pointed down a different corridor, the order barely disguised as helpful information. Lysander took the hint and pulled the demigod down the hallway. Iphicles waited until they were out of sight before proceeding to Theseus' room. He was cursed. His brother was determined to destroy his sex life.
He was cursed. This was one thing Joxer knew for a fact. Here he was, walking to Sparta on one of the most beautiful days he had ever seen in his life, and he was cursed with a whining, complaining, horny former God of War who was probably going to kill him once they reached their destination. He sighed. This was just so totally on par for his life to date that he would laugh, except then Ares would grouse at him for being cheerful. The scary part though, was that either the love spell or mortality had really improved the guy's disposition. And it was still pretty bad. He heard a scuffle behind him and knew it was Ares, tripping yet again (he was starting to wonder if his own clumsiness was somehow contagious; another reason for Ares to turn him into a lump of charcoal later) and deliberately ignored it. If the God of War tripped over his own sword, Joxer did not want to be a witness. He was in enough trouble as it was.
"How much further do we have to go?" Well, at least this time he was definitely ticked off. It beat the whining he'd been doing for most of the afternoon.
"We should be getting to a town soon. We'll pick up dinner and see if we can find an inn."
There was a sigh of relief from behind him. Ares probably wasn't used to sleeping on the ground. Now Joxer just had to figure out how to keep his companion out of trouble. And how to continue to refuse his sexual advances. It wasn't that he wasn't interested, but his instinct for self- preservation told him in no uncertain terms that if he actually slept with Ares he would definitely end up dead once the god came to his senses. Promise or no promise, Ares would be too humiliated to let him live. Besides, Joxer had sworn to save himself for Gabrielle. The girls at Meg's didn't count, he told himself. That was business. His heart was pure, though, and only for Gabrielle.
He'd given serious consideration to trying to ditch Ares, but had come to the conclusion that he just couldn't do it. He was a hero. As a hero he had an obligation to help. Plus, the gods obviously had no clue about how to survive as mortals. Ares would probably get himself hurt or killed, or even worse, and Joxer knew his conscience wouldn't let him live with that. He wondered how he had managed to get such a loud conscience when the rest of his family obviously had none. Must be part of his curse.
He sighed again, and was surprised to hear Ares' voice, much closer than before.
"What's wrong?" Joxer jumped.
"Nothing." He walked faster, leaving a confused Ares behind.
"You look upset." Oh yeah. He'd forgotten how stubborn Ares was.
"Just wondering about what we'll find in the next town." Like could he afford two rooms at the inn? Or, even better, one room at one inn and another room at a second inn?
"Think there'll be a bath?" The former god sounded hopeful.
"I hope so." Which was true - his companion was becoming rather odiferous. Joxer hadn't realized how strong wet leather smelled. No wonder Xena wore a short skirt.
They lapsed into silence, Joxer ignoring the stumbles and muffled curses as best he could and working very hard not to laugh at Ares' misfortune. Luckily he soon began to see signs of civilization, and a cluster of buildings ahead promised a small town. He sped up, Ares trotting behind him.
The town was small enough that calling it a town would be somewhat of an exaggeration. It was a cluster of small buildings and vendors' stalls, but it was the closest thing to civilization they had seen all day. They walked into the town square and headed immediately for the well, Joxer trying his best to keep Ares from cutting to the front of the short line. Joxer took a long drink and filled their water skin. Ares dumped an entire bucket of water over his head, whooping at the sensation, as Joxer laughed and several women stared.
They quickly found that there was no inn, which depressed Ares to no end. Joxer, on the other hand, was thrilled that he wouldn't have to worry about sharing a bed. If they were on the ground he at least had a chance to escape. Luckily there was a tavern, and so Joxer went in to haggle over some food, leaving Ares outside with strict orders to stay out of trouble.
Ares sat on a bench and leaned back against the building, just happy to give his aching legs and feet a break. This was the closest he had come to a good mood all day; he was resting, he'd washed off some of the grime from the day's travels, and there was going to be food for dinner. He'd been hungry for most of the day and didn't like it. Relaxing, he closed his eyes and began to bask in the sunlight, his breathing becoming deep and even as he drifted off slowly...
"Hey mister!" The voice was high-pitched, a tone that would probably be heard by more canines than humans. Opening his eyes, Ares found himself being faced by a grubby child with a predatory look in his eye.
"Mister, what's that?" Ares looked around, wondering who the creature was addressing, when he realized it was pointing at his sword.
"It's a sword." Well, that was blatantly obvious. He closed his eyes again.
"Can I see it?" He opened his eyes. Yep, it was still there.
"No." He growled, hoping it would take the hint, and closed his eyes again.
"Why not?" The child sounded petulant, the whine in his voice setting Ares' teeth on edge. He didn't like humans when they were in the larval stage.
"Because I said so." This time he gave in and kept his eyes open, watching the child. The boy first wiped his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of slime on his face, then took one finger and gravely probed his nostril as Ares looked on in amazement. The child proceeded to stare intently at the prize on his finger, and then reached toward Ares' sword belt.
"Hey!" Cringing, Ares batted the boy's hand away. This resulted in a wail that would have done a banshee proud. A woman came running, nearly colliding with Joxer, who had easily deduced that his companion had failed at the 'stay out of trouble' part of the rest stop. The woman skidded to a stop in front of her son, holding his head protectively, the slime from his nose absorbed into her skirt. Joxer stood behind Ares, wondering what exactly was happening here.
"You! What have you done to my precious Thaddeus?"
"Me? Do to him? Lady, that brat was trying to take my sword!" Ares' temper threatened to take control, but he reigned it in firmly. Killing these two in front of witnesses would be really stupid.
"Well, why didn't you give it to him?" The boy gave Ares a smug grin.
"*Give him my sword? Are you insane? It's bigger than he is! Besides, he'd probably cut his own foot off or kill himself. Not that that'd be a great loss." Suddenly Ares saw an upside to this, but the woman didn't appear to take his comment very well. She hugged her son closer, as his expression became more self-satisfied.
"If my son wants your sword, you should give it to him. We never say 'no' to him."
"That's obvious." Joxer chimed in with his opinion and received a glare in response. He shrugged; Ares' glares were much more impressive and he'd developed immunity to them.
"Let him see your sword."
Ares stood up, looming over the woman, his good mood completely gone.
"No."
The woman looked up and took a step backwards. "My child is a precious gift from the gods."
"Yeah? Which god, lady? Cause I'm gonna have a little talk with them in a few days..."
The woman gave up and fled as the people in the square burst into spontaneous applause.
The pair found themselves showered with enough free food to make even Ares happy.
A very tired and worried Hercules left the castle and headed back to the inn where he and Iolaus were staying. He'd been over the castle from the top of the towers to the bottom of the dungeons, and nothing seemed wrong. He'd found no traps, no menacing and suspicious looking new servants, nothing but his big brother sneaking toward an assignation with a lady-in-waiting. But he knew Ares had to be up to something and was becoming more nervous as time passed and nothing happened. It was the proverbial quiet before the storm, and his nerves couldn't take much more of it.
Unsurprisingly, the room he shared with Iolaus was empty, so Hercules headed toward the nearest tavern hoping to find his friend there. Where there was food, there was usually Iolaus. This time all he found was Autolycus, slouched in a bench in a far corner of the room. Upon spying Hercules the thief raised his tumbler in greeting and motioned to the other man to join him.
"Where've you been all day?"
Hercules sighed. "At the castle. This morning several people said they'd seen Ares skulking around the city, so I figured he'd be working on sabotaging the wedding. I've spent all day going over security at the castle, and I can't find anything."
"Uh huh. Um, you don't think he's still pissed about that chicken incident, do you?" Autolycus slouched even lower, looking paranoid.
Hercules tried not to laugh - Autolycus was actually kind of cute when he was paranoid, like a well-groomed mouse that was afraid of its shadow. Not that Autolycus would be interested in him, of course. But he couldn't help but tease the guy, just to see the look on his face.
"I dunno," he said seriously. "On the one hand he did say you were even. But then again he lies, so who knows? I've never met anyone who can hold a grudge like Ares." That, at least, was true. But he'd gotten the distinct impression that Ares had really meant it when he said he considered himself and Autolycus even.
"Great. Just great." Autolycus took a deep sip of his wine.
"Any idea where Iolaus is?"
"Found a waitress. Said to tell you not to wait up."
Hercules rolled his eyes toward Olympus. "Why am I not surprised?"
Autolycus leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "So, doesn't his, shall we say, loose behavior bother you?"
It took a few moments for Hercules to answer; Autolycus seemed abnormally intense about this issue so he wanted to give the man an honest answer. "It doesn't bother me that much anymore, not really. But what bothers me is when he comes running in with a brother or husband or father behind him and I have to protect him, even though I agree that what he did was wrong. It also bothers me when he insists on giving me details for days."
"But the sleeping around, that isn't a problem? I mean, it doesn't cause problems in your relationship?"
"Nope. Except when he goes on and on and I finally tell him to shut up and then he sulks." Hercules wanted to make sure that Autolycus wasn't one of the thousands of people in Greece who apparently considered him the biggest prude since Hestia. It was quite irritating - half the people he met thought he was a slut who slept with fifty young women in one night, while the other half was afraid to even mention sex in front of him. But his answer seemed to be what Autolycus was looking for, as he leaned back and put his boots up on the table, an appraising look in his eye. Hercules decided to change the subject before this got any more surreal. He was beginning to get an idea, but wanted to make sure he was right before he did anything too stupid. "Any idea where everyone else is?"
"Shopping." The word oozed disdain. "This morning the Widow Twanky proposed a shopping expedition and Sal practically tripped over his own tongue begging to go along. And Althea just followed the two of them like some lost puppy." He looked into the distance. "You know, now that I think about it, they looked like some bizarre little happy family." He shuddered, then cast an appraising glance at Hercules. "So, what're you planning to wear to the big shindig tomorrow?"
"Me?" The demigod was caught off-balance. "I was going to wear this." He indicated his usual clothes as Autolycus pulled a face. "What? What's wrong with this?"
"Big guy, it's a formal occasion. You know, kings, queens, dukes and all. You have to dress up."
"Come on, Autolycus. Everyone's going to be looking at the royal couple. No one's gonna be looking at me."
Autolycus sighed. Sometimes this modesty of Herc's could be a real pain in the patootie. He spoke slowly. "First, you're Hercules. People're gonna be looking at you, like it or not. Second, if you don't wear formal clothes they'll definitely be looking at you because you'll stick out like a sore thumb. So, what say we go get you something new to wear, okay?"
Hercules opened his mouth to refuse, but instead nodded in agreement. Maybe he was misreading the signals, but he was starting to think Autolycus was flirting with him. If so, this trip had a great deal of potential. Hercules smiled to himself as he followed Autolycus out of the tavern and into the dizzying chaos that was the streets of Athens. For a few moments he thought he had lost Autolycus, but an arm grabbed his and pulled him into the crowd. He followed as the other man led him unerringly through the mass of people to the nearest clothing stand.
"So, do you ever wear anything other than yellow?"
Hercules glared. It wasn't like he was a complete fashion victim or anything. Besides, Autolycus really had no room to talk as far as he was concerned. He held his tongue, though. His mother had raised him to be polite, and he saw no point in discussing Autolycus' lack of fashion sense, or the fact that green just wasn't his color at all.
"I'll take that as a 'no'. Okay, let's get to work here." Autolycus began sifting through silks and linens, shirts and pants, earth tones and jewel-like colors, before pulling out a yellow shirt with green embroidery. "Okay, let's give this a try." He threw the shirt to Hercules, who caught it neatly but just stood there, staring. It looked like something Salmoneus would wear. And there were flowers embroidered on the sleeves. Iolaus would never let him live that down.
"Come on, we haven't got all day! Try it on!"
"I'm not wearing this," Hercules said as he threw the offending shirt back at Autolycus. "Besides, you're acting way too much like my mother."
Autolycus crossed his arms, offended. "Hey, I'm just trying to help here."
"Right."
Hercules tried to figure out exactly what Autolycus was up to as he poked around on the cart, finally settling on a deep blue shirt with silver trim. He held it up, relieved that it looked like it was made for someone his size. Shopping for clothes invariably made him feel like a giant.
"Good enough, Mom?"
"Try it on first," Autolycus replied, grinning.
Hercules shrugged. Might as well. Besides, maybe he'd get a few more clues about what Autolycus was up to, if anything. And if Autolycus really was flirting, this would be a good opportunity to flirt right back and confuse the heck out of him. He slowly took off his vest, watching Autolycus out of the corner of his eye. Autolycus was looking at him like he was a prime jewel, and Hercules grinned to himself. He put on the new shirt, which was a bit tight, but Autolycus obviously approved if the look on his face was any indication.
"It fits, let's buy it, let's get outta here," he said, suddenly conscious of several women staring at him, their eyes glazed. Scenes like this sometimes turned ugly. He shuddered as he remembered a mob scene several years earlier that had led to some vicious rumors about him and all of the local king's daughters. He'd barely made it out of the kingdom with his skin intact.
"Hold on, hold on, there's no rush. Turn around and let me see it."
Hercules turned around, hoping he didn't look as amused as he felt. Autolycus stepped closer, appraising the shirt. "Looks good. Let's try a few things though. Raise your arms."
Hercules raised his arms obediently, wondering if this was Autolycus' idea of being subtle, and felt the other man run hands down his sides.
"Okay, so far so good. Now, cross your arms in front of you." He did so, and felt Autolycus' hands on his shoulders and back, pressing a little too firmly than was really necessary. Definitely flirting. Definitely not subtle. More like an anvil, or having a town crier send a message. "I can't believe you pulled this off. It must be a demigod thing."
"What?" He turned around, shaking off Autolycus' hands.
"The first thing you tried on fit. That never happens to me."
Hercules shrugged. At least he didn't have to deal with shopping. He preferred hydras to shopping. "We're done, let's get out of here." He was stopped by the look on Autolycus' face. "What?" Why was he saying that so often today?
"We need to get you pants."
"No." No way. Absolutely no way. "Mine are fine. Leather goes with anything." Besides, the crowd was pressing closer and several of them had predatory looks in their eyes.
"But a pair of black leather pants would work really well with that shirt."
"I don't do black leather," Hercules said firmly. It was too much like Ares.
Autolycus rolled his eyes and nodded, trying to hide his disappointment. It probably had been a little much to hope for. Besides, their audience was growing as women pressed closer, hoping to see more of a shirtless Hercules.
Hercules quickly pulled off the new shirt and threw on his old vest as he hurried to pay for the clothing and escape the suddenly claustrophobic tent. In his rush he didn't notice someone coming in as he was running out, and so he bumped into her and sent her flying, much to his chagrin.
"Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going. Are you okay?"
The woman glared at him, and he realized she looked familiar. "I'm fine, thank you." She ignored his outstretched hand and climbed to her feet, dusting off her leather armor.
"I'm really sorry. Really." Recognition dawned and he continued to stare at her. "Excuse me, but aren't you Hermia? Queen Hippolyta's lady-in-waiting?"
She gave him a condescending look and tossed her hair. "What of it?"
"I'm Hercules." She merely raised an eyebrow as he mentally kicked himself, thinking he sounded like he was waiting for praise or adulation. "Iphicles' brother. And I owe you an apology. For this morning. And this afternoon."
"Excuse me?" She looked completely lost.
"Well, when I came to the castle this morning and he wasn't in his room I got worried, and they told me he was in your room, and then this afternoon I kinda ran into him when he was coming to visit you..." He trailed off as her glare took on a life of its own.
"Are you insinuating that I'm sleeping with your brother?" She practically hissed at him, prompting Hercules to take a step backwards. Unfortunately for him Autolycus was there and yelped as his foot was trampled.
"Sorry." This was addressed to Autolycus, who hopped up and down on one foot. He turned back to Hermia. "And yeah, I guess so. I mean, I was told..."
"You were told wrong. I am not sleeping with your brother, nor would I ever sleep with him. And if you tell anyone I am, son of Zeus or no, I'll make you pay!" She made a truly dramatic exit, leaving Hercules both speechless and clueless. He stepped outside, his thoughts in a jumble.
"So? Exactly was that all about?" Autolycus was limping but following close behind. Good dirt on the royals - this had potential.
"I'm not sure." Hercules' forehead was creased in puzzlement. "This morning I went to see Iphicles in the castle and he wasn't in his room. The steward found him and told me he had been in bed with Hermia."
"Hermia being the snake lady back there, I take it."
"Yeah."
"Maybe the steward was confused. Maybe Hermia had just bitten someone and they had to suck out the poison so he had her on the brain."
Hercules shook his head, knowing he was close to something he really didn't want to know. "No, because later, I ran into Iphicles in the secret passageways. He told me he was going to see Hermia, but she's obviously not who he was visiting."
"Maybe there's another Hermia."
His mind latched onto that idea. Could be. Except... "The passageway he was in when I found him, the Captain of the Guard said it led to only two suites of rooms. The duke's and the one Hermia shares with..." He stopped in the middle of the street, mouth open, as Autolycus bumped into him and knocked the breath out of both of them.
"What? Something just clicked, I heard it!"
Hercules turned around, mouth agape in shock. "Autolycus, Hermia shares a room with Queen Hippolyta. My brother's sleeping with the bride!"
Morning sun lazily meandered across a meadow, past a stream and into a small glade, illuminating two sleeping figures. They both lay, unmoving, until a deer darting past them woke one of the men. The other slumbered on.
Joxer yawned and stretched his arms above his head, hearing a satisfying pop from his joints. It looked like a beautiful day ahead, and he was hoping to make good time on the road. He stood carefully, stretching first one leg and then the other and working the kinks out of his neck as he contemplated his still-sleeping companion. They had found the clearing just as the sun was setting, and Ares had nearly collapsed, seemingly asleep even before his head hit the ground. He still wasn't moving so Joxer moved slightly closer, his shadow falling across the sleeping man.
In sleep, Ares' face was relaxed, holding none of the menace and darkness that seemed to define it when awake. He had a dark shadow of stubble, and Joxer shuddered at the idea of repeating the shaving incident. He moved slightly, his shadow with him, and the sunlight streamed across Ares' face. He twitched and his eyelashes fluttered, but he didn't awaken. Joxer, however, took a deep breath at what he saw, and began to wonder if Ares was catching his curse. He initially reached for the other man's shoulder, but hesitated before placing his hand on the leather vest and shaking gently.
"Ares." He whispered, desperately trying to figure out a diplomatic way of dealing with this problem.
"G'way" It was a mumble, but a menacing mumble. His eyelashes fluttered once more but he didn't wake. Joxer tried again.
"Ares. You have to wake up."
"Go 'way". This time it was more forceful, and as the sunlight hit his eyes, Ares raised his forearm to cover them. This was when he discovered what had been worrying Joxer. "Ow!" His eyes flew open and he stared at his arm. "What the fuck is this?" He tried sitting up and winced in pain as every muscle protested.
Joxer sighed. "You have a sunburn. A really, really bad sunburn."
"What's a sunburn?"
"It's when too much of your skin gets exposed to too much sunlight and it, well, it burns." He indicated the bright red hue of Ares' arms. "Like that."
Ares stared at his arms, which were a bright angry red, as was his neck, part of his chest and his face. "It hurts." He didn't even care that he was whining.
"I know. I'm sorry." Being fair-skinned, Joxer knew just how much a sunburn could hurt, and this one looked particularly painful. Even the tops of Ares' ears were red. He shook his head in sympathy. "I've got some oil in my bag that'll help, but it's still gonna hurt for today, maybe tomorrow."
"I'll try anything." The god looked like he was about to give up.
Joxer rummaged in his trusty bag, reflecting that it must be strange to suddenly be thrust into a body and a world that didn't operate the way you expected. He wondered if he'd cope with a god's body any better than Ares was coping with a human body. Not that he wanted to know; the mere image of Joxer the God was enough to give him the creeps. He'd probably end up as the God of Bad Luck or something like that. Grabbing the bottle of oil, he headed back toward Ares, who was experimentally poking various red spots and wincing with the pain.
"You know, this is really," he paused, searching for the right word, "sucky. Your lives are so short and miserable, I don't see why you even bother."
"Maybe they aren't short and sucky to us." Joxer removed the stopper from the bottle. "Maybe we're just too stupid to know we're supposed to be miserable. Now take off your vest and lie down."
Ares looked suspicious but did as he was told, wincing and biting back profanities as he slowly levered himself down to the ground. "Has anyone ever told you you're sexy when you're forceful?" Joxer merely snorted. Ares just wasn't going to give up.
"It looks like your shoulders are the worst," Joxer said, staring at the bright red skin. "I'll start there."
"I can think of other parts that need oil," Ares said, wiggling his hips suggestively.
Joxer ignored him and poured some rosemary-infused olive oil onto his hands as he reached over and carefully rubbed Ares' left shoulder.
Ares stiffened under his light touch, and Joxer heard the hiss of an indrawn breath. "Sorry if this hurts."
"I'm fine," Ares said, his teeth gritted.
Joxer hurried as he spread more oil on Ares' arms and the back of his neck, rubbing it in as thoroughly as he could.
Dawn's light found Athens holding its collective breath as women dressed in their finest gowns and men groused about taking baths and brushing their hair. In the palace, King Iphicles was making a valiant effort to help Duke Theseus get dressed for his upcoming nuptials but not quite succeeding. In fact, the duke was making a valiant effort of his own to remove the king's finery and was having much more success. He had most of the buttons on Iphicles' tunic undone and was busy licking at the exposed chest as Iphicles made a few half-hearted attempts to push him away.
"You're getting married." Iphicles tried to sound forceful, but heard the weakness in his own voice.
"I know. And you'll get to fuck a married man tonight." Theseus flashed a wicked smile that made his lover's knees go weak.
"You should be concentrating on the wedding."
"Later." Theseus began nibbling Iphicles' rapidly hardening left nipple while rubbing the right, watching in satisfaction as the king's breaths grew more uneven. "I can't concentrate on anything right now, not with you looking like this." He continued to unbutton the tunic, finally pushing it down Iphicles' broad shoulders, baring his muscled chest.
"Demetrius is gonna kill us." Iphicles slumped against the wall, bracing his legs so as to stay upright. "He's taking this whole ceremony personally. If anything goes wrong he'll take it out of my hide."
"So let him try." Theseus' hands moved down the smooth golden skin, alternately caressing and pinching, as he began to kiss and lick at Iphicles' chest, prompting a moan from his lover. "He can't have you till I'm finished with you."
"Okay, fuck Demetrius." Iphicles gave in and threw his head back, closing his eyes and enjoying the sensations. Theseus licked his nipples, using a slow, maddening rhythm that left Iphicles panting for more. One broad palm rubbed against his erect cock, and the king thrust his hips, pushing back, trying to feel more.
"I'd rather fuck you." Theseus' voice was low and rough with desire.
"Whatever." At this point Iphicles would have cheerfully agreed to anything. Panting, he let the duke lead him to the large bed, where he was pushed backwards until he fell onto the brocade spread.
Theseus took a moment to watch his lover, copper hair spread around his head like a halo, amber eyes glowing with desire, bronze torso gleaming with sweat. "You're beautiful," he whispered, "always have been, you know that?"
"Yeah, right." The king laughed ironically. "When you met me, I was a scrawny kid with a chip on his shoulder. I don't know why you put up with me."
The duke climbed onto the bed, lying beside his lover, gently stroking the muscled chest, stopping occasionally to tweak a nipple, as he gazed into the king's eyes. "It was obvious you had a lot of potential, even then. You were so...eager." He licked his lips. "And you weren't that scrawny." A dramatic pause. "Well, maybe you were, but you got better." He laughed as he began to unlace Iphicles' pants.
They were distracted as they heard a scream of outrage from the next chamber, quickly followed by the sound of glass breaking and numerous curses that made even the two ex- mercenaries blush.
Iphicles levered himself up onto his elbows, looking around for a weapon as Theseus jumped to his feet.
"Gods, I hope Hercules wasn't right," Iphicles muttered, almost to himself as he scanned the room, "Ares can't be in the castle, dammit!" Noticing Theseus' quizzical expression, he shrugged, trying to calm down. "Assassinating the bride just doesn't seem like his style, especially since she's his daughter."
Both men were quickly on their feet, clothes thrown on as they prepared to go next door to investigate when they were spared the trouble. Demetrius rushed into the room, blood from a cut on his forehead spilling into his left eye. He pulled the door closed behind him with a crash and slumped against it, panting, face flushed. He clutched a collection of scrolls to his chest, oblivious to the blood dripping onto them.
"Highness. I mean, Highnesses, there's a problem. With the wedding." Iphicles tried to discreetly smooth his clothes, hoping the steward wasn't going to blame him, but Demetrius was oblivious. "It's Queen Hippolyta. She refuses to go through with the ceremony."
Theseus sighed, a put-upon expression on his face as he questioned the steward. "Did she say what the problem was?"
Demetrius shook his head. "No, she just screamed quite a bit and threw a bottle at me." He indicated the cut on his head. "Luckily Hermia tried to stop her and caused her aim to go off a bit. I was just hit with a piece of flying glass."
The Duke straightened his clothing and nodded to the king. "Iph, can you take care of that cut? I'll see if I can talk some sense into Hippolyta." He paused for a moment. "Maybe we'll get lucky and your brother'll show up in time to help out for once."
Iphicles snorted as Theseus walked out the door, Demetrius casting anxious glances toward the doorway. "Do you think that's wise? Shouldn't someone go with him?" He looked at Iphicles, obviously concerned, as he let himself be led to the bed. His hands were shaking and his face was pale, a stark contrast to the scarlet blood dripping steadily onto his shirt.
"Theseus can take care of himself. He was a good mercenary, a good soldier." Iphicles spoke quietly, as if trying to soothe a frightened animal. "In a strange sort of way, he and Hippolyta understand each other. Besides," he tilted the other man's head to examine the wound, probing carefully, "it sounds like Hermia's not too pleased with this either. She'll help out."
The steward sat on the bed quietly as the king efficiently tore strips from a sheet to make a makeshift bandage. Dipping a corner of the fabric into the water pitcher next to the bed, he began cleaning the blood. Screamed epithets and loud crashes from the next room broke the silence. Both ignored it, one because he wasn't sure how to cope, one because he was unconcerned.
By the time Theseus returned, Iphicles had cleaned and bandaged Demetrius' wound and even managed to get a cup of wine into the man to settle his nerves. Both looked up as the Duke entered, a grin on his face.
"So?" Iphicles was dying to know what had happened.
"She had a case of pre-wedding jitters," Theseus said. He sounded like he dealt with this sort of scene on a daily basis. "Hermia and I talked her through them." He turned to Demetrius. "And she apologizes for throwing the bottle at you."
The steward didn't reply, merely looking panicked, as the other two men looked at each other. Iphicles finally broke the silence, offering Demetrius a hand up. "Why don't you have that looked at by someone with a clue about medicine? I'll fill in for you for the next little bit." Demetrius was about to protest but was cut off. "I may not be as organized as you are, but I can read your notes and do some of the easier tasks. Now go." The king gathered up Demetrius' notes and motioned him to leave, resulting in a shaky steward scurrying out the door.
"Guess we have to wait till after the ceremony." Theseus sighed, leaning against the wall. "Talk about killing the mood."
"Tell me about it." Iphicles chuckled dryly, trying to put the scrolls in order. "So, what exactly did you manage to work out? An agreement that she won't slit your throat on your wedding night?"
"We just reaffirmed the original agreement - no sex. And she's still ranting and raving, but Hermia's working on getting her as drunk as possible before the ceremony. Apparently she's a calm drunk."
Iphicles raised an eyebrow. "My, this sounds like fun. If I get forced into a marriage of state, I think I'll take the easy way out and slit my wrists."
"No you won't. I won't let you. If I have to suffer, so do you." Theseus tried his best to sound serious, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Besides, at least it wasn't your brother this time."
"Good point. And I think I scored a few bonus points with Demetrius, so something good's come out of this mess."
The two men regarded each other, shaking their heads. "But tonight, no one better show up..."
Dawn found two women cringing in a small, run-down inn on the outskirts of Athens. Their expressions were reminiscent of those found on prisoners condemned to die and left without hope. Prisoners, however, weren't normally dressed in formal gowns of lace and gauze and bedecked with ribbons and bows.
The lavender gown definitely made her look pink, Xena decided. And the cut and fit made her look big and clumsy, like a country farm girl wearing borrowed finery. Of course, after casting a sidelong glance at Gabrielle, she decided it could be worse. Gabrielle's matching sea foam gown made her complexion look like she had a case of jaundice, and the drape of the gown made her look awkward and square.
Gabrielle sat on her bed, massaging her sore and swollen feet. She and Xena had spent most of the previous day trying to shake their new friend, but to no effect. They'd tried being rude to her, but she didn't notice. They'd even talked about killing her, but Gabrielle had weakly protested that it would be wrong. She was beginning to reconsider her position.
Mustardseed, dressed in pink, looked absolutely devastating. She was prattling at them, running around and trying to do their hair and nails as Gabrielle's face grew redder and redder and Xena devoted more time to considering jumping out the window and running for it.
"Hm." The fairy was standing in front of Xena, her delicate heart-shaped face crumpled into a frown. "We really need to do something with that hair. It just doesn't frame your face right." She reached out and plucked the band from Xena's hair, freeing it, as the warrior made a perfunctory protest.
"But..."
The flower fairy began running her fingers through the thick black hair, trying to feather it, still frowning. "What do you use on this? It has no body." Her voice was full of condemnation.
"Soap! I use soap!" Xena shook her head, freeing her hair from Mustardseed's grasp.
"On hair? No wonder it's so dull. And look at all those split ends." She sighed a martyred sigh. "Good thing I've got something for that." Reaching into her pouch she sprinkled something onto Xena's hair as the warrior cringed. She'd been sprinkled all the previous day and was now living in terror of fairy magic.
Her hair began to glow, a strange light moving from the scalp to the ends. Once finished, Xena's head was crowned with fluffy, perfect black ringlets.
"Much better!" Mustardseed's voice had taken on the perky manic edge that both women had grown to fear. Xena was ready to cry.
Then the fairy turned to Gabrielle.
Hercules awoke, blinking, surprised to see sunlight streaming through the window. Stretching his arms above his head, he yawned and looked around. Iolaus was in the next bed, one arm dangling over the side, his hair spread across the pillow as he snored lightly.
The demigod stretched again, arching his back as he tried to work the kinks out of his muscles. He wasn't used to sleeping in a soft bed anymore, and he was beginning to find that it bothered his back. Iolaus continued to snore as Hercules contemplated the ceiling. He had spent the night tossing and turning, worried about Iphicles. He sighed, a frown creeping across his face.
While he did love Iphicles, sometimes his big brother had the common sense of a house cat, not to mention the morals of one. He tended to act first and think later, and when he did think, it was usually too late and he tried to cover for his mistake by blustering and turning antagonistic. Look at that Golgoth incident. It was like a flashback to their childhood. Now, it appeared that he was smitten with Queen Hippolyta. The question was, how could he help keep his wayward brother out of trouble without letting Iphicles know he was helping?
Sighing again, Hercules threw a pillow at Iolaus. "Wake up."
Iolaus grumbled and burrowed into his pillow as his roommate frowned. What was so hard about getting up in the morning?
"Iolaus. It's morning. Time to wake up."
"Mghbgh." Ah, now that was a typical Iolaus morning noise. Iolaus pulled the pillow over his head, trying to shut out consciousness.
"Iolaus." Hercules used his best patient voice, the one reserved for waking Iolaus and dealing with Iphicles. "If you don't get up, you'll miss breakfast."
The pillow flew off of Iolaus' head as he sat up, looking around in panic. His hair stuck out in several directions and the coarse pillowcase had left a reddened pattern on his cheek. "What?" He looked around for a second more, finally seeing Hercules sitting on his own bed. "Damn. You did it to me again."
He sulked as Hercules grinned. "It worked, didn't it? At least I don't have to throw water on you in the morning. You should see Iphicles..." He trailed off, frowning again as he remembered his brother.
Iolaus yawned and rubbed his eyes. "What's wrong?" He stretched, scratching idly at his shoulder. "Still worried about Ares crashing the wedding?"
He'd forgotten about that. Now he had two older brothers to deal with. Hercules sighed, feeling a headache hatching behind the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I'm still worried about Ares. He's been too quiet. He's up to something, I just can't figure out what." His fingers drummed a staccato beat on the blanket. "And now Iphicles is in trouble."
Iolaus frowned at this. He'd only met Iphicles a few times and had never been overly impressed with his best friend's big brother. They were so different - Hercules was happy where Iphicles was sulky. Hercules liked to help people, while Iphicles struck Iolaus as incredibly self-centered. When Hercules told stories about Iphicles, Iolaus always felt like he was getting the censored version, where Hercules tried to paint his brother in a more positive light.
"So, what's he gotten himself into now?" He tried to hide the impatient note in his voice, but Hercules heard it and winced, looking at his feet. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's morning, okay? I'm not polite in the morning. So, what do we have to bail him out of this time?"
Hercules continued to contemplate his feet. "He's sleeping with Queen Hippolyta." His voice was low and mumbled.
"What did you say?" Iolaus leaned forward.
"I said," the demigod looked at his friend, "he's sleeping with Hippolyta."
"Fuck." Iolaus sat back. This was big trouble.
"Exactly." Hercules sighed again, and Iolaus ached at the pain he saw in his eyes.
"Okay, are you sure about this? I mean, did he tell you about it? How'd you find out?"
"Every time I go to visit him at the castle, he's not in his room."
"That's not evidence, Herc. I mean, I don't spend much time in our room, that doesn't mean..." Iolaus trailed off, remembering exactly why he was rarely in their room. "Maybe he's just doing king stuff or something."
"The other day, when I went to see him, his bed obviously hadn't been slept in." Iolaus heard the flatness in his friend's voice and added another black mark to his opinion of Iphicles. "Demetrius found him and told me he'd been with Hermia, Hippolyta's bodyguard."
"Okay, so how do you get from the bodyguard to the queen?"
"Later that day, I was checking out the secret passageways, and found him in one." Iolaus snorted. From what little he knew of Iphicles, skulking around secret passageways sounded like his style. "The guard I was with told me that the only rooms accessible in that corridor were the Duke's and the Queen's. And Iphicles told me he was going to see Hermia."
"Who shares rooms with the Queen." Iolaus shrugged. "I'm still not getting it."
"Later that day I spoke with another guard, who mentioned that Hermia had left early in the morning to do some shopping. Then, Autolycus dragged me out shopping, and -"
"Shopping?" Iolaus' mouth hung open. "Autolycus took you shopping? And you let him?"
Hercules shrugged. "He was pretty determined. Anyhow, we ran into Hermia. I apologized for interrupting her and Iphicles that morning, and she flat out told me she's not involved with him."
Iolaus sat up, crossing his legs, thinking. It made sense. It was logical. It sounded like the just the kind of mess Iphicles would get himself into. "You know," he frowned, not liking where his thoughts were wandering, "no, that couldn't be right."
"What?" Now Hercules looked really worried.
"I hate to say this, Hercules, I really do. But, well, maybe this is part of what Ares is doing." Iolaus glanced at Hercules, hoping he wouldn't have to spell it out.
"What do you mean?"
Damn. He had to spell it out. Gods, he wished he had some food! "Can we talk about this over breakfast? I'm starving here." Iolaus stood, stretching, and looked for his clothes, trying to avoid hurting his friend.
"I'd rather not let too many people know about this, if you know what I mean."
"Okay." Iolaus sighed, sitting heavily at the foot of Hercules' bed. "Look, I'm sorry, and I may be totally off here, but it seems like an awfully big coincidence. You know, Ares doesn't want Athens and Sparta to be at peace, so he has to find a way to break up this wedding. Now it looks like Iphicles is sleeping with the bride. What happens if the duke finds out?"
Hercules nodded slowly, understanding dawning in his clear blue eyes. "If the duke finds out, not only will it break up the marriage and end the peace between Athens and Sparta, but it'll give Athens a reason to go to war with Corinth as well."
"Exactly." It really was a good plan. Sneaky, devious, totally Ares. Iolaus had to admit a grudging admiration for the god. When he put his mind to it, Ares could be a master manipulator. There was just one niggling problem. He cleared his throat, unwilling to speak more, but also wanting to protect Hercules from his brother. From both of them, if need be.
"Um, Herc?" He flinched as he met his friend's forthright gaze and again felt a wave of intense exasperation toward Iphicles. "I think we need to find out if Iphicles is sleeping with Hippolyta because he's got a thing for her, or if he's..." He trailed off, not willing to say the words.
"You mean we need to figure out if he's working for Ares." Iolaus cringed at the bleak note in Hercules' voice and reached out to grasp his forearm in comfort.
"Yeah." There wasn't much else to be said. They sat in silence for a few moments, Hercules' head bowed, as he tried to think of another possible explanation for events.
"I don't know, Iolaus. I mean, Iphicles and I have been getting along together lately. Things have really gotten better, you know? I can't see him doing something like this for Ares." His lower lip thrust out in a childish gesture as Iolaus patted his hand.
"Okay, you know him better than I do." Iolaus still had his reservations, but he didn't want to upset his friend. "So, what do we do?"
"First, we have to make sure he doesn't know that we know. If I confront him he'll just get sulky and accuse me of being self-righteous and trying to run his life and then he'll probably do something stupid. So we can't let on that we're trying to help him."
"Sounds like a plan. What else?"
"We need to keep him away from the queen. And Duke Theseus too. If he slips up and says something wrong in front of the duke, it could mean war."
"Not to mention the duke skewering him. I heard he used to be a kick-ass mercenary in his younger days."
"Yeah." Hercules nodded as his forehead creased in concentration "He used to work with someone back then, some kid he trained. I don't know the kid's name, but I heard they were an impressive team. If Iphicles survives and manages to take out the duke, the duke's old partner could come after him."
Iolaus picked up the thought, marveling yet again at how their minds meshed together in a crisis. "In fact, I bet the duke's old partner is here. That's probably how Ares plans to get rid of Iphicles once this is over. Iphicles lets it slip that he's sleeping with Hippolyta, and the duke kills him and declares war on both Sparta and Corinth. And if Iphicles manages to kill the duke, his old partner avenges his death, and you have war between the three kingdoms. Either way Ares wins."
Hercules nodded. "So, we have to figure out a way to keep Iphicles away from the duke and the queen until it's time for him to go back to Corinth. With any luck the queen and the duke will fall in love and then Iphicles won't be an issue."
They sat, Iolaus imagining slapping Iphicles silly, as dust motes floated in the air. Iolaus finally broke the silence.
"So, can I go get food now?"
Autolycus slouched on a bench seat at a table in a dark corner of the inn's dining area. He caught his fingers tapping on the table again and glared at them, forcing them to stay still, sighing in defeat as his hand insisted on twitching. Hearing the sound of footsteps descending the nearby staircase, he eagerly turned to see the newcomers, sighing when he didn't recognize them. Where was Hercules? He had thought the demigod was an early riser, but it was well past dawn and there was no sign of him or Iolaus.
The thief crossed his arms over his chest, then uncrossed them, trying not to wrinkle his formal tunic. He hated wearing wrinkled clothes. He slouched further into the shadows, just as a matter of principle. This was becoming annoying. He was the King of Thieves. Why was he sitting on an uncomfortable bench waiting to have breakfast with Hercules, of all people?
The guy was boring. Dull. Had no sense of humor. He was self-righteous and judgmental. He had no style, no panache. Still, there was something endearing about him. And it wasn't just the way his muscles rippled when he took off his shirt, or the way his leathers clung to his ass.
Autolycus sighed yet again. He really didn't want to go there, not now. Hercules was into women, marriage, kids, a settled life, everyone knew that. And he definitely wasn't the type to go for a fling with a thief. He'd be too busy lecturing to have sex. While Autolycus admitted that he sometimes liked a little bit of pain with his pleasure, he wasn't sure that being lectured about ethics would be a turn on.
More footsteps on the stairs, and Autolycus found himself leaning forward eagerly, a goofy grin plastering itself across his face as he saw Hercules and Iolaus. His body was apparently acting of its own volition, because he realized he was standing and waving, motioning them to join him, his heart skipping a beat at Hercules' welcoming smile. Oh, gods, he had it bad.
Iolaus and Hercules slid into the seat opposite Autolycus, who strove to stay calm. He would be cool and collected. Mister Chill. He noticed they were staring at him strangely, and it was Iolaus who finally spoke up.
"Autolycus? Why're you grinning like that?"
Shit. He repressed the urge to smash his traitorous face into the tabletop, but instead made a conscious effort to dampen the grin, although it refused to leave his face completely. He thought frantically, leaning forward to whisper at them.
"I was relieved to see you guys. I was scared to death I'd be stuck eating with Sal and Twanky and watching them play footsie under the table."
Iolaus nodded, understanding etched on his features, as Autolycus patted himself on the back for his quick save.
"Have you been here long?"
Autolycus thrilled at the sound of Hercules' voice, the low melodious tone, the way his blue eyes sparkled. He hated himself.
"No, not long at all." Only since the crack of dawn. Okay, maybe a little bit before then, but it hadn't been completely dark when he sat down.
The dining area swarmed with people, all dressed in their finery for the wedding, and Autolycus had to admit that there was excitement in the air. Under normal circumstances he'd be staying behind during the ceremony, helping himself to some of the nicer pieces of jewelry left behind, but this was a vacation. With Hercules. This really wasn't good.
"Have you eaten yet?" Iolaus, as usual, got down to business.
"Nope, I haven't really been here long enough to eat. Just got down here. Just now. A few minutes ago, I mean."
Iolaus nodded. "Herc, how about you go get some food for all of us?" He jerked his head at the demigod. "It's easier for him to carry it."
Hercules grinned. "Only because you eat more than any other five people."
A joke! He made a joke! He had a sense of humor! Autolycus smothered the idiotic smile that threatened to split his face, trying not to be too obvious as he watched Hercules stand and walk away. Damn if he didn't look good.
"Autolycus."
The thief looked into Iolaus' suddenly serious face and hoped he hadn't been caught. "We need to talk, before Hercules gets back."
"Okay." Autolycus leaned back, trying to look nonchalant.
"Hercules told you about his brother and the queen, right?"
"Yeah." Good, this wasn't going to be a speech about his intentions toward the demigod.
"Well, we talked about it this morning, and we need to try and protect Iphicles, whether he wants it or not, and we'll need your help."
"Sure. No problem." Staying close to Hercules, playing goody- goody, making nice, he could do that.
"And I don't want you doing anything that would reflect badly on Hercules, like stealing anything or telling anyone else about Iphicles, got it?"
"Iolaus!" Autolycus gave Iolaus his best innocent and injured look. "I'm hurt. Deeply wounded. I can't believe you'd insinuate that I'd ever do anything to take advantage of Hercules, or to use him in any way for anything that was even vaguely illegal." While he had no problem with taking advantage of the guy, what he planned to do with him was perfectly legal, except in a few, small, far-off countries with strange ideas about sex.
Iolaus snorted. "Right, and I'm the King of Thebes. Look, he's kinda fragile right now, so just be nice, okay?"
Autolycus rested his chin in his hand, considering. "This is really bothering him?" Why was that thought disturbing?
"Yeah." The hunter sighed. "He and Iphicles just have lots of problems. Iphicles gets into trouble, Hercules gets him out of it." He snorted. "You should hear some of Herc's stories about him. You know, the first time I met the guy, he was pretending to be Hercules. When Hercules told him to cut it out, Iphicles threw a temper tantrum and threatened to kill him."
"Sounds like a real prince."
"King, now."
"Oh, now that fills me with confidence."
"Tell me about it."
They sat in silence for a few moments, Autolycus pondering what he had just been told, Iolaus relaxing, his eyes slowly drifting shut. Iolaus finally spoke, stretching and yawning.
"Sorry, Hercules dragged me outta bed early this morning. Anyhow, I gotta finish before he gets back. I don't know what Iphicles is up to and I really don't care, but Hercules does. Iphicles may be the biggest screw-up in Greece, but Hercules loves him."
Autolycus nodded. "Brothers can be like that. You don't always get along together, but you end up being there for them when they need you."
"That's Hercules. Somehow Iphicles is always the one needing help, or bailing out or whatever. But this time he could be in serious trouble. If the duke finds out Iphicles is boinking the bride, it could be war between Athens, Sparta and Corinth. So we have to keep Iphicles away from the bride and the groom somehow. And look out for Ares, who may or may not be behind this, and who Iphicles may or may not be working for."
He suddenly shut his mouth as Hercules approached, carrying a tray loaded with food. Autolycus and Iolaus shared conspiratorial looks as they began eating, Hercules looking from one to the other.
"You two weren't fighting while I was gone, were you?" Both looked innocent. "Cause it's not natural for either of you to be so quiet."
Autolycus shoved a roll into his mouth, chewing noisily as Iolaus cleared his throat.
"And Auto, it's strange, but the waitress seems to think you've been sitting here for hours."
Autolycus gave the demigod a wide-eyed look and crammed another roll into his mouth, shrugging his shoulders and making a noncommittal noise.
"You haven't been casing the place, have you?"
"Mmmgh?" Autolycus chewed and swallowed, attempting to harness his righteous indignation. "I have not! I swear!" It was true, but he would be damned if he would admit he'd been waiting for the chance to be with Hercules. "I just woke up early, that's all."
Hercules looked skeptical but didn't pursue the subject. He picked up a piece of bread and slathered it with honey, a few drops spilling onto his index finger. Autolycus swallowed roughly as Hercules brought the finger to his mouth, delicately licking the glistening droplets off the tip. Autolycus' mind immediately imagined Hercules licking his cock, that tongue cleaning the tip, licking off the juices, and he had to restrain himself from whimpering. He crammed another roll into his mouth.
Hercules ate quickly and stood. "I'm going to the palace to check things out again. And I'll try to figure out a way to get Iphicles away from the duke and the queen.
"Hold on, I'll come with you." Autolycus jumped up, noting the suspicious looks. "I'm a professional thief, remember? I might be able to spot security problems you wouldn't think of."
He sighed in relief as a smile lit Hercules' face. "That's great, Auto. Thanks." This time Autolycus managed to avoid grinning like an idiot.
Iolaus continued to shovel food into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in weeks. "You two go ahead. I'll catch up."
Autolycus followed Hercules out of the building, trying very hard not to be too obvious about watching his ass.
Hippolyta sat on the floor of her bedchamber, her clothing in disarray, nestled in Iphicles' arms. She looked up at him, gently brushing the hair from his forehead.
"You've got beautiful eyes." She slurred the words, and Iphicles winced at her breath.
"I know. You told me that four times already."
"Oh." Hippolyta bit her lip, continuing to contemplate him. "Who're you?"
"I'm Iphicles. The king of Corinth, remember?"
"Oh." She shook her head muzzily. "I'm on the floor." She sounded surprised.
"Yes, you are."
"Why'm I on the floor?"
"You had some problems with standing up."
"Oh." She rested her head on his shoulder once more.
Iphicles looked up to find Theseus standing in the doorway, a small bottle in his hand, his face red as he tried to contain his laughter.
"So? Are you just going to stand there?"
Theseus walked to the middle of the room, sitting on the floor next to Iphicles. "I thought I'd watch you flirt with my bride for a while."
"Uh huh. Your bride is drunker than a satyr."
"At least she's not attacking people anymore."
"Yeah, but how's she supposed to get married in this condition? She can barely stand, much less walk!"
Hippolyta stirred, looking at Theseus, reaching her hand out to cup his face. Squinting, she moved her head closer, and Theseus leaned back, avoiding the strong alcohol scent that clung to her. She continued to stare at him, fascinated.
"You gotta big nose, you know that?"
Iphicles laughed as Theseus glared at him.
"I do not."
"It's regal," Iphicles offered, before laughing some more.
"Thanks so much. The next time I need moral support I'll be sure to call anyone but you."
Iphicles continued to chuckle. "Hey, I happen to think it's a very nice nose. It's got personality. Lots of personality."
"Keep it up, Junior." Theseus mimed slapping Iphicles' head, but the gesture turned into a caress as he ran his fingers through the copper hair. He leaned closer and nibbled Iphicles' ear lobe, whispering, "And I do mean that."
Iphicles shivered, startling Hippolyta, who glared blearily.
"Who're you?"
Grinning, Theseus uncorked the bottle he had been carrying. "Hippolyta, here's something for you to drink. It should make you feel better." He spoke slowly, enunciating the words carefully.
Hippolyta regarded the bottle suspiciously, refusing to take it.
"You know, food would probably help too. And maybe cold water." Iphicles frankly just wanted to be able to stand up and get away from Hippolyta's breath.
"Demetrius is getting food and Hermia's getting a cold bath ready. We've still got some time to get her presentable."
Hippolyta took the bottle and sniffed it, making a face.
"Ew! Smells nasty. 'm not drinkin' that." She threw the bottle at Theseus, the contents splashing onto his shirt. The duke sighed as she looked at him, her face growing suspicious.
Hippolyta pulled away from Iphicles, shaking her finger at her groom. "You're tryin' t' poison me, tha's it! You wanna kill me!" She looked at Iphicles, her eyes narrowing. "An' you're helpin' him!"
Both men were relieved when the door to the bedchamber opened, admitting Hermia, who immediately ran to her lover, taking the queen into her arms. Hippolyta relaxed, sniffling into her shoulder.
"They wanna kill me!"
"No they don't." Hermia ran her fingers through the queen's black hair. "I wouldn't let them, you know that."
Hippolyta continued to regard the men with suspicion as they attempted to look harmless. "They had poison." She sounded quite convinced.
Hermia sighed, cupping Hippolyta's face in her hands, gazing into her dark eyes. "I'm here now. I'll take care of you, I promise." She leaned forward, kissing the queen's forehead. "I've got a nice bath drawn for you, how's that sound?"
Hippolyta, however, was barely able to nod. "Sounds nice." Her voice trailed off as she stared blankly at the ceiling. "I'm on the floor."
"Yes you are. Let's get you up." Hermia pulled the smaller woman to her feet, supporting her as she swayed.
"'m gonna be sick." The queen's face was pale, and she brought her hand to her mouth, turning away from Hermia before throwing up on Theseus' boots. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she looked up at Hermia in adoration, smiling. "Feel better now."
Hermia laughed. "Good. Let's get you into that bath, shall we?"
The two women left as Theseus stared at his boots, aghast.
"Can anything else possibly go wrong?"
"Don't even say that." Iphicles stood, stretching his cramped muscles. "Besides, you're not the one who had to take care of her the past several hours."
"No, I'm the one who just had a putrid-smelling concoction thrown on his shirt and his boots puked on!"
"Point taken." Iphicles continued to stretch, rubbing his shoulder. "Okay, we need a plan here. Hermia's taking care of Hippolyta for now, hopefully she'll be able to sober her up. You need a bath and a change of clothes. I just need to change into a different tunic." He regarded his rumpled clothing with distaste. "She drooled on my shoulder."
"I can help you change." Theseus stepped forward, licking his lips. Iphicles wrinkled his nose.
"Not smelling like that, you can't."
"You're so fickle. One little problem and you reject me."
"If you take a good whiff you'll probably reject yourself."
Theseus had to admit that Iphicles had a point.
"Fine. I take a bath and change clothes. Wanna help me with the bath part?" He leered, or at least tried to.
Iphicles groaned. "I'd love to, believe me. But we've got a schedule to keep here. Look, you get cleaned up and I'll change. If Hippolyta's ready before you are, I'll walk her around, keep her moving, make sure she doesn't walk into any walls and knock herself out."
"You just want to flirt with my bride." Theseus tried to look put-out, but it didn't quite work.
"That's it exactly." Iphicles replied with mock seriousness. "I've fallen in love with her because of her sparkling personality, and I'm going to elope with her."
"Please do."
Both men laughed as Demetrius scurried into the room, eyes opening wide in shock as he took in the condition of the duke's clothing.
"Oh, dear."
"That about sums it up. Have a bath drawn for me and get me some new clothes."
Demetrius nodded, eyes still wide, his expression more anxious than usual, and scurried out the door again. Theseus closed his eyes, shaking his head.
"You know, all I want right now is to spend some time alone with you, fucking your brains out."
Iphicles laughed, batting his eyelashes. "You're such a romantic." Sighing, he looked at his lover as his smile faded. "But we've got to get you married first. Once the ceremony's over we can spend the rest of the day and all night together. We just need to get you and Hippolyta through this wedding without having it turn into a complete disaster."
"I know. And then I get to fuck your brains out?"
"And then you get to fuck my brains out."
"I'm holding you to that, you know."
"And I'm looking forward to it."
Hercules, Autolycus and Iolaus stood in the courtyard of the duke's palace, the sun shining down upon them, watching as hordes of people in brightly colored finery chatted and flirted around them, oblivious to the potential for total disaster. Hercules frowned, forehead creasing as he pondered what to do next. The three men had examined the palace and the courtyard and found no sign of Ares. Security was tight; the guards all reported no suspicious activity. It made him nervous.
Autolycus had been remarkably helpful, finding hiding places that Hercules hadn't even noticed, his eyes constantly in motion as he admitted that he was unable to see any potential problems. Hercules made a mental note to try and find a way to repay Autolycus for all his help as soon as the ceremony was over. But for now, he felt nervous and helpless. And worrying about Iphicles wasn't helping matters. He looked around as Iolaus tapped his shoulder.
"I think things are under control out here. We should go look for Iphicles."
Hercules nodded. "Yeah." He looked at his feet, uncomfortable in his formal clothes. "I just hate lying to him."
"It's for his own good." Autolycus gazed into his eyes sympathetically, and Hercules felt his breath quickening as he listened intently. "You love him, and you have to do what's best for him."
"Besides, if you tell him the truth, he'll just punch you and tell you to get lost." Iolaus sounded impatient.
"I know." Hercules tore his eyes from Autolycus and looked at Iolaus. "I just wish I didn't have to." He paused, looking around the courtyard one last time. "Okay, Autolycus, you wait out here while Iolaus and I see Iphicles. If you see anything suspicious, come get us."
"No problemo." Autolycus' cocky grin lifted Hercules' spirits slightly, but they quickly plummeted as he and Iolaus entered the palace.
They walked in silence along the crowded corridors, anxious servants rushing past them, frantically taking care of last minute details. Hercules tried not to think about the possibility that Iphicles might be working with Ares, but it kept sneaking into his mind, an unwelcome invader.
Much as he hated to admit it, his brother was practically a stranger. He had left home when Hercules was twelve and they'd rarely seen each other since. He felt suddenly guilty for not visiting more often, for not making more of an effort to get to know Iphicles. What if it was too late? Iolaus apparently sensed the direction his thoughts were taking, speaking quietly as they slipped into a deserted side hallway near the chambers of the Queen and the Duke.
"You know, maybe it's just a fling. Maybe Iphicles plans to end it as soon as she's married."
"Maybe." Hercules wished he could believe that. "But what if he doesn't?" He seemed to recall that his big brother had been rather wild in his younger days, and hadn't been above sleeping with some of the married women in town.
"Then we'll make sure he doesn't have a chance to be with her. Look, we've got a good plan, we just have to stay calm, okay?"
Iolaus started to say something else, but they heard footsteps and pressed themselves against the wall of the corridor, hoping they wouldn't be seen. Hercules wasn't exactly sure why they were doing that; they were invited guests, after all, but the action was instinctive.
The footsteps came closer, and Hercules was aghast when he saw Iphicles, Queen Hippolyta hanging on to him, her head against his shoulder, his arm around her as they walked aimlessly down the hallway. Hippolyta looked up at Iphicles and said something that made him smile. He replied, but their words were too quiet to be heard.
They continued past the side corridor where the two men hid, finally wandering out of sight. Iolaus stepped out of the shadows, shrugging.
"Guess that answers that question."
Hercules was surprised by the anger that gripped him. "I can't believe him! The woman's getting married today, can't he at least leave her alone on her wedding day?"
Iolaus didn't answer, and Hercules continued to seethe. How could Iphicles be so blatant? Anyone could have seen the two of them, including the duke. Of course, if that was the plan, if he was working for Ares... No. He refused to think about that.
They waited several moments before leaving the shelter of their corridor, walking in the same general direction that Hippolyta and Iphicles had taken. Hercules sighed in relief when he saw his brother, thankfully alone, ahead of them, Hippolyta and Hermia walking together nearby. While he had felt guilty about lying to his brother before, it seemed much easier now.
"Iphicles!"
Iphicles turned, the guilty look on his face quickly masked by a smile.
"Hercules!" Iphicles walked toward them, clasping both their hands in an exuberant gesture. "I can't believe you got new clothes!" Hercules wasn't sure if his brother was teasing him, so he just smiled. "So, have you checked everything out? Find any problems?" He began walking away from the women, casting a few anxious glances toward them, as Hercules and Iolaus followed.
"Everything looks fine." Hercules swallowed. They had decided what to say, but he wasn't sure exactly how to say it. Lying just didn't come naturally to him. Luckily, Iolaus jumped into the conversation before the silence became too awkward.
"So, Iphicles, I was thinking, I mean, Hercules and I were thinking, maybe after the wedding's over, we could all do something together."
"Do something?" Iphicles stopped, looking confused.
"Yeah. I mean, you're my best friend's brother and I hardly know you."
"And I'd like to spend some time with you. We haven't seen each other in a while." That was easy enough. It wasn't like he was lying to Iphicles.
Iphicles chewed his lower lip, plainly torn. "Um. I guess... I mean, I didn't really expect this." He looked at his feet for a few moments as he contemplated the offer. "Yeah. You're both right. I'd like to spend some time with both of you. The thing is, I had some plans for afterwards."
Hercules raised his eyebrow. Iphicles couldn't possibly mean...
"I'll change them though. I just need to tell, um," Iphicles looked at Hermia and Hippolyta, barely visible in the distance, "I have to tell the duke I'll be gone. We had plans."
"Fine. So, we'll see you after the wedding, okay?" Hercules watched as his brother walked off, sighing in relief.
"That went well, don't you think?" Iolaus sounded pleased with himself.
"I guess." He was still startled by his brother's behavior. "I can't believe he planned to sleep with her after her own wedding!"
"Come on, you don't know that's what he had in mind."
"Right. He really had plans with the duke. On his wedding day."
Iolaus sighed. "Okay, so you've got a point. At least we're getting him away from here, and the queen and the duke can be together. And we need to make sure we keep him away all night too."
"I still can't believe he'd sleep with a woman on her wedding day." Hercules shook his head. Keeping his cool this afternoon was going to be a challenge.
Theseus was going to kill him. Iphicles walked to the duke's chambers, a route he had memorized, trying to think of the best way to break the news to his lover. Entering the room, he found Theseus sitting on the bed, fully clothed, pulling on his boots.
"Did you find Hippolyta?"
"Yeah. She's still wobbly, but she's sobering up. I handed her off to Hermia." He cleared his throat. "Right after I handed her off, I ran into Hercules and Iolaus."
The Duke looked up in surprise. "No trouble, I hope?"
"No, not really. It's just..."
"What?" Iphicles at on the bed next to the older man.
"They kind of asked me if I'd like to spend the afternoon with them."
There was a long silence. "And?"
"And I said yes."
Theseus leaned back on the bed, spreading his arms dramatically. "Hello? We're supposed to spend the entire afternoon and evening in bed, remember? Sex? That thing we haven't had a chance to do nearly as often as we want to? Or has it been so long you've forgotten?"
Iphicles leaned back, putting his arms around Theseus, nibbling his neck. "I remember."
Theseus pulled him down for a kiss. It was slow, their tongues twining as the duke ran his hands over the king's shoulders, down his back, finally cupping his ass and pulling him close. They broke the kiss, both breathing heavily.
"So, are you going to tell your brother to get lost?"
Iphicles sighed. "No."
Theseus groaned.
"Come on, it's not like we won't have the whole evening together. I hardly see Hercules, and when I do, it's like he's just stopping by to be polite. He's usually on his way somewhere to do something. Today he acted like he really wanted to spend time with me, you know? And it's a good chance to get to know Iolaus."
"All right, all right." Theseus tried to look angry, but smiled at Iphicles' hopeful look. "Have fun. And don't expect to get any sleep tonight."
"Thanks." Iphicles leaned over the older man, kissing him again. "I know his timing sucks, but maybe Hercules'll be more relaxed here than when he's visiting me. I'd just like to spend some real time with him, getting to know what he's really like."
"Yeah, yeah. When you were a teenager, all you did was complain about him. Now you want to hang out with him."
"I really am sorry."
"I know. But at least we'll have all night."
Joxer clanked as quickly and determinedly as he could, deliberately ignoring the eyes he felt burning into his backside. He had set a hard pace, and while Ares had spent a good part of the morning making suggestive remarks, the heat and exercise were taking their toll; he hadn't said a word in a blessedly long time, with the exception of the occasional mumbled curse.
The silence pressed down upon him, almost palpable, and Joxer imagined it like a shimmering veil of heat between himself and the currently mortal god, who still scared him. Even worse, he wondered if Ares would keep his word once his godhood was restored. He mentally practiced groveling in the hope that Ares might spare him if he groveled well. He was an expert at groveling. If there were competitions for self-abasement, Joxer was sure he'd be renowned throughout Greece for his skill.
"Joxer!" The voice was still commanding, and Joxer stopped and turned, staring at the black-clad figure looming behind him.
Ares, still red and sunburned, looked like he was ready to kill something. Of course, Ares usually looked like that, so Joxer didn't think much of it. The man could say "Have a nice day" with a snarl.
"We need to stop for water the next chance we get. I'm almost out." Ares lifted his near-flaccid water skin to illustrate, helpfully wiggling it and producing a hollow sloshing noise while glaring at the offending object as if it had emptied itself as a way of torturing him.
Joxer sighed. Ares ate and drank more than the average horse. "We also need to stop and get you some new clothes, something with long sleeves. Your arms are getting worse."
"Fine." The reply was mumbled. "The next time I see Apollo, I'm gonna kick his ass."
More god stuff he really didn't want to know about. Turning around, Joxer marched on.
They reached a town in mid-afternoon, the sun's rays still beating down mercilessly and no clouds appearing to diffuse the harsh rays. Ares had taken to shaking his fist at the orb and shouting curses and obscenities at his brother, which had earned them several frightened and pitying looks from others walking along the road. Joxer stared steadily at his feet and walked on, mentally adding more flourishes to his groveling, especially when Ares called Apollo an impotent buggerer of goats. He wondered if he'd have to grovel to Apollo too, or if the sun god would let him off the hook.
The town was small and brown. The road was dark brown mud. The houses were bleached brown wood with light brown thatch. The people were even tanned to a deep nut brown. Joxer's white complexion and Ares' redness marked them immediately as outsiders.
Ares ran quickly to the well in the town square, dumping a bucket of water over his head and filling his water skin. Joxer, on the other hand, looked around. There were a few merchants set up in the square, their brown carts and brown awnings blending seamlessly with the brown dirt and the brown buildings. The very brownness of the town disturbed him. He had a feeling that Ares would have to make do with a new brown shirt. He also had a feeling that the former war god would turn up his currently red nose at anything that wasn't black.
Sighing, Joxer pinched the bridge of his own nose, again mentally cursing himself for not being able to abandon Ares, again acknowledging the fact that he just couldn't do it. But that didn't mean he couldn't fantasize, of course, about walking along the road on such a nice day and not being followed by a thundercloud of doom on two legs.
"What now?"
It was strange, having a god defer to him. And it made Joxer vacillate between pride and panic. What if he made the wrong decision and got Ares killed? The responsibility was overwhelming, and Joxer looked up into the anxious black eyes, wanting to say that he didn't know, wanting to walk away, but unable to when he saw the trust in the familiar face.
Life would be so much better if he didn't have a conscience.
"You wait here and stay out of trouble. I'm gonna see if I can find you a shirt with long sleeves that won't rub that burn," Joxer said, barely restraining himself from poking the former god in the chest. "I mean it. Stay out of trouble this time."
The innocent look he got for a reply didn't reassure Joxer. But there wasn't much he could do short of tying Ares up, and he had a sneaking suspicion that the god would probably enjoy that way too much. Sighing, he fumbled in his pockets and squinted at the few small coins in his palm, flicking off the lint clinging to some of them. It would be nice if Ares had come with a budget.
Ares had found a bench and was sitting on it, trying to look innocent. Of course, being Ares, this meant that he looked positively evil and guilty as sin. He oozed trouble. Maybe the thing to do was to buy a shirt and get out of town as quickly as possible. Clutching the coins in his fist, Joxer hurried off, hoping that this time would work out better than the last. Somehow, he doubted it would.
Ares sat on the bench, trying to ignore the burning sensation in his arms and nose and cheeks, the feeling that the skin was being stretched tighter and tighter. Sunburn wasn't something gods had to worry about, and the novelty of the experience had worn off almost immediately. It didn't help that he had a pounding headache from the heat and felt slightly nauseous, or that the tops of his ears felt like they were on fire.
He sighed, squirming in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position on the bench, his feet throbbing, shoulders throbbing, the right ankle that he had managed to turn some time back throbbing - in short, everything throbbing except the one organ that usually did so.
Mortality really, truly sucked. In fact, he needed to invent a new word to convey the true depth of its suckiness.
Looking around, Ares was surprised at the drabness of this particular town. Of course, calling it a town was merely encouraging its delusions of grandeur, it was really no more than a wide spot in the road. A wide spot that appeared to spend most of the year as a mudhole, in fact. Why anyone would settle here was completely beyond him. As he looked around, he saw what appeared to be a man actually selling jars of mud.
Ares devoted a split second to thinking about Joxer's instructions, then decided that looking around certainly didn't qualify as getting in trouble. In fact, the last time he had managed to get in trouble it had occurred precisely because he had sat still and stayed in one place, allowing the trouble to find him. So, he reasoned, looking around would mean staying one step ahead of trouble.
Thus convinced that he was obeying the spirit of his beloved's admonition as opposed to the letter thereof, Ares went to investigate the mud seller.
The man's cart was small and brown, with a brown awning that appeared somehow dispirited and dingy, although it was beyond Ares how one could manage to make a mud-colored piece of cloth appear dirty. Seeing an approaching potential customer, the balding, tanned man behind the cart perked up.
"Sir, would you like to purchase some of this fine mud?"
"Huh?" Ares hadn't been quite sure about the product being offered. After all, who in their right mind would purchase mud? But this seemed to settle the matter. "You're selling mud?"
The man stood straighter, tugging at the frayed edges of his brown tunic haughtily.
"Sir, this is no mere mud. Before you is none other than Miracle Mud. Trademark pending."
"Miracle mud?" Ares was beginning to wonder, somewhat guiltily, if perhaps hanging out with Joxer wasn't doing something to his mind, sucking out his intelligence like a Bacchae sucking blood. Or maybe the sun was merely boiling his brains, he really wasn't sure. But he was relatively sure that mud wasn't much of a commodity. It wasn't edible, couldn't be worn, and the small jars the man was selling were completely inadequate for chinking houses. Pigs liked mud, but pigs didn't have money. This situation was becoming infuriating. He stepped forward, and the brown man stepped back, looking up as Ares loomed over him.
"You're selling mud?" He really wanted to make sure he was completely, totally clear on this point before proceeding further.
"Yes, sir," the man said, a somewhat nervous hand motion indicating his wares, "Miracle Mud. For the ladies."
"Uh huh," Ares grunted, trying to make sense of this new development.
"For their faces," the man supplied helpfully. "It draws out impurities, makes the skin softer and younger looking."
"Oh." Ares really tried not to look too dazed, but the mere image of women smearing their faces with mud, well, it just seemed more bizarre than most mortal customs. Shaking his head, he turned away from the cart, ignoring the desperate vendor behind him.
"Sir! Buy one, get one free!"
Ares continued to wander, bemused, biting his tongue to keep from shouting out about what idiots mortal men were.
Since the town was so small, there really wasn't much of anyplace to wander, so the former god soon found himself on the road out of town, staring at a familiar landmark. There, down the road, was a skull mounted on a pole. The skull somehow managed to look brown instead of having been bleached white, but it was the thought that counted.
Ares walked quickly down the road, turning off at the signpost, and strode down a path cut into the underbrush, quickly finding himself at a small shrine; one dedicated to the God of War. This was certainly handy. He had noticed Joxer's woeful lack of funds, and now, here he was, in a shrine full of offerings for the taking. He grinned, showing quite a few teeth.
As he began sifting through the offerings at the small brown altar, Ares found himself becoming angry. They called this pathetic collection of junk offerings? There were some withered vegetables, even some long-dead flowers. What kind of fool made an offering of vegetables and flowers to the God of War? Ares made a mental note to smite the entire area once he was a god again. This sort of insolence positively begged for smiting, and lots of it, just to teach the fools a lesson.
As he continued to pick through the offerings, Ares encountered a few rusty, pocked, badly-balanced throwing knives, the hilt of a broken sword, several badly decomposed fish corpses, a battered helmet, and some dented armor that actually looked worse than Joxer's. There was even one jar of Miracle Mud, Trademark Pending. But there was nothing of value, nothing that was fitting for the God of Pigs, much less the God of War.
Growling, Ares glared at the altar. This place was no better than a garbage dump. It was an insult to him. It was an insult to all of the gods, but one particularly directed at him. As soon as he got his powers back, there was going to be some really serious smiting going down here.
As he turned to leave, Ares saw that he had company. Two very large, hairy men in desperate need of dental work blocked the path back to the road. One held a badly made but very large sword, while the other was idly waving a metal studded club.
"Well, well. Ain't you gonna leave an offering?" The one with the sword smiled nastily, displaying a mouth that was missing more teeth than it held.
"Yeah. Ain't right not to leave an offering. Ares might get pissed." The one with the club moved closer, his breath making the dead fish smell pleasant.
Ares began to smile, and he knew it wasn't a nice smile.
"So, you gentlemen are Ares' priests?"
The two men looked at each other in confusion, and Ares mentally reviewed his sentence, trying to remember if he had used any polysyllabic words that might have tripped them up. But, as he was almost ready to rephrase the question, they nodded to each other.
"Yeah. That's us. Priests." The swordsman appeared to have been volunteered to do the talking, despite the way sibilants hissed through the gaps in his teeth.
"And you...help out by soliciting offerings?"
"Yeah." The swordsman was looking more confused and belligerent, holding his sword out, pointing it toward Ares, his wrist straight and locked.
"And, let me just guess here, you take any valuable offerings for safe keeping, right?" Ares said calmly and reasonably, putting the plans for smiting on hold.
"Yeah. So hand over anything valuable you have. Now," the swordsman whistled, "before we slice you up."
Ares grinned. This was really turning out to be his day. "I don't think so," he said, pulling his sword.
They didn't last long.
Joxer hurried back to the town square, triumphant. He had to walk a little bit out of town, but he had found a merchant with a black silk shirt that appeared to be the right size for Ares. The haggling had been brutal, and Joxer had spent most of his money, but he had the shirt. Reaching the square, he looked around anxiously. He hadn't heard any screams or shouts, and the quiet was making him nervous. As he reached the square, he was shocked to find Ares exactly where he had left him, sitting on a bench and whistling cheerfully.
"So, how was shopping?" Ares said, smiling. That smile never failed to make the hairs on the back of Joxer's neck stand up, and he had to fight the instinct to turn and run.
"Fine. I found you a black shirt." He handed the shirt to his companion, who unfolded and inspected it, nodding.
"Looks good." He paused, running his hand over a seam. "By the way, I got some money for us."
"Really?" Now Joxer was really nervous.
"Yeah. Ran into a couple of my priests, and they were kind enough to give me some spending cash." He tossed something at Joxer, who instinctively threw up his arms to defend himself, as the object hit his forearm and fell to the ground with a rattle. Cautiously picking it up, Joxer saw that it was a large and worn brown leather bag, full of coins. Opening it, he saw enough gold to last them several weeks.
"Cool." He turned to Ares, suddenly concerned. "You didn't tell them who you are, did you?"
The former god looked innocent, staring up at the cloudless sky. "Nah. I just asked nicely."
Joxer decided not to ask any questions. And as they hurried away, he didn't notice the two corpses carefully hidden in the underbrush near the road.
Iphicles gasped for breath as Theseus finally broke their kiss. They were back in Theseus' chambers, sprawled across his bed, still dressed in their wedding finery, although both were more than a little rumpled and sweaty.
"Sure you won't change your mind?" Theseus said, one hand untucking Iphicles' shirt from his pants. "Ditch your brother." He nibbled at Iphicles' neck as he pulled the shirt off.
Iphicles tilted his head back and stretched, enjoying the attention. He was tempted. Beyond tempted. Of course, Theseus had teased him through the entire wedding ceremony. He liked the idea of paying the older man back for that.
"We'll have all night together. Besides," he raised an eyebrow, trying not to grin, "don't you want to spend the rest of the afternoon with your new bride?" He pictured Hippolyta, snoring away in the next room. They had been lucky - she passed out just after the ceremony ended.
He ducked as Theseus swatted him with a pillow, looking exasperated. "This is because I kept feeling you up in the courtyard, isn't it?"
Iphicles tried to look innocent. He failed, and Theseus laughed at the expression on his face.
"Fine. Go play with your brother. Don't count on getting any sleep tonight, though. We hardly see each other anymore, and I don't like sharing."
"I remember." Iphicles kissed Theseus quite thoroughly as a down payment. "I remember lots of things," he added, his voice low and rough with desire.
Neither of them was surprised when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. It was practically expected. They would have been shocked if they hadn't been interrupted. It was just turning into one of those visits.
"Come in, Demetrius," Theseus said, his voice resigned. He and Iphicles stood and made an abortive attempt to smooth their clothes, but both quickly gave up when they saw that Demetrius was alone.
The little man looked exhausted. Theseus wasn't surprised. He had worked hard to make sure that the bride didn't pass out in the punch or stumble into the cake. Not to mention that she had drifted off several times, leaving Demetrius to inform her of where she was each time she came to. He and Hermia had banded together beautifully to make sure that no one knew that the queen was completely, totally plastered.
"Highness," Demetrius said, looking anxiously at Iphicles, "Your brother is here. He's waiting in the main hall."
Iphicles understood the subtext perfectly. Get your brother out of the castle before something else goes wrong, because things were perfectly normal until he showed up.
"Tell him I'll be with him as soon as I change clothes."
Demetrius nodded and scurried off, closing the door behind him.
Theseus was surprised when Iphicles sat back on the bed and calmly pulled off his boots, then reached for the lacings on his pants.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm changing clothes." Iphicles again tried to look innocent, but quickly gave up, grinning at the expression on Theseus' face. "What?" He stood and pulled his pants off, quickly dispensing with his underclothes and standing naked before Theseus.
"You're a tease. An evil, heartless, cruel tease."
"I learned from the master." Iphicles took Theseus into his arms and kissed him again, feeling Theseus' hands roam over his body, rough palms against smooth skin, warm tongue stroking his own.
The kiss started out hard, but grew softer, more gentle as they touched, both sighing as they ended it.
"I did not teach you that," Theseus said, still breathless.
"Come on. Remember all the times you paraded around half- naked in front of me? You were always showing off."
"Me? What about you?" Theseus tried to look indignant, but he couldn't help but smile at pleasant memories. "I remember how you always wore those tight pants, and you took them off every chance you got. And the shirt you ripped the arms off of and never buttoned, remember that?"
Iphicles gaped. "I ripped the sleeves off because it was too tight. And that was the only pair of pants I had. I couldn't afford a new pair. Wasn't my fault I outgrew them."
"Likely excuse. Are you sure you don't want to put your brother off for a while?"
"I'd love to," Iphicles said as he rummaged in the chest that he had painstakingly dragged through the dusty secret passageways, "But do you really want him breaking down the door because he's worried about me? You've seen what kind of timing he has."
Theseus shuddered at the image. "Absolutely not. Demetrius would kill both of us. And Hercules. Then Zeus would probably kill him, and I'd have to find a new steward. Good help is hard to find, you know."
"But you'd be dead, so you wouldn't care."
"Good point."
Theseus admired the view as Iphicles dressed in simple pants, tunic and vest. He much preferred the other man naked, but he looked damn good in tight leather.
Iphicles departed with a final kiss and a whispered promise of making it up overnight.
"The ceremony was nice," Iolaus said, trying to distract Hercules. "The duke and the queen looked cozy. That's good."
The bride and groom had been driven through the streets of Athens on the back of a ribbon-bedecked wagon. Theseus stood close to the bride, one arm around her as he waved with this free arm. She had rested her head on his shoulder several times, an intimate gesture that prompted comments about romance and true love. While many Athenians had been suspicious of the queen, they were quickly warming up to her after seeing the happy couple together.
"I just hope Iphicles doesn't overreact," Hercules said as he watched for his brother.
"Overreact how?"
"Oh, threaten the duke. Start screaming. Tell the duke everything. The usual. He doesn't handle rejection well."
Iolaus thought that was putting it mildly. But then again, they still had to determine if Iphicles was a pawn or a player. Had Ares set him up, or was he playing a part?
They both contemplated the possibilities until Iphicles arrived, wearing plain clothes and looking more than a little bit flushed.
"Sorry I took so long. I had to find something to wear," he said as he took Hercules' outstretched hand.
Iolaus saw the swollen lips, the flushed cheeks, the rumpled hair, and tried not to look as skeptical as he felt. Hercules just tightened his lips and forced himself to smile.
"No problem," Hercules said as he tried not to ask his brother if he was insane. Did Iphicles think he was stupid? It was obvious what had distracted him. He only hoped it wasn't the bride, who should be consummating her marriage with her husband. "Did Hermia distract you?"
"You could say that," Iphicles replied with an enigmatic smile that infuriated his brother. "So, do we have a plan?"
Hercules wanted to take him somewhere private and shake him until the truth fell out, but that wouldn't work. It made for a nice fantasy, though. And he had to be nice and polite, otherwise Iphicles would just sulk and brood and insist on coming back to the palace. Which, naturally, would throw him back into temptation's arms. It would also make him much less likely to listen to reason.
Assuming that reasoning with him would help. He still worried that Ares was pulling the strings, and he prayed that Iphicles wasn't involved. Plus, there was the lurking problem of the duke's old partner, who might or might not be skulking around Athens.
He really preferred it when Ares was loud and obnoxious and destructive. These quiet, sneaky plans were going to give him an ulcer.
He shook his head, trying to clear it and focus on what he knew, and what he had to do. And right now he had to keep his brother away from the castle for as long as possible.
"No plan. We just thought we'd get some food and talk," Hercules said, the lie sliding out far too easily. "Unless you'd rather do something else?"
Iphicles shrugged. "No, that's fine. I gave my bodyguard the night off, if that's okay. I figure you're enough protection." He grinned. "I think I can still blend with the crowd."
Hercules wasn't so sure about that. Granted, Iphicles didn't look very regal in his plain, worn clothes. But he still had an aura of power about him, which surprised his brother. When had that happened? When Iphicles was crowned, he'd seemed intimidated, unsure of himself. But now he looked comfortable in his own skin. It was like he'd made peace with himself. Hercules prayed once again that Queen Hippolyta wasn't the source of the change in Iphicles. The last thing he wanted was to see his brother get hurt.
The three of them left the palace and wandered the city, heading in no particular direction. The streets were full of people, still in their best clothes, drinking, dancing, and celebrating. As they passed a vendor selling small glass bottles and trinkets, both Hercules and Iolaus were surprised to see Iphicles stop and stare. He reached toward a bright blue goblet, stroking the curve with one finger, then haggled ruthlessly with the vendor until they reached an agreement, although the vendor muttered about his children starving and his wife wearing rags. Iphicles rejoined them, a satisfied look on his face.
"What was that all about?" Hercules asked.
Iphicles shrugged. "I just haven't been able to do anything like that since I became king. For the first time in my life I can afford to buy anything I want, and I never get a chance to do it. Besides, when people recognize me they always act different. Merchants just sort of bow and give me all their merchandise. It's boring."
"I know what you mean," Hercules said, glad that he and Iphicles actually had something in common. "When people hear my name, they just...they try to give me things and treat me like I'm special."
"Or they punch him out," Iolaus added helpfully. "It's like, 'Hi, I'm Hercules', and the next thing we know there's people flying."
"You're Hercules?" A drunken man looked blearily at Iolaus. "I thought you'd be taller." He looked disappointed as he wandered off.
Iolaus looked indignant as Iphicles and Hercules laughed. "I get no respect," he muttered.
They continued to walk companionably, stopping to listen to a street musician playing a lyre for a few minutes. When he finished his song, Iphicles gave him the goblet, then wandered off.
"It's not like I needed it. I think I have a few hundred goblets," he said in response to the puzzled looks from Hercules and Iolaus. "I just liked buying it."
Hercules couldn't remember ever seeing a smile stay on Iphicles' face for so long. Smiles had always seemed foreign to his brother, but now it looked natural, and Hercules again regretted the years they had lost.
"So, do you like it? Being king?" Hercules asked.
"Yeah." Iphicles stopped to buy an intricately carved silver armband from a woman. "Look at the design on this," he said, passing the band to his brother, "Nice craftsmanship." He continued to shop, fingering bolts of brightly colored silk, golden chains, and rough-hewn pottery. "I like my job. Believe it or not, I'm good at the administration end of things. I love the challenge, trying to figure out the best way to do things and keep the kingdom running. It's weird, but I actually enjoy working with figures and writing policies. Somewhere along the way, I guess I grew up."
"I hear you've been doing a good job," Hercules offered. "Jason says he's impressed."
Iphicles looked proud, and the expression was as foreign as his smile. The more time passed, the more Hercules wondered if he hadn't misjudged his brother. Still, all of the evidence pointed to a dalliance with Queen Hippolyta. Maybe Iphicles was more mature than the last time they'd been together, but that didn't mean that he was immune to lapses of judgment.
They wandered until it was almost dark, the hour when lamps were lit, making the streets look like they were lined with fireflies, and the setting sun painted the buildings in deep shades of red and purple.
"I should be getting back," Iphicles finally said, and Hercules' stomach tightened for the first time all afternoon. "It's been great, really, but I have plans for this evening."
"Come on, Iphicles," Iolaus replied, playfully clapping Iphicles' shoulder, "the night is still young! There's plenty of fun, just waiting for us. Don't tell me you'd rather be back in that stuffy palace?"
Iphicles laughed and shook his head. "No, it's a lot more fun out here, I'll give you that. I'd almost forgotten what it's like to be a normal person. But I do have to get back. Reality calls and all that."
"Tell reality to jump off a bridge."
When Iphicles shook his head again, Hercules decided to try another tactic.
"How about a quick dinner and some drinks at the inn with us? You can go after that."
Iphicles looked around anxiously, plainly torn. But after a short contemplation, he finally nodded. "Okay. I'll be a little late, but I think I can get away with it. Besides, it'll be nice to have some plain, normal food."
They made their way back to the inn through crowds that grew thicker, more intent upon revelry, and quickly found Althea hiding in a table in back by herself, looking lost. She waved when she saw Hercules, plainly relieved. Hercules and Iolaus slid onto the bench facing her, while Iphicles gave her the engraved silver armband.
"Hi, I'm Iphicles," he said with a smile as he turned up the charm. Hercules suddenly remembered how his brother used to brag about his conquests, and gave Iphicles a warning glare, which was returned with a look of offended innocence.
Althea blushed and ducked her head, a tiny squeak emerging as Iphicles sat next to her.
Hercules rolled his eyes. "He's my brother. Tell me if he annoys you, okay?"
Althea squeaked again, and continued to stare at the table as she nervously turned the armband over and over in her hands.
Hercules tried again. "Have you eaten yet?"
This time he heard a squeak that sounded like 'no', so he motioned for one of the serving girls and ordered dinner. Before he finished, Autolycus appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and slid onto the bench next to Iphicles. He also told the server to add his dinner to Hercules' tab, which didn't surprise Hercules or Iolaus at all.
They ordered strong wine, and Hercules surreptitiously watered down all the mugs except Iphicles'. The plan was simple - get him drunk enough to stay at the inn overnight instead of going back to the queen and the palace.
"So, your highness, are you out slumming?" Autolycus asked Iphicles after they were introduced.
"Highness?" Althea squeaked, and Autolycus was immediately sorry. They had finally persuaded her to look up and stop blushing, and now she was back to squeaking again.
Iphicles tried to look blase. "I'm a king. But I'm on vacation. So please, just make it 'Iphicles' for this evening, okay?"
Althea cleared her throat as her eyes got wider. "King of what?"
"Corinth."
"*All of it?"
"Uh huh."
Hercules worried that Althea might hyperventilate, so he changed the subject.
"He may be a king, but I can tell you some stories about him. Like the time he climbed an apple tree and was afraid to climb back down."
Iphicles glared. "I wasn't afraid."
"That's why you stayed up there all night?"
"I was star gazing." He paused, then an impish smile slid across his face. "Okay, so I was afraid. At least I didn't drag a blanket around all the time."
This time Hercules looked sheepish, while Iolaus pointed at him and laughed.
The evening passed quickly, both Hercules and Iphicles telling the group embarrassing stories about each other as they ate, the stories becoming more elaborate and less believable as they went on. Meanwhile, Autolycus made sure that Iphicles' tankard stayed full, topping it off whenever he had a chance.
The time finally came when Iphicles tried to excuse himself to leave. Tried, but failed, as his legs were much less steady than he had realized, and he would have fallen back onto the bench if Hercules hadn't caught him.
"I don't think you're in any shape to walk back to the palace," Hercules said as he supported his brother.
"Haveta get back," Iphicles protested woozily. He shook off Hercules and made a valiant effort to leave, but succeeded only in staggering to the next table and leaning against it. "As soon as the floor stops wiggling."
"You can stay in my room," Hercules offered, throwing Iphicles' arm around his shoulder and propelling him toward the stairs. "It looks like Iolaus has plans." He nodded toward Iolaus and the serving girl he'd been flirting with all night.
"I got plans," Iphicles whined slurrily, and Hercules winced and turned away from his breath.
"I don't think you're going to be up to it," he said. The only thing Iphicles would be doing in bed tonight was passing out.
Iphicles looked startled, then started laughing. He laughed all the way to the third-floor room that Hercules theoretically shared with Iolaus, only stopping when he was dumped unceremoniously on the bed.
"Let's get you undressed." Hercules pulled off his brother's boots as Iphicles fumbled with the lacings on his vest, tangling his fingers in the leather and looking confused, like the clothes had betrayed him.
He was asleep by the time Hercules got him undressed.
Joxer stared into the fire, listening to it crackle and hiss as fat dripped from the cooking rabbit onto the red coals. He and Ares had made good time - in fact, they had hitched a ride on a wagon and traveled with the farmer for most of the afternoon. Joxer normally liked riding wagons, striking up conversations with people. It was a good way to pass the time, and he liked people. Sometimes he thought about opening a tavern someday, when he retired from the hero business, and spending his time meeting new people, trying to make new friends. He'd hire bards who would tell stories about the adventures of Joxer the Mighty, and people would come from the far corners of Greece just for a chance to meet him.
But Ares, as usual, had glowered. And glared. And whined. It had been excruciating, especially since Ares became more irritable as the day wore on. He didn't like anything - when the sun was out, it was too hot. When the sun was behind the clouds, it was too dark. When they went fast he got bounced too much, and when they slowed down he loudly proclaimed that he could walk faster. Joxer had spent most of the ride apologizing for his companion, subtly hinting that he hadn't been himself since he was kicked in the head while milking the cow, in an effort to keep from getting them pitched off the wagon. Luckily the man had been entertained by Joxer's stories about traveling with Xena and Gabrielle, and hanging out with Hercules and Iolaus and was willing to put up with Ares in exchange for inside dirt on the heroes.
It had been a relief when Phineas let them off and turned south. Less of a relief when Ares alternated between come-ons and yelling. He swung from one extreme to the other like a pendulum that had been pushed too hard. It gave Joxer a headache. He had been lucky, catching a big, fat rabbit. And he seasoned it with rosemary and garlic and a little salt, breaking out the bread he had bought just the day before. It was a feast fit for a king. But not, Ares had stressed, for a god. He turned up his sunburned nose at it and sat across the fire from him, glowering and muttering to himself.
Joxer figured they could make Sparta in two days or less, if they could catch a few more rides. And the sooner he got rid of Ares, the better. It had been flattering at first, a grand adventure, but it was turning into a nightmare.
Ares had a headache. Actually, calling it a headache didn't do it justice. He felt like a titan was using his skull as an anvil. It pounded, sending bright bolts of pain dancing from ear to ear, ricocheting off the inside of his head, sometimes leading to little flares of light dancing in front of his eyes. And the odor from the cooking rabbit made him more nauseous than he had been. He took short, shallow breaths, trying to avoid the stench.
He'd been heading rapidly downhill all afternoon. First his head started to pound, making him even more irritable than he had been. He'd snapped at Joxer a few times, and the guilt at the hurt look on his beloved's face made him feel like dirt. But still, as the day progressed and his headache grew worse, everything Joxer did seemed to be calculated to annoy him.
The singing, loud and off-key, set his teeth on edge. And the inane chatter and bragging about deeds that Ares knew Joxer hadn't done made him want to argue. Then, when they caught a ride, each bump in the road (and there had been plenty of them) made his head hurt worse. Plus, Joxer sat next to the driver and talked to the mortal, ignoring him. Ares was offended - being ignored wasn't something he was used to.
Later, when Joxer began eating his bread, Ares noticed that he chewed loudly, smacking his lips. The sound grated, and seemed to get louder with every bite. It reminded Ares of a cow chewing its cud, which wasn't an attractive image.
One good thing had come out of the day. After spending most of their wagon ride from Tartarus listening to Joxer talk about Gabrielle, watching his face light up when he mentioned her, listening to his descriptions of her, Ares had come to a sudden realization. Joxer, he had already realized, didn't return his love. But now he understood why. It was Gabrielle.
Gabrielle didn't love Joxer, though. And she certainly didn't deserve him. It was wrong that Joxer should love someone so unworthy, but at the same time, Joxer was a good man. He could only love one person at a time, because he loved with all of his heart, and he had given his heart to Gabrielle.
Fine. The solution was obvious. If he wanted Joxer to love him, he'd just have to kill Gabrielle.
The day after the wedding promised to be as beautiful as its predecessor. The sky was blue and clear, dotted with a few white, fluffy clouds, and there was just the hint of a breeze. Despite this, several people started the day in a very, very bad mood.
Duke Theseus sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and glared at the obviously empty space next to him. He had waited most of the night, but Iphicles hadn't returned, leaving him worried and irritable. It wasn't like Iphicles to brush him off, especially since they both had plans for the evening. And Iphicles had a definite talent for attracting trouble, one that had caused a multitude of problems for them when they'd been younger. But he'd been settled lately. And how much trouble could he get into with his brother at his side?
He really didn't want to think about that. Hercules attracted trouble like honey drew flies. It must, Theseus thought, be something they got from their mother. He started to develop a headache as he imagined the mess he'd potentially have to help Iphicles out of.
The next time Iphicles came for a visit, Theseus was going to lock him in the dungeon. Maybe even chain him up. He smiled at the image, but his mood was broken as he heard loud groans from the suite next door. Wonderful. He had to go without but Hippolyta and Hermia were doing a very loud imitation of a pair of bunny rabbits. He was beginning to think he had offended Aphrodite or Cupid, because this sort of luck just wasn't natural.
The groaning continued, and Theseus tried to drown it out by lying down and pulling a pillow securely over his head, but it just muffled the sound, making the moans sound deeper and more masculine. He certainly didn't need that suggestive image, considering that his bed was very big and very empty.
Frustrated, he leaned over the side of the bed, picked up a boot and chucked it at the wall, where it collided with a satisfying thud before ricocheting to the floor.
"Would you two keep it down in there?" Theseus yelled, hoping he wasn't further pissing off any love or sex gods. At this rate he was going to die of celibacy.
He was surprised when, a few moments later, his door was shoved open and Hermia strode in, murder in her eye. Maybe he'd interrupted them at a critical time, he thought, which would be incredibly satisfying. If he couldn't get any, he intended to make sure his new bride and her girlfriend suffered along with him. Maybe he could pass some sort of law - if the Duke wasn't getting laid, no one else could. Of course, enforcing it would be a bugger, and he didn't much like admitting to his lack of a sex life, so maybe he was better off forgetting the whole idea. If only Iphicles were striding into his room and not Hermia.
"Stop throwing things," Hermia said, her glare set to maximum, "or else." Her voice was low and cold, almost a growl. Quite effective. He wondered if Hermia was another relative of Ares'.
Theseus stifled a childish retort. "I just wanted you two to try and be a little more quiet over there," he said as he realized exactly how petulant he sounded. "I'm trying to sleep," he added, trying to gather the remains of his tattered dignity.
Hermia raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh. Of course." She paused, looking at the empty spot next to him. "Where's your little bed bunny? Has he been hopping off somewhere else?"
Theseus glared, but he felt a rank amateur next to Hermia. "He's with his brother."
"Hercules?"
Theseus nodded, the ghost of an adolescent Iphicles rising before him and sulking because everyone knew Hercules' name but not his own.
"I ran into him the day before the wedding."
Theseus nodded again, waiting for the inevitable comments about how wonderful the demigod was. He'd really spent too much time with Iphicles, he thought.
"He's an idiot," Hermia said, nodding to herself. "A big, condescending male idiot."
"Really?" Theseus said. Too bad Iphicles wasn't here to hear this, because it would cheer him to no end. Served him right for staying out all night. "What makes you say that?"
"He implied," Hermia's lip curled, "that I was sleeping with your little toy."
"Fuck." Theseus leaned back, his headache throbbing back to life. He should have known. A brilliant plan shot to Tartarus because they forgot to tell Hermia. "You are sleeping with him," he explained, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
"No. I think I'd know if I were sleeping with him, and I know that I'm not."
Theseus shook his head. "It's a cover story. We told Hercules that you and Iphicles were lovers."
"Come again?"
"It's a long story," he said as he waved a hand in her general direction. "Forget about it." He stopped in mid-thought. "You didn't tell Hercules that you and Iphicles aren't lovers, did you?"
"Of course I did," Hermia replied indignantly. "I assumed he was just thinking with his penis, like every other man in the world."
"Wonderful." So much for the cover story. Although it made him more nervous about Iphicles' absence. Did Iphicles know that Hercules knew? And what exactly did Hercules know? If they were lucky, he believed that Hermia was lying. If they weren't lucky... Theseus began a mental inventory, wondering where he'd put his old sword and if it was still sharp, not to mention whether he was still in fighting condition. He was getting too old for this shit. The damn kid always needed someone to pull his ass out of the fire, even now that he was grown up.
"So, are you quite through with your temper tantrum?" Hermia asked.
Theseus was surprised to see that she looked slightly amused. At least someone's day was getting off to a good start. "Yes," he said in mock-contrition, "I'm finished yelling and throwing things. Carry on. Or whatever."
Hermia nodded. "Good. Hippolyta's in enough pain without you adding to it with your noise."
"What?" It slipped out before Theseus could consider whether he really wanted to know about his wife's sex life.
"Her hangover," Hermia explained, speaking slowly for his benefit, "is making her miserable."
Ah. That explained the noises. "So the groaning was..."
"She's been throwing up since before dawn."
"Thank you for sharing." No, he really didn't want to know any more details. Hippolyta had already thrown up on him, now it was Hermia's turn. There was nothing like suffering through a bitch of a hangover and puking your guts out together to cement a relationship. Barring that, having someone to hold your head and tell you that you were an idiot was also good, in a warped sort of way. He should know - Iphicles hadn't always been the best judge of when he'd had enough to drink.
"She does know we have to put in an appearance at breakfast, doesn't she?" Theseus asked.
Hermia nodded. "I've been trying to get her to keep down some herbal tea."
"Has she thrown up on you?" Theseus asked hopefully.
Hermia's look was all the answer he needed.
"She'll be at breakfast. Just make it quick," Hermia said as she walked out the door, leaving Theseus alone again.
Time to devise some sort of a plan. First, he and his blushing bride had to pretend to be happy newlyweds who were madly in love and had spent the night together in bed consummating their marriage. Once breakfast was out of the way, he had to rush Hippolyta out before she threw up on anyone. Then, off to rescue Iphicles.
There were days when it just didn't pay to get out of bed in the morning.
Hercules sprawled across his bed, pillowing his head in his hands, and stared at the ceiling. Iphicles was on the next bed, still sleeping. Hercules knew from experience that his brother would stay that way until the sun was high in the sky unless he was rolled out of bed. Even then there was a good chance he'd just mutter, roll over and go back to sleep.
It was odd, sharing a room with his brother again. When they were small they slept in the same bed, huddling together for warmth in the winter, sometimes whispering and telling jokes until their mother came in and told them to be quiet and go to sleep. They were best friends, when they were young. He thought they would stay that way forever.
But as he grew older, Iphicles became more distant, more sullen. He never wanted to talk, his conversations with his family reduced to monosyllabic grunts coupled with shrugs, blank looks and rolled eyes. No matter how hard Hercules tried, no matter what he said or did, Iphicles quit responding to him. It hurt, being shut out, feeling rejected. Eventually Hercules had stopped trying. It hurt less that way.
Looking at Iphicles, his face buried in a pillow, one arm dangling over the edge of his bed, Hercules felt the same stabbing pain he had felt every time his brother pushed him away when they were young. He had always blamed himself, wondering what he had done wrong to make his brother stop loving him, but when he asked, Iphicles just glared and sneered, or turned his back and ignored him. Sometimes he thought that if he tried hard enough he could win back his brother's love, but it never happened.
Then Iphicles ran away, and they didn't know if he was alive or dead until they received a polite, completely uninformative message from him one day. The messages arrived sporadically, never saying much, never telling them where he was. Hercules knew their mother had kept those letters locked inside a carved wooden box that sat on the mantel, and sometimes, when she thought he was asleep, she used to take them out and cry over them.
When she died, she left him the box of letters. Sometimes, when he visited Jason, he got up in the middle of the night and opened that box, reading the letters in the dim light from the banked fire, looking for clues about what his brother had been doing, where he had been. Trying to figure out who he was and who he had become, but the letters remained silent.
He still wondered what Iphicles had been doing for all those years. Even now, when he visited his brother, Hercules felt compelled to keep their conversations short and shallow, always afraid he'd say something wrong and break the fragile peace they had forged between them. He tried not to ask questions, especially when he wasn't sure he'd like the answers.
Maybe he should have asked the questions. Maybe, the voice from his childhood said, he should have tried harder.
What if Iphicles had gone to Ares all those years ago? What if he was being used? Even worse, what if he was a willing partner? The anxiety picked at him, chipping away at all of his shields. Maybe he and Iphicles weren't best friends anymore, but he couldn't bear to lose him again. Still, what if Iphicles was completely innocent? What if he was just having a fling, and there were no plots or plans? What if he destroyed their relationship with his good intentions?
He hated this. The possible scenarios chased each other around inside his head until he was dizzy from trying to keep track of them. Fighting monsters was much easier. He found them, he made sure they were really the bad guys, and then he hit them until they either died or agreed to leave and mend their ways. Simple and effective, and he had it down to an art form. Politics, on the other hand, was like trying to swim in quicksand. He got bogged down.
Iphicles muttered in his sleep, one hand reaching out to push something away, his expression disturbed. But he quieted down after a moment, tucking his arm under his pillow, and went back to sleep. Hercules watched, holding his breath, suddenly wondering what he would do when his brother woke up. The plan was simple - keep Iphicles busy. But he hadn't thought of details. He usually didn't bother with elaborate plans, preferring to go with the flow, but this time he needed something a little more concrete. And he needed it quickly, before Iphicles woke up.
He was jerked out of his reverie when he heard a soft knock. The door opened and Autolycus slipped inside, closing the door behind him silently and crossing to where Hercules lay on his bed.
"He's still asleep," Autolycus whispered, more a statement than a question.
Hercules nodded as he sat up, stretching his arms above his head, deliberately ignoring Autolycus' intense gaze.
"He'll be asleep for a while," he replied in a whisper, which he regretted as soon as Autolycus moved closer to him, close enough for him to feel the heat from the other man's body. He didn't want to deal with this - whatever it was between him and Autolycus, not right now. He had too much to deal with already.
Autolycus sat next to Hercules, resting his chin in his hands, looking innocent, and Hercules was intensely conscious that Autolycus' thigh was pressed against his own. This whole Autolycus situation was frustrating. If Autolycus was flirting with him for fun, that was fine. But what if he was up to something? Hercules sighed - he was getting paranoid, seeing plots everywhere. He needed a vacation.
"Althea's leaving," Autolycus said, as if it were an afterthought.
"Huh?" Hercules replied, wincing at the sheer stupidity of the comment.
"She's waiting downstairs to say goodbye. I told her I'd come get you."
"Oh." Hercules continued to stare at his brother, feeling trapped. He wanted to say goodbye to Althea, but he couldn't chance leaving Iphicles in the room alone. If he woke up, a possibility that Hercules considered to be about as remote as snow on a clear summer day, he'd probably go right back to the palace. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Iphicles?" He didn't like asking, mostly because the idea of owing Autolycus made him nervous, but it was the simplest solution. Besides, he thought, he was just being paranoid.
"No problem," Autolycus agreed, too quickly for Hercules' nerves. He told himself it was nothing, just the stress of the past few days, trying to uncover Ares' plots. But when he saw the smug grin slide across Autolycus' face, he decided to leave before his imagination went overboard.
"I'll be back soon," Hercules said as he stood.
"Take your time." Autolycus watched Iphicles intently, and Hercules was suddenly conscious of the blanket that had slid down his brother's body and lay low on his hips. He tried to be nonchalant as he pulled the blanket up, tucking it in around Iphicles' neck, and froze when Iphicles muttered under his breath and roughly pushed it away and shifted his leg so that more of his body was exposed than before. So much for that idea. He'd just have to trust Autolycus with his brother's practically non-existent virtue.
Other people were having bad mornings as well. Of course, as far as Gabrielle was concerned, every morning lately had been a bad morning. She hadn't slept the previous night, thanks to her new roommate, who had left both Xena and Gabrielle in their wedding gowns, drowning in a sea of pastel ruffles and bows.
But it had been worth it, or so she dared to hope. Mustardseed dragged them on a city-wide tavern crawl, drinking more than many small armies that the women had encountered. They'd stayed out all night, finally returning to their inn as dawn broke, and the flower fairy collapsed on her bed and snored into her pillow.
"Think we can smother her?" Gabrielle whispered.
"I doubt it," Xena replied through gritted teeth as she again pulled a comb through the frizzy, half-curled mess that had once been her hair. "Besides, it'd be too quick."
"Good point."
Their eyes met for a second, and Xena reached out hesitantly and poked Mustardseed's shoulder with her index finger. The fairy didn't move, and hope surged in the two women. Gabrielle reached out this time, grasped Mustardseed's upper arm, and shook her gently. Still no response. Gabrielle jumped up and did a short, quiet victory dance as Xena smothered a laugh.
They packed quickly and quietly, tiptoeing out the door and running down the stairs toward freedom.
Ares woke to a pounding headache and nausea, his skin itching and burning, his throat parched. To make matters worse, Joxer was already up and about, whistling tunelessly as he bustled around their makeshift camp. The noise pierced Ares' ears and bounced around inside his head, making him wince. That hurt too. He struggled to sit up, and his stomach threatened to empty itself. Maybe it was the wine he'd had last night. Or maybe, he thought suspiciously, Joxer had poisoned it. That or he'd poisoned dinner. It wouldn't be the first time. The man was more lethal with a cooking pot than with a sword.
"You're awake!" Joxer announced, his smile widening as he threw down a full waterskin. Ares thought it was one of Joxer's dumber remarks. Of course he was awake - he was sitting up, wasn't he?
"I filled both of these at the stream, and I've got everything packed," Joxer continued. His smiled faded to a perturbed frown. "Well, almost everything. It all fit before, but now it's just too big." He indicated his pack, the metal arm of a frying pan poking out the top at an angle.
Ares raised the heel of one hand to his pounding forehead. Pressing against his head seemed to help - maybe it would keep his brains from falling out.
"Are you feeling better today?" Joxer's voice grated like rusty metal, and Ares wondered how he had failed to notice how annoying it was.
"Do I look like I'm feeling better?" he replied, with a look that plainly said he thought Joxer was an idiot.
"Not really. I was just being polite," Joxer said with a shrug. "It looks like you're peeling." He started puttering about again, sitting on his pack and trying to force the errant frying pan completely inside.
Ares looked at his shoulder, noticing the dry, flaking skin. Reaching up, he poked at it, and small bits clung to his finger. This was marvelous. His arm itched, and when he scratched it a long strip of skin came away. He'd never seen a mortal shed before, and he decided he didn't like it.
"It looks like a good day for walking," Joxer said cheerfully, and Ares wanted to hit him. He needed blood this morning. "There's a nice breeze, and the sun's not too bright," Joxer continued, oblivious. "We should make good time, I think."
Ares disagreed. His legs ached, his head was pounding, his stomach was empty but he still felt nauseous, and he was molting. He didn't want to move. On the other hand, he wanted to get to Sparta and reclaim his sword. Then he and Joxer could go away and spend the next few years having sex.
But Joxer's off-key, tuneless whistle pierced his head like an arrow, and Ares imagined smashing Joxer's face, blood dripping down his fist as he pummeled the smaller man, and he was both horrified and cheered. What was going on?
Autolycus settled into a straight-backed chair and crossed his legs, contemplating the figure sprawled across the bed in front of him. Sunlight sprawled across the sleeping figure, highlighting his reddish hair and illuminating his high cheekbones. Autolycus had to admit that the man was definitely well-packaged. Plus, Iphicles seemed to be intelligent, charming, and had a great sense of humor. And he was a king, which meant he could go swimming in a tub full of gold and jewels, something that was always important to Autolycus. He liked them rich and handsome. Of course, he also liked them dumb, because that way they wouldn't figure out what had happened to the jewels and other valuables that disappeared with him. Iphicles definitely flunked on that score.
Iphicles stirred in his sleep, pushing his blanket down and exposing an impressive chest. Autolycus leaned forward, noting the tanned skin covering sculpted muscle, the curve of his neck, the parted lips, the soft hair spilling over high cheekbones.
And he sighed. All he could think about was Hercules. Here he was, sitting alone in a room with a gorgeous naked king who was, by all accounts, willing to spread his legs for just about anyone. And who was he thinking about? The king's oblivious, uptight, dirt poor, do-gooder brother. This wasn't acceptable.
Autolycus thought for a while, pondering ways to deal with his obsession with Hercules. It really was intolerable - he was reacting to Hercules the same way he'd react to a unique jewel. He needed to possess him, and the need was primal, like hunger or thirst. The usual solution was to steal whatever it was that he wanted, but that wouldn't work in this case - Hercules could easily break him in half. Not that he would, but he'd probably make it quite clear that he was very much off limits and then look pitying.
There was another solution, though. Autolycus had found that when he wanted something that was out of his reach, it often helped to steal something else to distract himself. Maybe Iphicles wouldn't be averse to a bit of fun with a handsome, sexy thief. He leaned forward again, studying his prey. Should he wake Iphicles and proposition him? Or just slip out of his clothes and under the blankets? That idea appealed to him. Still, there was always the possibility that Hercules or Iolaus might walk in on them, and that could be quite embarrassing. And it would effectively destroy any chance he might have with Hercules - Hercules didn't strike him as the type who would be comfortable sleeping with his brother's lover, even if it was a one morning stand.
Luckily for Autolycus he was still dithering when Hercules and Iolaus rushed into the room, both looking more than a bit disheveled.
"Is he still asleep?" Hercules whispered, nodding his head toward Iphicles.
"Still out," Autolycus replied. "He's mumbled a little in his sleep, but nothing that makes any sense."
"This is...I can't believe things have gotten worse," Hercules said, pacing in circles and running a hand through his hair. "Iolaus was talking to someone who was at the castle this morning. Queen Hippolyta is pregnant."
A guffaw didn't seem to be an appropriate response, so Autolycus struggled to think of something to say that wouldn't be too offensive. He finally settled for asking, "Are they sure?"
"She puked all over the Duke's breakfast," Iolaus offered. "And after he took her back to her room he started asking if anyone knew where Iphicles is."
"So he knows Iphicles has been having an affair with Hippolyta," Hercules said, "And if he isn't sure now, he will be when his wife has a baby with red hair." He stared at his brother, who burrowed more deeply into his pillow and snored loudly. "We've got to figure out how to help him get out of this."
"It's a little late for that, don't you think?" Autolycus cringed under Hercules' glare. "Sorry, but isn't it? The best we can do is keep him away from the Duke."
"And the Duke's old partner. Can't forget him," Iolaus chimed in. "Maybe the Duke'll get someone else to do his dirty work for him."
"I won't let anyone hurt Iphicles." Hercules straightened, then looked protectively at his brother, who continued to mumble and snuffle. "Maybe he screwed up, but he's still my brother. There has to be a way to work this out."
Autolycus was skeptical. In situations like this, running was generally the best option. But it's hard to run when you're a king. People know where to find you.
"For now, we have to make sure the Duke doesn't find him. Maybe he'll calm down after a while. Or maybe I could talk to him. Or something."
"You can try," Autolycus offered. He didn't think it'd do much good, but Hercules looked so helpless that he couldn't just tell him to give up. "I can stay here and baby-sit. It doesn't look like he'll be awake for a while." He stared at Iphicles, who snored again, then stilled.
"What if he wakes up and wants to leave?" Iolaus asked.
"We could tie him up," Iolaus said, and Autolycus almost offered to let himself be tied up instead. Yes, he could imagine that - having Hercules tie him to the bed and then punish him for his thieving ways...
That daydream died a quick death as Hercules shook his head. "I don't think so. Not after Golgoth." Hercules and Iolaus shared a look and Autolycus had to remind himself not to be jealous. "But maybe if we did something else..." He paused for a minute, and a smile ghosted across his face. "Like maybe if we took his clothes with us, so he couldn't leave even if he wanted to."
Iolaus whooped, then quickly slapped his hand over his mouth. Autolycus had to admit that the idea was not only brilliant but, well, harmless and fun. Sometimes he forgot that Hercules had a sense of humor, but the sly smile and the twinkle in his eye definitely gave him away.
"Autolycus? Will you stay and keep an eye on him while we go talk to Theseus?"
"No problem." Autolycus paused. "What do I say if he wakes up?"
Hercules' grin grew. "Tell him I took his clothes as payback for the time when I was seven. He'll understand."
Autolycus shrugged. Sounded like there were plenty of stories in Hercules' past, and he wanted to hear them all. He was about to open his mouth and say something sappy to that effect when Iphicles stirred on the bed. They all held their breath as he swatted at a sunbeam that tickled his nose, then burrowed deeper into his pillow, again snoring loudly.
"We'll go now," Hercules said, and he and Iolaus slipped out the door before Autolycus could even say goodbye.
They had only been gone for a few minutes when Autolycus realized nature was calling. He briefly debated taking a piss out the window, but quickly discarded the idea. Instead, he quietly dragged a chair outside and wedged it against the door so Iphicles, if he did wake up, wouldn't be able to get out. And since that was a good plan, he decided to stop for a nice breakfast downstairs.
Imagine his surprise when he returned to find the door still wedged closed, and the room empty.
Iphicles inched along the narrow ledge, glad his brother's room was at the back of the inn. It was bad enough that he was naked and sneaking out - at least all of Athens wasn't watching his ass. He wondered yet again how he managed to get himself into these situations. Of course, this time it really wasn't his fault. Even Theseus couldn't argue that point, or so he hoped.
He had woken early, his head pounding and his back aching from an overly full bladder. He'd tried to be quiet as he stumbled out of the room, not wanting to wake Theseus. It was only when he was in the hall that he blearily realized he wasn't at the castle, but at Hercules' inn, and standing naked in the hallway. It wasn't an auspicious beginning to his day. He'd found his way to the water closet and emptied his bladder before returning, luckily not running into anyone in the hall.
He'd crawled back into bed and burrowed into the pillow, determined to get more sleep. The sun was barely up and he strongly believed that being king meant sleeping in. Rank did have its privileges. Besides, his head was pounding. He couldn't believe Hercules had let him drink so much, since his brother had always nagged him about drinking to excess. Maybe he'd lightened up. He'd almost drifted off when he heard a soft knock at the door. Determined to ignore the interruption, he kept his eyes closed and thought sleepy thoughts which were interrupted when he heard his brother arrange a babysitter.
He'd continued to pretend to sleep as he wondered what was going on. Why did Hercules want someone to watch him? Did his brother think he'd sneak out without saying anything? Did he have something he wanted to talk about? His questions were answered when Hercules and Iolaus returned and were kind enough to tell him everything he needed to know.
At first, Iphicles was pissed. Pissed that they'd jump to such idiotic conclusions, pissed that they thought he had such loose morals (even though he had to give them credit for being close to right), and frankly pissed that they thought he had such lousy taste in women. But as Hercules tried to defend him, he felt touched. His brother did care, in his own stupid, blockheaded, self-righteous, overly-protective way. It was actually kind of sweet. Unfortunately for Hercules, sweetness didn't preclude the need for revenge.
Still, Hercules was lucky he'd developed a sense of humor over the years. He'd been a bit worried when they debated tying him up, and relieved that they were just taking his clothes. He'd been even more thrilled when he heard Autolycus leave, and the sound of a chair being wedged against the door. Plenty of time to escape.
Which is how he came to be sneaking along a third-story ledge, completely naked. He reflected that a misspent youth often came in handy - he and Theseus had snuck out of more than one inn in their time, although they'd always been clothed. But at least he had some experience. He looked in the window of the room next door and saw people sleeping. No good. He moved on. A few windows down he found an empty room and quickly climbed in the window, efficiently searching the drawers for clothes that would fit. He had a bad feeling as he saw some of the clothes.
The room obviously belonged to someone who was at least a foot shorter than Iphicles, and whose taste ran to the flamboyant. But, as Iphicles reminded himself, beggars can't be choosers, even if they really are kings. He threw on a gaudy purple and magenta robe that barely covered his knees and climbed out the window again, ignoring the breeze under the robe.
After shimmying down the drainpipe into the handy alley, Iphicles ran his fingers through his hair and stepped into the street. He looked like an idiot who'd had too much to drink and whose buddies had given him something ridiculous to wear. Considering the partying the day of the wedding, he probably wasn't alone. He stumbled through the streets toward the palace, ignoring the snickers and catcalls aimed at him.
Theseus was still searching for his damn sword. Oh, he had swords coming out of his ears - formal swords, dueling swords, parade swords, even some that were real swords designed to be used by royalty during battle. But dammit, he wanted his trusty old sword, the one he'd used for years. He knew it intimately - knew its weight, its balance, its reach. It was an old friend, and someone had hidden it. Probably Demetrius, who was nowhere to be found.
He hadn't thought his morning could possibly get any worse, but it had. Hippolyta had thrown up on his breakfast in front of everyone, splattering him in the process. He'd been forced to bathe and have a quick breakfast in his chambers as he tried to figure out a plan to rescue Iphicles. He had a growing feeling that the idiot needed rescuing, and he'd be pissed if Hercules was the one to do it. A pissed Iphicles meant a celibate Theseus, so he needed a plan quickly. If he could only find his damn sword.
He was getting ready to call Demetrius and ask him where the sword was when he heard a knock on his door. Demetrius scurried in, and Theseus knew immediately that Hercules had come for a visit. Demetrius had developed a slight twitch in his right eye that only showed up with Hercules.
"Sir, Hercules is here."
"Is Iphicles with him?"
"No, but his friend Iolaus is. And they both look worried."
Theseus closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. The idiot had probably gotten himself kidnapped. Or he'd gotten drunk and lost on his way back to the palace. Or he was sleeping in an alley somewhere. Iphicles, he often thought, was more trouble than he was worth. Still, he'd known what he was getting into. Iphicles had never been easy.
"Fine," he finally said. "Tell them I'll be there in a few minutes." Demetrius opened the door, stopping as Theseus continued. "Do you know where my sword is?"
"Which one?" Demetrius hesitated in the doorway, looking anxious.
"My old one."
"Yes."
Theseus waited for Demetrius to elaborate. When he didn't, he finally asked, "Will you tell me where it is?"
"In your chest in the armory, sir."
Theseus blinked. Why hadn't he thought of that? "Oh. Well, have someone bring it to me. And have it sharpened first. I think I'll need it for Iphicles."
Demetrius looked nonplussed for a moment, then shrugged. He didn't want to know what the two of them were up to. The one time he had walked in on the king and duke playing a game of "Highwayman and Captive" had left him disturbed for days. He slipped into the hallway quickly, counting the days until his life would return to normal.
Theseus, meanwhile, poured himself a drink as he tried to think of a plan. Iphicles was probably exaggerating about his brother, as usual, but he didn't want to tip off Hercules that he and Iphicles were lovers. At the same time, Hercules knew that Iphicles wasn't involved with Hermia. There wasn't much he could do about that - maybe make a joke about Iphicles sleeping with Hippolyta? No, he decided, that probably wouldn't go over very well. No one but Iphicles ever got his jokes.
He had to devise a way to find out what had happened to Iphicles and then a way to include himself in the rescue that seemed natural. He also had to figure out a way to unobtrusively smack Iphicles soundly, and then ditch Hercules and Iolaus. While he was at it, maybe he could figure out a plan to unite Greece, Rome and Persia. He snorted into his cup of wine. His life had been much easier before he'd taken that scrawny, miserable, lying, annoying brat under his wing.
As he finished the last of his wine, Theseus heard a scrabbling noise in the secret passage behind the tapestry next to him. He stared at it, weighing his options, and settled for stepping back and grabbing the nearest sword. It was covered with gold and jewels, badly balanced, and the blade was so dull it wouldn't cut butter, but he could at least use it to smash someone's bones if need be. Besides, he had guards all over the palace - there wasn't any real reason to worry. Unless Iphicles was being forced to lead his captors through the passageways, or information had been tortured out of him...
He was relieved when the door opened and a familiar figure slipped into the room. The relief, however, was short-lived.
"What happened? And what are you wearing?"
Theseus couldn't help but stare. Iphicles looked like a party had exploded all over him. He was wearing a hideous magenta and purple robe with gold embroidery and tassels dangling from the sleeves and hem. His feet were bare, and they and his shins were covered with mud. The less said about his hair, the better.
"Sorry, I was in a hurry." Iphicles flashed him a mischievous smile that made Theseus' knees go a bit weak. "And it was the best I could steal."
"You should've kept looking," Theseus said critically. "Couldn't you have rolled someone with taste?"
"Oh, now you're a fashion critic too? I was trying to make it back here before my brother."
"He's waiting," Theseus said, still staring. "I was just getting ready to talk to him. I was worried, you know. You could have sent a message or something."
"Sorry," Iphicles said, still grinning. "I didn't realize I was being held hostage until this morning."
"So Hercules is here to tell me you were abducted?"
"No, he's the one who was holding me hostage."
Theseus blinked. "I see."
"No, you don't. Really."
Theseus poured himself another cup of wine, this time skimping on the water. It looked like it was going to be one of those mornings. Iphicles promptly grabbed the cup and threw himself melodramatically across the bed, drinking deeply and somehow avoiding spilling anything.
"You're getting mud all over my bed," Theseus pointed out as he poured himself more wine.
Iphicles pouted. "One minute you're worried about me, the next you're bitching about your furniture? I'm deeply wounded. You have no appreciation for all I went through to get back here."
"Obviously a lot of mud," Theseus said, trying not to smile too much. It looked like Iphicles had had another one of his adventures, and he knew he had to be patient if he expected to get the details. "Should we tell Hercules you're fine?"
"Nope." Iphicles shook his head vigorously, then took another drink. "We need to get rid of him."
Theseus decided that patience was over-rated. "Iphicles, I've had a very bad morning. Could you please be a tiny bit less coy and give me something to work with here?"
Iphicles let out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. It won't help, though. My brother is here because he wants to figure out a way to keep you from killing me."
"And why would I kill you? Other than the obvious reasons, of course."
"Because your wife is having my baby," Iphicles said smugly.
Theseus stared, speechless.
"And," Iphicles continued, "if you don't kill me yourself, you might get your old partner to do your dirty work for you."
Theseus stared. "My old partner?"
"Yeah. You know, the young, handsome, virile, talented one?"
"That would be me. I think you're thinking of the compulsive liar, who is much less handsome, virile and talented than me."
"Whatever. Can you get rid of my brother for a while?"
"I could lock him in the dungeon."
"No, we need something a little bit more subtle. He can't know you're getting rid of him."
Theseus sat on the bed and thought for a few minutes.
"Maybe I could send him on a wild goose chase."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Tell him a monster's attacking a village nearby, send him off after it. When he comes back I'll just plead an innocent misunderstanding. Meanwhile, you will have told me what's going on." Theseus looked pointedly at Iphicles, who was still grinning like a lunatic.
"I like it. We'll need until a little after lunch, I think. Because this situation calls for a plan of epic proportions."
"My. Epic, is it?"
"And we'll want to squeeze in some sex after plotting. Plotting and scheming always makes me horny."
"I think we should have sex and then plot. Otherwise Hercules might come back early." Theseus felt that it was important to take care of sex as quickly as possible, despite his curiosity.
"Good point." Iphicles showed his enthusiasm by immediately stripping off the gaudy robe and stretching on the bed, completely naked.
Theseus swallowed, his throat dry, and gulped the last of his wine.
"I'll just go take care of your brother," he said, his gaze not leaving Iphicles. "Maybe you could have someone draw you a bath? You're a bit ripe." Not that he cared right now, but Iphicles had obviously stepped in something that wasn't mud. He slipped out the door before Iphicles could retort, and leaned against the wall. This visit was becoming more surreal by the minute.
Theseus hurried through the hallways, finally finding Lysander, who gave him a strange look.
"Sir, I thought you should know King Iphicles is back," Lysander said.
"I know." Theseus paused. "How'd you know?"
"He snuck in one of the side gates, sir. The guards pretended not to see him."
"Why?"
"They said he was wearing something awful, sir. They didn't want to embarrass him too much. Besides, he was obviously sneaking. They thought they should play along."
"That was kind of them." Theseus shook his head again as he wondered about his guards. Nice bunch, but not always the brightest. "I need you to do something for me."
"Sir?" Lysander stiffened slightly, and Theseus hurried to reassure him.
"You're from a small village, aren't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"How far is it from here?"
"Not far, sir," Lysander said. "You can walk there and back in a little less than half a day."
"Perfect. I need you to take Hercules and his friend there."
Lysander stared.
"Tell them there's a giant snake menacing the village."
"What? Has anyone been hurt?" Lysander looked worried, obviously thinking about his family and friends.
"No, there isn't really a giant snake. I just need you to tell Hercules that there's one."
Lysander looked confused. "You want me to tell Hercules there's a giant snake menacing my village, take him there, then turn around and bring him back?"
"That's about it, yes. Maybe you could feed him lunch while you're there, show him around a bit."
"Feed him, then bring him back," Lysander said doubtfully, obviously wondering if the duke was playing a joke on him.
"Right. Let's go get him. Now that I think about it, let me do all the talking. You seem a bit tired this morning." Theseus started walking swiftly, and Lysander had to hurry to keep up with him, still wondering if the rest of his men would jump out and laugh at him for buying such a ridiculous story.
Xena and Gabrielle stood outside a tavern in a nondescript village outside Athens, panting as they looked longingly at the door. Both women were tired and sweaty, having spent most of the morning running as fast as they could through the forest and wading through streams at top speed. They had also used precious time to double back and lay a few false trails. They looked at each other, both wondering if it was safe to take a break for food and drinks, their desire to escape warring with hunger and thirst.
"She's probably still asleep," Gabrielle said, albeit doubtfully.
"And it'll take her a while to catch up," Xena said. "Besides, if she tracks us to this tavern, maybe she'll stop and have a drink or five," she added sardonically.
Neither sounded very convinced. But they did need a break.
"We do need to eat," Xena said, sounding a bit more forceful. "As long as we hurry, I think we'll be fine."
Gabrielle nodded her agreement as they stepped inside the tavern.
It was dark and cool, and they both had to stop and let their eyes adjust to the lack of sunlight. Gabrielle sat at a table near the door, placing her pack on the bench next to her, while Xena spent a few moments looking around, carefully noting all of the exits and evaluating the few patrons who had arrived for an early lunch. Finally satisfied, she sat down across from Gabrielle, her back to the wall.
Gabrielle rested her feet for a few minutes, then got up to place their order with the barkeep, who was busy stirring a pot hanging over the open fire. She waited patiently at the bar, barely noticing when she heard a muffled giggle from beside her. But she couldn't help but notice as the giggle got louder, finally graduating to full-bodied guffaws.
Xena joined Gabrielle, her hand on the hilt of her sword.
"Is there a problem?" Xena's voice was quiet, but icy.
The man didn't reply, but the barkeep hurried over.
"Don't worry about him," he reassured them, "he's been here drinking for a few days. I'm surprised he's awake. Can I get you something?"
They ordered two beers and two bowls of lamb stew and sat back down, pointedly ignoring the laughing man at the bar as they were served.
The stew was thick and spicy, full of garlic, oregano and onion. The beer was strong, and the bread was thick and chewy. It was a nice meal, and both women relaxed, at least as much as they could when a total stranger kept pointing at them and laughing. Xena kept looking over her shoulder at him, trying unsuccessfully trying to place him.
Finally, after mopping up the last of her stew with her bread, Gabrielle got up to ask the tavern keeper for two more beers and some bread for the road. As she stood next to the stranger at the bar, his guffaws shook his body hard enough that he fell out of his chair. Gabrielle automatically offered him her hand, but he just looked at her, laughing, tears streaming down his face.
"Buddy, you're cut off," the tavern owner said. "Why don't you go along home now."
The man wheezed for breath, clutching at his stomach. "Don't have one. Just quit my job."
"Well, find someplace else to be. I'm tired of you annoying my customers."
"You can't do that! Do you know who I am?" The man stood up, swaying slightly, and Gabrielle was surprised to see that he was smaller than she had realized - slightly taller than Mustardseed, in fact. She gulped.
"No. Who are you?" Xena stood and walked over next to them, looking suspiciously down at the man.
"Name's Puck." The man straightened his tunic, smoothing out a few wrinkles, and waited with an air of expectation.
Everyone stared at him blankly.
Puck looked toward the heavens, a martyred look on his face. "Of all the places to be stuck, I end up in the middle of 'The Athenian Hillbillies'. Don't you people have any culture?"
Xena looked at Gabrielle. Gabrielle was cultured. Gabrielle shrugged, having never heard the name before.
"What do you do?" The tavern owner propped his elbows on the bar and looked curious.
Puck looked scornful. "I don't believe this. Complete backwoods ignoramuses."
"Well," the tavern owner said, glaring, "if we offend you so much, maybe it's best that I not let you back into my tavern."
"You're banning me?" Puck gaped. "No one bans Puck, man. No one. You'll pay for this." He muttered something in a foreign language and marched toward the door. "Local yokels. Should've stuck with Oberon."
Xena, Gabrielle and the tavern owner all looked at each other and shrugged. The tavern owner drew them two more mugs of beer and the women stood at the bar, sipping their drinks, which they both spat out at the same time, Gabrielle setting hers down on the bar before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand while Xena dropped her tankard.
"Ladies?" The tavern owner looked confused, but picked up Gabrielle's discarded tankard and sipped at it hesitantly, then made a face. "Gods! What's happened to my beer?" He ran to his barrels, drawing beer from each of them and spitting it out. He finally stopped and just stared, aghast.
Xena and Gabrielle looked at each other, then left money for their meal on the bar and left, looking for Puck. This had to be another damn fairy thing. They were getting to be experts.
Puck was outside, slumped on a bench, basking in the sunshine like a contented cat. He grinned at them as they walked out, but stopped quickly when Xena picked him up by his collar and stared into his eyes.
"What did you do?" Her voice was cold and steely, and Puck gulped.
"Just a little practical joke," he said, holding his hands up. "See, that's what I'm known for. Practical jokes." He smiled a bit shakily.
"Practical jokes?" Xena raised an eyebrow and worked hard to suppress a smile.
"Yeah," Puck said, "like the other night in the forest, with your friend and the big guy and the doofus."
Gabrielle stared. "You did that to me?" She looked around for something she could use as a fighting-stick, momentarily forgetting that she was doing the peace thing.
"Hey! No harm, no foul! I gave you the antidote, didn't I?" Puck smiled ingratiatingly. "All's well that ends well, right?"
"Did it?" Xena suddenly had a bad feeling. "What happened when you gave 'the big guy' the antidote?"
"Nothing!" Puck shook his head vigorously. "I didn't give it to him!"
Gabrielle and Xena traded worried looks.
"So he's still in love with Joxer," Gabrielle asked, concerned, "and they're still together?"
Puck shrugged, or tried to. It was hard to shrug when being held in mid-air. "Maybe, maybe not. The stuff wears off after a few days."
Xena dropped him as she and Gabrielle looked aghast. Puck stood and dusted himself off, looking offended.
"It wears off," Gabrielle finally said. "What do you mean, it wears off?"
"Wears off. Loses potency. Goes away. The spell is kaput. Finito. The spell has left the building. Can I make it any clearer?"
"Does anything else happen?" Xena asked.
Puck straightened his clothes. "Look, it's just a simple little enchantment that makes someone fall in love. It also makes them happier, a little fuzzy, a little clumsy, just like being in love." He paused, considering. "Or like being drunk, I guess. Anyway, it should be wearing off any time now. He'll have a hangover, or something like it, for a while, and then he'll be good as new."
Gabrielle swallowed hard, suddenly afraid, imagining what Ares would do to Joxer when the enchantment wore off. "Xena, we have to get to Joxer."
"Before Ares hurts him," Xena finished the thought for her. "They were going to Sparta, we can try and catch up. Hopefully they've been on foot most of the way and we'll be able to get a ride and catch up to them."
They hurried off, both worried, as Gabrielle had an idea.
"Xena, maybe we could use a good tracker." They could put up with Mustardseed if it meant saving Joxer's life.
Ares was dying. Every step he took made him feel like his stomach was jumping up his throat and there was a slow, steady pressure inside his head, like something was inflating and pushing his skull apart. Joxer's voice was a high-pitched whine, like a mosquito buzzing around him, and it wouldn't stop. Ares seriously considered praying for death, but he'd be damned if he'd ask his family for anything. Besides, he didn't want to deal with Thanatos or that annoying, cloying Celesta just yet.
He wanted revenge.
The walking made him miserable, but it also allowed him plenty of time to think, since he didn't bother to even pretend to pay attention to Joxer anymore. And his thoughts had been...enlightening. He had known for days that he was the victim of a love spell, but it was only recently that he had considered how the entire miserable situation had come about. Who had done this to him, and why? And he finally had the answer.
Joxer.
Joxer had somehow hit him with a love spell. Maybe it was something given to him by Cupid or Aphrodite, or maybe the annoying little dork actually followed some of the older, darker gods. But it was the only thing that made sense. Who stood to benefit from Ares falling in love with Joxer? Joxer did. He probably hoped to become a god himself, or to be granted some sort of powers in exchange for "helping" Ares. Maybe he was even one of those idiots who wanted to get married, or believed the gods had weird mating rituals that would bond them for eternity. Lots of them around for some reason.
And when was the spell cast on him? When he followed Joxer into the forest. Joxer had laid a trap - even pretending to leave for a while and letting Ares stumble around on his own, until he found Xena and was ensorcelled. Oh, there was no doubt about it, Ares had walked right into it. Love spells didn't lurk around forests, pouncing upon unsuspecting people, after all. They took time and effort, and Joxer had probably taken advantage of the time they were separated to cast the spell. He had even cast a second spell on Gabrielle, doubtless to confuse Ares about who the true target was. He fumed as he reviewed his failures - his failure to see he was walking into a trap, his failure to find Xena on his own, his failure to snap Joxer's neck when he had the chance.
He had analyzed the situation repeatedly, and the more he thought about it, the more Ares realized he'd been had by Joxer. But that simply wasn't possible. Joxer wasn't smart enough to devise a plan like this, not without help. And Ares thought he knew who was behind it all. Athena. She had waited until Zeus made him mortal, then set her plan into action. She had probably convinced Joxer to cast a spell by telling him Ares was a threat to him, or by offering him money or power. Maybe she even convinced the idiot that it was his idea - the old 'disguise yourself as a psychic crone' plan was a classic, guaranteed to work on rubes like Joxer.
Oh, he was going to get to Sparta and get his sword, and then he was so going to kick Athena's ass. His pieces were in place, all he had to do was start moving them and Athena wouldn't know what hit her.
Meanwhile, there was Joxer. Ares didn't really need his help to get to Sparta, not anymore. His head was clearing and he was returning to his old self. Mostly. Ares was uncomfortably aware that the stupid spell still lingered, he could occasionally feel it bubble up inside him, making him stare soulfully at Joxer's eyes. When it subsided he felt even more nauseous. But he'd figured out a solution. He had promised Joxer that he wouldn't kill him when he got his godhood back.
He hadn't said anything about not killing him while he was still mortal. Tonight he'd make his move. Ares shivered with anticipation as he closed his eyes and visualized it - the stupefied, betrayed look on Joxer's face as Ares' sword pierced his chest, the deep, rich red blood spurting over the cool silver of the blade, the coppery smell of death.
Tonight, Joxer would die.
Hercules looked around the cow pasture yet again, studying it intently. The grass was tall and green, and brown cows stood contentedly chewing their cud, occasionally mooing melodiously. The sun shone over them, and the sky was a clear blue dotted with a scattering of soft, fluffy clouds. It was quite pastoral, even relaxing and beautiful. But there was no sign of a giant snake, Lysander's protestations to the contrary.
"Really," Lysander said earnestly, "Old Kallias said he saw something big moving back here last night. It was dark so he couldn't see much, but it looked big. Spooked the cows."
Iolaus, who had been kneeling and checking the ground for prints, stood and shook his head. "There aren't any tracks and no sign of snakes, except this guy." He held up a small, terrified garden snake that was shorter than his forearm. "No signs of the cows stampeding either."
Lysander scratched his chin, looking puzzled. "Well, Old Kallias has been known to drink a little on long nights. Maybe he just thought he saw something. How about we go look at Melitta's farm? Someone said they heard she saw something." He grinned merrily as he said it, looking like he was enjoying himself thoroughly.
Hercules sighed and looked at Iolaus. This just kept getting weirder and weirder.
It all started as they waited for Theseus, Hercules pacing nervously in the hallway, trying to think of a way to tell Theseus that Iphicles was sleeping with Hippolyta that wouldn't lead to an execution. He seriously considered offering himself in Iphicles' place but had little hope that that plan would work.
While they were waiting, they saw Demetrius scurry past and ask a guard to have the duke's old sword sharpened and then taken to his chambers. That order left Hercules with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he began to plan for the worst. He, Iolaus and Autolycus could break Iphicles out of the dungeon easily enough, but what then? Taking Iphicles back to Corinth was out of the question because Theseus would just find him and declare war. But Iphicles was a king, and leaving Corinth without a ruler would make the region politically unstable. Every warlord in Greece would be fighting over it, since Iphicles had no heir. Innocent people would die by the hundreds. At that point he decided that if he had to, he would ask his father for help, beg him to intervene if necessary. Anything to protect Iphicles.
The tension mounted, growing unbearable, when suddenly Theseus arrived with a flustered Lysander in tow. Theseus, looking quite cheerful and friendly, told them that he'd just received word that Lysander's village was being attacked by a giant snake and would they please take care of the snake problem? There was no polite way to refuse, especially if Hercules planned to throw himself on the duke's mercy for his brother. So they set out for the village, hoping to take care of the snake problem quickly.
However, despite the fact that a giant snake was terrorizing his village, Lysander had insisted on a leisurely walk and pointing out all the sights, acting like an overly-enthusiastic tour guide. A few times during the walk he looked like he was fighting back laughter. Hercules hoped it wasn't a sign of hysteria - Lysander had seemed very calm and collected when they met before, but a personal threat often made people react in unexpected ways.
When they finally reached the village, Lysander asked them to wait outside the tavern while he went in and asked people about the snake. He had only been in there a few minutes when a few people slipped out, gave them odd looks, and scattered in different directions. It was a bit unusual, and Hercules and Iolaus both felt uneasy. Something odd was definitely happening in the village.
It seemed that everyone in the village had seen or heard something, but they couldn't be sure what. A few swore they saw a giant snake but there had been no signs of it. No people or animals were missing, there were no tracks or skins, and the livestock frankly seemed bored. The village appeared to be snake-free, yet everyone insisted they had seen or heard something, and they would feel so much safer if Hercules and Iolaus would check their home, pasture, barn, outbuildings, or cellar personally. There was a sense of something secret, people giving them odd looks, and children hiding laughter behind their hands. It didn't feel malicious, but it set Hercules' nerves on edge.
"Think it's some sort of spell?" Iolaus set his garden snake loose, and it quickly slithered away from them, looking as relieved as a snake can look.
"I wish I knew," Hercules said, his brow creased.
"Spell?" Lysander again looked like he was suppressing laughter. "You mean maybe someone made us all think there was a giant snake?"
Hercules and Iolaus looked at each other.
"It's possible," Hercules said, "but it doesn't really make a lot of sense. Someone who could make an entire village believe they saw a giant snake could just conjure up the real thing. Why bother pretending?"
Iolaus shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they think it's funny."
"True." Hercules agreed, but it still felt wrong. He frowned as he looked around. Everything seemed...fine. Except the people, who acted like they were all in on a huge joke.
"Well, on to Melitta's? She's a wonderful baker and I'm sure she'd be thrilled if you'd both try some of her bread," Lysander said as he started walking away.
That was another odd thing - everyone in the village had insisted on feeding them, sitting them down and having long conversations. Most asked what it was like being a demigod, or hanging out with a demigod. Others asked for stories about Cheiron's Academy, or clarification of stories they'd heard. Everyone in the village appeared friendly, happy and cheerful. No one acted like they were afraid or worried, they all just seemed amused.
"Yeah, on to Melitta's," Hercules agreed.
Melitta lived in a small stone cottage that reminded Hercules of his childhood. The kitchen smelled of yeast and warm bread, and Melitta herself was a small round woman who quickly bustled them into chairs at her table and set mugs of beer and large, steaming hunks of bread in front of them.
"So, you're Hercules?" She leaned forward, her smile open and wide. "And Iolaus, right? I think you may have met my boy once. His name is Kyriakos. He's a shepherd not far from here. A few years ago he said you helped rescue his flock from a Hydra. Or was it a basilisk? Oh, I don't remember. But he said you were both such wonderful people! He was so impressed with the way you took care of the monster and also helped him get his herd back together, and you even rescued a lost sheep! Your mothers must both be so proud of you! I'm proud of Kyriakos, of course, what mother isn't proud of her son? But being a shepherd isn't the same as being a hero. Not that there's anything wrong with being a shepherd, mind you, there's nothing wrong with doing an honest day's work for an honest day's pay, that's what I always say, and it's important to look after the animals. Besides, Kyriakos is sweet and good-natured, he wouldn't be a good hero. He doesn't have what it takes to face down evil men. But he's wonderful with animals, has been since he was a boy. There was this time when he helped our old cow deliver a calf, it was in there the wrong way, and Kyriakos reached in and helped move the calf, he was just a child but he knew what to do..."
Melitta continued to chatter amiably as Hercules and Iolaus ate and drank, silently absorbing the information and thinking. This situation, Hercules decided, was decidedly fishy. A woman who had seen a giant snake wouldn't be nattering on about her son, she'd be at a neighbor's home hiding from the rampaging reptile. Even if she only thought she saw it, she wouldn't be talking about her son as if she had a pair of friends drop in for a chat. He and Iolaus exchanged worried looks.
Hercules had been raised to be polite. He believed strongly in being courteous, no matter how difficult the situation was, and now he was caught. It would be rude to just get up and leave, but his instincts screamed at him that there was trouble ahead. He suspected that he and Iolaus had been lured away from Athens, and that didn't bode well for Iphicles. He silently offered an apology to his mother, hoping she'd understand that sometimes courtesy had to bow to necessity.
Hercules stood quickly, catching Melitta off guard.
"Would you boys like more bread, or more beer? And I have wine, too. My other boy, Myron, he makes it himself. Some of the best wine in the area, I'll wager. In fact, we once had a wine-tasting contest and Myron's wine won. He makes plenty of offerings to Dionysus, says that's why he won, but I think he's just a wonderful farmer. It's hard work, growing the grapes just right, you know."
"I think we better leave," Hercules said, cutting her off as she stopped for a split second to breathe. He felt incredibly guilty at her surprised look. She probably thought he was raised better than that.
Melitta glanced sideways at Lysander - just a quick, almost imperceptible look, but Hercules and Iolaus caught it and looked meaningfully at each other.
"Hercules is right," Iolaus said, taking one last swig of beer before standing.
"Ah, well then, we can go see Argyros. He lives up the road a bit, a ways from the village, but I'm sure he's seen something," Lysander said.
Hercules shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, I think we need to get back to Athens."
This entire situation reminded Hercules of the time he'd been sent hunting snipe while at the Academy, and he was worried about why Duke Theseus would send him on a snipe hunt. The most logical explanation was that the duke wanted to get him and Iolaus out of the way while Iphicles was arrested or killed, and the thought made Hercules feel queasy. He'd been so stupid, letting himself be lured away from the city. Lysander probably had his men scattered through the village, and they'd probably have to fight their way out of it.
"Oh, well, if you're really sure," Lysander said with a casual shrug. "Would you like to stop for lunch first? There's a nice tavern between here and the city. They serve a wonderful goat stew."
Iolaus looked at Hercules. This was odd - this was usually the part where the guard got officious and refused to let them leave. But maybe Lysander was just avoiding trouble while inside a small house - maybe his men were waiting outside, or at the tavern.
"No thanks. I think we've had enough," Hercules said, looking at Lysander meaningfully.
"Fine. If you're sure." Lysander turned to Melitta and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll stop by the next time I get into town. Take care until then."
Melitta hugged him, leaving a fine dusting of flour over the front of his uniform, and picked up a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Here's some bread and cheese, and Myron says he has some wine set aside for you. If you happen by his farm you can pick them up any time."
"I'll do that." Lysander smiled as he led Hercules and Iolaus out of the house.
They walked back through the village, Lysander calling out and waving to people as he passed them on the main street. And everyone wanted a chance to say goodbye to Hercules and Iolaus, who became increasingly nervous. Their instincts screamed at them that an ambush was waiting but nothing happened, even as they walked further from the village toward the city.
Iphicles sprawled decoratively on Theseus' bed, a lazy smile on his face, as Theseus tried to reason with him. He knew better, of course. There were times when Iphicles just wouldn't listen to reason, insisting on charging stubbornly ahead with whatever hare-brained plan he had concocted. At least this plan was less hare-brained than most, and there was no way anyone would be hurt.
"You know, if you'd just told your brother the truth we wouldn't have to go to all this trouble," Theseus said as he sat on the edge of the bed.
Iphicles pouted. "He could have told me the truth."
"You lied to him first."
"But he's the upstanding, moral and honest one."
Theseus was at a loss for a rejoinder. "Well, there is that," he conceded. "I still think you're blowing this way out of proportion. As usual."
"Yeah, yeah." Iphicles rolled over and grinned. "But I'm having fun."
Theseus conceded another point. For someone who had dedicated his entire adolescence to brooding, sulking and throwing fits, Iphicles was doing a remarkable impression of a man having a wonderful time. It was quite out of character.
"There's something I still don't understand," Theseus said. "Why did your brother immediately assume you were sleeping with Hippolyta and not me? Should I be insulted?"
Iphicles laughed. "It's probably my fault," he said.
"How?"
"When I was a kid, I used to sneak out at night. I'd go out and lie on the grass and stare at the sky and think."
"Brood, sulk and feel sorry for yourself, you mean."
"No, I thought really deep thoughts. You know, about the meaning of life and stuff."
"Life and stuff. Sounds very deep," Theseus said drily.
"Yeah. I was considering being a philosopher." Iphicles grinned. "Guess the world's lucky I gave up on that one, huh?"
"Definitely. But what's that have to do with Hercules' ideas about your sex life?"
"When I came back in, I made up stories about where I was. I always told him I was off with a girl."
"But you were really thinking deep thoughts about life and stuff."
"Exactly." Iphicles paused. "Come on, how many teenage boys do you know who'll admit they're virgins? I knew Hercules wouldn't gossip, so I made up stories about sleeping with every woman I'd ever met just so I could watch him turn red and splutter. Even got some of my friends to tell him rumors they'd made up about who I was with. It was great. Sometimes they almost gave it away by laughing, but he never caught on."
Theseus looked at him. "You know, you're lucky your brother doesn't share your flair for drama."
"You're probably right. He's seriously lacking in creativity."
Theseus snorted. "Is that what you call it?"
"What would you call it?"
"Not creativity. Sure you don't want to just confess so we can get on with our lives?"
"Nah. I'm looking forward to this. Now stop arguing."
Iphicles pulled Theseus down onto the bed and straddled him, gently holding Theseus' wrists. "I'm the king, so you have to do what I say, remember?" He emphasized his point by nipping at Theseus' nose.
Theseus was unimpressed. "My castle, remember? One word from me and my guards lock you in the dungeon."
"Want to chain me up?" Iphicles looked hopeful.
"Don't tempt me. The way this visit's going, your brother would come to rescue you at an extremely inopportune moment."
"Maybe next time."
"Assuming we survive."
"We will." Iphicles bent down and kissed Theseus thoroughly, then proceeded to attack his lover's neck with a single-minded intensity.
Neither of them was overly surprised to hear a knock at the door just as things started to get interesting. Iphicles choked back a laugh and buried his face in Theseus' neck.
"I really don't believe this," he said.
"Neither do I," Theseus replied. "I wonder if we could make more sacrifices to Aphrodite and Cupid? Think that'd help?"
"Who knows?"
"Maybe the entire treasury, or every flower in Athens. Maybe they'd like that."
The knocking continued. "Come in, Demetrius," Theseus said in a resigned voice.
Demetrius scurried in, looking nervous as usual. "Lysander sent a messenger - they're on their way back."
"Thanks. We'll have to get Iphicles back to the inn, I guess," Theseus said regretfully. "Sure I can't lock you in the dungeon?"
Demetrius turned a bit pink.
"Not in the plan," Iphicles said. "But after tonight we won't have to worry any more."
"I'm holding you to that, you know."
"Trust me."
Theseus groaned. Things never worked out when he trusted Iphicles.
Autolycus sat, staring morosely at the empty bed, and sighed. Again. He'd been doing it all morning and it hadn't helped. On the positive side, Hercules and Iolaus weren't back. On the negative side, neither was Iphicles. On the more negative side, Hercules and Iolaus were much more likely to return than Iphicles. While he wanted to see Hercules again, he certainly didn't relish the thought of explaining how he had lost his brother, who was supposed to be asleep and easy to guard.
Even worse, he worried about what had happened to Iphicles. A few discreet inquiries had revealed that no one had seen a naked man rushing through the streets in the morning, especially not one who looked like Iphicles. No armed guards had shown up to arrest him for holding the king prisoner. It was like he just vanished out of the room, which made Autolycus uncomfortable. Vanishing was his schtick.
But the man couldn't just disappear - unless Iolaus was right about Iphicles working with Ares. Ares could just transport him anywhere, or give him clothes in the blink of an eye. That was bad on several levels.
He'd thought Iphicles seemed a little sneaky. Normally Autolycus would admire that quality in a man, particularly one who looked like Iphicles, but not this time. Not when it meant hurting Hercules. Besides, he didn't want to think how Ares would feel knowing that Autolycus had held his partner prisoner. He had visions of a flock of giant leather-clad chickens coming after him, preparing to peck all the skin from his bones. Not a pleasant image. Neither was the image his mind conjured of the hurt, betrayed look on Hercules' face when he realized that Autolycus had let him down, and let his brother escape to a possible messy death.
He glared at the parchments he'd sat on the dresser next to the bed. They'd arrived recently - invitations to dinner with Duke Theseus and Queen Hippolyta, addressed to Iphicles, Hercules, Iolaus, Salmoneus, Autolycus and the Widow Twanky. He'd slid Salmoneus' invitation under his door down the hall, along with the Widow Twanky's, since he didn't know where her room was.
Autolycus, being the experienced man of the world that he was, smelled trouble. Something nasty was brewing, and it was centered on Iphicles and Hercules.
He should just take off. Leave now, while he had the chance. He didn't really owe Hercules anything, and really, holding a king prisoner was just a bad idea. People were executed for less. Letting the prisoner escape was an even worse idea.
Yeah. He should just get up and leave. It'd be easy. Just stand up, walk to the door. Open the door, walk down the hallway and down the stairs, then out of the building. Easy as pie. There was a world of possibilities waiting, a world full of gold and jewels for the taking. Lots of reasons to just get up and leave. Go. Vamoose.
So why was he still sitting, staring at an empty room? Because he was an idiot. Hercules was contagious. Autolycus sighed again. That whole do-gooder thing was rubbing off on him. He brushed at a shoulder, hoping he could shake it off and get back to normal. He wasn't a hero, not by a long shot. He was a thief, and a damn good one, one who had no good reason to be sitting and sulking in an empty room that didn't have anything of value in it.
But if he left, he'd let Hercules down. He couldn't do it. His mind willed his limbs to move, but they refused. He was stuck, betrayed by his treacherous heart. He always knew it'd be trouble.
Autolycus continued to try to convince himself to leave, looking up when he heard a sound outside, something that sounded like a pack of huge squirrels climbing up the drainpipe a few windows down. Or, he thought to himself, an incredibly inept thief. Who would try sneaking in and robbing the place in broad daylight? During the day, the best tactic was to walk in and look like you belonged. Skulking around just attracted a bad element - namely law enforcement.
Now that made him nervous. Maybe he should just stick his head out the window and tell the nincompoop to get lost. The profession didn't need any bunglers screwing it up for everyone else. Autolycus got up, just in time to sit right back down again when Iphicles climbed in the window.
"Miss me?" Iphicles looked like a cat that had eaten an entire flock of canaries. His grin made Autolycus very nervous. Not nearly as nervous as the clothes he was wearing, though.
"What are you wearing?" Autolycus decided that was the most diplomatic question he could ask, given the circumstances.
"I stole it," Iphicles replied, then quickly stripped off the robe and threw himself on the bed, hiding the robe under the covers.
Autolycus gulped. "Shouldn't you be wearing something?"
"My brother stole my clothes, remember? Besides, you've seen me naked all day."
"I have?"
"Because I never left the room."
"Ah." Autolycus watched in silence as Iphicles casually cleaned some mud off his feet and shins with the corner of his blanket. It looked like Iphicles had heard everything, which wasn't good. How could they protect him now? More important, what had he been up to and why was he back? "You know," he said experimentally, "I could swear that you left the room."
Iphicles looked up. "You let me out, wrapped in a blanket, to use the facilities."
"Funny, I don't remember that."
"Yes you do. It was just before you brought me lunch."
Autolycus thought for a moment. "Okay, let's say I do remember that. But let's get hypothetical for a second. Hypothetically speaking, if you left the room without my knowledge, where would you have gone?"
"Back to the palace. Hypothetically."
Autolycus gulped. Hercules was going to be so pissed. "Would hypothetical sex have been involved?"
Iphicles' grin was all the answer he needed. Autolycus groaned and buried his head in his hands.
"Mind if I ask you a question?"
Autolycus looked up briefly. "Why not?" He was doomed, with a capital 'd'.
"What's up with you and Hercules?"
Autolycus blinked a few times. "Huh?" Brilliant response there, he berated himself.
"The two of you were flirting last night." Iphicles paused. "It was weird."
"Flirting? Hercules? With me?" Autolycus gaped. No way. Well, there had been a few looks, a few things that he might have taken as flirting if they'd come from anyone but Hercules. But Hercules...flirting with him?
"Yeah. Like I said, it was weird. My brother doesn't flirt. Not in front of me, at least."
"Maybe you were seeing things. Fevered imagination and all."
Iphicles shrugged. "Maybe. You were pouring a lot of wine down me last night." He looked up. "Hercules' idea? Trying to keep me here?"
Autolycus nodded, still wrestling with the idea that Hercules might have been flirting with him, and the warm feeling he got inside when he thought about it. He was such a schmuck.
"He meant well." Autolycus couldn't believe the words had popped out of his mouth.
"I know," Iphicles said, wiping the last of the muck from between his toes. "That's why I'm going easy on him."
"Going easy?" Autolycus didn't like the sound of that.
"Yeah. And you're going to help me."
Autolycus was confused, and he hated being confused. He raised a hand as he tried to think things through. Fact: Iphicles was sleeping with someone. Fact: It wasn't Hermia. Fact: He didn't act at all contrite or guilty. Fact: He was up to something but it seemed harmless. Autolycus blinked as he was dazzled by a revelation.
"You're sleeping with Duke Theseus. Not Queen Hippolyta."
Iphicles tilted his head and grinned. "I thought you might catch on. Which is why you're not telling Hercules that I left."
"What do I get out of this?" Autolycus figured it wouldn't hurt to have a king owe him one.
"I won't tell him you let me go," Iphicles said mildly.
Autolycus decided he really didn't like Iphicles very much.
The late afternoon sun shone down on the road to Sparta. Joxer stretched, feeling the warmth on his skin, the soft caress of the gentle breeze. He was grateful for the beautiful weather, since it almost came close to making up for the awful traveling companion. He was also grateful that a cart had come along and picked them up, because the sooner they got to Sparta, the sooner he'd be able to get rid of Ares.
Or so he hoped. Ares had been glowering and glaring all day, his looks like sharpened daggers, and the malice on Ares' face made Joxer a bit nervous. Maybe he shouldn't ask Ares for a reward when they got to Sparta. Maybe he should just wait a little while, let him calm down and get back to normal. Or whatever passed for normal with Ares.
He sighed to himself. He kept telling himself that being a hero meant helping others, just like Xena and Gabrielle. And helping others was a reward unto itself. But this really sucked. Ares was lousy company. Even when he'd been nice and in love, he'd been annoying. Now he was intolerable. He whined and bitched and grunted and growled, and nothing was ever good enough for him. Joxer really felt like Ares owed him something for putting him through this ordeal, and Ares certainly wasn't going to volunteer to give him a reward.
Joxer had spent a great deal of time thinking about what he'd ask for. It'd have to be small - that would be acceptable. Heroes were allowed to accept small rewards, just nothing too big or ostentatious. He'd considered armor, because good armor was expensive. But knowing Ares, he'd end up with something big and bulky and black. Armor was personal, you had to pick it yourself. He'd also considered a sword, but Ares seemed to like the kind of sword that was too big for Joxer to pick up, much less use effectively.
He'd finally come up with the right solution. All he'd ask for was for Ares to recommend Joxer to some of his best generals. He could act as a consultant for them - help them with strategy and planning and stuff. After a few years of that, maybe he'd have his own command - a group of heroes and warriors battling for truth and justice and good, all under the command of General Joxer. He liked that idea. Maybe he could even get Xena to work for him. And Gabrielle could write long poems and things about them, mostly focusing on their brave leader.
Joxer imagined himself, his armor polished until it gleamed, holding a huge sword aloft, and Gabrielle and Xena reclining at his feet. He'd have hordes of devoted followers. Warriors would come from the far corners of Greece, eager to join Joxer the Mighty's Fellowship. He'd have to have tournaments and stuff so he got only the best, of course. They'd all get up in the morning and sing his song, then go off and rescue people all day. He sighed contentedly. He just needed a little help from Ares to get it all started.
Still, they had to make it to Sparta first. Probably tomorrow, Joxer thought, assuming they could hitch another ride or two. Ares was sprawled in the back, slightly cushioned by a pile of hay. Joxer sat in the front of the cart, on the bench next to the driver, who was a scowling old man who hadn't spoken more than a few words since he agreed to give them a ride. Which was a good thing, since anything he said probably would have set Ares off and then they'd be back to walking.
"Can't this horse go any faster, old man?"
Joxer winced. It looked like Ares was determined to cause trouble.
"Nope, not with a big guy like you in the cart she can't," the old man replied, then pulled lightly on the reigns to slow the horse a bit. "Maybe you'd be better off walking."
"No!" Joxer jumped in quickly, hoping to salvage the situation. "Sorry about my cousin, he hasn't been himself lately. He's not feeling well." He laughed nervously.
"Huh." The old man looked skeptical, but remained quiet.
They rode in silence for a few more minutes and Joxer started to relax.
"And whose fault is it that I'm not feeling well?" Ares' voice was soft, but carried an undercurrent of pure venom.
Joxer decided to ignore him. Maybe he'd just hold his tongue. After all, Ares didn't seem to like walking much.
"And I'm not his cousin," Ares added from the back of the cart.
"Figured as much," the old man said. "Don't know why he's putting up with you."
Joxer cringed. Things were about to get ugly.
"Don't know why I'm putting up with you," Ares replied.
The man pulled on the reigns and stopped the cart abruptly. "How's about you don't? Go on, get out!"
Joxer sighed and jumped off the cart, noticing too late that Ares was still in back. The world seemed to speed up suddenly, and things became blurry. He didn't know exactly what happened, but the old man clutched his throat and bent forward, red dripping over his hands like water between his fingers. Ares stood behind him, pushing, and the old man fell to the ground beside Joxer, his throat an open, gaping wound, and his breathing stopped with a hideous, wet, sucking sound even as Joxer watched, unable to move.
The world spun, the edges suddenly soft and fuzzy, and Joxer thought he might throw up. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, and gulped as he felt a sharp blade at his throat.
When he opened his eyes, Ares was close. So close Joxer could smell him, could feel his breathing, could hear his heart pounding. No, wait, that was his own heart, thudding like a runaway horse inside his chest.
"Get back into the cart," Ares whispered, and his breath tickled Joxer's ear.
Joxer tried to move, but his legs wouldn't budge and he was afraid he'd throw up all over Ares and that'd sure get him killed, wouldn't it?
"I said, get back into the cart." Ares' voice was flat and hard, and sounded a long way away.
The point of the knife pricked his throat and Joxer felt a thin trickle of blood run down his neck toward his chest. He imagined the blade moving, digging in deeper, then slashing wide, opening his throat like the old man's, and he moved. His legs were weak and he collapsed onto the bench, but he was on the cart. He clung to it desperately, wondering what had happened, what had changed.
"Take the reins," Ares said, holding them out to him. Joxer blinked, then realized that gods probably didn't drive carts. So he'd be okay as long as he was driving. After that, he didn't know.
Joxer took the reins and gently coaxed the horse into moving, but he was afraid to look at the dead body on the ground.
"Sure you don't want to stop and eat?"
Hercules sighed. Every time they passed a tavern, Lysander stopped and told them about how wonderful the food was, rattled off a list of its specialties, told them a bit about its history and then asked if they wanted to stop and eat. It was getting monotonous.
"Not just now, thanks." It was Iolaus' turn to reply, and the words were perfunctory.
"Okay, well, we're just about back to the city. I'll be sure and tell the duke there wasn't a snake. He'll be relieved. He was real worried."
"I'm sure he was," Hercules replied neutrally. "He seemed a bit agitated."
Theseus hadn't seemed worried. He'd seemed amused, just like everyone else they'd met today. Hercules was beginning to understand why Iphicles always grumbled about how irritating cheerful people were.
"I think he stayed up most of the night," Lysander continued. "He always gets excitable when he hasn't had enough sleep."
Great. Theseus had probably been plotting all night. Just what he needed. And he'd seemed like such a nice guy. Hercules always hated it when the nice guys suddenly turned into cackling maniacs - they were the worst. Maybe he could reason with the duke, try to keep him away from Iphicles.
His thoughts, as usual, circled around to Iphicles. Something was nagging at him, something he'd missed. He just couldn't place what. It annoyed him, because he was beginning to feel stupid, and he hated feeling stupid. There had to be a way to get Iphicles out of this mess he'd gotten himself into, but he just couldn't seem to find it.
"The duke has a lot of late nights?" Hercules asked the question just to be polite. And to get some more information. Maybe Lysander would mention a secret lair, or a tendency to torture enemies late at night in a secret chamber. Or telltale cackling, that would be a dead giveaway.
"Not usually," Lysander replied. "He and King Iphicles have been staying up late the past few nights." He grinned briefly, then struggled to regain his composure.
Hercules blinked. Theseus and Iphicles had been together? That was odd. Of course, they were probably discussing diplomatic issues, or maybe talking about issues of state. Until late into the night. Several nights. Right before the duke's wedding. When Iphicles wasn't in his bed in the morning.
A suspicion formed and Hercules studied it, realizing that it did make sense. In fact, the more he studied it, the more likely it seemed. And the more likely it seemed, the more stupid he felt.
"Does my brother visit often? It seems that Corinth and Athens are cooperating a lot more than I remembered." He thought that was suitably subtle - and Iolaus' confused look encouraged him.
Lysander looked uncomfortable. "King Iphicles has been here on several diplomatic visits recently. He and Duke Theseus spend a lot of time," he paused, with a cough that sounded suspiciously like it started life as a laugh, "discussing politics."
Hercules kept walking, thinking. It made sense. All he had to do was shift his point of view and everything fit into place. Except the snipe hunt. If Iphicles was involved with Theseus, why would Theseus send them off on a wild goose chase? He was still missing something.
He continued to think as they walked, and he and Iolaus kept turning down offers of food, and soon the road got wider and the forest receded and they were in Athens. Lysander looked at them doubtfully, obviously wondering what he should do now.
"We should get back to our inn," Hercules said with a friendly smile, again noticing Iolaus' confusion.
"Yeah," Iolaus said doubtfully, as he looked between Lysander and Hercules.
"Oh. Well, I'll just got back and tell the duke that there wasn't a snake. I do appreciate you taking the time to check things out, you know," Lysander said sincerely.
"No problem. Glad to help. Give our regards to Duke Theseus," Hercules said as he and Iolaus walked toward their inn, and Lysander nodded and waved cheerfully and walked in the opposite direction.
Iolaus waited until Lysander was out of earshot before turning to Hercules. "What was that all about? Shouldn't we make sure Iphicles isn't in the dungeon?"
"I have a strong suspicion that Iphicles is just fine," Hercules said, trying to suppress a smile.
"Okay, what'd I miss?"
"I just had an idea, that's all."
"Poor thing must be lonely in there. All alone, no friends..."
Hercules cuffed Iolaus' head. "Like you have room to talk."
They reached the inn and walked upstairs, opening the door to their room without any preamble.
"Took you long enough," Iphicles said sulkily. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the corner of a blanket strategically covering his lap. Hercules noticed some dried mud on the blanket, and a few light streaks of mud on the backs of Iphicles' shins. He'd been out of the room, out of the inn. Well. That explained the snipe hunt. And if he knew his brother, there was a nefarious plot for revenge being cooked up while they were gone. The big question was whether Autolycus was in on it.
Iphicles' dark glower didn't bode well for his brother. "Autolycus wouldn't let me go, and you took my clothes. What's going on?"
Hercules decided to play along. If Iphicles was planning something, he'd just have to plan for retaliation. Meanwhile, he had to act clueless.
Hercules stared at his brother. "You're here," he said, faking surprise.
"Where else would I be? Naked here, remember? What was I gonna do, climb out the window in my birthday suit and run through the streets?"
He wouldn't. He hadn't. But he had been out, running through mud, possibly the streets. Maybe Autolycus brought him clothes. But no shoes, because there were traces of dirt under Iphicles' toenails. That was odd.
Hercules looked flustered and ran a hand through his hair. "There was a giant snake."
"You took my clothes and fed them to a giant snake?" Iphicles sounded like he was talking to a mental defective, a tone Hercules was more than familiar with.
Hercules looked at Iolaus, then took a deep breath. That supercilious tone always set his teeth on edge, especially so now since he was sure Iphicles was toying with him. "Not exactly. I took your clothes because I wanted to talk to you, but you were asleep and the duke asked us to help with a giant snake problem."
Iphicles leaned back on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked exasperated. "I've been stuck here all day with Autolycus because you wanted to talk to me and stole my clothes and the ran off to play with an overgrown reptile. Do you have any idea how many meetings I've missed?"
Hercules wondered what those 'meetings' involved. He felt guilty for a second, because he hadn't meant to screw up Iphicles' social life - he'd only been trying to help. But the guilt passed quickly. If Iphicles had just told him the truth then they wouldn't be in this situation. He regretted that their relationship was fragile enough that Iphicles hadn't been comfortable trusting him. They really needed to work on their communication skills. And they would, once the current melodrama played out.
"I'm sorry," Hercules said sincerely. He really was - but at least Iphicles didn't seem to be really mad. No signs of yelling or throwing things or any of Iphicles' usual tantrums. That was good. When Iphicles lost his temper, the whole family tended to take cover.
"You should be," Iphicles snapped. "Now give me my damn clothes."
Hercules' shoulders slumped and Autolycus glared at Iphicles, who had the grace to look sorry.
"Okay, I'm sorry I yelled." Iphicles rolled his eyes and didn't sound very sorry. "Please give me my damn clothes, okay? Do you know what it's like being shut in a room all day with nothing to wear?"
Hercules stifled a snort. From what he remembered of Iphicles as a teenager, he'd liked nothing better than to spend lots of time without any clothes.
"I'll get them," Iolaus said as he left quickly. Lucky Iolaus. Especially since he had stashed the clothes with a pretty serving maid and would probably be making plans for the evening.
Hercules studied his feet as Iphicles glared, and it was an impressive glare. Hercules wished he could glare like that.
"So?"
"So, what?"
"What did you want to talk to me about? What was so important you had to hold me hostage?"
Hercules thought quickly. Should he talk about the supposed relationship with Hippolyta, or should he just wing it? Luckily for him, Salmoneus chose that moment to barge in, shaking his finger at Autolycus.
"You!" Salmoneus advanced on Autolycus, who backed up against a dresser.
"Me what?" Autolycus looked around wildly.
"This!" Salmoneus waved a piece of paper at him, smacking his nose with it.
"What's that?" Hercules asked.
"Dinner invitation from the duke," Autolycus said, ducking to avoid the parchment as Salmoneus shoved it in his face again. "I slid it under your door. So what? And would you give that to me? You could put an eye out or something, you know!"
Autolycus finally grabbed the invitation away from Salmoneus and sat it down on the dresser.
Salmoneus stood back, his face flushed. "I had the perfect robe - the Widow Twanky and I went shopping yesterday and bought matching outfits. And someone," he glared suspiciously at Autolycus, "stole it! My room's been ransacked!"
Autolycus glared at Iphicles, who looked guilty. Hercules raised an eyebrow, imagining his brother in one of Salmoneus' outfits. Not a pretty picture. Still, it beat imagining Iphicles in the Widow Twanky's clothes.
"Duke Theseus invited Salmoneus to dinner?" Hercules tried to sound casual, but he felt a thrill of excitement. Whatever Iphicles and Theseus had planned, it'd be happening tonight.
"No, he invited all of us," Autolycus said. "You, me, Sal, Twanky, Iolaus and your brother here."
"Ah." Hercules nodded. Yet the duke had known not to send an invitation to Althea. He'd known she was gone, which meant either Iphicles or Autolycus had to have told him. They both looked guilty at the moment. He needed a plan to find out how much Autolycus knew, and what Iphicles had up his sleeve.
"And I don't have anything to wear! What will Twanky think of me?" Salmoneus wailed while glaring daggers at Autolycus, who tried his best to look innocent.
"I can give you money to replace it," Iphicles said, staring at the floor.
"You can?" Salmoneus immediately perked up. "You're too generous, your highness!"
"No big deal," Iphicles muttered.
"I'm sure he feels personally responsible," Autolycus added smoothly. "We should have noticed someone in your room."
Salmoneus nodded eagerly, then suddenly noticed that Iphicles was naked in bed. He gulped. "Yes, well, I'm sure you were...distracted," he said, looking curiously from Autolycus to Iphicles and Hercules, plainly trying to work out what was going on. "But that's none of my business. And I'll just go now." He sidled uneasily toward the door and almost made it out, but he bumped into Iolaus as he came in.
"Getting crowded in here," Iolaus said. "Here's Iphicles' clothes," he said casually, handing the bundle to Iphicles.
Salmoneus became more flustered. "That's nice. I'll just be leaving now and...going somewhere else." He dashed out the door, leaving Iolaus scratching his head.
"What's up with him?"
Hercules shook his head. "You don't want to know."
"I think he thinks he missed an orgy or something," Iphicles said snidely. "Maybe something to do with me being in bed without any clothes on." He glared at Hercules, obviously baiting him.
Hercules shrugged, refusing to respond. He wasn't about to tell his brother that he'd been to orgies and they generally featured more than four people - Iphicles probably still thought he was a blushing virgin or something, and Hercules planned to use that to his advantage.
Iphicles continued to glare, standing and slowly dressing while Autolycus looked away and Iolaus looked confused.
"Did I mess something?" Iolaus whispered to Hercules.
"I'll explain later," Hercules whispered back. "That idea I had - it was right."
Iolaus clutched his chest and feigned shock, and Hercules mock-punched his arm. Iolaus punched him back and Hercules grabbed him in a headlock, ignoring Iolaus' flailing.
"Would you two behave yourselves?" Iphicles said irritably as he put on his boots. "You're like a pair of kids. I hope you behave better at dinner tonight."
Hercules felt guilty as he saw the look of naked jealousy on Iphicles' face. Maybe he should just tell Iphicles he knew about him and Theseus. That way they could just try and move on with their own relationship.
"You're so embarrassing." Iphicles' voice had that same tone Hercules remembered from his childhood. It dripped scorn, and when he was young it was enough to make Hercules run to his room and throw himself on his bed, stuffing a pillow into his mouth to stifle his sobs.
Hercules took a deep breath and told himself that he was an adult, that Iphicles was just lashing out because he was jealous. But the words still left a dull ache in his chest, one he knew too well. He let Iolaus go and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry," he said. "We'll behave at dinner."
"You better," Iphicles muttered, staring at his feet. He paused. "I should go and get ready," he said before leaving, still not looking up.
Hercules watched him go, wishing he could take back the past few minutes, that he could somehow fix things.
Iolaus looked at him, concerned. "Will you finally tell me what's going on?"
Hercules sighed and shook his head. "Later. You need to get dressed for dinner." He glanced meaningfully at Autolycus, and Iolaus waggled an eyebrow at him. Hercules returned the waggle with a glare, and Iolaus shrugged and left.
"Was he too much trouble today?" Hercules asked Autolycus casually.
"No trouble," Autolycus said as he looked at Hercules' shoulder. "No trouble at all."
"Good." Hercules moved closer to Autolycus, who backed up a few steps. "Because if he was any trouble, I'd feel like I really owed you." He kept moving slowly, enjoying watching Autolycus' eyes dart madly around the room, looking for a way out.
"No trouble, really. Don't worry about it," Autolycus hurried to assure him, and his voice was a little hoarse.
"You're sure about that?"
Autolycus' back was pressed against the wall, but he kept trying to back up as he stared at Hercules, confused and silent for once. Hercules moved forward again, so close that he was almost pressing against Autolycus, but not quite, and braced his arms against the wall on either side of Autolycus' head.
"I'm sure," Autolycus whispered.
Then Hercules leaned forward and kissed him.
Hercules had been told that he was a good kisser, and he believed it. After all, he did have a lot of practice kissing, rumors to the contrary. He enjoyed it, and this kiss was one of his better efforts. He was slow and thorough, making sure not to be too aggressive, simply kissing Autolycus until he heard a gasp for breath. He pulled back fractionally and looked at Autolycus, who seemed a little dazed.
"Iphicles left, didn't he?"
Autolycus nodded, his eyes glazed.
"He's up to something, isn't he?"
Autolycus nodded again.
"Know what it is?"
Autolycus swallowed. "No, but if you kiss me again maybe I'll remember more."
So Hercules did.
Xena winced as she heard a high-pitched scream behind her, but didn't turn around. She knew better. There were two possibilities: Mustardseed had fallen or been pushed off her pony, or Puck was feeling her up again. Xena didn't really care which it was. She'd given up on trying to make the two fairies behave, especially since Puck had brought enough liquor to convince Mustardseed to allow him to share her pony.
She'd known there was going to be trouble when Puck followed them back to Athens. She'd been sure of it when he and Mustardseed greeted each other like long-lost pals, although they quickly degenerated into name-calling, hair-pulling, shoving and insults. The fairy dust had been flying thick and fast, prompting Xena and Gabrielle to keep their distance.
However, Puck had proven himself helpful when it came time to rent horses - the only person with two horses and a pony available had charged them an arm and a leg, citing high demand due to the festivities. Puck cheerfully paid the man, and Xena had noticed the fairy dust glittering on the gold coins. She wondered what would happen but decided she didn't much care. Getting to Joxer was more important than finding a good deal. Besides the vendor was gouging them.
The four of them had been riding hard all day, following Joxer and Ares' trail. Plenty of people remembered them - the skinny guy in the weird armor and the big, glowering man who had an annoying habit of muttering curses at various gods. They stood out in a crowd and it looked like they weren't making very good time.
This was good, because their expert tracker wasn't helping. Mustardseed had never ridden a pony before and it turned out that ponies didn't much like fairies. Xena didn't blame them. To make matters even worse, Puck kept groping and shoving her, usually resulting in a high-pitched scream and both of them falling off the pony, rolling around and kicking and punching each other before remounting. The two of them made Hercules and Iolaus look mature, which was saying a lot in Xena's opinion.
"Do you think Ares will hurt Joxer?" Gabrielle asked anxiously, pulling up to ride next to Xena and distance herself from the fairies behind them.
"It depends," Xena replied. "We know he's not that bad when he's mortal." Gabrielle raised an eyebrow and Xena flushed. "He's much better as a mortal than as a god, how's that?"
"Not saying much."
"No, it isn't. And I think that Joxer would probably be safe with the mortal Ares, except for this love spell. He's got a short temper, and Joxer's bound to get on his nerves, even if he's on his best behavior."
"Especially if he's on his best behavior," Gabrielle sighed.
Xena nodded. "And when you add in the side effects of this love spell, who knows? I just hope it hasn't worn off yet."
"Me too." Gabrielle winced as they heard another loud curse from behind them, followed by a guffaw and then a thud. Mustardseed had fallen off the pony again and pulled Puck off with her. The two were rolling in the dirt, insulting each other, and their language shocked even Xena. Gabrielle clutched her new fighting-stick tighter, her knuckles white.
"You know, I'm starting to really miss Joxer," Gabrielle said through clenched teeth.
"Me too."
I'm even missing that song of his."
"Let's not get carried away," Xena warned her.
"Wouldn't dream of it," Gabrielle assured her with a grin.
They kept riding, knowing the fairies would catch up with them. They always did.
Theseus stared into his mirror, smoothing the front of his tunic, then running a comb through his hair. Anything to avoid looking at Iphicles, sprawled on his bed and doing a fair imitation of a spiteful adolescent.
He'd known it was too good to last - Iphicles had a gift for finding insult in innocent words, for turning any gesture into a challenge and for just generally being obnoxious and testy. And it looked like Hercules had somehow set him off. Theseus didn't know exactly how and he didn't want to. He just wished Iphicles would quit sulking.
"I don't like this new plan," Theseus said neutrally, trying not to spark a new tantrum.
"I do," Iphicles replied.
Theseus paused, searching for the right words. "Don't you think it's a bit cruel?"
Iphicles' lips curled up, but his eyes still looked angry. "So?" He spoke quietly, and Theseus knew he had to tread softly.
"I just thought you were trying to mend fences with your brother, that's all."
"It was a stupid idea."
"Things seemed to be going well."
Iphicles shook his head, but Theseus thought maybe he was starting to get through. "I don't want to talk about it."
Wonderful. That was code for 'I know I'm being a spoiled brat and I don't care'. It meant that once he had gotten over his snit he'd be feeling guilty and sorry for himself. It meant he'd be insufferable for weeks, wringing his hands and moping and skulking about, milking the pathos for all he was worth. This was why Theseus had decided long ago that he never wanted to be a father - putting up with an adolescent Iphicles had been more than enough for him, thank you very much. Nothing would force him to deal with it again. The adult Iphicles was marginally better. He was making progress, but still backslid into his old habits much too quickly.
"Fine," Theseus said with a long-suffering sigh of his own. Iphicles' irritating mannerisms were annoyingly easy to pick up. "But I reserve the right to back out of this if things get ugly."
Iphicles scowled. "Just go along with me and everything will be fine."
Theseus wasn't sure, but he knew that arguing would be futile. Ignoring Iphicles, he fastened his sword belt, wincing at the weight of the jewel-encrusted piece of crap sword and its equally ornate sheath. How anyone was expected to actually use something like that was beyond him. His back would be aching in the morning and he'd have to list to one side while walking. It was thoroughly ridiculous, and he hoped Iphicles appreciated the gesture. He was relieved when Demetrius knocked on the door and told them that their guests had arrived.
Dinner was being held in the smaller dining hall, usually used for intimate meetings with foreign delegations. What it lacked in size it made up in elegance - or ostentatiousness, depending upon your point of view. The walls and ceiling were covered with murals depicting the gods, primarily Athena, as was the mosaic on the floor. It always made Theseus a bit nervous, walking over the gods' faces, but he hadn't been struck by lightning. Yet. The furniture was uniformly heavy and dark, engraved until no sign of wood grain could be found and gold leaf was used liberally. Theseus had always found it tacky, but it impressed visitors.
Theseus sat in the stately carved chair at the head of the table, with Iphicles on his left and Hippolyta on his right, both glaring at each other like a pair of stray cats in an alley, ready to start hissing and clawing. Hermia sat next to Hippolyta, and she also glared at Iphicles, plainly not liking any of their plans for dinner. The older couple, whose names Theseus forgot, sat next to the women. Theseus blinked in surprise when he saw them, suddenly realizing whose clothes Iphicles had stolen previously. The couple's outfits were loud and bright enough to blind a person. Still, they looked at each other like a pair of lovesick teenagers and Theseus decided he liked them, lousy taste notwithstanding.
Hercules was seated next to Iphicles, looking nervous. Probably used to his brother's bad moods, Theseus thought. If anyone knew the danger signs, it was Hercules. And Iphicles was being painfully polite, which was a dead giveaway that he was pissed about something. Iolaus sat next to Hercules, while Autolycus, sitting next to him, cast a few hopeful glances at his chair. The way Hercules avoided looking at Autolycus made Theseus suspicious, but he didn't know enough about Hercules to tell what that meant. He, however, intended to keep a close eye on the silverware. He knew Autolycus' reputation.
The servants brought in the food: duck in prune sauce, artichokes and turnips with herbs, pureed peas, roast suckling pig, assorted fruits, pastries and bottles of fine-quality garum. Hercules stiffened when he saw the pig and curtly refused to take any, while Iolaus and Autolycus stifled laughs and Iphicles became even more coldly polite. The meal was painfully quiet. Salmoneus and Twanky, the older couple, were the only ones who seemed to be enjoying themselves. Disaster loomed on the horizon and Theseus wished he were anywhere else, with anyone else. Iphicles was being a pain in the ass and Theseus wished he'd just get over whatever it was and let them enjoy their time together.
As dinner wound down, Iphicles spilled his wine, the signal that the floorshow was about to begin. Theseus waited a few moments, then dropped his fork and ducked under the table to retrieve it, again wishing Iphicles would just grow up. He schooled his face into a passable imitation of an angry snarl and sat back up, glaring daggers at Iphicles, which wasn't difficult at the moment.
"King Iphicles," he said loudly enough for the entire table to hear, "is there a reason you're holding my wife's hand under the table?"
Iphicles looked flustered, then his mouth set into a stubborn line. "Because I love her," he said.
"She's my wife!" Theseus stood and brandished his very heavy, very dull, very tacky sword. "This insult will not go unpunished!" He wished he had had more time to come up with better lines. He sounded like an idiot. But he'd spent his time hoping Iphicles would just go ahead with the original plan and now he was stuck acting like a buffoon. "King Iphicles, I demand reparations! I will have your life!"
Theseus stole a look at Hercules, who had clearly missed his cue. He was supposed to be panicking, defending his brother. Instead, he was just sitting at the table, looking completely relaxed, sipping his wine and nodding in agreement. Theseus glanced at Iphicles, who was also plainly waiting. Iphicles shrugged a bit, and Theseus decided to just wait and see what Hercules would do next.
"He's right, you know," Hercules said after draining his glass, and Iphicles almost gave himself whiplash as he turned to his brother.
"What?" Iphicles stood and looked at Theseus, who shrugged fractionally. He had no clue where this was going now.
"I mean, if you're sleeping with his wife, he has every right to kill you. That's the law," Hercules said casually.
"You're not going to stop him?" Iphicles sounded astonished.
Theseus empathized. But then he caught a slight twitch of Hercules' lips and realized that they'd been had.
"You'll let me to skewer your brother?" Theseus asked Hercules, who nodded in return.
"Go right ahead. Iphicles, say hi to Mom for me when you see her."
Theseus watched as Iphicles flushed, his expression caught somewhere between incredulity and anger. "You're just going to sit there and let him kill me?"
"Uh huh. Could you pass the wine first? I'm almost out." Hercules turned away, but Theseus saw a grin creep across his face.
Iphicles stiffened, and Theseus could tell exactly when he realized Hercules was playing with him.
"Fine," Iphicles said politely "I'll get the wine for you." He reached for the closest pitcher of wine and proceeded to dump it over his brother's head.
Hercules looked up, red wine dripping from his hair, and studied his brother. "Thank you," he said in a voice that said the exact opposite. "You're feeling prickly tonight," he added before casually beaning Iphicles with an artichoke.
Things might have turned ugly at that point, but Iolaus jumped up and yelled "Food fight," and then proceeded to throw a turnip at Theseus, who batted it away with his sword. It looked like the piece of crap was good for something. He watched as the turnip splattered against an image of Apollo and then slid slowly down the wall. He retaliated by flinging a spoonful of pureed peas at Iolaus. Unfortunately his aim was off, because he simply wasn't used to using a silver spoon as a weapon, and the green goop hit Hercules' ear, the green clashing with the deep red wine. Theseus backed away as Hercules searched for good ammunition.
Salmoneus, Twanky, Hippolyta and Hermia took the opportunity to duck under the table as Hercules lobbed a large piece of baklava at Theseus, scoring a hit square on his nose. Theseus sneezed, sending phyllo flakes over the table, and Iphicles grabbed a lemon half, scooped out the pulp with his hand and threw the goop at Hercules. Iolaus pointed and laughed, stopping only when Hercules and Iphicles traded commiserating looks and nailed him simultaneously with sticky prunes. Autolycus, meanwhile, was trying to unobtrusively slide silverware into his tunic.
Somehow, Theseus and Iolaus ended on one side of the table, Hercules and Iphicles on the other. Theseus quickly realized that Hercules and Iphicles were stronger, but he and Iolaus more than made up for it with speed and creativity. He was impressed when Iolaus threw the pig's snout at Hercules, who winced and cringed, allowing Iolaus to follow up by grabbing a full bottle of garum and dousing both brothers with sticky, smelly fish sauce. They deserved it, Theseus thought, grimacing as he felt a slimy glob of bread pudding slither its way down his back. But Iphicles took advantage of Iolaus, who was bent nearly double with laughter, by lobbing more turnips and catching Iolaus in the face when he straightened up for air. Hercules followed this up with a devastating round of pastries, thrown faster than Theseus could follow, which left sticky honey and milk in Theseus' hair and all over his clothes. He retaliated by flinging more pureed peas, covering Iolaus, who was making a dash for more wine and garum.
The fight ended when there was no more food on the table and both sides were ready to collapse with laughter. Theseus and Iolaus shared a smile as they watched Hercules and Iphicles embrace each other, albeit awkwardly, then proceed to pound each other while dodging blame for their current mess.
"Why are you stopping?" Ares' voice was low and scratchy. He'd been drinking water all day, trying to quench the fire burning in his throat. It hadn't helped. Nothing had helped. The only thing that would make him better was his sword, and now Joxer was stopping the cart, pulling off the road and heading for a clearing that Ares could barely see through his itching, burning eyes. Every part of his body burned. His muscles, his throat, his eyes, his head, everything was a massive ball of pain and heat.
"It's too dark to stay on the road," Joxer said, his voice trembling. "If the horse steps in a hole and lames himself we'll take even longer to get to Sparta."
Ares wasn't sure he believed him. Yeah, the explanation made sense, but Joxer probably had an ulterior motive. He'd probably been poisoning the food and water. That was why he was sick and Joxer wasn't. But the sun was slipping below the horizon, a cool night's wind springing up. It was going to be a beautiful night to kill Joxer. And tomorrow he'd be in Sparta, sword in hand, and Zeus and Athena would pay.
"I'll go get the water," Ares offered, and Joxer looked surprised.
"I can do it," Joxer said, a little too quickly for Ares.
"I'll do it," he replied, his voice scratchy but still properly menacing. He watched Joxer cringe like the pathetic worm he was.
"I'll start dinner," Joxer said, and Ares decided he'd limit himself to a few apples he'd picked himself.
"I'm not hungry," he said casually, and watched Joxer's face fall. It was easy to thwart an idiot like Joxer. The problem was that people thought he was too dumb to be dangerous. In fact, maybe he was. Maybe he'd been accidentally poisoning Ares. It was hard to tell the difference between cunning and stupidity.
"Oh. Well, I'll start a fire then."
Ares hoped Joxer wouldn't burn down the forest, but he didn't say anything as he walked off in search of a stream, following a slightly worn path. Apparently the clearing was a popular rest stop, and the path was bound to lead to water eventually. Joxer followed for a short way, picking up dead wood and awkwardly clutching it to his chest.
"Do you think there's a stream near here? Maybe I should get the water," Joxer said. The pathetic fool really wanted to get his hands on those water skins, Ares realized.
"There's bound to be water somewhere," he said. "I'll find it." He watched as Joxer's face fell, and chuckled to himself.
The darkness grew, and Ares walked for a long while, almost losing the path a few times. The more he walked, the more convinced he became that Joxer had let him get the water in hopes that he would get lost. But he let out a triumphant yell as his boot landed in a small stream, and he reached down and cupped his hands in the cool, fresh water and eagerly drank. Poor Joxer, thwarted again. He chuckled to himself as he filled the water skins and sat down at the base of a tree, pulling his apples out of his pouch and having a quick meal of fruit and water. It wasn't very filling but at least it was safe.
After eating, Ares stretched his legs and closed his eyes, drifting off for a few moments. When he woke it was dark, the sky black and dotted with stars, but the full moon showed him the path back to their camp. He smiled to himself. Joxer was probably asleep. Of course, he wanted the little man to be awake, to see death coming for him. Maybe he'd even let Joxer draw his pathetic excuse for a sword and toy with him a bit before killing him. That might be fun.
When he finally arrived at the clearing he saw a fire burning merrily near the cart. Joxer and the horse were gone.
Joxer clung to the horse's mane so tightly that he couldn't feel his hands. The rough mane still blew in his face, but he was afraid to look up. He was afraid to move. If he moved, he'd fall off again. Joxer had never been good at riding horses, and this one didn't even have a saddle. So he kept his eyes tightly closed and held on, hoping that the horse was following the road away from Sparta.
"I'm sorry I couldn't get us any water," he whispered to the horse, hoping it would understand that he meant it well. "I didn't want him to know I was planning on running away. We'll stop soon and get you something to eat and drink, I promise."
He hoped he could keep that promise. He kept imagining Ares coming after them, killing both of them like he'd killed the horse's owner. Every time he closed his eyes he saw the pool of dark red blood spreading under the man's body, the shocked look on his face. And then, in his mind, the face would change and he'd see his own shocked face, lying in a puddle of blood. He felt nauseous but couldn't tell if that was because of the mental image or because of the horse's motion. Riding horses had always made him a little queasy.
"We're going to find Xena," he told the horse. "She's a friend. She'll know what to do."
At least, Joxer hoped so. But Xena was a hero, and she always stood up to Ares. Joxer paused for a moment. He was a hero. He should be standing up to Ares. But... as a hero, he should be helping Ares. It was all so confusing. He wished there was some sort of scroll full of rules for heroes that he could follow. Maybe he should suggest that to Gabby. Xena could tell her the rules and Gabrielle could write them down and then read them to him. He loved the sound of her voice.
Joxer took a chance and opened one eye a bit, checking to make sure they were still on the road. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw they were, because he wasn't sure he could convince the horse to do much of anything that it didn't want to do. In fact, it could probably have left him any of the times he fell off. But it was a nice horse. He liked it. It was gray, a little skinny, and had knobby knees and its hooves pointed outwards a little more than they should. But it had an even gait and seemed to like him. That was good. Joxer wondered what he should call the horse.
"Do you have a name?" He felt silly, whispering to a horse, but it helped to break the tension. "Maybe I should give you a new name. Something strong and warrior-like." He thought for a while. What was a good name for a hero's horse? "How about Justice? You like that name?"
The horse jerked its head and Joxer held on tighter. He'd take that as a yes. Now he needed to think of a good word that rhymed with justice. Lust-us? He didn't think that was a word. Custus? Mustus? This was hard. Maybe a different name was in order.
Joxer thought long and hard. After all, picking a good name was important. The horse deserved a really good name for all of its help, and it deserved to be mentioned in his song, which meant it had to rhyme with something. Gabrielle liked poems and songs that didn't rhyme but Joxer always had trouble remembering them. Besides, rhymes were catchy. He thought some more, thinking of words and things that rhymed with them.
"I've got it," he whispered to the horse. He wasn't sure why he was whispering, Ares wasn't anywhere near them, but he still felt like he should whisper. "How do you like Pax? It means Peace, you know." Gabrielle would like that. And there were good words that rhymed with it, like facts and tax and lacks and tracks and hacks and lax and stacks. He wasn't sure how to work those words into his song, but at least he had several to choose from.
That distracted him for a while, but Joxer's thoughts circled back around to the god issue. He'd been thinking about it all day and it made him uncomfortable, but it was hard to escape his thoughts.
He'd prayed all day. Which was confusing, because he usually prayed to Ares and Ares was mortal now, and he was praying for protection from Ares. Trying to figure that one out made his head ache. He didn't have many options, as far as gods went. There was Apollo, but Joxer wasn't a musician or a healer even if he did like singing his song. And he'd always felt uncomfortable in Apollo's temples, which were too fancy for his taste. He always worried he'd break something. There was also Zeus, but Zeus struck Joxer as being a little immature. Not that he would ever criticize the king of the gods, but he just didn't feel like a good fit for Joxer. He considered Aphrodite or Cupid, but he really wasn't the type to dedicate himself to a love god. He was a warrior and a hero and he needed an appropriate deity.
That left Athena. Joxer had always kind of liked her - her temples were clean, simple and elegant. And her priests were always kind, unlike Ares' priests, who tended to be big, hairy and smelly and laughed at him (and occasionally beat him up). Unlike Ares, Athena didn't go for the whole human skull motif, which had always made Joxer nervous. In fact, the whole reason he had decided to follow Ares instead of Athena was because his father was one of Ares' followers. Joxer had wanted to please his father so he pledged himself to Ares. In retrospect, he realized that he'd never really been comfortable with that decision.
After thinking all day, Joxer had decided that he would dedicate himself to Athena. He just hoped she'd accept him. When he got back to Athens, he'd find Xena and ask for her help, and then he'd go to Athena's temple and make an offering. He started thinking about an appropriate offering for his new goddess.
High above him, an owl soared on the wind currents, watching over Joxer and his horse as they traveled.
Iphicles slid into the warm bath with an audible sigh, leaning his head back against the tiled edge of the tub and closing his eyes. Theseus watched him as he finished undressing, remembering once again why he put up with the little brat.
"Tired?"
Iphicles nodded, not bothering to open his eyes as Theseus slipped into the water beside him.
"You deserve it, you know."
"Do not." Iphicles still didn't open his eyes, but his lips twitched.
"You had to stay up all night talking to your brother. I think that qualifies as your fault."
"He wanted to talk too. Ergo, it's his fault."
Theseus couldn't combat that kind of logic. No one could, not even Athena herself.
Theseus leaned back and relaxed in the warm water, enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet as he listened to Iphicles breathing next to him. The storm had blown over, and Iphicles' face was open and relaxed. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the silence.
"So," Theseus started.
"So."
Theseus opened one eye. "Did you and Hercules have a nice talk?"
"It was," Iphicles paused, lips twitching again, "enlightening."
"Interesting choice of adjective."
"Interesting talk."
"Ah."
Theseus slid deeper into the water, submerging briefly before coming back to rest a bit closer to Iphicles, close enough that their shoulders touched. Iphicles' skin was warmer than the water, and much more interesting.
"So your brother won't be interrupting us again?"
Iphicles opened both his eyes and smiled mischievously. "I told him I'd rip his balls off if he did. Besides, I think he has some plans of his own."
Theseus had been wondering about some of the looks between Hercules and Autolycus. "Do those plans involve getting back my silverware?"
"I think so. Plus some appropriate punishment." Iphicles looked a bit shocked as he considered the idea. "Hercules has a kinky side, can you believe it?"
Theseus shrugged. He'd thought Hercules had potential, but it was hard to separate the real man from all of Iphicles' ranting sometimes. "Think he'd like to borrow the dungeon?"
Iphicles laughed. "I don't think he's quite that kinky. But I'm more than willing to interrupt him and make the offer."
Theseus quite liked the idea of interrupting Hercules. However, there were drawbacks. "But that would mean interrupting us. And I'd hate to be interrupted today."
"Don't you mean 'tonight'?"
"It's morning. I can't believe you didn't notice." Theseus paused. "Then again, I don't suppose you've ever actually seen the sun rise, have you? You probably think it just pops up into the middle of the sky and stays there until evening."
Iphicles looked wounded, then yawned hugely. "If you're going to be snarky then maybe I should go back to my room and crawl into my bed and get some sleep."
"Your filthy clothes and the buckets you used to clean up with are still in your room. And you couldn't find your own bed if I gave you a map. Besides, it's morning. People will be looking for you in your bed. They won't think of looking for you in mine."
That wasn't true, strictly speaking. All of the guards knew about the two of them. So did all of the servants, who apparently found them 'cute'. It was actually a bit embarrassing, but Theseus had learned quickly that the guards and servants were the eyes and ears of the castle - they knew everything about everyone and there was no way to stop them. It was best to stay on their collective good side.
"Doesn't mean I have to share my tub," Iphicles said with a mischievous smile.
"It's my tub. I'm sharing it with you," Theseus reminded him.
"Then I should thank you properly."
"You certainly should."
Iphicles moved closer and kissed Theseus languidly, his lips nibbling Theseus' mouth as his tongue gently caressed Theseus'. Theseus enjoyed the sensations, feeling Iphicles shift closer, their kisses becoming more urgent until they both had to stop and break apart to breathe. Theseus glanced toward the door reflexively, waiting for Demetrius to knock and scurry in, but nothing happened. He licked his lips, which felt warm and swollen, and watched Iphicles, who was looking hungry.
"Maybe we should move this into the bedroom," Theseus whispered as he leaned forward and nibbled Iphicles' ear.
"I'm having fun here," Iphicles replied, swooping down for another kiss.
Theseus pulled Iphicles closer, feeling the hard muscle under smooth, soft skin and rough hair. When Iphicles' hard cock nudged his hip, Theseus moaned into the kiss, reaching down to gently stroke Iphicles. He was rewarded as Iphicles straddled his lap, thrusting his cock against Theseus' stomach, and Theseus was able to run his hands possessively over Iphicles' ass, prompting a strangled whimper.
Iphicles pulled away, his breathing harsh. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should move into the bedroom."
"I'm having fun here," Theseus said as he reached down and grasped both their erections in his hand. Their flesh was hot, hotter than the water, and Iphicles gave him a scalding look. Iphicles also reached down, wrapping his fist around Theseus', and threw his head back, corded muscle standing out in stark relief in his neck. He was irresistible, and Theseus had no desire to resist. He leaned forward, licking Iphicles' neck, tasting water and sweat and skin, then sucked on the fragile flesh until the blood pooled under the skin.
Iphicles gasped and rocked his hips forward, tightening his fist at the same time as he increased the pressure and friction. Theseus closed his eyes against the surge of pleasure and heat rising inside of him as Iphicles thrust forward again, their fists setting a slow but insistent rhythm. Theseus half-hoped that Iphicles wouldn't stop, that he'd keep pumping until they both came and could collapse into the water. But Iphicles slowed down and loosened his grip, and Theseus opened his eyes to a mischievous grin.
"Tease," Theseus whispered in his ear.
"I'd be a tease if I didn't plan to put out," Iphicles replied, rocking forward again, prompting a gasp from Theseus. "But nothing's going to stop us today." He wrapped his hands in Theseus' hair and pulled his lover to him, kissing him desperately. "Bed now?"
"Bed now," Theseus agreed.
They climbed out of the tub, leaving puddles of water on the tiled floor as they hurried toward the bedroom.
Iphicles sprawled across the bed, and Theseus wondered if the man was capable of just lying down like an ordinary human being. Then again, Iphicles wasn't an ordinary human being.
"You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen," Theseus said as he slid into the bed next to Iphicles. And he meant it. Iphicles looked like a statue of a god - powerful, beautiful and regal. And his smile was more devastating than any god's lightning bolts could dream of being.
"You're pretty great yourself," Iphicles whispered before drawing Theseus down for another searing kiss that left Theseus aching for more.
Iphicles' skin was smooth and still wet, and Theseus ran his hands over Iphicles' chest, stopping to tweak his nipples before bending down to bite them gently. Iphicles moaned softly and arched into his touch, his hard cock rubbing gently along the side of Theseus' thigh, leaving a trail of damp heat.
As he moved downward, Theseus took the time to touch and lick every inch of exposed skin, sometimes nuzzling, other times nibbling or even biting as Iphicles writhed beneath him and made small incoherent needy sounds in the back of his throat. When Theseus stopped to investigate Iphicles' navel, he felt strong hands winding themselves in his hair and forcing his head slowly down.
Normally he would have pushed right back. But today he just allowed himself to be shoved downward, and he grasped Iphicles' cock firmly in one hand and guided it into his mouth, setting up a motion with both his hand and his mouth. He enjoyed listening to Iphicles' grunts and moans, the noises that might have been words in some primitive language but were lost now. He lingered over well-known sensitive spots, feeling the muscles in Iphicles' thighs tighten and tremble, listening as Iphicles yelped and moaned in agony and ecstasy.
Theseus felt the trembling in Iphicles' thighs increase, tasted the bitter, salty taste that meant Iphicles was ready to come, and he relaxed his throat and moved further down, taking all of Iphicles' cock into his throat as he grasped his lover's hips and held them to the bed, trying to contain Iphicles' wild bucking. It only took a few more thrusts before Iphicles came in his mouth and Theseus pulled back a bit, still gently licking Iphicles' still-hard cock.
"Fuck," Iphicles said eloquently, one forearm draped over his eyes.
"You have such a way with words, your highness," Theseus said, still breathing heavily.
"Fuck you," Iphicles replied with a satisfied grin.
Theseus drew in his breath as Iphicles turned on his side, one eyebrow cocked in a definite come-on. It was only a few moment's work to locate the small skin filled with oil, as it had somehow landed under the bed, and Theseus urgently poured some onto his hand, trying to ignore the tremors in his suddenly-clumsy hands, and gently coated his erection with the almond-scented oil. His touch was light, because he was afraid that if he grasped too firmly he'd start pumping into his fist until he came. That wouldn't do, not with Iphicles wantonly sprawled in his bed, a sultry look darkening his brown eyes and one leg drawn up as he stroked himself.
He lay on the bed behind Iphicles, one arm thrown across the younger man's chest, and nuzzled Iphicles' still-damp hair. Iphicles took Theseus' hand in his own and pressed it above his heart, and Theseus felt the faint thump of Iphicles' heartbeat beneath his palm before Iphicles raised his hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over his knuckles in a gentle kiss before letting go.
Theseus bit back a moan and pressed himself closer to Iphicles, his heart pumping furiously as he used one hand to guide his desperate cock. He moved slowly, feeling the tight heat as he buried himself inside Iphicles' body, and he pressed his lips again to the crook of Iphicles' neck, nuzzling and licking as he pressed forward, stopping only when he was completely sheathed.
Iphicles sighed, and Theseus reached around to grasp his cock, already filling again. He pulled out and then pushed in again, his strokes long and slow, and Iphicles responded with a low, breathy moan as Theseus continued to stroke and fuck him. He threw his head back and Theseus kissed him, trying desperately to keep the pace slow and languid, but he failed.
Theseus' thrusts grew shorter, harder, and Iphicles' moans and writhing only encouraged him as he groaned helplessly, frantically moving faster until he felt the world explode around him as he came inside Iphicles.
They stayed together for a few moments, Theseus still holding Iphicles close, until Iphicles wriggled free and turned over. His smile was drowsy and contented, and still made Theseus' heart skip a beat. He told himself that it was just exertion, but he knew better.
Iphicles snuggled closer, throwing one arm around Theseus' chest, and kissed him gently on the lips.
"We don't get to do that nearly enough," he whispered.
Theseus nodded in agreement, then watched as Iphicles sighed contentedly and quickly fell asleep.
Autolycus blinked and looked around. He was in a dark room, lit only by one small candle. The flame flickered in the soft breeze, and shadows jumped from the corners. Autolycus squinted, then took a step toward the candle as he tried to make out the shapes surrounding him.
Torches sprang to life, hundreds of them, and Autolycus whirled around, looking for someone, anyone. But there was no one else there. The room was empty.
Not actually empty, though. He was surrounded by gold coins, spilling from bags filled to overflowing. Chests of jewels glittered in the light, and he saw rubies and diamonds and pearls the size of turnips. Other chests held elaborate jewelry, precious metals set with gems, the craftsmanship of a quality seen only in royal treasuries.
Autolycus reached for a bag of gold, hoping to run his fingers through it, anticipating the heft and coldness of the heavy coins, the feel of hard metal against his palms. But he didn't feel anything, nothing but air, and then the bag evaporated, leaving only a pale, misty outline.
He hated this dream. It happened every time - just when he got his hands on the treasure, it disappeared. Except there was something different tonight, something in a far corner that looked out of place. Autolycus shrugged and went to check it out. Maybe this time he'd actually manage to get some of the treasure.
The room was huge, and Autolycus heard his footsteps echo as he walked on the jewel-encrusted floor. The closer he got to the object in the corner, the more details he was able to make out. It was a bed, a large one, and someone was lying on it. Someone naked, facing the wall.
Autolycus gulped and cursed his subconscious. Here he was, in a room full of treasure, and what did his mind conjure up? Naked Hercules in bed. Talk about something he'd never get. But his lips still tingled from their earlier kisses - the man certainly had a way of getting answers to his questions. He'd just kissed Autolycus thoroughly, then grinned and walked off, whistling, leaving Autolycus dazed and aching.
He forgot to breathe when Hercules slowly turned over, revealing golden skin and sapphire eyes, and Autolycus reached forward to touch him, wanting to run his hands along Hercules' body, wanting to feel him move and hear him moan with passion, and then he lost his balance and fell, face-first onto the bed.
Dreams sucked. Autolycus woke, cursing, flailing as he fought his blankets and tried to tell his early-morning erection to just go away. Not that that ever worked, but he hated the idea of waking up and jerking off while thinking about Hercules, on his knees, sucking him off... He reached under the blankets to take matters into hand, and froze when he heard someone clear his throat.
"Morning," Hercules said, and Autolycus slowly let go of his cock, trying not to be too obvious about it.
"Morning," he said, not sure exactly what else to say.
"I knocked," Hercules said, and he looked entirely too earnest and innocent. "A lot."
"Oh."
"Thought I'd see if you were up."
Autolycus wanted to show Hercules just how "up" he was, but he didn't want to be singing soprano for the rest of his life. Instead, he sat up in bed and tried to look nonchalant as he placed his pillow over his lap.
"Just waking up," he said nervously.
"Duke Theseus wants his silverware back," Hercules said, smiling, and Autolycus wilted under his warm gaze. He sighed, then ran his fingers through his hair.
"It's all in the chest there," he gestured vaguely toward the foot of his bed, holding his breath as Hercules came closer and closer. "I was going to give it all back today," he said with his most innocent look. "Just playing a little joke."
Hercules raised one eyebrow skeptically and Autolycus endeavored to look both innocent and wounded. But instead of opening the chest, Hercules sat on the edge of the bed, his back straight, and looked at a point somewhere behind Autolycus' shoulder.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about something..." Hercules started, and Autolycus tried desperately to pay attention, tried to ignore the fact that Hercules was in his bed, almost touching him, and he felt like he was going to explode any second. Hercules took a deep breath, then looked down at his hands. "What I'm trying to say is, would you like to, you know, do something together?"
Autolycus felt an incredibly embarrassing grin creep across his face. This looked like it could be the beginning of something real.
"Yeah. Sounds good to me," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. But he was rewarded when Hercules looked right at him, an incredibly stupid grin on his face as well.
"Want me to tie you up? I'm good at knots."
Autolycus forgot to breathe. Then his mouth kicked in before his brain and he blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Only if I can tie you up later."
Hercules shrugged. "No problem. I brought rope."
This was going to be an interesting relationship.
Ares cursed as he stumbled up the steps to Athena's temple. He'd finally made it to Sparta, despite her best efforts. He burned with fever and his knees trembled, and some disgusting substance kept pouring out of his nose, and his head and bones were all ready to explode, but dammit, he made it. Any moment now he'd regain his godhood and do some serious smiting.
He stood in the center of the dull gray marble temple, ignoring the priests, and raised his arms. "I'm here, sis! I made it," he screamed in triumph, enjoying watching the petitioners look at him nervously before scurrying away. Served them right, praying to Athena. Spartans were his, and they had no right going behind his back to worship another war god.
Athena appeared before him, looking neat and cool, as always. He hated that about her. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair, trying to straighten it, then realized what he was doing and dropped his hand with a growl.
"I made it. Now give me my sword," he said, trying to ignore the way the floor moved beneath his feet, like a ship anchored in harbor.
"You have a fever," Athena said as she stepped closer, and she had the nerve to look concerned. Ares snarled at her.
"Give me my sword and that'll take care of it."
Athena nodded, then reached into the air beside her and pulled out his sword. Ares reached for it greedily, nearly knocking her down in his haste to grab his weapon.
He felt the power flow into him, healing the pain and clearing his mind. The power flowed through him, and then he flowed through it, and there was no longer any way to tell where he ended and the power began. The mantle of mortality was burned away and it was like seeing daylight after a lifetime of darkness, like hearing for the first time. He embraced the anger and hatred and lust, felt it coursing through him like blood through mortal veins. He was, once again, the god of war.
"I'm back," he told Athena with a triumphant smirk. And wouldn't she be sorry now?
Athena's expression didn't change. She just looked at him, calmly and benignly. Ares hated that look.
"Well," he said, since she didn't seem to be inclined to chat, "I have some business to take care of. Have your people call my people and we'll do lunch or something," he said with a smirk.
"Wait."
"What?" Ares crossed his arms over his chest and glared at his sister, who looked completely unconcerned and, more importantly, unimpressed.
"I won't let you hurt Joxer."
Ares snarled and cranked his glare up several notches. "Why not?"
Athena walked away calmly and sat in her white and gray marble throne. She perched on the edge, her knees together, her back ramrod-straight. "First," she started, speaking calmly, "because you promised him you wouldn't hurt or kill him."
Ares snorted. "I was under duress. Doesn't count."
"It does," Athena said calmly, and Ares felt his blood heating. "Especially since he is now one of my worshippers. I won't allow any harm to come to him."
Ares stared at her. Joxer had gone to Athena? That was... fucking hilarious. He began laughing and was soon unable to stop, and he really hated being pissed off and amused at once.
It took a few moments before he was able to calm himself and straighten up, wiping tears from his face. "You took him? I don't even have to pay you to take him off my hands?"
Athena looked at him oddly, her head cocked at an angle and her lips pursed in concentration. Humor had always been a foreign concept to her. "Why would I do that? He's a good man, and a brave one. He's the kind of warrior I try to recruit."
The whole idea of an army full of Joxers giving each other food poisoning and tripping over their own feet and impaling themselves on their own weapons was enough to send Ares into paroxysms of laughter again. Athena wanted him? She actually looked for pathetic wannabes like him? That was so rich.
"Okay," Ares said after he'd mostly calmed down again. A few laughs still escaped and he was having trouble catching his breath, but he was much better than he had been. "That's a good one. So no smiting Joxer because he's yours. No problem." The two of them deserved each other. With Joxer on her side, Athena didn't stand a chance. Besides, he had his own secret weapon. Thanks to Iphicles, Theseus and Hippolyta, Ares could now pull the strings of the combined armies of Corinth, Athens and Sparta, plus several large and bloodthirsty Amazon tribes. Once they convinced some other city-states to join their alliance, they'd have the largest army Greece had ever seen, and then they'd swoop down on Persia and the rest of the world. No one would know what hit them. Ares could afford to be benevolent, since he'd have Athena at his feet within a decade. Less, considering that the deluded woman actually wanted Joxer and men like him.
Athena continued to stare at him, her fingers drumming the arm of her throne for a second before she realized what she was doing and stopped. "I have some plans for Joxer. Aphrodite and I have arranged a suitable reward for him."
That prompted another round of laughter as Ares imagined Athena and Aphrodite, who hated each other, making plans to reward Joxer. Athena would have been standing as far from Aphrodite as decorum allowed, avoiding looking at her cleavage and thighs as Aphrodite deliberately invaded her personal space and flashed her. This was rich. He hadn't laughed so hard since he'd turned Iolaus and Autolycus into monsters.
Ares was laughing so hard that his stomach hurt and he had to gasp for breath. This struck him as funny because he didn't need to breathe, and he laughed harder, finally giving up and transporting himself home.
Joxer led Pax down the road, feeling the horse nuzzle his empty hand in a quest for more apple slices. Joxer laughed and pushed the horse away half-heartedly. It was nice to travel with someone who seemed to like him. And Pax was a much better traveling companion than Ares. Smelled less, too.
It was a beautiful afternoon, and Joxer whistled as he walked, feeling a spring in his step that had been missing for days. He loved being out on days like this, feeling the sun on his skin and the breeze in his hair, talking and waving to other travelers. It was so much more fun when he wasn't dealing with a psychopathic former god. Still, he hoped he'd made the right decision and that Ares was doing all right.
Joxer sighed. He really did feel bad for abandoning Ares. A hero should stick to his commitments and have good follow-through. He'd taken the easy path and walked away, and he felt guilty for it. But he was still haunted by images of Ares killing that man. And he'd felt sure that if he hadn't left, he would've been next. Heroes were allowed to save their own lives, weren't they? As long as they didn't put innocents in danger, he thought it was acceptable.
Pax whinnied, and Joxer looked up from the road. A few carts were pulled into a nearby clearing and a group of people were eating lunch. He smelled some kind of stew, and his stomach growled suddenly, reminding him that he hadn't had dinner or even breakfast.
"Hey!" He saw someone wave at him and he waved back, wondering if it was anyone he knew. "Want some lunch?"
"Thanks!" Joxer yelled his response and led Pax to the small group. Two women scooped some rabbit stew, hot and steaming, out of a pot hanging over the fire, then hustled him over to a young woman who looked familiar while an older man took care of Pax. It was a bit dizzying, being surrounded by so many friendly people, but Joxer didn't mind. He liked people, as long as they were nice.
He sat next to the woman and noticed her staring at him. Women did that a lot, probably intimidated by his masculinity and his heroic aura. She had dark brown hair that fell in untidy curls down her back and an intense look on her face, like Gabrielle sometimes got when she was trying to figure out the right words to write down. He took off his helmet to be polite, and held out his hand.
"Hi," he said with a smile. "I'm Joxer."
She smiled back shyly, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm Althea. Want some bread and cheese?"
She handed him more food and Joxer wolfed it down, a little nervous because she kept staring, even though she was trying to be unobtrusive.
"You from around here?" He tried to start a conversation, wondering if maybe there was something stuck in his teeth, or if he had something on his face. It wouldn't surprise him.
"No," she said quietly, "I'm from a little town no one's ever heard of." She was quiet for a moment, then reached out to touch his helmet. "Do you mind if I look at this?"
Joxer shrugged. "Sure. I made it myself, you know."
Althea looked amazed. "You designed it and everything?"
"Yeah." Joxer beamed. I wanted something light, you know, so my head wouldn't get too hot and sweaty. I hate it when I get helmet-hair. And it also blocks the sun."
"I noticed," Althea said, sounding excited. "It's a great design. I really like it."
"You do?" Most people didn't appreciate his armor. This woman was obviously special.
"Uh huh." Althea took a deep breath, like she was worried he'd laugh at her. "Have you ever thought about marketing this? You could have a whole line of casual helmets."
Joxer squinted as he concentrated. "I never thought of that. I'm not much for that kind of thing. I'm in the hero business."
"Really?" Althea sounded really impressed, and Joxer puffed out his chest a bit.
"Yeah. I've worked with Xena, mostly. But now I'm freelancing."
"Wow." Althea was definitely impressed. "I'm just in the fashion business. I design clothes, but I've been wanting to branch out. Sometimes it feels like the clothes I design are just too impractical. I've been thinking about a new line, one for fighters. I'm planning to call it 'Warrior Wear'." She toyed with the helmet a bit more. "You know, you being a hero would definitely help with the advertising. How would you feel about a partnership? I could modify the design a little, then move the line into production and handle the marketing. All you'd have to do is lend your name to the venture."
"Huh." It didn't sound very heroic. But Joxer had heard that Hercules had done a few product endorsements for Salmoneus. "Maybe, if some of the profits went to charity?" That would be heroic, giving money to charity, and it wouldn't hurt to make some for himself. Heroes didn't have to take a vow of poverty or anything. At least, he sure hoped not.
"That's a great idea. We could even work it into the ad campaign."
Joxer reached for his stew to continue his lunch when he heard a high-pitched scream. Grabbing his sword, he stood up and looked around, placing himself between Althea and any danger.
A pony cantered down the road toward them, two small figures clinging to its back and screaming obscenities at each other. Joxer and his companions watched, confused, as the pony came to an abrupt stop, throwing its riders, then calmly lowered its head and started eating grass.
"There a Joxer here? Paging Joxer the Mighty!" One of the small people stood and brushed herself off, taking a few seconds to straighten out a slightly crinkled wing.
"I'm Joxer," Joxer said, wondering if maybe that wasn't a bad idea. Maybe he should have found out why the little person wanted him. But he didn't have much time to worry. She advanced upon him, arm outstretched.
"Name's Mustardseed. The Mighty Mustardseed. Pleasedtameetya."
Joxer shook her hand automatically as Althea stepped out from behind him and waved a little wave.
"I'm Althea. I'm his business partner."
"Cool," Mustardseed said. "Xena and Gabrielle sent me to make sure Joxer was okay."
"I'm fine," Joxer said, hoping no one would ask him to elaborate.
"Cool. And that guy," Mustardseed jerked her thumb at the small man who had dusted himself off and was headed straight for the stew, "is Puck. Ignore him."
"Hey!" The little guy glared at Mustardseed, then flicked some gold dust at her, and her hair turned green.
"I told you not to do that, you goat-fucking turd!" Mustardseed flicked more dust at him, and his green tunic turned into a pink diaphanous lace-trimmed blouse that Aphrodite would have loved.
"That's really nice," Althea said before the fairy dust really started flying. "Are you in the fashion business too?"
Mustardseed preened. "I've got some training. But I've decided to be a warrior. Save people, rescue damsels in distress and all that jazz." She sighed. "I was hanging with Gabrielle and Xena but I'm starting to think they don't really do anything. All they ever do is sit around and talk. I want to work with a real hero."
Joxer brightened. "I'm looking for a sidekick. Interested?"
"What's it pay?"
"Nothing, really. Just being a hero and all. Oh, and I have a song, I could write you into it."
"I love songs! I've written a couple myself!"
Joxer thought that was pretty neat. Gabrielle always insisted that she wrote prose, and songs weren't her thing, so he couldn't really talk to her about musical composition.
"We're just starting to design a line of clothes for fighters. I'm going to call it 'Warrior Wear'. Maybe you could help too," Althea chimed in.
Mustardseed's eyes misted over. "Oh, man, this is just so cool. I mean, you are both just the coolest humans I've ever met. Really. This is great. Look, I can work on designs and everything." She stopped and examined Joxer critically. "And he can be our model."
"I thought of that," Althea said with a smile. "He's got the right body type for it, and he's got a great face. Very expressive." She blushed, and Joxer felt his face getting red too.
"I don't know about modeling," he said modestly. "I've never done anything like that." But it'd be fun, all the women in the audience looking up at him, wanting him. And maybe Gabrielle would come to one of the shows. Hm. Maybe he could talk Xena and Hercules into some modeling or product endorsements too.
Puck pulled at his new pink blouse and then joined the tree of them. "If you're hiring sidekicks, I'm in the market. Over a century of experience with Oberon." He didn't sound very excited, but Joxer noticed the way he looked at Mustardseed when she wasn't looking at him. It reminded him of how he looked at Gabrielle sometimes.
"Sure, as long as you can be a hero," Joxer said. There was no rule limiting the number of sidekicks a hero could have. Besides, that fairy dust could come in handy.
The four of them sat and talked as they ate lunch, planning their future.
An owl landed in a tree nearby and listened, and then a shower of hearts and sparkles heralded Aphrodite's arrival.
"Told you this'd work out," Aphrodite whispered. "Althea already has a crush on him. Give him a while with her and he'll forget all about Gabrielle. And the fairies are cute too."
The owl stared at her, then ruffled its feathers and deliberately looked away.
"Fine," Aphrodite said. "But even you have to admit you like a happy ending, right?"
The owl hooted in agreement.