If you really love someone, you have to be willing to make sacrifices for that person, even if it means selling your soul to your worst enemy.

HIND'S BLOOD, MY BLOOD
by Amorette

I held the freshly sharpened edge of my sword against the palm of my hand, hesitating a moment before I sliced it through my own flesh. I swallowed against the knot in my throat. This was my decision, my choice, and even though Hercules would never forgive me for it, I had to do it. My blood dripped onto the black stone altar.
"I, Iolaus, son of Skouros." Now there's a phrase I haven't said in a long, long time. "Pledge my sword, my body and my soul in allegiance to Ares, God of War, to follow his commands until my death." Which, I found myself hoping, would be very soon.
The priestess standing next to me was a beautiful woman. Under ordinary circumstances, I'd be eying her appreciatively, maybe even flirting with her, but not now.
She held a golden chalice under my hand, catching my blood. Then a second, equally beautiful, priestess bound a bandage of black silk around my hand. I slid my sword back into its scabbard and stepped back.
Ares stood on the other side of the altar, the Sword of War held in his hand. He slashed his palm, much more deeply than I had cut mine, and bled into the same shallow chalice. His dark eyes bored into mine.
"I, Ares, God of War, accept the sacrifice of this warrior, Iolaus, son of Skouros. It is worthy in my eyes."
He let his hand fall to his side, still bleeding. He hadn't healed it instantly. I had always been told that was a sign of favor from the god. I didn't care.
A priestess poured wine into the chalice, swirling it to mix with our blood, before handing it to me to drink. I drank, forbidding my gorge to rise in protest, never taking my eyes from his. I tasted nothing. The priestess took the chalice from me and passed it to her lord. My lord, now, as well. He drank from it, his full upper lip stained by the mixture of blood and wine as he lowered it, smiling.
"Don't look so sad," said Ares. "You will find my favor worth any sacrifice."
"I'm not doing this for you," I reminded him. "I'm doing this for Hercules."
I had just sworn my soul to my worst enemy to protect my best friend. I wasn't sure if I should be happy or not. All I felt was empty.
It had begun. . .where had it begun? When a stranger summoned Hercules to protect the last golden hind? When that same magical creature tried to kill me with her poisoned arrow? When she saved my life, putting me in her debt? When Hercules fell in love with her and gave up his godly nature to be her husband?
I have loved Hercules since the day I met him. I can't explain it. I saw him for the first time, a gawky boy, picked on and teased for being a bastard, and something in me reached out for him. Not that I was any prize, a runaway, a sometime thief and part time whore, all cockiness and bravado covering up the terror inside. But between us, we made something of ourselves.
Then Hercules met Serena. I don't begrudge him wanting to fall in love again, to marry and have a family again. I want the same things myself. But why did it have to be her?
I tried so hard to dissuade him. I begged, I pleaded, I threatened. I even ran away, the way I always run away when I can't stand the pain in my life. I ran away from my father. I ran away when the pain of losing my wife and son was too much for me to bear. I ran away when Hercules broke my heart by telling me he wanted to end what we were, what we had made between us over the years, so he could be with her.
Hating Serena would have made it easier but I couldn't hate her. She was sweet and she loved Hercules. All anyone had to do was look at them and know what they had was real. I saw it and it made me bleed inside. If he could have fallen in love again, why couldn't it have been with a mortal woman, like Deinaira? Then he could have stayed Hercules.
But Serena was a Golden Hind, a creature of the gods, the last of her kind, her blood one of the few things capable of killing a god. She belonged, body and soul, to Ares. The only way the gods would permit such a union was if they both sacrificed the parts of them that were beyond mortal.
I was so angry I wanted to kill her, until I saw them kiss the first time. Then I wanted to kill myself.
But I can't hate her. And I can't hate him.
I came back to stand beside them when they pledged their lives to each other. It hurt more than any physical pain I have ever experienced and I was once beaten to death by an unnatural assassin sent by Hera. In spite of my pain, I smiled and hugged both of them and pretended that I was as happy as they were.
After all, my best friend was happy. Deliriously happy. How could I feel bad about that? What kind of petty, jealous man was I that I couldn't be glad for him?
So we wouldn't fuck any more? So what? We've been just friends before, when we both had wives. The gods know I've never kept myself just for him. Even when we were at our closest, after his family was destroyed by Hera and he turned to me for love and comfort, even then I had other lovers. So I would now.
And they did love each other. So very much.
So I came back and stayed, taking a room in an inn because, even though they asked me to stay at the little farmhouse Hercules bought, I couldn't stand to be that close to them, to have to pretend all the time. I could manage to smile and laugh when we were together but I needed some time alone, to rage and weep and curse Ares. Why had he preserved that last Golden Hind? And why hadn't his protection been enough for her?
I helped Hercules build a new life for himself while my own slipped away.
A month slid by. I should have left, gone home to Thebes, to my home, but I couldn't, even though every time I saw them together, it just ripped open the wound in my heart.
I should have found a lover. The innkeeper's son, a handsome lad with soft grey eyes, made it clear he would be happy to help keep me warm at night. A young widow, her hair as golden as mine beneath her black veil, bumped up against me in the marketplace, smiling as she bit her lip and met my eyes. I could have found comfort in her bed any night I wanted. The daughters of the baker, plump, bright-eyed girls with strong hands and soft bosoms gave me looks full of promise every time I saw them. But I slept alone, lying in my empty bed, not even bothering to pleasure myself most nights. And when I did, it was mechanical, a way to let me sleep, enjoyment not even a component of it anymore.
Every day, I went to their house, careful to make noise when I approached. I didn't want to catch them making love the way I had the first day I went to visit them. They didn't know it but I had seen them, in that bed I helped Herc build, Serena straddling his body, her long dark hair tumbling down her naked back as his large hands caressed her. I seen them for an instant, just long enough to burn the image of Hercules' face into my brain, the look of ecstasy and love in his eyes as he thrust up into her body.
Serena tried so hard to make it easy for me. I'm sure she didn't really understand what Hercules and I had had, beyond a friendship and partnership. But she knew that something had been destroyed to give her happiness and she knew I was the one paying the price. So she was always so kind to me, shy and gentle, so unlike the golden warrior who had tried to kill me to protect herself.
Which made it hurt that much more. She was so wonderful. I could have fallen in love with her myself. But mere mortals like me don't get to fall in love with beings like her. It took a half god to love her. Only now they were both mortal, painfully mortal.
I tried to make Hercules see what that meant to him. He really didn't understand. He was still an unusually strong man but he no longer had the strength of ten. He couldn't heal as quickly as he had before. He was in danger from all those enemies he had defeated as a half god. But, lost in his love for Serena, lost in having always been more than mortal, he didn't understand.
We fought, Hercules and I, with words. He wouldn't let me fight with him physically, even when I tried to tell him he needed to learn a new way of fighting that wasn't based on being so much stronger than his opponent. I think he knew, on some level, how desperate I was for contact, to feel his arms around me even if he was picking me up to toss me across the room, and he was afraid how I would react if he touched me.
So we argued, when Serena was out of earshot, our voices soft but our words cutting. He wouldn't carry a weapon. He wouldn't let me protect him. I had managed all these years as a mere mortal. Now he would just follow my example. I pointed out that I had died as a mere mortal and the only reason we were having this conversation was because the son of Zeus called in favors from his godly relatives to get me back. As far as those gods were concerned now, he was just another uninteresting, unimportant mortal.
But none of it reached him. He loved her. He was happy. Why couldn't I be happy for him?
Then, something started to change. Hercules began to lose his temper. Hercules, who could be the most patient creature on earth, started to snap and snarl. I could see the circles under his eyes, the worry in Serena's expression. I asked what was wrong and was told, brusquely, to leave him alone. Serena asked him and got the same answer, save with a warm, reassuring kiss.
She and I even talked about it one night while Hercules was stacking the wood he and I had spent the day cutting. We were equally mortal now but he was still taller than me. He could reach the top of the woodpile we built and I couldn't so I went to get water.
Serena dipped water into a cup for me, her head bent close to mine so she could whisper her concern.
Was it her, she wanted to know? Was Hercules regretting their marriage? Was he missing what he had been before? Looking at her sweet face, so worried about this man she loved so much, I told her the truth. I was sure it wasn't regrets. He loved her and wanted what they had. He had never been happy being tied to the gods. In a way, she had freed him from that. It was something else but neither of us knew what.
Then she told me Herc was having nightmares, trouble sleeping. And my bleeding heart froze. I knew Herc. I had slept beside him half of the nights of my life and knew he didn't have bad dreams. I had nightmares. I often woke up, my heart pounding, covered in sweat. Hercules never did. And while I usually had no trouble falling asleep, there were nights I tossed and turned, my head spinning with whatever troubles kept sleep away. That never happened to Hercules.
In the past, before her, when I had bad dreams or trouble sleeping, it was Hercules who comforted me, who helped me work through whatever was bothering me, who held me until I fell asleep. I never returned the favor. He fell asleep. He had pleasant dreams. He woke up, early, too bright-eyed and enthusiastic for me most mornings.
I smiled. I had perfected my false smile in these last few weeks. I patted her soft hand and assured her that it would no doubt pass as he got used to his new house. It's just the bed, I said. Just the house. We're used to traveling so much, staying in the same place is probably confusing him. Give him time and he'll be fine.
I lied, my smile firmly in place.
Then, one morning in the village, some idiots pestered them, Herc and Serena, saying rude things about her and he lost his temper. Lost it like I had never seen him lose it. I came to help in the fight and he was furious. He had screamed at both of us, Serena and I, angry that she sent for me and that I answered her call. In all the years I had known him, I never heard him shout the way he did that morning, never saw that look in his eyes.
He apologized, as baffled as we were. Then he and Serena went home, probably to make love until they both forgot the incident.
I went to Ares' temple.
With my sword on my hip, I had no trouble gaining admittance to the compound. I looked like any warrior come to make an offering to his god. The trouble started once I got inside and demanded to be allowed into the inner sanctuary, into the presence. Several guards tried to stop me. Why is it that those big guys in armor never stop to think that I wouldn't be alive today if I wasn't a good fighter. Well, I'm alive today because Hercules brought me back from the Underworld but I still have beaten idiots like these more times than I care to count.
I took out four of them to get inside, then found myself facing a priestess, a pretty one, of course. She had a sword, too, and knew how to use it but not up to my standards. I had her pressed up against a wall, my sword at her throat, snarling in her pretty face in a heartbeat.
"Tell Ares that I am here and I want to see him."
"My, my," said that silky, familiar voice, "I thought you were nicer to the ladies than that."
I spun, shoving the priestess away.
"What have you done to Hercules?"
Ares gestured at the priestess, who ducked out the door. He then smiled at me, that big, wide smirk of his. He pointed at his chest. "Me? What would I do to my poor fully mortal brother?"
"You'd try to drive him insane! As long as he and Serena are happy, you'll try to do anything you can to destroy both of them!"
Ares shook his head slowly. "Not me, Blondie."
I'm not stupid. Hot-headed, yes, impulsive, too true, but not stupid.
"Strife, then, or one of your other disgusting little minions."
"Hey!" Strife was standing behind Ares, leaning on his uncle's broad shoulder, until Ares glared at him and he stepped back.
"So what if I am?" Ares' smile slid back in place. "What is it to you? Didn't Hercules toss you aside?"
I had to unclench my teeth to speak. "I am still his friend and still his partner. That hasn't changed."
Ares raised his eyebrows. "Hasn't it?"
"No," I lied, "It hasn't. Now stop what you're doing to him!"
Casually, Ares went over to his throne and threw himself into, hanging one leg over the arm.
"What am I doing to him?"
"Sending him nightmares! Making him loose his temper!"
Strife grinned. "Ten dinars for the short guy!"
"Shut up, Strife." Ares leaned forward. "I'm a god. If I want to drive one stupid mortal insane, that's my business."
I grinned back. "Than I'll tell Hercules. Once he realizes what you're doing, he'll fight it. . ."
My voice trailed off at the sudden change in expression in Ares' face. The smirk vanished. He was studying me, very intently. I didn't like it.
"Would he believe you, Blondie?"
"Of course he would!" Why was Ares asking such an obvious question? If I told Hercules Ares was messing with his mind, he'd listen.
Ares repeated my words softly. "Of course he would." He curled his left index finger against his upper lip and stroked his mustache. "You're his best friend."
Strife mimed a thrust with his hips but I ignored it. I've never been ashamed of the physical aspects of my relationship with Hercules, or anyone else, for that matter.
"Lay off him, Ares." Yeah, like I could threaten a god. Still, maybe once Herc knew what was going on, he could get a handle on it. "He's not a threat to you anymore."
"Isn't he?" Ares was still looking at me as if he had never seen me before. "His physical strength was only half his power. That's what they say. The power of his heart is the other half, isn't it?"
What kind of a question was that? A chill ran down my spine. Ares couldn't mean what I thought he meant. What was I to him?
"Just leave him alone," I said, turning on my heel and heading for the exit. I promptly ran into Ares, bumping my nose on his chest. I stepped back. On a objective scale, Hercules was actually a little taller than Ares, although they were about the same in breadth across the chest, but on a subjective scale, Ares was a god. A major deity and he radiated power, making the very air around him hum with it.
He cocked his head to one side. He wasn't smiling anymore and I found that very disturbing. Okay, chalk this up as another time my heart ruled my head and I did something stupid and impulsive. I shouldn't have come here.
"The power of his heart," repeated Ares, his voice soft. He extended one hand and touched me in the middle of my chest with his finger. I jumped back. Behind me, Strife laughed.
"Maybe I shouldn't drive him crazy. Maybe I should just take away half of his heart."
This was definitely one of my worst ideas. Right up there with running off with Xena.
Ares cocked his finger at Strife, indicating he should approach. As Strife obeyed, Ares, slung his arm around my shoulder. I had to make an effort to stiffen my knees to keep from collapsing under the pressure. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
"Show him."
The command seemed to puzzle Strife.
"But, unc. . ."
"Show him." Ares voice was still unnaturally soft. Normally, he bellowed and roared, shouted and howled. This soft, calm voice was terrifying.
The air in front me swirled and I found myself watching Hercules sleeping, Serena curled up at his side, her hand over his heart. My stomach lurched at the sight of them.
I can't really describe what I saw. It happened too fast. I saw what must have taken days to actually occur in a matter of heartbeats.
I saw Hercules driven half mad by terrifying dreams, dreams of violence, dreams of him attacking Serena, fighting with her. She accused him of failing her by giving up his strength. He accused her of using him to hurt Ares. They screamed at each other in fury, in a way I knew full well neither of them were capable of doing.
And then I saw Hercules wake in his bed, covered in blood, Serena dead beside him, a knife in hands. I saw myself bursting through the door at his cry. I saw the villagers charging him with murder. I saw the executioner sharpening his axe.
"NO!" I pulled away from Ares. "He would never hurt her! Never!"
Ares sighed, waving away the scene of Hercules' beheading. "No, he wouldn't. But I could make it look as if he did. Even you would think he did. And, most importantly, he would believe he did. He would submit willingly to verdict of the court."
Strife nudged me with an elbow, nearly knocking me down again. "Confidentially," he whispered, "I'd have to be the one to actually kill the poor dear--get it, dear?--but old Herc would be accused. Brilliant, huh?"
I felt sick. The room spun.
"Can't you just leave them alone?" I pleaded. I was pleading with the God of War. Gives you an idea of how confused I was. I knew that Ares didn't know the meaning of mercy.
"Yes, I can."
"What?"
Strife and I said the word in chorus, staring in shock at each other, then back at Ares.
"But, unc. . ." Strife looked suddenly tragic. "This really is one of my great ideas! Even you said so!"
"It was. But I have a better one."
"Uncle Ares!"
"Go away, Strife."
Strife gave me a murderous look, then grinned leeringly at his uncle, twitched his head sharply to one side and vanished.
Ares paced slowly around me, his finger back stroking his mustache, his eyes seeming to peer right into the marrow of my bones.
"They say you are two halves of the same soul. Personally, I know that's bullshit. You're a mortal. You have your basic, feeble mortal soul. I've seen it. My dear bastard brother has, on the other hand, a godlike soul. Even with his strength gone, he still has that soul."
"I didn't know gods had souls." Ooo, smart move, Iolaus. Piss him off just when you seem to be winning your argument.
"We do. But they aren't the same as yours. But that's not important." He walked slowly back to his throne and sat in his usual position. "What's important is what effect your puny little mortal soul has on my brother's."
We stared at each other. Ares seemed to come to some conclusion. He shifted on his throne, sitting up, both feet on the floor.
"I will leave Serena and Hercules alone if you swear a blood oath of allegiance to me."
My jaw dropped. I felt it.
"What?"
"You heard me. I have taken away his strength. I get you, I take away half his heart, half his soul, if you will. Don't you think I know how much you mean to him? Do you think I don't know how you are what keeps him going when the burden of having my mother on his case gets to him? I know what you are, Iolaus, better than you do."
For lack of anything better to say, while I reviewed his offer in my head, I said, "Oh, really."
"You've always been mine. From the first day you picked up a sword, you've been mine. Oh, some of the others have a claim on you, I know Aphrodite is particularly fond of your ass, but you are mine. I just want you to admit it."
I stopped and thought, very hard, trying to see what Ares was up to.
"So. . .if I swear allegiance to you. . ."
Ares spoke slowly, as if I were a halfwit. "I leave Hercules and Serena alone."
"You and who else?" This couldn't be happening. I couldn't really be getting Ares to agree to my plea.
He sighed, putting his hand dramatically over his heart. "I leave Hercules and Serena alone and any other immortal under my aegis leaves them alone. Strife, Discord, Deimos, Phobos, the lot of them. We leave them to live their lives undisturbed by the influence of the gods. And since both my old man and my mother have written him off since he was so quick to give up his godly gifts for warm pussy, they aren't likely to bother him, either. Sign on with me, Blondie, and Hercules and Serena live perfectly ordinary lives."
Ares was no poet, that was for sure, but he got his point across. He was staring at me, tapping his foot. I had a feeling I had about ten seconds to either agree to his deal or die.
I nodded. "Done. You swear to leave Herc alone, I swear to you."
Ares stood up, his left hand resting on the hilt of the sword of war. "I swear by my godhood that neither I nor any god or mortal under my control will ever bother, in any way, Hercules and Serena as long as they live, provided Iolaus here keeps up his end of the bargain."
I swallowed against a throat gone dry. "I keep my word, Ares."
"Good. At moonrise tonight, you swear a blood oath to me and my oath will then be in effect."
With no further warning, he vanished. My legs gave out and I sat down on the cold floor of Ares' temple. Some warriors worshipped Ares or Athena, making offerings in their temples, sending up prayers. Some warriors went a step further and actually swore to serve the gods of war. There was one step beyond that. Making a blood oath before Ares himself. That bound a warrior to the god absolutely. To break the oath was to die and be damned to an eternity in Tartarus.
I managed to get to my feet and walk out of the temple, past murmuring guards and priests. I returned to my room, packed my few belongings, paid for my room and left.
It was barely dusk as I walked up the path to the neat little house Hercules and Serena shared, hours before moonrise. When I arrived, I could hear them going at it again. I glanced in a window, saw Hercules' long back arched over in that damned bed, her legs wrapped around his waist. I recognized the sounds he was making and knew he was near his completion.
I went around to the little stable I had helped reroof and sat on a log outside, sharpening my sword. I sharpened my sword, and the knives I kept in my boot and in the back of my belt and was about to look for some farm implement to work on when I heard voices, Hercules and Serena at the well.
Put a little bounce in your step, I told myself as I approached, whistling cheerfully. This has to be your best performance yet.
Maybe it was because Hercules had given up so much to marry Serena, or maybe it was because I was a better actor than I gave myself credit for but he hadn't noticed the suffering in my eyes since the moment he told me he was marrying Serena and he didn't see it now.
They looked so happy, so sated, so lost in each other. I knew I wouldn't be missed.
Hercules wasn't completely blind. He noted the carry sack slung over my shoulder. "Where are you headed?"
"Home," I lied. "Have to see if my house is still standing."
"Now?" He looked up at the sunset blazing over the mountaintops.
"Cooler to travel at night. There'll be a full moon."
Serena, bless her, looked genuinely sad at my announcement. "But how can I have fresh fish for breakfast if you're not here to provide it?"
"Throw Herc's sorry ass out of bed earlier and he can get it for you." How I smiled as I said that is beyond me. Maybe I should be in the theatre.
She gave me a hug, somewhat hesitantly, since touching people was still strange to her, except for Hercules. Then she slipped inside to give us our privacy.
Herc's eyes were bright. I couldn't stand to look at him so I fixed my gaze over his shoulder.
Glancing back to be sure Serena was out of earshot, he said, "I am trying to convince her to move to Corinth or Thebes. I would like to live near mother. She's never been anywhere but here so she's nervous about leaving."
"If you manage it, send word. I'd be happy to help you move. Well, not happy but you know what I mean."
"I sent letters to Mother and Iphicles a few days ago. I wish I had known you were going. I could have added a few things."
"You know me, Herc." My voice was so bright it was brittle. "Always on an impulse."
He raised an eyebrow. "Someone's husband on the warpath?"
Hardly. I hadn't been with anyone since we got here.
"No, just getting bored. You're great company, Herc, but there aren't any monsters in the neighborhood so I thought I'd go find some."
He pulled me against his broad chest, hugging me tightly, telling me without words he still loved me but that this was for the best. I gave him a hug back, lingering for a moment to hear his heart beating and to smell the warm aroma of a postcoital Hercules. I knew I'd never smell it again.
"Take care," he whispered to the top of my head as he released me.
"You,too. Be safe." I sniffled but he took that as part of my usual sentimental goodbye. "Be happy."
I turned and started down the road, willing myself not to cry. When I had gone a few paces, I turned back and gave what I hoped was a jaunty wave. Ever try to force a gesture like that? It's not easy. I managed to keep the bounce in my step until I passed the grove of trees that screened Herc's house from the road. Then I let my shoulders sag and started plodding through the forest to the temple.
They were waiting for me when I arrived, two rows of masked priests, dressed in red robes, and two priestesses, scantily clad in bits of black leather. I must admit, I liked the way Ares dressed his female help. On any other night, I would have enjoyed it. Not tonight.
The lamps were lit, the sanctuary blazing with light. Ares was waiting, standing in on the other side of the altar as I approached.
"You know the drill," he said. He was right. I had seen other men pledge themselves to Ares, although this was the first time I had been there when he was present. I'd heard other warriors boast about him receiving their pledge personally. I didn't think I'd ever boast about this night.
I swore myself to Ares.
When we were finished, he waved his attendants away. Ares liked battle and sex but he didn't actually like the people that made those activities possible. As they filed out of the room, Ares took his usual seat.
"Satisfied?"
"Are they safe?"
He smirked. "Two guesses what they are doing right now. They're nearly as bad as you and Hercules were when you were young."
Ares was God of War. He knew how to wound an opponent. I said nothing.
"I'm sending you north to Stratus. There is a king there I need to get rid of. You'll be attached to the command of Peridacles the Attican."
I was surprised. I knew Peridacles. He was a good man.
"Do you want a horse?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. Strife!" The last word was shouted into the air. "I told you he'd walk. I win."
Strife gave no answer. Ares stared at me for a moment, then made a gesture of dismissal. I left, my last act of defiance was refusing to bow. As I left, the two priestesses entered the room. I heard their giggles behind me.
I have learned, over the years, how not to dwell on things. A soldier shouldn't think too much. Just makes it that much harder to fight. So I did very little thinking as I walked north.
I drove myself hard, walking for Stratus as fast as if I were with Hercules. I barely stopped to eat and sleep and arrived ten days after I left the temple. The wound on my hand had healed cleanly, leaving a pink scar that would fade to white but last the rest of my life. I was dead on my feet when I arrived at my destination. A guard at the edge of the encampment directed me to the commander's tent.
Peridacles had fought in the Trojan wars. He was a smart, able soldier, only a few years older than I was. He had even gone to the Academy for a year to two. Bald since youth, with piercing steel grey eyes and a body that was all sinew and bone, he made a striking, if unhandsome man in his worn armor.
"Iolaus!" He greeted me with genuine delight. "I'd received word I'd be getting a good man to act as my second but I never thought of you. Where's Hercules?"
"Married. And retired."
Peridacles laughed as he grasped my arm warmly. "Smart man, that Hercules. Is she pretty?"
I managed a tired grin back. "Of course she is."
He signaled to an aide. "You look exhausted. Jax here will take you to your quarters. We'll talk in the morning."
I followed the boy, stumbling a little on the stairs. Peridacles had commandeered some buildings and I was given a small room above a block of storerooms. I waved my guide away, refusing his offer of a warm meal or a bath. All I wanted to do was collapse on that narrow bed and sleep.
First I had to clear the bed. Laid out neatly on top of the blanket was a linen tunic, dyed dark green, with elbow-length sleeves, made to be worn under armor. There was a breast plate of hardened leather, plain but well made, a leather kilt constructed from strips of leather, and a pair of matching greaves.
I never wore armor. The weight of it slowed me down and its stiffness restricted my movements. I win fights based on speed and flexibility, not brute strength or my ability to absorb blows. I tossed the armor aside but picked up the shirt.
Hercules had a partner, most people knew that. Fewer knew my name. Those that recognized me did so by my appearance. I folded up my waistcoat and stuffed it into my carry sack, then pulled the stiff new shirt over my head. It was a good fit. Ares must have sent my measurements to the tailor. I kept my amulet. It had belonged to my father and his father before him, both men who died in battles, in the service of Ares. I tucked it inside my tunic. In the morning, I'd see the camp barber.
When I appeared the next morning, in my new shirt and with my hair cut shorter than I have ever worn it, Peridacles said nothing. From the look he gave me, I knew he knew more than I had told him but how much, I never found out. He just introduced me to his men, saying I was the son of the late General Skouros. A few of the older men knew that name and took it as a recommendation. If my name was familiar to any of them, no one remarked on it.
In the next few weeks, I made an amazing discovery. Ares did understand mercy. He could have thrown me into one of his useless power struggles between warlords, the sort of thing he orchestrated just for the sheer joy of the bloodshed. Instead, he sent me to serve with a man I respected for a cause I supported.
The king we were to depose had taken his throne by murdering his kinsman and his entire family, down to a babe in a crib. He had hung their bodies off the walls of his keep. He poisoned the wells of villages that opposed him, kidnapped the children of his enemies and tortured even the most innocent of his captives. Had Hercules and I received a request to move against him, we would have agreed.
We fought a clean, efficient war against an evil enemy. I found a bed mate, a woman raised as an Amazon who told me she liked men too well to stay with her tribe. She was tall and fierce and liked to bite. Fortunately, the longer sleeves of my new shirt covered the marks. We fucked in her room and I never stayed the night.
I got a few more minor wounds and bruises but acquired no new scars. It took a few battles but I soon fell into the half dead daze of a professional soldier. I stopped being disturbed by the screams of those dying around me. I stopped trying to avoid killing my enemy. I focused on staying alive long enough to fight another battle.
Peridacles forced me to wear some of the armor. It was fairly light and I got used to it. I felt as if the Iolaus who had traveled beside Hercules, all blonde curls and quick smiles, was a stranger I had only heard about in stories.
And I did hear stories. There were a couple of singers among the company I commanded. I listened to the tale of the Golden Fleece. My name has never come up in any version of that song I have ever heard and it was the same with this one. I heard a few others involving Hercules. Only one mentioned his partner and that one mispronounced my name.
We won. The king was deposed and executed, another kinsman given the crown. There was a temple to Ares in the city and, after the final victory, there was to be a celebration in honor of the victory.
I had rather expected Ares to put in a personal appearance or two during our little war. If he did, I missed them. I still skipped the party in the temple. After the speeches and the sacrifices, there would be wine and woman. I was afraid Ares might show up for that. I've always heard he liked an orgy after a battle. So I went to my tent staked in the park in front of a small amphitheater.
I couldn't sleep. I could hear the sounds from the temple, deep voiced chanting, and the ringing of gongs.
Sneaking past the bored sentries was easy. They were grumbling, dicing and sharing a jug of ale. The war was over and their side had won. If Peridacles hadn't been such a competent commander, they wouldn't even be there.
I wandered through the empty streets. Everyone was either at the great hall, where the new king was enthroned, or at Ares' temple. I suppose a few citizens were sleeping in their quiet beds, or at least trying to.
The moon was full again. I stopped in a small square. I had only a vague idea of how the city was laid out. There was a statue in the center of the square, Nike from the looks of it. Winged victory. How appropriate. I've never actually seen that particular goddess. I don't even know if she is real.
I know that some people have the same feeling about all the gods. For most people, they are statues and temples, not a real presence. For me, on the other hand, they are too real. I found myself staring at the scar in the middle of my left hand.
"I missed you at my temple."
There had been no warning, no flash of light, no burning in the air, just a low, rumbling voice so close to me that I jumped.
He was standing a pace away from me, leaning against the plinth that supported the statue, looking as at ease as the God of War ever looked.
"I wasn't feeling like a party."
He grinned. His teeth were so white, they almost glowed in the moonlight. "Too bad. You'd add something to it."
I didn't know what to say. Three months, I thought. Three months that I had been his creature. Three months that I hadn't seen Hercules.
"You should have come to me years ago." He was continuing the conversation as if I was contributing to it. "You really are good at."
"Being a soldier?"
"Better than your old man, even, and I thought he was a good general. Although he was more of a strategist and therefore under Athena's purview."
"You must know we weren't close."
"I do, but I also know you had a chat with him last time you were dead."
Gods. They know everything about you. I hate that. I closed my eyes, feeling defeated in spite of the victory.
I heard his boots crunch through the gravel paving the square. Two steps put him directly behind me. I could feel the heat of his body, the burning of his godhood. It reminded me, painfully, of Hercules. Only a half god but he still had some of that godly presence about him. Or had, before Serena.
A finger stroked the back of my neck, running along the short hairs there. I jumped again, my heart suddenly pounding as the blood rushed to my cock. Hercules liked to lift my hair off the back of my neck and kiss me there, where the skin was soft and pale. It wasn't that way anymore. I had gotten a couple of nasty sunburns on the back of my neck the first few days after my haircut and now, the skin there was the same color as the rest of me.
"Sometimes I wear my hair about this length." Great. Ares was discussing hairstyles with me. My life couldn't get any worse. "I find it convenient but my bed partners like it long. Aphrodite won't even let me touch her unless my hair is long."
I laughed. Or at least made a sound that was as close to a laugh as I seemed to have these days. "She calls me Curly." I ran my hand back through my short hair, hating it.
"She also calls you Sweetcheeks." He was still standing behind me.
I shrugged.
Ares sighed. What in Tartarus was going on? Why was Ares standing here having an ordinary conversation with me?
"Her nicknames are so annoying. I named our son but Eros but then she started to call him Cupid and that stupid name stuck. I hate that name."
I had forgotten that Cupid was Ares' son. I suppose it makes sense, really. Cupid uses a bow, a weapon, and his arrows are responsible for more than a few wars.
"I'm not even sure she knows my real name. Maybe she just picks nicknames so she can remember them."
"Oh, she remembers. She's a goddess, she can't forget. Even if we want to forget something, we can't. She just likes naming things herself."
I turned to face him. "I suppose if I asked you what her nickname is for you, you'd blast me to ashes."
He laughed, a warm, pleasant chuckle. "She doesn't have a nickname for me. She's an idiot but she's not stupid."
"Maybe she does and just doesn't call you it to your face."
He scowled and I braced myself. If he killed me now, Persephone would still be visiting her husband. That would make my trip to the Underworld a little more pleasant. She'd be heading back to her mother's soon. The air was growing chill at night.
The scowl faded and Ares shook his head, his long, dark curls caressing his shoulders.
"You may be right. I think you understand her better than I do, Iolaus."
Odd. His saying my name sent a thrill through my belly. Normally, he called me 'blondie' or some snide reference to my size or any of a number of insulting epithets. He almost never used my name.
I took a deep breath, trying to find the center of calm that I had been focusing on to keep me sane these last few months.
"Did you want to talk to me about anything in particular, Ares?"
If we were going to be all friendly and first name, I might as well enjoy it.
He tilted his head to one side. He had crossed his arms across his chest, throwing one hip out. God of War or not, he was beautiful. Fighting and fucking had a lot in common when it came down to heavy breathing, pounding hearts and sweat. Ares personified that. Or deified that. My brain was running in strange paths tonight.
"I wanted to ask," he said, his voice low, soft and intimate. "just how much you missed my brother's body but I can see that in your eyes."
Damn him. He could see that in my eyes, too. Damn him for knowing me too well. For knowing how much I missed the warmth and power of Hercules, the size and strength of him. I had spent most of my adult life making love to a man who was half a god and there was no mere mortal who could duplicate what that felt like. And Ares knew it.
I wanted him. I wanted to wrap my hands in that long dark lover's hair, to taste that mouth, with its full lips framed by the dark beard and mustache, to be pulled up against that body, helpless to resist that much power. Swallowing, I managed to gasp out, "Don't."
"Don't what?" He raised an eyebrow. "Don't fuck you? Why not? You want it. I want it You belong to me now so refusal really isn't an option."
I took a long, deep breath and looked into his eyes. Herc's were pale blue, more sky blue than mine, which are almost green or grey, depending on the light. The eyes of the God of War were darker than the pits of Tartarus, but lit with flares of gold and red, like flame.
"I know I am yours." I held out my left hand, palm up. "But please don't do this."
Ares took my hand in his, reminding me again of what I had lost. My hands always looked so small compared to Hercules', as if he were holding the hands of a child. It was the same with Ares. He bent his head and those full lips were pressed against the scar on my palm.
My knees buckled at the sensation. I couldn't breathe. The world swam around me and I almost came.
"You're a fool, Iolaus," he said, releasing my hand and letting me fall to the ground.
"Yes, I am." I was on my hands and knees, panting, trying desperately to get enough control over my hungry cock to stand up again. "Love does that to a person."
Ares snarled. I was glad I wasn't looking at his face, only the toes of his shining boots.
"One last thing," he hissed. He must have bent down to whisper in my ear because I could feel a tendril of impossibly soft hair brush the back of my neck, "All that humping paid off. According to my sweet sister, Hercules is going to be a proud papa again, although I gather he and his dear wife don't know it yet. 'Dite says the baby will come in early summer. Wonder if you'll be alive to bring a baby gift to the happy couple."
I could hear the snap of the air as he vanished. I got to my feet but only managed to walk as far as the statue before collapsing against it, sliding down the cold stone until I sat on the ground, my legs bent, my forearms resting on my knees, my head resting on my arms.
In my head, I could see them the way I had seen them those times when I caught guilty glimpses. I could hear the sounds, the soft sighs she made, his gasping breaths.
Alone with the statue and the moon, I slid my hand into my cod piece and, sobbing with guilt and remorse, brought myself to a climax that provided little release and no pleasure.
Half of the city was attending an orgy, I thought as I wiped my hand on the grass growing next to the statue's base, and I'm jerking off alone. Pathetic was too kind a word.
Fastening my pants, I got to my feet and walked back to my tent.

I stayed for a few days, helping Peridacles. Then he announced he was returning home to Attica and I realized that Ares was smarter than I thought. He knew I had to refuse my commander's invitation to stay with him over the winter, until the wars began again in the spring.
"Can't fight in this weather," Peridacles had said cheerfully as he surveyed that last of his army preparing to return home. The weather had settled into the cold grey and wet of a long winter. There was fresh snow on the mountain peaks and the frost had killed back all the delicate plants.
Before we parted, Peridacles forced me to take a horse. I am not much of a horseman. Hercules is too big to ride most horses so he prefers to walk. A horse would tire before he would anyway. Since I am usually with Hercules, I rarely ride myself. I find it easier to keep up with a half god whose stride is nearly twice mine than sit for hours in a saddle.
But Peridacles had found a small mountain pony, a sturdy, scruffy creature with a golden brown coat and a half moon scar over one eye. It was too much of an omen to disregard. He gave me a decent saddle, one I found almost comfortable, and a long woolen cloak. It was only after we had parted company and I had ridden the horse a few leagues that it dawned on me that Ares was probably behind the gift. From then on, I mostly walked, leading the horse, using him as a pack animal until I got somewhere I could sell him.
I had no idea where to go. None. I couldn't go home. I couldn't go to Corinth. Ares didn't need me as the weather turned nasty. I had my mercenary's pay so at least on the nights I was near a town, I could afford a warm bed and usually someone to share it with, if only for a few hours.
Sex had begun to lose its appeal to me as my dreams and fantasies started to center around Ares instead of Hercules. Hercules had been the object of my first wet dream, my first self-induced orgasm and a whole lot of climaxes since then. Occasionally, I drifted to Aphrodite or someone else, but usually, if I wasn't with Herc, unless I was very serious about my bed partner, I was thinking of him.
Now, I woke up in the middle of the night, half frozen, my cock hard, my head full of dark eyes, full lips, and black leather. I hated myself for doing it but I replayed his touch over and over in my head as I stroked myself furiously, the feel of his finger on the back of my neck, the warmth of his lips to my palm. I even gasped his name a few times, always when I was alone. I wanted to be dead more than ever.
I found myself in small village that possessed one general purpose temple dedicated to the pantheon and another shrine dedicated to Aphrodite. The woman I fucked the night before said the shrine was there because the Goddess of Love had once put in a personal appearance to end some complicated romantic mess between two families who didn't want their children to wed. Now the whole village was descended from those two combined families and they all were staunch supporters of Aphrodite.
"Can you imagine" she had gasped as I nibbled my way down her soft belly to the curling hair below, "what it must feel like to actually gaze upon the face of a god?"
Since I didn't have to imagine anything, I didn't answer. That night, I managed to fuck Aphrodite in my head rather than Ares. In the morning, my horse and I found ourselves standing in front of that little shrine, studying the bust of the goddess carved there. It wasn't a very good likeness. There were no fresh offerings that morning, only some dead flowers left from the summer before.
I bowed my head as I lowered myself to one knee.
"Aphrodite," I whispered. I didn't know if any of the other gods could hear me now that I belonged to Ares. Artemis still seemed to be content with me. I had been able to find enough game to eat on those nights I was in the open. Between battles, I had worked a forge to repair weapons and my skills there seemed intact. And the woman last night didn't seem to have any complaints as her body surged beneath mine.
"Please, tell me he is happy." I blinked back tears. My loneliness was bearable only if I knew I had made the right decision. If I found out he was miserable in his marriage, I'd fall on my sword in a heartbeat, even if Hades stuck me in the blackest spot of Tartarus for eternity. Surely nothing in the after life could be as painful as what I was feeling now.
"Oh, Curly. At least your hair is growing out."
She was sitting on a log next to her shrine, her robe the color of new roses. It was a good deal more sedate than her usual wardrobe. I know the cold didn't bother her but maybe she had covered herself out of respect for my feelings.
Sniffling, I looked up at her, not surprised to see her eyes filled with tears, too.
"Of course he isn't happy!"
What was left of my heart shattered.
"You're not there."
"But he and Serena. . ."
Aphrodite smiled weakly. "Happy as can be. She's having a baby, you know."
"I know."
"He wants you there!" Her face fell into a pout. "If you were there, Herc would be the happiest man alive."
"But not the strongest." Something occurred to me, a question I had wanted to ask months ago. "Did you agree to the deal, making him give up his strength for Serena? You're the Goddess of Love. Shouldn't you have been behind him?"
Something in my eyes made her look away. "You're mortal," she began. I snorted in disgust. Her eyes flashed back to mine angrily for an instant, then she looked sad again. "What I mean is, you think short term. A year or two. We think long term. A mortal lifetime is gone in a flash to us."
"So what? So if we die that quickly, why bother take Herc's strength"
"Iolaus." She did know my name. "He and Serena are having a baby. A sweet, innocent, helpless little baby. A mortal baby."
"Oh. But if they hadn't been mortal. . ."
"That's why. We didn't take their powers away to punish them but to prevent the birth of a child that might be a threat to us."
"Might be!" I turned away from her, sick. I preferred to think it was jealousy of Hercules that had caused the gods to take so much away from. Now I knew they were just protecting themselves against what was probably an idle threat. "Herc couldn't raise a rotten kid if he tried."
"No." Her voice was soft. It reminded me of Ares. What a sight that must have been, Aphrodite in the arms of Ares. "But he might raise a child that hated the gods."
"With good reason! Look what they. . .you have done to him!"
"Strife was a beautiful baby, did you know that? Big dark eyes, chubby cheeks and this adorable smile."
The change of subject threw me at first but then I saw where she was going.
"So, on the off chance that their child might one day be a threat, you left him defenseless against Ares' attacks."
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to but you have to understand. . "
I walked away. I understood. The gods care about themselves. While they have some passing interest in the mortals in their charge, the gods care about themselves above all. We humans were selfish that way, why shouldn't our gods be? They certainly had all the other miserable attributes of humanity.
Were there gods somewhere that, rather than just being bigger, more powerful versions of mortals, were good? Were above the urges and angers, loves and hates, pushes and pulls of emotion? Were there gods somewhere who were truly better than people?
I'd never know. I'd sworn my life to the cruelest, pettiest god of them all, the one most ruled by his emotions, even more so than the goddess I was abandoning as she had abandoned me. I loved Hercules, too. Shouldn't she care about my love?
"I do, you know."
Her voice carried. I ignored it. The gods can read our thoughts so I gave them so interesting reading as I trudged along the road.

Some battle had been fought on this patch of ground. Men had died here. Blood had once turned the hard earth into mud. Ravens had circled the clashing armies, cawing as they saw souls escape the confines of their bodies, warning Charon that he would be busy soon.
After the battle, the victor had raised a stele. Most of the writing had been worn away by the weather but I could read one line clearly. "Noble Ares fought with us."
My horse was grazing on the brown grass at the base of the plinth supporting the monument. I had kept the animal, more for company than anything else. I hated being completely alone. Even a horse's wet breath on my shoulder when I walked was better than nothing. Besides, it had a reasonable disposition and carried my gear without complaint. I had acquired a decent warrior's bow, a quiver and some arrows, along with a few other possessions during the war. I might as well hang on to them and let the horse carry them.
"Noble Ares," I muttered, pissing at the base of the plinth. My horse looked at me, seeming to be offended, and wandered off to eat clean grass. "My ass."
"Actually," said his voice behind me, "You haven't let me have that ass of yours."
I didn't even bother to turn around. "What do you want? It's the dead of winter. Surely even you don't have some war stirring up somewhere in this weather."
"Of course I have but nothing worthy of your talents. I don't waste my best people on the minor stuff."
'My best people.' I hated being in that category. I was his.
I sat down on the edge of the plinth on the side opposite where I had pissed. Ares was, to my surprise, standing next to my horse, holding a handful of green grass he must have conjured, scratching the poor beast behind the ears.
"I didn't know you liked horses," I said for want of anything else. I knew he occasionally rode a black war horse that was as unnatural as he was and had a chariot, pulled by a team of black horses but I didn't think he liked animals. Then again, he had seemed truly fond of that foul hound of his.
"Actually, this is a relative of mine."
"You're joking?"
"Nope." Ares gave me that grin of his that always confused me. The grin that made me think if Zeus had just made this son a god of anything other than bloodshed, he might be a nice guy. "The old man was after some mortal and she got Artemis to turn her into a mare. Which was dumb because Zeus just turned into a stallion. It happened centuries ago, Artemis was fairly new at her job, which probably accounts for why she didn't come up with a better solution, but there is still a tiny drop of godly blood in this stupid horse." The grin broadened a little more. "He's my nephew about a hundred times removed. And Hercules thinks I hate all my family. I like this little guy."
I laughed. I was as surprised as Ares was at the sound. It was the first time I had actually laughed since Hercules told me he was getting married.
"How do you keep track of all of your relatives? I mean, between you and Zeus alone, you must have a thousand bastards."
Ares was still petting the horse. "It may surprise you but I do keep track of my descendants. I don't like all of them--actually, I loathe most of them--but there a few I like. Don't look so surprised. I'll take it as an insult."
"You have the nastiest collection of relatives I have ever met."
He laughed. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. "You're right," he said, wheezing from his amusement. "You are absolutely right! Imagine! Hera is my mother, Discord is my sister, Deimos and Phobos are my sons! You think you're depressed? Try to imagine a family dinner in my life!"
I rubbed my hands over my face, trying not to let the smile that was tugging at the corners of my mouth come through. I wanted to keep hating Ares with every breath I took, hate him for what he did to Hercules, hate him for every body that ever fell in battle, hate him for making me feel the way I felt when I saw him standing there, strong and sleek and radiating power.
He left off scratching the horse and came over to study the plinth. His finger reached up and traced an inscription worn to illegibility.
"For example," he continued, his nearness making my cock stir, "I had a daughter once by one of my priestesses. She was the most mortal of all my children. The only way you could tell she wasn't completely mortal was her ability to see me when I didn't want to be seen by mortal eyes." He strolled around to the far side of the pillar. I imagined he was standing right where I had let fly. His way of showing me how little my contempt meant to him. "I liked her. Used to visit her when she was little. She had the sweetest smile."
I could picture it. His smile on a child's innocent face. She had probably been a beautiful child.
"She died in childbirth."
That statement actually brought my head up. The grandchild of Hera allowed to die in childbirth? I didn't interrupt Ares, though. Maybe his mother hadn't cared for his choice in lovers.
"Her son was completely mortal. He didn't even know I was his grandfather. When he was twenty, he died on this battlefield." Ares paced away from the plinth, searching the ground for something visible only to his godly gaze. "Ah." He stopped, looking down. "He died right here, a upthrust that severed the artery in his groin. Bled to death right here. I met him at the river and told him who I was, what our relationship was. He wasn't happy about it. Thought the grandson of Ares deserved special treatment." Ares snorted. "If he had earned it, I might have offered it. Still. . ." Now he sighed. I was listening to the God of War sighing. "I visit her now and then. She's in the Elysian Fields. Still the only one of my children I visit by my choice."
"Which probably says more about you than her."
Maybe I'd get to meet her. He'd been standing some distance away while he talked about the death of his grandson more than a century before. Now he was suddenly at my side, grabbing my hair, which had been growing out, to pull my head back. For an instant, his face was twisted with fury. Then it faded and he chuckled, his hand releasing my hair to caress the back of my neck.
"You're right, you know."
I could feel my heart beating, the blood surging through my veins, filling my cock. His hand, warm and strong, on the nape of my neck was more arousing than anything the woman I had been with last night had done.
"I was made the way I am by my father. How much of you, Iolaus, son of Skouros, is because of what your father made you?"
Carefully, I leaned away from him, pulling my hair free. I had to get it cut again as soon as possible.
"He made me," I acknowledged. "He taught me hate, anger, fear and violence. He taught me what it takes to be in your service now. And I think I'm starting to dislike him all over again."
If he kissed me, if I tasted those full lips so close to mine, I knew I would be lost. I wanted him so much it hurt. Instead, he pushed me away, tugging down his leather jerkin.
"I have something for you to do."
I sighed, ducking my head, not able to look at his face for another second. "What?"
He told me, his voice calm but cold. Some weapons he provided were being diverted by middlemen, sold for profit rather than arriving to help his men. War is not for profit, not in the eyes of the God of War. He despised the men who didn't take up arms, just sold them. I was to go to Sycion, find a man named Antipater, get myself hired into his company, solve Ares' problem.
It was better than wandering around aimlessly as the winter solstice approached. I'd never been to Sycion. No one should know me there. After Ares gave me his instructions, I went and caught my horse. I looked at him. He looked like an ordinary horse, the kind any merchant would ride. He was the least noble-looking animal I had ever seen, with his shaggy coat and his short legs.
"Does he have a name?" I asked. Ares looked at me as if I had lost my mind.
"He's a horse. His name is what you call him."
Ares vanished in a bolt of blue light. I scratched my horse behind the ears, just where I had seen Ares do it. I leaned close to his ear.
"I'll name you after that ancestor of yours. From now on, you're Zeus."
It took Zeus and I six days to walk to Sycion. I did ride a few mornings, when I had a hangover or my feet were cold. I was drinking quite a bit these days and didn't have Hercules to glare at me across the table, stopping my consumption.
I found the man in Sycion. He was willing to sell me some weapons. In my battered armor, I looked liked I might be the leader of a pack of mercenaries. I asked questions, I bought beer and wine and women. I made Antipater my friend. I've always been charming, had a ready smile and an easy manner. I like people and they like me. I just never had to work so hard at it before.
When I learned what Ares wanted to know, I went to his temple. I was drunk, having left Antipater on the floor of his room, snoring. We had shared a barrel of strong, cheap wine and a couple of whores. I was standing outside the doors to the temple, trying to clear my thoughts so I could report to my master, when I felt a sharp pain in my back as something knocked me forward, off my feet. When I tried to reach for my sword, I found my hand blocked by the arrow sticking out of my hip.
Screaming, I fell sideways, bleeding my life out on the steps of a temple to Ares. Good. I welcomed the pain, the heat of my blood as it pumped out onto the black steps, like a sacrifice. I tried to reach for Aphrodite in my mind, begging her to watch over Hercules but instead of her face, I found myself staring at Ares, his expression one of fury.
His hand wrapped around mine as it clutched the blood slick shaft of the arrow.
"Not this easy," he hissed in my ear and pulled. The world filled with agony, followed by welcoming darkness.
I woke up, flat on my back, staring up at a ceiling. Not standing by the River Styx awaiting Charon. Too bad. For once, I had a few coins with me and could pay. I remembered my last seconds of consciousness and was very hesitant to move. Oddly, I felt no pain, not even the lingering throb of a hangover. In fact, I felt great. That knee I had twisted a few months ago and pained me every morning didn't even ache. Cautiously, I slid my hand down my side. I was naked, lying in a very comfortable bed and didn't have as much as a scar where the arrow had been.
Apparently, Ares' talents included healing. That had never occurred to me. He was a god, all gods were supposed to be able to heal the wounds of mortals but it had genuinely never occurred to me until that second that Ares could heal.
I sat up. The room looked something in a merchant's house; wide bed, hung with curtains, sheets of good linen but not the best, a chest at the foot of the bed, a stand across the room supporting a basin and pitcher. The walls were plaster, cracking in a few places, painted light brown, the floor of polished wood, also cracked in a few places. If this was one of Ares' inner sanctums, it was a lot less impressive than I had anticipated.
Dragging the top sheet along with me for modesty's sake, I crossed to the window and looked out. A courtyard, small, centered around a statue of you-know-who. Didn't do justice to his backside. I glanced up to see if I could figure out whether I was still in Sycion and it looked like I was. I checked the door. It was unlocked. What did it matter? I was his guest.
I splashed water on my face, then opened the chest. Lying on top of a pile of blankets were my old clothes, neatly folded. I dressed, then went and sat on the end of the bed, too numb to do anything else.
The air crackled, gold, not blue, and I could smell roses. Great. Just what I needed. Go away, I thought, too weary to open my mouth. Just go away.
"Oh, Curly. You cut it again."
I didn't answer. I could feel her standing there, close enough to make my skin tingle, but I didn't care.
"It's about Herc."
Without meaning to, I lifted my head. She was biting her lip.
"What about him?"
"He's really worried about you. He heard you were in that war you were in, that you were working as a hired sword."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Does he. . ."
"Know what you did?" Aphrodite shook her head. "No one does. Well, no mortal beyond the ones in the temple that night."
Ares hadn't told Hercules. That surprised me. I had expected him to announce it with fireworks and a dancing girls. Then again, if Ares told Hercules, Herc would ask why I had done it and Ares might have to answer. Or, just possibly, Ares really didn't care about Herc, now that Hercules was mortal and my soul belonged to Ares.
"He's upset because you're off being a soldier and he knows you hate that. He and Serena moved to be near his mother, did you know that?"
I shook my head. That was nice. Alcmene had loved her grandchildren. She'd like having new ones to love.
"He thought he'd find you at your house and was really upset when you weren't. He had his mortal brother send out messengers to try to find you. That's how he heard about the war."
I rubbed my hands over my face. "What did he expect me to do? We've been partners for twenty years. I don't have much of a life without him."
"Maybe he thought you'd still be part of his life. You can, you know."
No, I can't. Not with Ares' blood in my body. Not with his mark on my hand.
"She's having twins. Two boys." Aphrodite giggled. "They don't know that of course, but. . ."
"Aphrodite."
"What?"
"Shut up and go away."
She stared at me. I made my mind a blank except for the desire for her to leave. Somewhat to my surprise, knowing how meddlesome the Goddess of Love was, she vanished, not even leaving rose peddles behind.
"I am impressed."
Great. One down, one to go.
"Shut up and go away."
Ares laughed. "Sorry, it doesn't work that way on me. Although next time 'Dite shows up to be annoying, I'll have to have you around. It takes me hours to get rid of her."
He was sitting behind me on the bed. I turned around. His fingers were laced behind his head as he rested it against the headboard. His hair was as short as mine.
"She always wants to talk." He made a face. "Discuss how I'm feeling about something. The only thing I feel around her is lust. She does have the greatest pussy in creation, you know. I never want to talk to her, just fuck her. Problem is, you know women." He sighed dramatically and imitated Aphrodite's voice. "But do you really care?" Returning to his own deep tones, he smirked, "No, shut up and spread 'em."
I tilted my head to look up at him, meet his eyes directly. "If I ask, will you tell me the truth? The absolute truth?"
"I don't have to lie, you know. I'm a god, remember."
"Yeah, but you do have a way around the truth."
He grinned, as if I had given him a compliment. "Ask away, Blondie."
"Are Hercules and Serena safe?"
"No." As I started, he raised a finger in warning. "They are mortal. That means some nasty disease or a careless accident can kill them. So, in that sense, they aren't safe. No mortal is. In the sense that, are the gods messing in their lives, yes, they are safe. Nobody cares about them anymore. Old news." He made a dismissive gesture with his hand.
"Is she really having twins?"
"How would I know? I told you, they are old news. The only one who cares is 'Dite and she's just after the thrill she gets when two people who are deeply in love fuck." He grimaced as he said, 'deeply in love,' his voice sarcastic. Then his eyes focused on something far away. "Which, incredibly, is what they are doing right now. Some mortal women just love to fuck when they're pregnant." His gaze returned to mine. "Want to see?"
"No." My stomach tensed at the very thought.
He considered me. "Want to fuck?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's about time." He sounded annoyed. Before he could reach for me, I moved away, standing up to walk over to the window, although I wasn't really looking at anything when I stared out.
"I've got another question."
His handsome face twisted. "You're as bad as 'Dite. Shut up and spread 'em."
In spite of his tone, he didn't move, so I asked my question.
"Can you make me forget Hercules? Fortune tried but she screwed up. Can you let me remember my life except for him?"
"Nope. Not a chance. He is too much of your memory. Which is too damn bad because if I could get him out of your head, we might have a pretty good time, you and I. I can get rid of minor stuff, no problem. Like your little suicide attempt this afternoon." He snapped his fingers. "I could make it go away like that."
I touched the spot on my belly, just above the top of my pants, where the arrow had emerged. No pain. No scar. Almost as if it hadn't happened.
"I thought it was murder," I said, considering running my hand down between my legs, to touch my aching cock.
Ares snorted. "You were drunk but you weren't that drunk. You're the 'Golden Hunter,' remember? You knew you were being followed."
Funny. I hadn't consciously known that man was behind me, yet that arrow in my back hadn't been a complete surprise. Ares was right. I had been ignoring the signs, hoping that what had happened would happen. Only I hadn't counted on Ares being so quick to save my life.
Ares shifted on the bed, resting his hands on his lap. He was watching me, his expression curious. "Is it really so bad, serving me?"
"No." I took a deep breath. "I know. . .you are making it as easy for me as you can."
"You don't have to hate me." His voice was so ordinary, so mortal, almost. Had I been wrong about Ares all these years? Had Hercules' opinion of his half brother colored my perceptions so much that I had misjudged Ares? No, I remembered things Ares had done, horrible, bloody things. Evil things. He had wanted to drive Hercules insane so he could murder Serena.
"Yes," I replied, meeting his eyes again. "I have to hate you."
He thought about it. "Still no reason not to fuck."
He wasn't moving off the bed. It was up to me. He wanted me to make the decision.
"Would it help if my hair was longer?" He was smiling as his hair was suddenly long again, hanging in heavy waves to his shoulders. "Would it help if your hair was longer?"
My scalp tingled and I felt my hair brushing the back of my neck the way it hadn't in months.
"It would help," I said, crossing back to the bed, shrugging out of my waistcoat as I approached, "if you would shut up."
He just lay there, passive, watching me strip. I was surprised by that. I would have expected Ares to be a good deal more aggressive. Then again, I wasn't in bed with him yet. When I was naked, I looked at him. He was looking at my cock, jutting hard already. He flicked his wrist and suddenly he was naked, his cock rising ready as mine.
Don't think I told myself as I lay on top of him, my mouth meeting his. Don't think about how different he is from Hercules. How his hair is curling around my clutching fingers while Herc's hair is so straight, my fingers tend to slip free of it. Don't think about the beard and mustache, about how the hair on his chest is coarser than the light soft hair on Herc's, don't think about anything except the need and the lust.
Fortunately, Ares was so exciting that it was easy to drive thoughts of everything except sex out of my mind. His tongue was fierce, his lips lush, his hard body holding my weight easily.
It was like that with Hercules', too. I was so much smaller than he was that I could lie on top of my lover, every inch of my body touching his, his heat radiating up at me. I felt the same way with Ares.
Don't think, Iolaus. Feel. Fuck. Don't think.
I was moaning as I explored the body beneath me with my hands and lips, biting, sucking, caressing. Ares made very little sound beyond the occasional sharp inhalation of breath as I sank my teeth into his flesh.
I needed a release that felt good again. I needed to come so desperately I was sobbing as I rocked my cock between us. His big hands cupped by ass, pressing me down, his fingers kneading. I had my hands wound in his hair again, my mouth to his, as I felt his body arch beneath me.
I said his name. Gasped it. Sobbed it as I came, feeling the warmth between us, wet proof of my desire for the god of war.
Before I had a chance to recover, he rolled over, pinning me beneath him, holding me easily.
The power of his godhood made the air around me sing. I could feel it running across my skin like burning water. Like Hercules only more so.
But Herc never bit down hard enough to draw blood. Ares did, sinking his sharp white teeth into my shoulder until I cried out. He slid his hand under me, bending my spine as he lifted my body off the bed, his tongue following the trail of blood down my chest.
I was whimpering, moaning, gasping, my hands clutching at that long hair. It did feel good, sex with the God of War. He felt good. Gods forgive me but it was so good that I really, truly did forget everything except the pleasure coursing through my body, the throb of blood as I grew hard again.
His tongue was strong and hot, his hands like molten fire, his muscles steel under velvet skin. And his cock was the cock of a god, hard as iron and soft as silk. His semen tasted like honey and salt and blood and wine.
When he spread my legs and took me, I was too lost in the passion to care. It would surprise people but I'm usually the one who fucks Herc. He likes it that way. I think he worries that he is so big he'll hurt me, even though I have assured him when he does fuck me that any pain I feel is burned away by the pleasure.
When Ares slid into my trembling, sweating body, all I felt was ecstasy. Maybe he did something to take away the pain because he was big, just like Hercules, and it should have hurt. I kissed him, forcing his head to mine even though I knew I couldn't have done it if he hadn't let me.
He kissed me, he fucked me, he held me. I came, over and over, long and hard, until I felt as if there were nothing left inside me to give. Only then, only after I was spent beyond anything I had ever felt before, did Ares thrust deeply, groaning, his hands cupping my buttocks to hold me close to him, his neck bent so I couldn't see his face. I felt his seed filling me, burning me, taking me, making me even more his.
I woke up lying on my face, my hair sticking to my face. Ares had left it long. Nothing hurt. Not my ass, not the places where he should have left wounds from his teeth. Just as he had when the arrow pierced my body, he had healed me, leaving me no outward or inward sign of what had transpired.
I rolled over. Same room. Same life. He had fucked me but it hadn't changed anything. Ares didn't have the power to change my life. Only Hercules had had that power.
The next morning, Zeus and I left Sycion. I hadn't seen Ares but one of his priests, an old soldier with one eye and no nose, had given me my instructions.
Winter passed. I did as I was told. Delivering messages for my lord. Evaluating weapons and armour for purchase. Fighting a couple of small insurrections. Ares showed up now and then and we fucked. I took other lovers again, my mind torn between two men as my body found release. Some lonely nights, I wept as I pumped into my fist, missing Hercules' love but also missing Ares' body.
The pain faded, the way it does with any wound. It still hurt, my heart was still broken, but the scar tissue covered the worst of it. I cut my hair. Ares made it long whenever we had sex. Then I'd cut it again. I saw very few people I knew and most of them, whether because they knew something was wrong or merely sensing I had changed, avoided me. That was fine with me. Old friends ask after other old friends.
Herc was alive. Serena was alive. They would have two babies in early summer. I knew nothing else since Aphrodite was one of my old friends who avoided me and I never asked Ares about anything except our immediate concerns. How many swords should I buy? Do you want me to suck you first? What is the name of the warlord again?
I woke up one morning, Zeus nudging me with his nose. He was as bad as Hercules, always awake before me. I was stiff from sleeping on the ground but as I forced myself to start my day, I was aware that the season had turned. The air was soft with the promise of spring, the grass was turning pale green under my boots, the trees were flexing with new growth.
I pissed, then started a fresh fire to warm water for tea. Gods but I felt old.
Someone was moving through bushes to the side of my campsite, between me and the road. I had been following a side track that was little used. I noted where my sword was. I could reach it in an instant.
"Joining me for breakfast?" I called to the rustling leaves.
"Iolaus?"
It was Peridacles.
"Did Ares send you after me?"
Peridacles shook his head. "Hardly. I'm on a diplomatic mission to Corinth. He doesn't approve of diplomacy, you know."
He drew near my fire. He was leading a horse and I could see it had gone lame in one leg. As we ate our breakfast, he explained the animal had taken a misstep the day before. To save time, the rest of the mission had ridden on. Peridacles, though, was fond of his horse and decided he would walk the animal slowly for a few days to see if it healed.
"I see you still have your horse." He gestured towards Zeus with a heel of bread he had produced from his saddlebags. "I told Ares you weren't much for horses but he insisted I give it to you."
"He's not bad company," I replied, not surprised by Peridacles' admission. "And if worse comes to worse, I can either sell him or eat him."
The old soldier grinned. It was an old soldier's joke; the advantage to being in the cavalry over the infantry in time of hardship. I wondered, idly, if Ares ever took Peridacles to his bed. Peridacles hadn't sworn a blood oath to the god but he had served him for many years. I knew I couldn't ask.
We talked for a bit, casual conversation about what had occupied us over the winter. I knew something was bothering Peridacles. Every time I turned away, he gave me a penetrating look, as if he trying to read my mind. Finally, as I started to cover the fire, he cleared his throat.
"I saw Hercules."
I must have looked idiotic, standing there like a statue, one foot in the air kicking dirt over the embers.
"He said he heard you fought with me in Stratus."
"Had he?" My voice was faint. I started from my stupor and returned to my task.
"He wanted to know if you were all right."
"I assume you told him I was."
"I did." Peridacles hesitated. He was a warrior and no doubt found this conversation almost as uncomfortable as I did. "I was surprised, though, that he hadn't seen you. I told him we parted in the fall and here it was nearly spring again."
What could I say? I wasn't about to explain the complexities of my relationships with Hercules and Ares to this man. He didn't want to hear all that, anyway.
"I've been busy."
"She's pretty, his new wife."
Aha. Peridacles thought my jealously of Serena had driven me away from Hercules. Fine. I preferred that explanation, too.
"Yes, she is." I kept my voice noncommittal. "They seem very good together."
"Iolaus. You two have been friends too long to let a woman come between you. Even if she is his wife."
I ducked my head, scratching behind my ear, the way I do when something confuses me. Maybe enough time had passed. Maybe I could go see Herc, face him and not be torn up by the pain.
"Well." Peridacles stood up, brushing off his backside. "I imagine I'll see you again soon. Ares is probably stirring up trouble somewhere."
"Yes." We clasped forearms. The older man gave me a look that said 'stop being an idiot.' I nodded.
His horse following behind, Peridacles headed towards the main road. After I finished cleaning up my camp, I actually swung into Zeus' saddle and gave him a kick in the ribs, sending him towards home
Aphrodite had said Herc was living near his mother again. I decided to head for Alcmene's house. Once I had made the decision, I was amazed at how much I wanted to see him. Even if what I had done would be forever between us, I still wanted to see him, to let him know I was alive and well. To let poor Serena know that she hadn't been the one to drive me away.
The olive trees were in bud as I rounded the corner below Alcmene's and looked up at her garden. Already, it was alive with crocus and hyacinth, the vines and trees turning green. Her garden always seemed to be a month ahead of everywhere else.
I dismounted.
"Now what?" I murmured to Zeus. Sad to say, I had started talking to my horse. I wasn't so far gone that I thought he understood but I still used him as a sounding board.
My knees were as weak as they were before my first battle. I stood there, frozen, unable to either approach the house or run away when Alcmene came out the door.
I should have run. Running is something I am very good at. Instead, I stood there dumbly while my best friend's mother, who had known me since I was a child, turned, shaded her eyes against the sun and looked at me.
Even with my short hair and my new tunic--the one Peridacles had provided had been ruined by the arrow and the blood so I had gotten another much like it--and the horse at my side, Alcmene recognized me. I saw her hand go to her mouth, then she dropped the basket she was carrying and picked up her skirts to run down the path.
I watched her, feeling as if I were watching from a great distance, when suddenly her arms were around me and she was sobbing my name. I dropped Zeus' reins and gave her an uncertain hug.
"Oh, Iolaus." She pushed away, holding my head between her hands, her eyes overflowing with tears. "Why did you stay away so long?"
Why did I? I didn't answer. Fortunately, she didn't seem to feel one was necessary. Like everyone else, I assumed she had decided it was my jealousy of Serena that drove me away.
She grabbed my hand, tugging me up the path. "Jason will be so glad to see you. Did you know Hercules and Serena came home a few months ago? She is so lovely but having some trouble with her pregnancy, poor thing. I suspect she's carrying twins. Hercules bought Anabasis' old house and has been fixing it up. He's here almost every day and he'll be so glad. . ."
I stopped her as we reached the door. "Alcmene."
"Yes."
"Are they really happy? I need to know. Is Hercules happy with Serena?"
Alcmene smiled and patted my cheek. "Of course he is. They are so much in love and he is so happy about the baby. Or babies, as the case may be." Her smile faded. "The only thing keeping Hercules from complete happiness. . ."
"I know." Me.
Her eyes, Hercules' eyes, searched my face, looking for the answer, but I had learned to school my expression in the last few months.
"Oh, Iolaus." Her hand touched my cheek again, gentle and comforting. I wanted her to comfort me, to sooth the pain, to make everything all right, the way she had when I was young. Instead, I moved away.
"I'll put my horse in the barn."
Tugging Zeus after me, I walked to Alcmene's barn without having to pay attention. I had gone out to her barn so often, I could have found it blindfolded. Sometimes, if Iphicles was home, I slept out there. I helped Hercules clean the barn, feed the animals, patch the roof and, when we were young and wild, we had made love in the loft, pretending that Alcmene had no idea what we were up to among the stacks of fragrant hay. The first time we had been together had been up in that loft, on a cold, rainy day, when somehow an affectionate hug had turned into passion.
Don't go there, I commanded my memory. That happened to the other Iolaus, the one who died that night in Ares' temple, bled to death on Ares' altar.
I had taken Zeus' saddle off and was spreading a blanket over his back when I heard the door swing open. I knew, from the sound of the hinges and the footsteps as they approached, that it wasn't Hercules. Not yet.
"Iolaus."
Jason was mad. No, he was furious. Jason, as a former king, was an intelligent, well-educated, articulate man. As a former captain and commander of men, he was also a master in the art of tongue-lashing. With short, sharp sentences, Jason told me exactly what he thought of me and my behavior. I hung my head and took it, because he was right and I deserved everything he said. I was a coward. I had betrayed Hercules when he most needed me by running away, driven away by my petty jealousy. What kind of a man was I, to desert a friend the way I had deserted Hercules? He was ashamed of me, of what I had done. Ashamed.
"Well?" His voice was still tight with anger but he was giving me a chance to explain myself. Jason was very fair that way, always letting the accused have his say.
I shook my head slowly, trying to find the words to explain, even though I knew I could never find them. Finally, I raised my head and met his eyes. Furious, I decided, as I looked into his face, was an understatement. I had never seen Jason so mad. I suspected it was a good thing he wasn't armed. His hands were clenched into fists and I knew he was restraining himself.
"You're right." My voice sounded strange, weak. "I am ashamed." I hiccuped, keeping the tears under control. "I guess I never really deserved to have a man like Hercules as my friend and now I've gone and proved it."
"Iolaus?" The anger vanished from his face, to be replaced by a baffled look. He expected me to argue with him, maybe even take a swing at him. He hadn't expected my quiet acquiescence. But he didn't know how many battles I had fought recently. I couldn't fight another.
His hands relaxed. He even laid one on my shoulder. "Iolaus, what happened to you? I can't believe you stayed away voluntarily."
I opened my mouth to try to explain when the door to the barn was flung open. Even without the strength of Olympus, Hercules was still strong and when he opened a door, it stayed open. Jason stepped quickly back so Hercules could run forward and grab me in a tight embrace.
He had changed. During the last six months, I had come to know the embrace of a god. It had been familiar to me because Ares was like Hercules, so powerful that he burned with it. Now, Hercules held me in an embrace that I could pull away from, if I wanted to. The aura that had once clung to his skin like an aroma was gone.
He murmured my name, his voice choked with emotion. I hugged him back. Maybe he wasn't a half god any more but he was still the best thing that had ever happened to me and I still loved him. I clung to him, relishing the familiar scent, the feel of his big arms, even the sound of his heartbeat. I had missed him so much.
Kings also learned discretion. By the time Hercules let me go, Jason was gone, the door shut firmly behind him.
We looked at each other, both embarrassed by the tears in our eyes. His big hands cupped my face as he tried to speak.
"Iolaus. . ."
"Don't."
"I should have realized. . ."
"No." I pulled away. "None of this is your fault. It's mine."
"Yours!" He wiped his nose on his gauntlets. I was surprised to see the bracelets Hephaestus had given him were gone. I guess those were a gift for a half god, not an ordinary man. "Iolaus, I should have told you earlier, not just announced I was marrying Serena. It wasn't fair to you. . ."
No. I waved a hand at him, desperate for him not to take us back to that dimly lit common room in that cheap tavern where my life had ended.
"Don't, Herc. I mean it. Let me."
He stopped, puzzled. I had to put some distance between us. Maybe he didn't burn with power any more but I still felt emotions so strong that I couldn't stand close to him. I went back to Zeus. Jason had interrupted me before I got his bridle and reins off. Mechanically, I removed them, then found oats in the bin where they had been stored since I was a boy.
"You should have warned me," I said, feeding my horse. "You're right about that. But I should have seen it happening." I took a deep breath. As long as Herc stood there dumbly in the middle of the barn, as long as moved away from him, I could get through this. "After all, I'm supposed to be the expert on women."
We exchanged nervous, sad little smiles at the joke. I started checking Zeus' legs, even though I knew he was fine.
"I'll grant it was pretty stupid of you to decide to fall in love with Ares' most prized possession but then, when does love make sense?" I remained standing next to my horse, scratching him behind his ears, the way he liked. "But what was really stupid was expecting Ares to let you walk away unscathed."
Herc frowned. "He did."
"No, he didn't." I took a deep steadying breath. Here it comes. I'd been under a surgeon's knife before. I knew that the anticipation could be as bad as the actual pain. "Do you remember your nightmares, right after you married Serena?"
"Huh?"
I closed my eyes. I was wrong. This was worse than I expected. When I opened them again, he was still standing staring at me, confused and wanting to understand.
"You had nightmares."
"Yeah, so?"
"And do you remember the fight in the village?"
He looked away, embarrassed, nodding.
"You lost your temper like I have never seen you loose your temper."
"I remember. If that's what drove you away. . ."
"Shut up, Herc, and let me finish! Those weren't just ordinary nightmares! They were sendings from Ares. Strife orchestrated them, calling on Morpheus. They were intended to drive you mad."
"Iolaus. . ."
"Shut up!" I was surprised by the anger in my voice. I took another deep breath. Focus. I had spent a long time learning how to focus. "Trust me. Ares and Strife intended to drive you insane, so insane that you would believe you killed Serena when she was murdered."
"Serena. . ."
"I know she wasn't hurt! But she would have been. And you would have been blamed for her death and you would have taken the blame because the dreams would have made you think you did it."
"But. . ."
"Shut the fuck up!" So, the focus and control were slipping. What did I expect? "Ares was going to have his revenge on you and Serena."
His face went white. "You did something."
He knew. He just couldn't say it. I nodded.
"I made a deal with Ares."
Hercules made a sound, not a word, a whimper, a sob, of horror. "Iolaus, tell me you didn't. . ."
I held up my left hand, palm facing him. "I swore myself to Ares. I made a blood oath, swearing my absolute loyalty, in exchange for your safety. For yours and that of Serena's."
We stared at each other. The tears were overflowing his eyes but mine, surprisingly, were dry.
"Gods, I'm sorry." He looked around, saw a stool and moved unsteadily to sit on it. "You shouldn't have. . ."
"No? Should I have stood by and watched Ares destroy you?"
"We could have. . ."
"We could have done nothing!" Six months of suppressed anger suddenly bubbled out of me. I crossed the space between us in a few strides. "You are a mortal, remember! Just like the rest of us! Puny, insignificant, helpless against the will of the gods! Hercules the son of Zeus could have fought Ares. Hercules the man couldn't do a damned thing except take it!"
I was pacing around him, trying hard not to slap him. He reached out and caught my left hand, holding it, small against his.
"We could have done something," he said, his voice low. He traced the scar on my palm with his finger. "You and I, together."
I pulled my hand away, horrified at how my cock had hardened at that light touch.
"You forget. We weren't together any more."
He hung his head. "I'm sorry." His voice trembled. "Why does it have to be that way? Why does it have to be either my wife or my friend? Can't I have both?"
Shit. He was right. After all, I was the first one to get married. Ania had come between us, all those years ago, and he had been nothing but happy for me. I stopped being his partner, then, not the other way around.
My knees gave out. I collapsed on the ground next to him. Had I made a mistake? Could we have defeated Ares? I shook my head. No, I remembered that day in the temple very clearly.
"Ares is a god. We're just men. If I hadn't agreed to Ares' deal, Serena would be dead. I'm sure of it."
"You still should have told me!"
"You'd have tried to talk me out of it."
"Of course I would have!"
"Herc, are you happy with Serena, I mean, except for my not being around?"
He sniffled. "Very much so. I love her, Iolaus, and it's so good to have a family again. I missed that so much. . ."
"Then I did the right thing."
He slid off the stool to sit next to me on the floor, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close. I let my arms slip around his waist, burying my face into his neck, even if I had to twist my head painfully to do it.
I had expected more of an argument, Herc telling me I shouldn't have gone to Ares, me pointing out I was a grown man and could make my decisions, his questioning my judgment. Instead, we sat there on the floor, silent, rocking together, weeping together. We had done this before, after I lost my family, after he lost his. Now, at least, one of us had a family again. Finally, I couldn't stand the awkward position any more. I pushed away, wiping my face.
"Serena blames herself," Herc said, clearing his throat. "For your going away. She feels terrible about it. Could you tell her. . .something." He smiled weakly. "She's barely seven months gone, big as a house already, and getting pretty miserable. It would help."
"All right." I stood up shakily. How come he wasn't asking me more questions about Ares? Maybe he didn't want to know. "Tomorrow. I'll come down to your house tomorrow."
"We could go now."
"Herc, I've ridden for three days to get here. I'm tired and sore and want to sleep and have a bath before I enter a respectable home."
"What's with the horse?"
"Zeus? He was a present. I like him."
He raised an eyebrow at me, his gently mocking, amused expression. Seeing it made my heart soar. Maybe, in spite of Ares, we could still be friends.
"Zeus? No offense but he doesn't look like a Zeus."
"He's my horse. I'll call him what I want."
Laughing softly, genuinely amused, Hercules said, "Whatever." Then his face turned sad again. "Present from Ares?"
"Yeah. Herc, it's not bad. He's been. . ." I laughed weakly. "Merciful." At his doubtful look, I added, "Really. I know it sounds impossible but he hasn't had me do anything against my will. Nothing horrible."
"Yet."
I shrugged. "Maybe. I can live with it. Especially knowing you're happy."
"I'm not, about that."
I shrugged again. It was too late now. We walked back to the house. Jason and Alcmene were waiting, their faces betraying their concern. When they saw us walking up the path side by side, they both looked relieved. She fussed and bustled, making me feel comfortable.
Herc left, not wanting to leave Serena alone for long. I took the bath Alcmene offered, ate a meal, glad to listen to Alcmene chatter about homey things so I didn't have to do much more than nod. Pleading exhaustion, which wasn't a lie, I headed for bed. Jason followed me to my room. Before I could say my good nights, he pointed at my left hand. I held it up so he could see the scar.
"Is this what I think it is?" he asked, careful that Alcmene not hear. "I saw the mark when you were eating but I couldn't believe it."
"It's a guarantee that Hercules and Serena are left alone."
He followed me into the bedroom, his face drawn and unhappy. I pulled my tunic off, making a point of ignoring him. He didn't go away. Instead, he closed the door so his wife couldn't hear.
"It's not like you, to give yourself to a god."
"It was an unusual situation."
"And it gives you an excuse not to hang around Hercules and his new family."
"Is that what you think?" I glared at him, angry. "That I signed on with Ares because I was jealous of Serena?"
He shrugged. Jason had a very eloquent shrug. "It's what a lot of people, including Hercules think. Me. . ." He squinted, giving me a very careful inspection. "I think it's part of the reason."
"Part!" I nearly threw my shirt at him. I spoke, very slowly, my voice low so Alcmene wouldn't hear. "I left because if I stayed, Serena would be dead and Hercules would be either in prison awaiting trial for murder or dead, too, executed as her murderer."
"What?"
Ha! I had managed to surprise Jason. I told him, keeping the story brief, with no unnecessary details, about what I had done. When I finished, I expected him to apologize. I should have known better. Jason is a whole lot smarter than I am and a much better judge of people. It's what made him a good king.
"So, it didn't even occur to you that there might be another solution? That maybe you should have talked it over with Hercules?
"Maybe you haven't noticed but Ares isn't famous for his patience. He didn't give me time to talk it over."
"Or think it over, it would seem."
"Jason!" I had to take a deep breath and lower my voice again. "I did what I had to do to save the life of my best friend."
"And his wife. Convenient that it also gave you an excuse to leave him, right now, when he needs you. Maybe even get a little back."
My hands clenched into fists. "Do you think I am that petty?"
"No. Not normally. But Hercules doesn't normally break your heart."
As I said, he's smart. I tried to say something, to defend myself, but Jason didn't give me a chance.
"Serving Ares hurts Hercules. Sort of like marrying Serena hurt you."
My knees gave out. I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, dizzy. Was Jason right? Had my motives been entirely altruistic? Or had there been a desire for revenge hidden underneath my sudden willingness to serve Ares? And, this was the worst part, had Ares seen that? If Jason was smarter than me, Ares, as a god, must be at least as smart. Had Ares seen the same thing?
"Oh, Jason . . ." My voice came out in a moan. "I only meant to protect him."
Jason's hand laid on my shoulder. "I know you did. You couldn't hurt Hercules on purpose for anything. I just want you to think about this, to understand that you have hurt him, and how it looks to other people."
"I don't care about other people."
"No, not the random crowd out there who loves to hear the stories of the legendary adventures of Hercules and his mortal companion. But Alcmene and a few other friends have thought a little less of you, these last months."
I put my face in my hands. I hadn't even considered Alcmene. She always said she loved me like a son. I could remember her telling someone, I don't remember who, that as far as she was concerned, she had three sons, Hercules, Iphicles and me.
"I am so sorry." I lifted my face, meeting his eyes. He didn't look angry; he looked sad. "I did what I thought was best."
He nodded, once. "Yes, I see that. And I hope it works out for you but I've had my dealings with Ares, too, and his goals are never quite what you think they are. He may have gone easy on you so far but I don't doubt there are rougher times ahead."
"Neither do I."
Jason sighed, turning to leave the room. "I'll explain to Alcmene. Although, I suspect, in her heart, she knew you're not capable of intentionally hurting Hercules."
Wasn't I? I stared at the door as Jason closed it behind himself. I had jumped at the chance to serve Ares. I had a chance to tell Hercules what I was going to do. Ares carefully gave me more than half a day to do just that. Why didn't I? Was I afraid of what Hercules might say, might do to stop me? Or was I in a hurry to turn to Ares?
I shook my head, standing up to take off the rest of my clothes. None of it mattered now, why I had done what I did. All that was important was that Herc was safe and I belonged to Ares. No matter what my reasons, no matter what the price, Hercules' new life and new family were worth my sacrifice. Jason had been a king. He knew when sacrifices and compromises had to be made.
I dropped into the bed. When Iphicles was here, it was his bed. When he wasn't and I was, it was mine, more mine, I sometimes think, than anything else in the world. I rolled over, pulling the blanket up over my shoulder, relishing the softness of the mattress and the pillow. Maybe, I thought, as I drifted off to sleep, Ares hadn't destroyed as much as I thought.
It must have been close to midnight when I woke up, his body pressed up behind mine, his hand around my cock, pumping it slowly, tightly, the way I liked it. I could feel his cock, hard against the small of my back.
"So," he murmured, "how's my poor mortal baby brother?"
"Happy," I gasped, reaching for him, trusting in his power to make sure Jason and Alcmene didn't hear us. I rolled over, wanting to taste him, to press my body against his. If I couldn't have the man I loved, I'd take the god I loathed. I'd come no matter what, and it would feel great.
Ares fucked fiercely, brutally, as befitting a creature created solely for the purpose of battle. I returned the favor. He had to heal me after some of our encounters, otherwise I would be left with scars from his bone deep bites and even the occasional broken bone. He had to heal himself, sometimes. I have sharp teeth, too. For the record, mortals can make gods bleed.
I had him under me, my cock in his tight, hot ass, my hands gripping him around the waist as I rode his back, hard and deep. He was grunting, holding his weight on one arm while he stroked himself with his free hand. I leaned forward, to hiss in his ear.
"He is happy, Ares." I shook my head sharply to get the sweat out of eyes, the movement making Ares cry out beneath me. I repeated the motion, intentionally, grinding my hips as I thrust. "You kept your promise, God of War." I was close. How many mortals have come inside Ares? I never asked him that but I suspect the number was small. "I kept mine."
He squeezed his muscles around me as he laughed. "Then everybody's happy," he snarled.
"Yeah." I bent forward, feeling the power surround me, the pleasure overwhelm me. "Everybody." Than I came, biting my lip to keep from saying a name.
As soon as I finished, he rolled over. Unlike mortals I have fucked, Ares wasn't concerned with a gentle withdrawal. In and out like the thrust of a sword. That's how Ares liked it. He was a little more careful with me than I was with him. I think he knew he could actually kill a mortal partner if he wasn't careful. I was limp in his arms as he worked into me, slowly, searching for the right angle that made me gasp even though I was too spent to do more than that.
"I've fucked Serena, you know." His voice was silken. So was his hand, for that matter, as he managed to tease another erection out of me.
I found it hard to concentrate on his conversation. That was another odd thing about sex with a god. Unless he was actually lost in his climax, he could focus on all sorts of other things. Once, we had even discussed plans for a battle while he was fucking me. I had a feeling he could actually command an army during sex, if the need arose. Fortunately, that hadn't happened.
"So why should I care?" My head lolled back against his shoulder as he ran his strong tongue along my throat. I caught his dangling earring in my teeth and pulled, hard enough to hurt.
He shrugged, the shift of body making me gasp again. "Just like the whole completeness of the thing. Herc used to fuck you and I used to fuck Serena. Now I have you and he has her. In the long run, I think I came out ahead."
I tried to pull away, to look into his face as he said that. Was he giving me a compliment? Did he prefer me to her as a warrior or a bed partner? I didn't have a chance to ask. He shoved me on my face, shoved himself in deeper and I wasn't capable of any thoughts beyond how good it felt.
As Ares filled my ass with his essence, he grunted a name. Mine.
In the morning, Jason and Alcmene were so calm that I knew they hadn't known what had happened in their guest room bed. For the first time, Ares had left my hair short. I puzzled a moment over his consideration, then put thoughts of him aside. I was spending the day with Hercules. My best friend.
Alcmene had breakfast ready, knowing from long acquaintance my sleeping habits. Left to my own preference, I am not an early riser. I ate, quickly, and left, but not before Alcmene gave me a hug and whispered, "Jason explained," in my ear. I was glad she knew, glad she understood, glad she forgave me. I hoped I deserved it.
Anabasis had lived below Alcmene, his fields separated from her farm by a stream. I knew the way. Anabasis' sons had all died young, as had his wife, and Herc and I often helped at his farm. His house was long and low, built to house a large family. I stopped, beneath an old olive tree, staring down at the house.
Smoke rose from two of the chimneys. There were freshly planted beds by the doors, a touch of Alcmene's, no doubt. A white cow was tied in the pasture next to the house.
I caught sight of Hercules, staking out the rows of a field he would plow in a day or two. I wanted to laugh. We were both reluctant farmers, forced into the pastoral life by our families. I missed my wife and child but I didn't miss plowing, fertilizing, weeding or harvesting. For his family, though, Hercules would do anything and finally, after all those painful, grief-filled years, he had a chance to have a family again.
I was a warrior, not a farmer. I was better off in Ares' service than behind a plow, anyway. And Herc was happy.
Hercules looked up as I reached the fence around his farm. When he saw me, his face split in a broad smile. I realized he hadn't been sure, until he saw me, that I would come.
We hugged again, laughing. He ran his hand through my hair, not saying anything. I shrugged. Then he tugged at the sleeve of my tunic and I shrugged again. We still did most of our talking without talking.
"Did mother feed you?" he asked, his arm warm around my shoulders. "No, don't answer that. Of course she did."
The main room of the house still looked like an old widower lived there. Serena hadn't been raised to be a housewife. She didn't know how to collect and hang herbs for the winter, how to churn butter or make cheese, or make a house a home with comfortable hangings on the walls or green plants in the windows. I was sure Alcmene would teach her, gently and kindly, once Serena had adjusted.
Serena was sitting by the fire, her feet propped up on a low stool, her big belly covered by a blanket I recognized from Alcmene's house. She looked frightened.
I crossed the room quickly, not wanting her to stand up unnecessarily. She did look tired. I had a fleeting memory of my wife. Ania had had an easy pregnancy, no morning sickness, none of the usual complaints. And, as Ares had said, some women liked to fuck when they were pregnant. Ania had. We had made love, very tenderly, almost every day, up until a week or so before the baby actually came, stopping only because I was nervous.
I had asked the midwife, after Ania was dead, if that was why she died. The old woman had assured me that our passion hadn't killed her. The baby being laid wrong was to blame and no one was responsible for that. She had patted me on the arm as I tried to feed my son goat's milk, assuring me that I had made Ania's last days joyful and I should be grateful for the memories. Memories I had buried with my son's small body.
Shaking myself mentally, I knelt next to Serena's chair, smiling. I was genuinely happy for her, for them.
"Iolaus." Her voice was soft with worry. She knew. Hercules must have told her.
I took her hands in mine, smiling. "Don't worry. I'm fine. And you look wonderful."
She shook her head, pulling her hands away to touch her stomach. "I look like a bloated pig."
"Ah, but a beautiful bloated pig."
That made her laugh.
"Trust me, Serena," I said, "You are beautiful."
She bit her lip, shyly. Then she reached for my hand, my right hand, and laid it on her stomach. I felt Hercules' son move, turning.
Serena whispered, "If it's a boy, we're naming him Iolaus."
I pulled my hand back. "And if it's a girl?"
"We're still debating that."
Hercules' voice came from behind me. "No, we're not."
Serena looked over my head at her husband. "Yes, we are."
I stood up and interrupted the fond, familial argument. "So, you are farming again. How's your manure supply?" I wanted to change the subject from their children. I thought about telling them what Aphrodite told me but decided that would take the fun out it.
Hercules took me outside to show me around. We managed a fairly normal conversation. I asked about his crops. He told me what Iphicles was up to. Only when we were on the far side of the barn, well away from the house, did he turn to me, his face serious.
"Has Ares. . ."
"No."
"I didn't even ask the question."
"You don't have to. No, he hasn't mistreated me." I sat down on the woodpile chopping block. "He really has been astonishingly reasonable. I can't believe it myself but not once has he made me do something against my will. The war with Peridacles is an example. We'd have been in the fight with Peridacles if he had asked."
Hercules still looked doubtful. "You swore complete allegiance, didn't you? He could make you do. . .anything. At all."
"Yes, he could." I picked at a sliver of bark between my thighs. "But he hasn't. Like it or not, Herc, I am a warrior. And Ares isn't a fool. He thinks of me as a useful weapon and he's not going to waste me."
With a heavy sigh, Hercules sat next to me. He was spinning a twig between his fingers.
"It's been. . .hard. Adjusting. You were right about that."
I had noticed a long scar down his right arm but hadn't said anything. Now, without even being aware I was doing it, I found myself running my fingers along it. The wound looked to be maybe three months old.
"Serena tries so hard but she wasn't. . .I guess we didn't think things through."
I almost laughed. "Nice to know you can be as stupid as me."
He shook his head. He did laugh, softly. "Yeah. Mother's been great. And it's getting better. I haven't tried to pick up something I can't possibly move for days now."
"Herc. . ."
I had no idea what I was going to say. He turned, suddenly, facing me with eyes wide and desperate. I don't know what was making him feel that way, his mortality, his pregnant wife, or his desire. All I know was he was kissing me, his hands tugging my tunic free of my belt. And I was kissing him back.
Gods, it had been six months. He wasn't a half god anymore but he still tasted and smelled and felt like Hercules. He made that sound in his throat that always sent a surge of desire through my belly, that sound that said he wanted me, needed me.
I wrapped my fingers in his long, straight, silken hair, pulling his head easily to mine. Yeah, Ares had fucked me within an inch of my life last night but it didn't mean anything. This did.
I don't know how long we stood there, caught in that embrace, our tongues dancing together in our familiar rhythm, Herc's big cock pressed against my belly, mine against his thigh, when a deep voice interrupted us.
"Gracious," chirped Ares, "cheating on your dear Serena. I may have to run to your sweet little cottage and tell her."
We sprang apart, Hercules automatically starting to push me behind him protectively. I stepped forward. Now, between the two of us, I had the better chance against Ares.
"Go away, Ares," I said. "This has nothing to do with you."
He folded his arms across his chest and smiled. "Yes, it does. You're mine now, remember." He looked directly at Hercules.
Herc raised his chin and met Ares' gaze. "Give him the day off."
Ares laughed. "I should. After all, he came three times last night. I'm surprised he can still get it up. But then, dear brother, you know how much our little Iolaus loves to fuck. And his tongue. . ." Ares gave a mocking shiver, running one hand down over his codpiece.
I saw the red flooding up Herc's face. He had always had the ability to convince himself what he wanted to believe. As a half god, he was always right, which made him very firm in his convictions. That had just changed.
My hand reached for his shoulder but never got there. Ares, his voice low, gave a sharp command.
"Iolaus, come here."
I froze. I had almost taken a step forward at that order. Ares could send me into battle but surely he couldn't control my every move.
His hand raised, the fingers clasped, and I felt as if he had slid that hand into my chest, wrapping it around my heart. I gasped, setting my heels.
"Iolaus." His voice was iron. "Come here."
Desperately, I tried to grab Herc's arm as I walked past him, thinking that the feel of his flesh under my fingers would break Ares' spell. Hercules defeated my attempt, moving away from me, his face a mask of tragedy.
As soon as I was close to him, Ares reached out and pulled me into a tight embrace, turning me around so we both faced Hercules. I wanted to scream but Ares held me in his will. He slid an arm around my waist, stroking my cock through the leather of my trousers. It was still hard from my kiss with Hercules. I shuddered at his firm, possessive touch.
"He swore himself to me, brother," hissed Ares, bending to kiss the side of my neck, "body and soul."
Hercules looked as if he was going to be sick. The flush had faded, leaving him white. He couldn't look at me.
"Herc," I managed to gasp, trying to pull away from Ares, "It's worth it. You have Serena and. . ."
Ares slid his other hand across my throat. He didn't squeeze his fingers shut. The touch alone was enough to render me mute.
"He is mine, brother. Don't ever forget that. I own Iolaus, your dear friend, your loyal companion, your faithless lover. I can fuck him or kill him, at my whim. Do you understand?"
Swallowing, Hercules said hoarsely, "I understand, Ares. I understand that Iolaus gave his life for me once and he's doing it again." Then he did look at me, directly in my eyes, and I saw he still loved me.
The world spun. I felt as if every vein in my body was suddenly filled with ice while my skin was crisping before a flame. As the air steadied, I realized Ares had taken me with him when he moved as only gods can move. He had taken me to one of his temples, I didn't know which one, only that we were now in a stark room with grey granite walls and red and black banners spelling out the name and mottoes of the God of War.
He spun me around, his hand now tight on my throat, lifting me off the ground so that I hung, strangling, in his grip. He was grinning, his head slightly tilted to one side.
"Now that was fun, wasn't it? Did you see the look on his face? Priceless, absolutely priceless."
The world was beginning to turn red. I couldn't hear his voice for the pounding in my ears. Even though I knew it was useless, my fingers clawed at his arm, trying to free myself from that crushing grip. Just as my vision turned dark, Ares released me to fall.
I had made a warrior's fatal mistake. I had underestimated my enemy. I had thought I could belong to Ares, to serve him, and still preserve some part of my heart for Hercules. Ares had waited, with more patience than I gave him credit for, until this moment, when he could snatch me from Hercules' arms, making his victory sweetly complete.
His voice came to me as if from a great distance. "I told you, I was taking half his heart. How could I keep it, if I let you go back to him?"
Grabbing my collar, Ares jerked me to my feet. "You are mine," he said. "Remember that, Iolaus of Corinth, son of Skouros, former lover of Hercules, the ex-demigod. You. Are. Mine."
Then he dropped me. My legs failed me. I crumpled to the floor, my throat aching from his hand and from my tears. Ares had known all along I would be drawn back to Hercules. He had waited and I had fallen into his trap. My running away to give myself to the God of War wouldn't be enough. Ares had to see the pain in Hercules' face, see the agony in mine, to enjoy winning. Hercules was mortal and his heart was broken. Just like me.
"Deimos!" Ares shouted to the air. "Phobos! Get your feathered brother and tell him we need to celebrate! I want a nice big orgy! Round up all my priests and priestesses! Hell, invite Discord and Strife, even. We are going to enjoy this! I WON!"
He was laughing as he vanished into the air.
I don't know how long I lay there on the cold stone floor of that temple. I wept and raged, even though I knew it was useless. I pounded my fists bloody on the floor. How could I have been such a fool? If I had stayed away, I could have kept Ares from this final humiliation. I could have kept some small corner of my love for Hercules intact. But Ares had shown Hercules--and me--just how much a puppet I was to my master. All he had to do was pull the string and I followed.
The sun had set. The room I occupied was lit by one lurid red vigil lamp on the altar. When I finally managed to stagger to my feet, I knew for certain that the Iolaus who had loved Hercules and traveled at his side was dead. I was someone else. Stiffly, I left the room, wiping my face on the hem of my tunic before tucking it back into my belt.
The temple was empty. Ares must have summoned all the attendants to his orgy. I found a small room with a bed, bread, cheese and watered wine on the table. I ate a little, then lay down on the bed. In the morning, I would rise as the slave of Ares, God of War.
Those first few weeks, after I bid the old Iolaus a final farewell, passed in a haze of regret, pain and drunkenness. Then I was summoned to a war in Eretria. It was there that Aphrodite came to me to tell me Serena had been delivered of two sons, small but healthy, named, by their loving parents, Iolaus and Iphicles. I told her to go away. I never wanted to hear the name of Hercules again.
I did, occasionally, mostly in a song sung by a bard, telling of the old days, when Hercules was a hero, but no one ever spoke the name to me directly.
As the years went by, Ares and I developed an odd relationship, based on respect for our mutual abilities. I still hated him but he was what he was and he did a damn fine job as God of War. We never had sex again, after that night in Alcmene's house. I took men and women to my bed, as I needed, but usually found only release, rarely pleasure, never joy.
Ares and I would talk, sometimes, in the winter, over dinner. Occasionally, I would be one of many of his favored warriors at a feast but most of the time, when I talked with him, I would be eating alone and he would be standing by the fire or the window. Our eyes rarely met.
I commiserated while he complained about his sons, his mother, his warlords. I learned about battles fought hundreds of years before my birth. I answered his questions about the motives of mortals, which, with his godhood, he didn't always understand. We planned skirmishes and battles, attacks and counterattacks.
I got older. One of my more frequent bed partners commented once on how there were bands of silver in the gold of my hair. She had ambitions to be a poet and tried to chronicle battles in glorious verse. She was better at sex than poetry.
One morning, I woke up, alone in my bed, in my quarters in Ares main temple in Athens, to the sound of my master in a fine rage. I couldn't make out what he was shouting but I could hear his voice, even through the stone walls of the temple.
Groaning, I rolled over, my body aching. I had had too much to drink the night before, sitting in my room with only a bottle of wine for company. Even as I pulled my trousers off the floor where I had dropped them to fall into bed, I heard someone pounding on my door.
"My lord Iolaus!" It was one of Ares' newest acquisitions, a supple-limbed priestess of Egyptian parentage who, with her twin, shared the war god's bed most nights of late.
"Give me a minute." I yanked on my boots without fastening them, then pulled on a shirt. If Ares was going to start screaming at this hour of the morning, he'd just have to take me in this condition.
When I opened the door, the priestess grabbed my arm, her voice trembling in terror.
"Lord Telemachos said you are to come at once!"
Telemachos was Ares' favorite warlord these days, a tough young man who treated me with thinly veiled contempt. I knew he wouldn't have Ares' favor for long. One day, he'd turn that contempt to Ares and would end up as pile of smoldering bones staining the floor.
"What's Ares having such a fit about?" I asked as I limped after the priestess. I had taken a sword thrust behind my right knee a year before. The wound had been shallow but it festered before it healed, leaving me with a ache that never went away, just the most recent I had been collecting over my lifetime. I was old, for a warrior.
"I don't know, my lord." I had never gotten used to that form of address but I had stopped trying to correct anyone who used it. "He was fine this morning." A faint blush colored her cheek, as if she thought no one knew that she shared her god's bed. "But Athena came to him and. . ."
Athena. Wonderful. She only paid her fellow god a visit when things were really bad. She was no more fond of Ares, even if they shared a common interest, than most of the Olympians. Strategy and tactics were her speciality. The coarse bloodshed that delighted Ares offended her. If she was here, then all Tartarus must be breaking loose.
Telemachos was standing outside the door to Ares' private sanctum, his usual scowl in place. When he saw me, his scowl deepened. He was half my age and about twice my size. Having to turn to me because he was afraid to confront Ares was infuriating him. I loved it.
"Morning," I said as pleasantly as possible, arranging my clothes so I looked at least passingly respectable. I ran my hand over face, wishing I had time for a bath and shave.
Telemachos tried a sneer to conceal his fear. Ares was really in a state. I could hear him, screaming obscenities that seemed to be directed towards someone whose name I didn't recognize, threatening this person with disembowelment and dismemberment and the usual sort of things Ares liked. The shouts were punctuated with the occasional explosion. Definitely not the way to start a day.
"Ares is upset," Telemachos said. "He wants to see you."
Did he or did you just send for me because you're afraid to go in there and see what is going on? I answered my own question without asking it aloud. He was terrified. Which helped make up for my rude awakening.
I pushed Telemachos aside, took a deep breath and opened the door.
Oh, yeah. He was mad. For starters, he was letting his divine nature shine. Most of the time, when he was in human form, he radiated his power but kept it banked, like coals under ash. A mortal was aware of standing in the presence of a god but not overwhelmed by that presence. This morning, Ares was actually glowing, a blue-white light surrounding him, making it hard to look at him without squinting. My ears were ringing with the inaudible sound of his power. I ducked as a bolt of blue energy crackled over my head to smash into the wall.
Athena, dressed in her finest golden armour, was standing in the corner, by the window, watching Ares pace and scream. She acknowledged me with a glance.
"Hey!" I shouted, waving my arms. "Ares! What's up?"
The glow faded as he turned to look at me, the madness also fading from his eyes. Good.
"Tell him," Ares snarled, pointing at me, then whirling and tossing another blue bolt at the walls.
Athena sighed. "It's a long story. . ."
Ares snarled again. "Make it short."
Oh, boy. He was being nasty to Athena. Normally, he was either a study in indifference when she was around or annoyed her by flirting with her. If he was being outright rude, we were all in trouble.
"It seems," said Athena, "that the Persians have attacked Greece."
"Oh?" Persians attacked Greece. Some Grecian state attacked Persia. This were facts as ordinary as the rising of the sun. Normally, Ares would be gloating over the coming wars.
"They started by desecrating one of Ares' temples, the one nearest the border at Xanthus."
"Oh." That was unusual.
"It seems that the Persian King and the Persian God of War both have ambitious sons. They concluded the best way to deal with their sons was to send them away to war. Against us. The God of War's son is some sort of. . .beast."
Ares interrupted. "Like a minotaur or something."
"Ugh," I said.
Athena ignored both of us. "This son desires worship of his own, followers and temples. His father, we are told, sent him into Greece with the direction that any temple of Ares' he found, the son was to take as his own."
"The bastard!" Another blue fireball exploded against the wall. The walls of the room were constructed of grey marble, which was now pitted by scorchmarked indentations.
"The force of Persia and this demigod are now turned against Greece in general and Ares in particular."
"Not good." That wasn't one of my more brilliant observations but I was hungover.
Athena smiled thinly at me. "No. Not good."
"I am going to smash that upstart bastard into dust!"
"Ares!"
Athena's sharp command brought Ares to a halt. They glared at each other. I wondered if he was going to start pitching fireballs at her. I knew that whenever he took Athena on, he usually lost, but that wouldn't stop him from trying again. I considered leaving the room. Then Ares relaxed, shaking the tension from his shoulders, twitching his head to one side. I noticed his hair was long again and wondered when that had happened. Perhaps his Egyptian playthings liked it that way.
"We need to plan," said Athena, "Carefully. We will need all the most powerful rulers of Greece to band together on this. If we move swiftly, we will be able to stop this invasion before it gets out of hand." She gave Ares a long, penetrating look. "We need to work together."
Ares didn't look happy but he gave her a brief nod.
"Excuse me."
They both turned and looked at me.
"Ah, just asking, as a mortal, but do gods often invade the territory of other gods?"
"No." The goddess frowned. "That's what makes this attack so disturbing. If this creature succeeds in turning worshipers to him, then the other Persian gods might get the idea that they deserve temples in Greece. I think we would all prefer it if this war stayed among mortals."
No kidding. Wars between gods could be very nasty, especially for mortals who got in the way.
Athena turned back to Ares. "I want Iolaus as my liaison with your warriors."
I thought Ares might suggest Telemachos in my place but he didn't, merely nodded.
"I will send messages to all the major kings. We must put aside our petty wars and concentrate on this."
Ares nodded again. No little summer skirmishes this year, no warlords pitted against each other for his amusement.
"Father wishes this ended as soon as possible. He has spoken to Poseidon to get his assistance in all sea crossings."
Oh, boy. If Athena was calling in the big boys, we were in major trouble.
Ares nodded a third time. Athena vanished, the air flashing gold around her.
"Idiot."
"Who? Athena?"
Ares seemed to find that remark amusing enough to warrant a faint smile.
"No. This Persian god. If he thinks sending his son off to conquer Greece is going to solve his problems, he is seriously mistaken."
"Maybe he should have asked you for fatherly advice."
That got a little more of a smile out of Ares. "Actually, he should have. I would have told him that sending his son out to get worshipers of his own was a bad idea."
Cupid rated his own temples but Cupid wasn't in competition with his father. None of Ares' other children had their own temples or priests. No one worshipped Deimos or Phobos. Or Strife or Discord, for that matter. Some people prayed to Athena and some to Ares but those were the only alternatives, when it came to war, which kept the lesser gods in their place.
"Maybe he didn't want his son trying to kill him."
I had discovered, over the years, that I liked getting Ares to smile. It made him much less unpleasant. Not for the first time, I wondered what he would have been like had Zeus made him god of trees or something innocuous. Might have been a nice guy.
"Hey, my trying to off the old man is just carrying on a family tradition." He spread his hands, giving me a look that was his attempt at innocence, showing his deeply dimpled cheeks as he smiled.
"You do have such a lovely family."
"Sometimes I wish Deimos and Phobos would spend their time trying to off me. At least it would get them to work together." He rubbed his forehead, his smile vanishing. "Those two bickering with each other all the time is so annoying."
Sometimes, Ares made me laugh. "As I understand it, the only way to keep kids from fighting with each other is to have only one child."
"There are times," he said, "I wish I didn't have any children. Maybe Athena is right. Virginity has its advantages."
Then we looked at each other, said, "Nah," at the same instant and laughed together.
"Well." Ares rubbed his hands together briskly. "I guess we better get going. Telemachos!"
The door opened. Telemachos peered around it.
"Get in here!"
The warlord did as he was commanded, giving me a very strange look as he walked past me. I suppose he had heard Ares and I laughing.
Ares didn't have to dismiss me. I knew when he wanted me to hang around and when he didn't. A war against the Persians. Great. I wish I had stayed in bed.
When Athena was involved in a war, things worked differently than when it was Ares by himself, more careful planning with fewer bodies spread across the battlefield. I knew he wasn't happy with the situation but he wasn't foolish enough to contest it. This victory was important. If these sons of the king and the god weren't stopped quickly, Ares would be threatened, and then all the Olympians.
Six weeks after that conversation, I found myself at the head of an army of 5,000 gathered on the plains outside of Ephesus. The armies of Athens, Sparta, Argos, Corinth and a dozen lesser kingdoms surrounded mine. Between us, we had nearly 50,000 soldiers. In this war, Amazons were fighting beside Centaurs, Spartans with Athenians, everyone united against the common enemy.
Even more unusual were the shrines I saw being set up. Normally, on a battlefield, there would be shrines to Ares or Athena or both, perhaps another one for the patron god of whatever city was at war. In this war, all the major gods wanted their presence. I even saw shrines to Aphrodite and Dionysus, who weren't generally openly worshipped by warriors, even if they received considerable private attention.
I was impressed with how quickly and efficiently everyone, including the gods, had worked to pull this massive effort together. Rhodes had fallen in the interim but it had been an agreed upon sacrifice. Let the Persians be delayed there, while the rest of Greece organized.
"General Iolaus."
I hated that form of address even more than 'my lord.' Still, it went with the job.
"Yes."
"The King of Corinth wishes to speak with you."
Iphicles. Hercules' mortal half brother. One of the multitude of old friends I hadn't seen in years. I turned my horse, giving an order to Telemachos as I rode by him. He frowned. He hated being my second. Still, I knew he would obey, at least for a time yet.
The army of Corinth was gathered nearby. I kept my head down, not meeting the eyes of any of the soldiers I passed. I knew some of them. No, the Iolaus I had been knew them. I was a stranger to them.
King Iphicles had a tent set up as his headquarters. I recognized him, standing beside it, taller than the men around him. He wasn't wearing a crown but he didn't need to. Jason had chosen well. From what I had heard over the years, Iphicles was an excellent ruler, wise and just. I took a deep breath before sending my horse towards the gathering.
"King Iphicles."
Iphicles looked up at me, surprised. "Iolaus?" Had I changed that much? "Since when do you ride?"
"Since my knees started aching, along with my back."
I swung down from my horse, trying hard not to wince. I really was in pain today. Must be the weather. Someone took my horse, then Iphicles waved at his attendants and they scurried away, leaving us to sit alone. The King of Corinth poured me some wine and I took it gratefully.
"So," said Iphicles, "are we going to win this war?"
I considered while I took a swallow of wine. Sweet Corinthian wine. A good vintage. "Yes. Their war god made a mistake in sending his son to attack Ares' temples. If the Persians had crossed the border and attacked Xanthus, all of us on the peninsula would have shaken our heads, maybe sent a few mercenaries to help out, and let the Persians have their way, taking a city at a time. We certainly wouldn't have formed this alliance. And with all of Olympus on our side, for a change, I think it will be bloody and quick, but we will win."
"I've heard about this son of the war god." Iphicles refilled my cup. "I've heard him compared to Hercules."
I knew he'd have to say the name sooner or later. The little stab of pain I felt was less than I expected.
"Anyone who compared him to your brother hasn't seen him."
Iphicles noticed I didn't use his brother's name.
"I don't know," I continued, "who his mother is but from the look of him, the Persian gods fuck bears."
Iphicles snorted with startled laughter.
"I'm serious. He is the ugliest damn thing, all black and hairy. I've only seen him at a distance, in the battle at Halicarnassus. Couple of my men saw him closer and said he has beady yellow eyes, yellow teeth and stinks like a rendering pit."
"Really? I thought the Persians were all for hot baths and perfume."
"Most of them are but not him." I slowed my consumption of the wine. I had meeting with my commanders that evening and needed a clear head. "He may be strong but he's foul." Time to change the subject from demigods. "Plus, I have the feeling that the King of Persia isn't completely behind this attack. I think he is getting an overly ambitious son out of his way, as well. Our spies say there don't seem to be any reinforcements over the border."
"Good. I'll sleep better tonight. Thank you, Iolaus."
I set my cup down. Before I could rise, Iphicles laid his hand on my arm. His eyes met mine.
"Thank you for what you did for my family, too. Hercules told me that you gave yourself to Ares to protect him."
"Iph. . ."
"Listen to me. It's been hard on Herc, not having you around. I won't deny that. But if you could see him with his children. . .Mother isn't well."
I frowned. I was very fond of Alcmene.
"It's not a sickness but her heart is weak, just like her mother. She won't admit it, of course. Having her grandchildren around her is the best medicine she could have. Serena is a wonder, too. I don't think Mother would still be alive if not for them. And the only reason Serena and the children are there is because of what you did."
I had to clear my throat before I could answer. "I'm glad."
"Hercules wanted to come, of course." Iphicles smiled fondly. There had been a time when saying his brother's name would not have brought a smile to his lips. I was happy to see it there. "I wouldn't let him. It's handy, being the king sometimes." He winked. I could imagine the argument. "I told him to stay home and take care of his family."
"Good for you."
We talked a few minutes more, about the upcoming battle, the tactics we had planned. As we parted, Iphicles clasped my arm, his dark eyes searching mine. He had a few grey hairs, too, and more fine lines around his dark eyes.
"Tell your brother. . ." I took a deep breath. I still couldn't bring myself to say the name. "Tell him I said hello."
"I will."
Iphicles waved at someone behind me to bring my horse. As I swung into the saddle, I looked down at the King of Corinth. He gave me a last, lingering stare, full of meaning that I refused to interpret, before I tugged on my horse's reins.
Back to my army, I thought. Ares was off meeting with Athena and I had been told to hold the line until he returned, which meant doing essentially nothing. That was the plan but someone forgot to tell the Persians.
I was sitting on my horse, debating whether I wanted to strain my knee again by dismounting, when I heard the unwelcome sound of a chariot approaching. Without even turning, I knew who it was that drove that chariot. The sounds had come from above me, from the sky, which meant I had godly company.
Deimos and Phobos, Panic and Fear, the fair-haired sons of the God of War, were standing side by side in their father's chariot, grinning like the lunatics they were.
"Hey, Iolaus!" bleated Deimos, intentionally mispronouncing my name with four syllables instead of three, the way I said it. "Word is the Persians are advancing."
I looked down. It was hard to tell, from this distance, but there was movement from the other side, whether from an actual advance or merely a rearrangement of their line, I couldn't tell.
"Then they are idiots," I replied. "It's too late in the day. The light will be gone before our armies have to time to engage."
"Well." Phobos was grinning broadly. "Then they are idiots! Look!"
He waved his hand in front of me and I saw, as if I were standing two paces away from the advancing line of Persian soldiers, rather than half a league away. The thing spawned by the Persian war god was in the lead, trailed at a respectable distance by a phalanx of foot soldiers.
I hadn't seen the Persian demigod closely before. The reports I had received seemed to be accurate. He was covered in coarse black hair, down his arms and back. He wore a wide girdle that provided a sheath for a two-headed axe and a pair of rough breeches as hairy as he was. His eyes were yellow and beady. Most of his face was as covered with hair as the rest of him. His nostrils were wide-set in a nose that was more of a snout. He had tusks, like a wild boar, curved and deadly. I hated to think what his mother looked like.
"Damn."
"Oh, Daddy!" Deimos sang out beside me. "Daddy, dearest, what ever shall we do?"
"Telemachos!"
"Iolaus." He addressed me by no title, thinking I would take offense. He didn't know me very well.
"Those idiot Persians are following their idiot leader and are advancing. Prepare for the attack."
Telemachos looked at me as if he thought I had lost my mind. I realized he couldn't see Deimos and Phobos and their chariot at my side.
"You heard me." I made my voice hard. "The signal is given."
Telemachos continued to stare at me. "Shouldn't we consult with Lord Ares first?"
Snarling, I drew my sword and pointed it at my second's breast. "Give the order," I commanded.
I almost expected him to argue. It would be in character. Instead, he wheeled his horse around, raised his sword high in the air, and shouted the command to attack. I touched my heels to my horse's ribs and rode down the hill with the screaming mass of soldiers at my command.
I was grateful for my horse on that ride. He was a fine blood stallion, with a smooth gait, which made that long ride tolerable. I couldn't have kept up with the foot soldiers any more.
We met the Persian line as the sun moved towards the horizon. Why they had started to attack in the afternoon was beyond me. Must just be the logic of their misbegotten leader.
My horse was well-trained but I wasn't a good fighter from the saddle. My reach was too short. So, I wasn't really at a disadvantage when my horse went down, squealing, a pair of well-aimed bolts from a Persian crossbow taking him under the ribs. Telemachos was still mounted, the standard bearer near him. I didn't like him, personally, but he was a decent soldier. He could command this mess.
"Hey, Iolaus!" It was Deimos. I could tell by the way he said my name. He materialized beside me. "Dad is pissed you gave the order."
"Too bad," I panted, bringing my sword up to catch the weapon of the man attacking me. "What did he expect me to do?"
"Oh, you know, ask his permission." He leaned over and breathed into the ear of a Persian near me, whose eyes went wide with panic. An instant later, the man was dead, his attempt to flee the battle turning him into a mistaken spear thrust by one of the other Persians.
There was a pause in the fighting as the battle surged off to my left, closer to Telemachos. I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
"Tell Ares he can fuck himself. The Persians were advancing."
Phobos' laughed trilled on my other side. He applauded as I thrust my reddened sword blade into another Persian.
"I love the way you talk to the old man," he said, waving his hand over towards a line of the enemy. I saw his spell have its effect, their eyes widening in fear. My men moved forward and took them.
Another pause. I wiped the sweat from my eyes. I was too old for this.
"Do you suppose," I said to Ares' sons, "you could go help someone else?"
Even if their effect was helping me, I hated being around those two. They didn't frighten me, or make me feel panicked, I just plain didn't like them, or their silly grins. How could the children of Ares and Aphrodite be so odd-looking? You'd think with parents like that, Deimos and Phobos would be beauties.
That stupid idea was almost my last coherent thought. The battle surged around me unexpectedly. I looked up and saw, to my horror, that the Persian god's son was pushing his way through the soldiers, coming straight towards me. He was shoving aside his own men, his hideous eyes fixed on my face.
He wasn't carrying his axe anymore but had a long spear. He used it to sweep men out of his way, using the same technique I had seen Hercules use so many times in the past.
I stared up at him even as I tried to parry his thrust. He was huge, bigger than either Hercules or Ares, and he did stink, a rank, vile smell, as if he carried a charnel house on his back. A few years ago, I might have had a chance. I had learned to defend myself against bigger men. I have even managed to take Hercules down a few times. If I could still move quickly, fluidly, I might have been able to escape the death thrust as it came.
But the years had taken their toll. My bad knee buckled as I tried to pivot and I went down. As I fell, I leaned forward unintentionally, making it that much easier for the spear.
It entered my chest, splitting my breastbone, halving my heart, severing my spine as it exited. I fell sideways, feeling no pain, only surprise, as my hands touched the crossbar that kept the deadly weapon from going completely through me. As I fell, I heard the monster above howl his triumph at the skies. And as I died, I said the name I hadn't spoken in so long. His name was on my lips as the world went black.
"Hercules."
I woke up, not in line with a bunch of other dead soldiers beside the River Styx but lying on a my back. I had carefully slipped two golds coins into my belt before the battle, in case I needed them to pay Charon. Now it seemed I might not.
Before I opened my eyes, I listened. I could hear two voices, male, arguing. I recognized one first and then the other. Ares and Hades. I could guess the topic.
I sat up. The room was so dimly lit that I couldn't see the ceiling. The walls were hung with dark colored draperies. Two torches burned fitfully, mounted to the wall at either end of the couch I was lying on, but they gave little light. I knew where I was. I had been here before. This was Hades' personal anteroom. Hercules had brought me here once, my dead, broken body in his arms. This time, I seemed to have gotten here on my own.
To check, I held my hand against my throat. No pulse. I wasn't breathing, either. Being dead while being aware of being dead is a very odd sensation.
Swinging my legs around, I sat on the edge of the couch, listening.
"No," Hades was saying. "Absolutely not. Now go away. I'm busy."
They emerged from the gloom at one end of the room, Hades, Lord of the Underworld, with his nephew, Ares, at his heels.
"His death wasn't natural." Ares was not easily dismissed, even by an elder and more powerful god. He was holding something in his left hand, his sword, bloodstained, in his right.
"Of course it wasn't natural! He was a soldier. He died in battle." They must be talking about me. "His natural lifespan has years to run."
"I don't mean that." Ares gestured with the thing in his left hand and I realized he was holding the head of the Persian demigod. "I mean this thing killed him! That blow was meant for me, not Iolaus, so it doesn't count."
Hades stopped and turned around. He pointed at the head. "Get rid of that nasty thing. It stinks and it's dripping on the carpet."
Ares obliged, tossing the head into the darkness. He continued his argument as he did. "This idiot thought Iolaus was me. He meant to kill me. Therefore, Iolaus should still be alive."
"It doesn't matter who he meant to kill, it just matters that Iolaus was killed. And why did he think Iolaus was you?"
Ares rolled his eyes. "Because he was stupid. He saw Iolaus talking to Deimos and Phobos. I suppose because he was half god, he could see them. I guess he knew who they were and assumed, if they were consulting with someone on a battlefield, they must be talking to me."
Hades, to my surprise, laughed, an unexpected sound in this grim room. "Probably the blonde hair."
Oh, I got it. Deimos and Phobos were blonde so the Persian monster thought I was their father. Thought I was the God of War. I couldn't decide if I should be insulted or not, to be mistaken for a god.
"The attack was unnatural. Besides," Ares wiped his sword on a handy drape, ignoring the glare he received from his uncle. "I would have healed him if I hadn't stopped to kill that thing." He pointed into the gloom, after the head he had thrown. "So if I healed him, he would still be alive. It's not my fault he died so fast."
Hades poked his nephew in the chest with one gloved finger. "I repeat, the point is, Iolaus is dead. Deceased. He is the late Iolaus. Finished."
"Um. . ." I hopped off the couch. "I hate to interrupt but if you'd just point me in the direction of the Elysian Fields, I'll be going."
They both glared at me. Not a pleasant feeling, having two gods give you a dirty look. I would have thought Hades would be happy to know I wanted to stay.
I took another breath. This having to remember to breath while talking was a pain, literally. My chest burned as I inhaled. "Look, it's my life. Or afterlife, rather. Don't I get some say in the matter? Because if I do, I'll take dead."
Ares, who had paused to sheath his sword, answered. "You belong to me, remember? Your life, your soul. So this is my decision."
"Hey!" Hades wasn't pleased with that statement. "Dead is my decision."
Someone tapped me on the shoulder. Hades and Ares continued to argue, wandering away from me as they did, each repeating and rephrasing the same points. I turned and saw Persephone, smiling shyly.
"Hello. I'd offer you something to eat but since you aren't staying. . ."
"Yes, I am." I touched the split in my breastplate. I could slide my fingers through it. I didn't, though, for fear they would go right inside me and I didn't want to feel my own damaged heart.
"No," she said, dimpling prettily, "you're not. Ares is right. The Persian war god's son meant to kill Ares. The weapon he used was forged by his god of weapons, made to kill a god."
"Works on mortals, too," I muttered.
"True. But. . ." She leaned so close her wreath of curly hair tickled my cheek. "Don't tell Hades I told you this. It's supposed to be a secret." She looked around to be sure neither of the two arguing gods were near.
"When Clothos first spun your life thread, she made it exceptionally long, long enough to last 100 years and 100 days. You are destined to a very long life, no matter what happens to you. Because of that destiny, when your life's thread is cut, Atropos can use two days worth of your life to tie it back together. So, you've lost six days so far. . ."
I almost interrupted her. How many times I have died has always been a little confusing. I know, most people die once and get it over with. I guess I like to be contrary.
I remembered being dead twice before, once when the She-Demon turned me to stone, although I got dragged back after talking to Deinaira and the children, who were still waiting on the riverbank; and once when the fire enforcer sent by Hera beat me to death. There is a third memory, that is more like the memory of a dream than a proper memory, that has me dying years ago, stabbed by an Amazon. I've never been quite sure if it really happened or not. Since Persephone said I had lost six days, and I lost two days each time my life thread was knotted, then I must have died three times.
Then again, maybe I shouldn't ask. I probably don't really want to know. Persephone was still talking so I focused my attention back on her.
". . .and you still have 100 years and ninety-four days of life thread left, minus two more for this knot."
"Yeah, but I still got stuck right through. . ."
She made a dismissive gesture. "Hades has tons of paperwork to catch up on, what with this Persian mess. Filling out your death certificate is complicated, because of the multiple deaths and all. He'll be happy to put it off. And Ares is right in that he would have healed you if he'd had the chance."
"Thanks, but the truth is, I want to be dead."
Another female voice broke into our conversation. "No, you don't."
Oh, great. Now Aphrodite was here. What was it with these gods? Aren't they supposed to be sort of disinterested in mortals? How come I get some much personal attention? I sat back down on the couch, swinging my feet.
"HADES!" Aphrodite's voice carried through the chamber. She pulled her skimpy robe closer to her lush body. All right, so I was dead. I could appreciate what a gorgeous woman she was, even dead.
Hades and Ares, still arguing, came striding out of the shadows. It was Ares who addressed the Goddess of Love.
"What are you doing here?"
"I have a vested interest in Sweetcheeks."
I heard Persephone snicker. I ignored it.
Now I got to hear the argument all over again, Hades wanting me dead, Ares wanting me alive, Aphrodite sticking in her two drachmas worth, on the return to life side. Finally, Hades threw up his hands.
"Look, you two, I have thousands of soldiers to process! Plus the usual deaths. This mortal isn't worth the grief." He flicked a hand in my direction. For an instant, I felt as if I were going to explode in flames, then I drew a deep shuddering breath as I felt my blood begin to surge through my veins. "Next time," he added, glaring at me, as he left, "You get here, you stay here. Got that?"
"Got it." I looked at Aphrodite. "I'd rather have stayed dead."
She grinned, resting one hand on an outthrust hip. "Uh-uh."
"No, really." I sighed. "I am sick of working for Ares."
Aphrodite laughed, throwing her head back. "You don't have to work for him anymore."
"What?" Ares, who had been reaching for me, stopped, his arm still extended. "He is mine, sister dear. I thought I established that years ago."
"Not any more, Dimples."
Yikes. I almost dove under the couch. So that was Aphrodite's nickname for Ares. Granted, it was appropriate, but still. . .
She waved a hand and a window appeared in the air. Inside, I could see me, a younger me, seven years younger, with long hair and that purple waistcoat I had so loved. I was standing in front of Ares', my sword held to my left hand.
"I, Iolaus, son of Skouros, pledge my sword, my body and my soul in allegiance to Ares, God of War, to follow his commands until my death."
"See!" crowed Aphrodite. She waved her hand and the relevant phrase replayed. I swore to serve Ares until my death. I had died.
Ares frowned. "Now wait a second here, I wanted Iolaus back because he was mine. If he is free, then he can just stay dead."
"Doesn't work that way." She crinkled up her nose at her brother and sometime lover. "Hades let him come back to life so he's alive. And free."
Ares pulled his sword free of its scabbard. "That's easily enough remedied."
With a shriek, Aphrodite threw herself in front of me. I got a faceful of long hair as my nose filled with the scent of roses. I sneezed.
"You leave him alone, you bully! You got what you wanted. Hercules hasn't been a problem for you in years. Iolaus served you loyally and well that whole time. Besides, he's getting old for a mortal. He won't be much use to you when he's old and grey."
I stepped away from Aphrodite's protection.
"She's right," I said to Ares. "Look at me. I got killed because I'm too old and slow to fight. What good am I to you now?"
Ares sneered at me. "What good are you to anyone, old man?"
Aphrodite answered. "He will make a wonderful uncle to Hercules' and Serena's children."
"Family." Ares made a face, as if he had tasted something bitter. "All right, he's yours. I got seven good years out of him. Telemachos can take his place. He can still go around three times in a night."
With that delightful sentiment, Ares vanished. I didn't have a chance to thank Aphrodite before she threw her arms around me and gave me a hug. As I said, old or dead, Aphrodite's charms are hard to ignore. Or some bad pun. I finally worked free of her embrace and her bosom.
"But if I'm free, doesn't that mean Ares can go after Hercules again?"
Aphrodite wrinkled her nose prettily. "Uh-uh. You said until death, you did until death. He is still bound by his promise because you did what you were supposed to do."
I guess she meant die in Ares' service. Lovely thought. Then I had another thought. "Does this mean I can go back to Hercules?"
"Yup!" She clapped her hands like a delighted child. "He'll be so happy to see you. He and Serena have a wonderful marriage, and the children make him so happy, but he still misses you."
I started to explain that maybe, after all these years, Hercules might have gotten used to not having me around. I really was ready to take my place in the underworld. The last seven years had been hard. Aphrodite didn't give me a chance. The world spun, I felt freezing cold and burning hot at the same time, as found myself standing in a field, next to a road.
It took a minute to orient myself. For starters, I was dressed as I had been in that vision Aphrodite had shown me. My patched purple waistcoat, which I hadn't seen in years and didn't even know if it still existed, was settled comfortably on my shoulders. I had my old sword, my old carry sack, and was wearing my leather breeches with the knee patches. And my hair was long.
Turning slowly around, I figured out where I was, on a road that lead to the old farm that used to belong to Anabasis. I recognized a triple-trunked tree growing out of a split boulder.
So this was it? After seven years of service to Ares, I was to go back as if nothing happened. I yanked a handful of hair around, trying to see if it was greying. As I did, I noticed a scar on my forearm, just above those old, familiar gauntlets. I had gotten it in a battle, at Ares' side. And my knee hurt. I had hoped that Aphrodite had somehow turned back time, given me those lost seven years back, but it appeared she hadn't. My clothes were the same. Only problem was, I wasn't.
Could I just walk back into Hercules' life as if nothing had happened? He was married, with children, and no longer needed a back-to-back partner. I gathered, from what I had heard over the years, that he had settled into his new life, still helping people around him, the way any good neighbor did, but no longer wandering the length and breadth of Greece, fighting the greater forces.
Oh, well. I couldn't do that either, any more. I wondered, briefly, how long I had been dead before shrugging my shoulders and starting down the road.
I heard the voices before I came around the the clump of trees. Two children, shouting at each other. As soon as I saw them, I stopped and stared.
Two boys, about six years old, with light brown hair. One had straight hair but the other's curled. They were simply dressed in trews and tunics, both wearing toy wooden swords on their belts. They were trying to convince a small golden horse to move close enough to the fence so that they could climb on his back.
I almost laughed out loud. It was Zeus. I had forgotten all about him, the horse that was distantly related to Hercules. He had been left behind that day when Ares pulled me out of my friend's arms. Apparently, he had spent those years placidly on Hercules' farm because he was plump, his coat shiny. He was browsing the summer grass, ignoring the efforts of the two boys as they leaned against his rump.
I stepped forward, calling out a greeting as I did. Zeus looked up at me. Whether he remembered me or not, I couldn't say, but he did amble over, head up and hopeful for a treat. The boys followed him, shouting.
I leaned across the fence and rubbed his nose. The two boys stopped short, staring at me with identical faces. They had their father's broad nose and square jaw, their mother's soft brown eyes.
"Hello," I said, still petting Zeus. "Which one of you is Iolaus?"
They nudged each other with their elbows before the one with the curlier hair answered.
"I am."
I was pleased. It was only right that my namesake had the curls.
"Then you must be Iphicles."
The other boy nodded, biting his lip. It seemed that my namesake was also the bolder of the two. Again, appropriate.
I hadn't been sure how to approach Hercules after all this time. Somehow, walking up to his house and casually knocking on the door seemed too abrupt. Now I had the solution.
"Is your father home?" I asked. The boys nodded, their heads bobbing in unison.
Removing my amulet, I wrapped the cord around it. Kneeling so I was eye level with the boys, I handed the amulet through the fence to Iolaus. He took it, turning the strange object over in his hands.
"I want you to give this to your father. Wait." He had started to turn to run to the house. "Iphicles."
The other boy looked at me, wide-eyed.
"I want you to give him the message. All right? Doesn't that sound fair? Iolaus gives him the amulet and you give him the message."
Iphicles nodded again. Iolaus, who was so engrossed in what he held, didn't seem to hear. I signaled to Iphicles to come closer. After glancing at his brother for reassurance, he took two steps forward.
"When your brother gives that to your father, I want you to tell your father he can meet me at. . ." I had to think. There was a pond where Herc and I used to fish, on common land between Alcmene's farm and Anabasis'. We called it Perseus' pond, after Alcmene's father, for some reason that now escapes me. "Is there still a pond around here called Perseus' pond?"
Iphicles nodded. Iolaus raised his head and said, "We go fishing there with Grandpa."
"Good." I smiled at the thought of Jason, for that had to be the grandfather they referred to, taking these two boys fishing. "Tell your father that the person who gave you that amulet wants him to meet him there."
At their blank looks, I simplified the command. "Iolaus, when you give the amulet to your father, Iphicles should just say 'meet at Perseus' pond.' All right?"
The boys nodded.
"Then go," I said as I stood up, using the fence to take some of the strain off my bad knee. They went, running furiously, in a race to be the first to reach their father. I took a deep breath, then started walking briskly to the pond myself. I figured I better be there before Hercules arrived.
The pond hadn't changed much. Some trees were larger, some were gone, some were new. The flat rock that stretched out over the deepest part of the pond was still there. How many hours had I spent, sitting there, fishing? How many hours had I laid in the sun, soaking up the heat and the peace, all my troubles far away? How many times had Herc pushed me into the water, laughing as he dived off after me? How many times. . .
Don't go there, I told myself sternly. He is married. And his friendship should be enough to take that ache out of your heart.
On a midsummer afternoon like this, it was too hot to sit on the rock. Besides, I had no means to fish. I chose, instead, to sit under the spreading branches of a tree that overlooked the pond, and the path that led to it. I sat with my back against the warm trunk, waiting, ignoring, as best I could, the pounding of my heart.
I heard him coming, crashing through the bush as he ran down the path. Even if my hearing wasn't what it was seven years ago, Hercules made noise coming through the bushes. Mortal or not, he was a big man.
He burst out of the copse of trees at the edge of the path, my amulet clutched in his hand, panting. Time had been kind to Hercules. His hair was shorter, pushed back behind his ears, and it looked like his was free of the grey that haunted mine. Otherwise, except for a change in his clothes, he looked much as he had the last time I had seen him.
He spun, frantically, looking for me. I stood up slowly. When he caught sight of me, he took a couple of steps towards me, his face a mixture of emotion, fear not the least of it.
"Hi, Herc."
His mouth worked. He held my amulet out.
"Yeah, I thought you'd recognize it."
"Recognize it!" His voice was hoarse. "I thought. . .I thought I'd find Ares here, bringing this to show me you were dead."
Oops. I hadn't thought of that. Before I could apologize, his arms were around me and I was being crushed against his chest. I could hear his heart pounding even more than mine. We stood there, rocking slightly, as tears, held back for so long, slipped out from behind my eyelids.
Could a single embrace erase seven years? I felt as if it could. I held him tightly, not wanting to ever let him ago. All the emotions I had set aside for those seven long years broke free of the wall I had built around them.
I wasn't the only one affected. I could feel his breath catching, hear the sobs that escaped his throat. His hand stroked up and down my back, slipping under my vest. I felt his wet cheek laid on the top of my head.
"Oh, Iolaus. . ."
Finally, he pushed me away. I let him, wiping my nose and face on my gauntlets. Funny. The pair I had been wearing the last few years were armoured, wrapped in beaten bronze, a gift from Ares. I had forgotten how comfortable these were. I looked up at him.
His face was as wet as mine. He still looked astonished.
"How?" was all he managed to say, his voice shaking.
"Well, you were half right." I took a deep breath and sniffled, the sound making him smile. "I was dead."
"What?"
I explained, as best I could, that final battle with the son of the Persian God of War. When I got to the part about the monster mistaking me for Ares, Hercules started to laugh, sounding breathless.
"Ares must have been pleased."
I snorted. "Considering how fond he is of Deimos and Phobos, I think he'd be perfectly happy if they were my sons. Speaking of which, that pair of yours. . ."
"Oh, Iolaus." He sat down hard, as if his legs could no longer support them. "When Iolaus gave me this and then Iph said. . ." He made that breathless, laughing sound again. "My heart stopped. I knew you were leading his armies against the Persians and I was so sure."
I dropped to the ground beside him, reaching for him, wanting to comfort him. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."
Shaking his head, he handed the amulet back to me, smiling through his tears as I hung it back around my neck. "No, I didn't let myself believe you'd ever be allowed to come back to me. I should have had faith in you."
"Not me. Aphrodite. And, in a funny way, Ares."
Hercules drew a long, shuddering breath. "I don't see any of them, anymore. I can't say I miss them but, at least, in the old days, I knew what was going on."
"You are happy, then, aren't you?"
He grinned. "Yeah. I am. It took Serena and I awhile. . .that first year was pretty miserable. If it weren't for Mother and Jason, I think we both would have gone crazy. Being mortal is hard."
I laughed, matching Herc's grin.
"And having twins must have made everything that much easier."
"Oh, yeah." The sound of a long-suffering father. "They have been a trial. Sometimes, Iolaus. . .we call him Olaus because Iphicles calls him that. . .sometimes he would crawl up in my lap and make me tell him all the stories I could about his Uncle Iolaus and then. . ." He sniffed, tears welling up again. "He'd hug me and tell me you'd be back. That you had to come back. Because I promised him he'd meet you someday."
I blinked back tears, picturing it. "Smart kid."
"Too smart. And poor Iph. . .he's always getting in some mess because his brother talked him into it. I never should have named a kid after you."
We exchanged grins again.
"So," I said, looking away before the desperation in my eyes was visible, "how is everybody? I saw Iphicles just before the battle." I thought, idly, that I had no idea how that battle had turned out. Ares had the Persian's head, so I assumed our side won. I wasn't even sure how long ago I had been killed. It was afternoon now and it had been early evening when I died so at least one day had passed. "He said your mother was having some problems."
Hercules' face saddened. He bent his head, twisting some grass between his fingers. "Her heart is weak. She won't admit it, of course, but she doesn't have the energy she used to."
"None of us do," I reminded him gently.
He gave me a grateful glance. "No. Jason is great, though. If it weren't for him, I don't know that Olaus would still be alive. Some days, I want to strangle that kid.
"Sorry."
"My fault. Never should have named him after you."
"And Serena?"
Herc sighed and his expression softened. He still loved her, loved her more than he had before. I could see it in his eyes and my poor, foolish heart broke a little.
"She's great. She had the same problems I had that first year, adjusting to a life so different than what she was used to, but she adjusted beautifully. The kids adore her." Another quick glance in my direction. "She and Jason manage to handle Olaus, somehow. Even with the baby, she still keeps him reined in." He chuckled. "Most of the time."
"The baby?"
"Oh." He shook his head. "I suppose you don't know about Deinara. She's not quite a year old. Mene is three, stubborn as her namesake, too."
"Four kids?"
"Yeah. Four." His big hand cupped the back of my head and drew me close, kissing me on the top of my head. "And I owe them all to you. You never should have. . ."
I pulled away. "Stop. Stop right there. Some topics are off limits. That is one of them."
His eyes took on a slight shadow but he nodded. I knew he could guess a few of the others, like just how close had Ares and I been. I wanted to tell him that Ares hadn't touched me in years but that would merely make the point that, for a few brief months, I had been the lover of the God of War.
"We should get back. I left in sort of a panic. Serena must be worried." He stood up easily, brushing himself off. He frowned as I levered to my feet, favoring my bad knee.
We walked slowly back towards his house. I wanted to see Serena again, meet the other children, see Jason and Alcmene and become part of their lives. I wanted to walk beside Hercules, too, just the two of us, talking.
I told him a little about the war. He told me a little about his farm, his family. With an embarrassed smile, he thanked me for leaving Zeus behind. Serena and Alcmene had ridden him often and now he was tolerant of all the plots and plans the twins involved him in. I didn't tell him about the horse's ancestry.
They were all standing in front of the house as we approached; Jason, Alcmene, a small child clinging to her skirts, Serena, a baby in her arms, and the twins. Their voices rose in a delighted babble as everyone hugged me. The adults were all crying, even the normally stoic former king of Corinth. Olaus and Iphicles were grabbing at me with small, strong hands, wanting to exam my sword, my carry sack, the knife in the back of my belt.
Serena had turned into quite a cook. We ate, everyone talking all at once, joyful. I mostly listened. I had very little I wanted to tell them about the last seven years. I figured out, from what was said, that I had been dead for only a day. No one knew if Iphicles was all right but I assured his mother and his namesake that I hadn't seen him while I was dead.
The twins were amazed to discover that I actually talked to gods. They were too young to understand how amazing my return from death was. Talking to Ares and Aphrodite and Hades, though, made their eyes go wide. Times had changed. Hercules' other children had known their godly grandfather. Zeus hadn't visited his son since Herc's latest marriage, at least, not that Hercules knew. He could no longer see or sense the approach of a god.
Mene had her father and grandmother's blue eyes. Her hair was lighter than the twins, hanging in two thick braids. She didn't talk much, not that she could get in two words edgewise, with Olaus and Iph as her brothers. Now that Iphicles had gotten to know me, he was as full of questions as his brother. The baby's hair was blonde and her wide eyes were dark. I held her for a few minutes, amazed at how small she was, although everyone assured me she was big for her age. I hadn't been around children for a long time.
We were all exhausted by the time the children were put to bed, from the excitement of the day. I walked Jason and Alcmene back to their house, slowly, telling Jason what I could about the war without upsetting Alcmene.
She put me in my old room. I was sitting on the bed, staring at my old boots, when Jason came in.
"So."
I looked up at him.
"So what?"
"What happens now?" He looked a good deal less happy than he had at dinner. "Are you back to stay?"
"Yes."
"And Ares?"
"Ares is still bound by his oath. He swore to leave Herc and Serena and their family alone if I served him until death. I did. I kept up my part of the bargain. He is still bound to keep his, even if I'm back. Aphrodite assured me of that."
He nodded, once, sharply.
"Serena and Hercules are happy."
Oh. Jason knew all about Herc and I, when we were together. He hadn't cared one way or the other, although he had pretty much stuck to women himself as far as I knew. He was letting me know that some things weren't going back to the way they were.
"I know. I can see that."
He nodded again, relaxing. "You gave them their life, their children. That was an amazing thing."
I ducked my head. Jason wasn't much for praise. Funny that he could still make me blush.
"I did what I had to do."
"No." His voice was soft. "You could have let Hercules and Serena lose each other, somehow. And you would have been there to pick up the pieces. Not every man could make that sacrifice."
"I'm not every man, Jas." I looked him straight in the eye. "I was chosen by the son of Zeus to be his best friend. That put a burden on me and I accepted it."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "I'd never have thought serving Ares would make you smart."
Serving Ares hadn't made me smart. Being alone had forced me to think a lot more than I used to. I didn't say that, merely laughed lightly.
The rest of that summer will live in my memory forever as picked out in gold in the tapestry of my life. I smiled so much my face ached when I went to bed, because I could see the good my sacrifice had done, and not only in the children. Serena had changed, blossomed, under Hercules' love. And the shadows that had haunted his face for so long were gone.
I had known love and passion in my life, but never joy, not like this. Always, before, something had tempered my happiness. My marriage had meant the ending of my life with Hercules and my life as wandering warrior, becoming, instead, a second-rate farmer, an occupation I disliked and was ill-suited for. The birth of my son, which should have been the happiest day of my life, was instead the saddest, coming, as it did, with the death of his mother. My pleasure and delight as a father had been balanced by my loneliness and the unending struggle to be mother and father to my son. Every woman I had loved over the years had been wrong for me to stay with and had to be left behind.
Now, except for my empty bed, I was truly happy. The children were much of that happiness, helping me relish life again, the way they helped Alcmene. They were wonderful, all four of them, even Olaus the holy terror. There was no malice in him, only too much energy to be contained in his small body. I knew exactly how he felt. Iphicles was loyal and loving, giving his adoration freely, to me, to his father and grandfather, to his fat golden pony. Deinara smiled, delighting in everything, wanting to show me the world as she discovered it herself, her small, soft hand in mine whenever I was near.
And little Mene, who liked to sit in my lap, playing with my amulet, resting her head on my shoulder, felt like love made solid.
Ten days after I arrived, a messenger came from Corinth, reporting that the Greeks had triumphed, the Persians driven back, their disgusting leader slaughtered by Ares himself. Iphicles was well. Then the messenger had hesitated. I knew what why. I almost laughed, listening to the poor man recite my obituary, how the "noble Iolaus" had fallen, his life exchanged for the Greek victory. Ares had been so moved by "the noble Iolaus'"sacrifice that the god had taken the body personally to the Elysian Fields.
When he finished, Jason invited him inside for a drink and explained to him that while "the noble Iolaus" might be dead, the plain old Iolaus was alive and well and living in Jason's spare bedroom.
I knew my life couldn't go on like this forever. I had to do something but I couldn't figure out what. My forge, and the little house next to it, had been sold years ago, at my direction, to a distant kinsman, the money given to charities that cared for war widows and orphans.
I still hated farming. I was too old to be a mercenary. Maybe I'd spend the rest of my life as nursemaid to Hercules' children.
The summer passed, warm and joyfilled, my waking moments a constant delight. My nights, however, were sad. I took no lover, all that hot summer. I know that baffled everyone who knew me. Alcmene was constantly finding youthful widows in need of a husband, bringing them as her guests to dine. I flirted, in a manner that was as natural to me as breathing, but nothing came of it. Had Aphrodite somehow taken that part of me when she sent me here, an unspoken price for my return?
When I wrapped my hand around my cock and let my mind wander, I found I enjoyed it as much as I always did. I liked pleasure. I liked sex. I liked orgasms. I just didn't want anyone but the one person I couldn't have.
One hot day in early autumn, I found myself in the loft of Alcmene's barn, piling up the hay for the coming winter. Jason had joked with me, when he sent me up there. He had known about Herc and I, when we were young. He even admitted visiting Alcmene on the sly a few times, when Hercules and I were "cleaning the barn," knowing that we would be so occupied with each other, we wouldn't come down and catch our friend with Herc's mother.
I tried to put those thoughts out of my head as I pitched the hay into ordered piles. Problem was, every corner of that damned loft contained some erotic memory I wanted to forget.
The heat and work had made me irritable. I had taken my waistcoat off and hung it on a nail, the random bits of hay and seed sticking to my sweaty skin. I was cursing steadily under my breath, trying to ignore my cock, hard in my codpiece, begging for my attention.
"Iolaus?"
His voice, calling me from the lower floor, startled me into almost dropping the forkful of hay I was holding. I considered not answering. I didn't really want to see the Hercules of the here and now while the Hercules of the past was frolicking naked and aroused in my head.
"Iolaus?" He must have been standing at the bottom of the ladder.
Sighing, I hollered back, "Up here."
I had my back to him when I heard him climb up to join me. I was hoping my erection would be less obvious by the time I turned around.
"When I used to do this," I complained, continuing with my task, "when I was sixteen, I didn't realize I'd still be doing it thirty years later." I sneezed,violently. "I hate hay."
Behind me, close behind me, Hercules chuckled. "As I recall it, you were very fond of hay. At least when it came to rolling around in it."
Don't go there, I begged him in my mind. Don't go back to those two innocent kids, with their whole lives in front of them, giggling and gasping as they explored each other.
"It made me sneeze." My voice was unnecessarily harsh. "Still does."
"Iolaus?"
"What?" I let my irritation show clearly in my voice as I stabbed at the hay. "Are you up here to help me or just get in my way."
His hand, dry and warm, traced a scar under my shoulder blade. I knew it was faint, barely visible, a memento of a fight when we were much younger. Caught up in the rush of battle, I hadn't noticed the cut at the time, it was long and shallow, but Hercules had. When I had turned my back on him, he had gasped and pulled me close, the sight of the blood soaking through my blouse scaring him, the first of many times when my mortality reminded him of his near godhood.
"Iolaus."
His voice was low, rumbling, sexy. My cock stiffened to attention, remembering the sound.
I set the pitchfork down on its tines, resting my forehead on the handle.
"Please," I whispered.
"Please what?"
I shook my head. I didn't know the answer myself. Please go away? Please stay and fuck me?
His hand lifted my hair off the back of my neck, where it was sticking to the sweat, the gesture letting a whisper of cool air caress it. It wasn't the air that made me shiver. It was the feel of his lips, kissing me, there.
Now he whispered in my ear. "Please."
So long ago, while we lay in fresh hay in this loft, he had whimpered that as he pressed against me, his cock rock hard, his hands wrapped in my hair, pulling me into a deep, desperate kiss. He had been asking me to fuck him. I was so excited that the word alone, in his hungry voice, had made me come. But I was young and was hard again in minutes, able to do as he had asked.
I let his hands turn me around, brushing my hair off my hot, flushed face. I tried not to look up at him, knowing if I did, I would be lost.
His lips, warm and soft, traced their way across my face, along my cheek, until they met my mouth. I let my mouth open, letting his tongue find mine. My hands touched his waist, tugging at his tunic, trying to pull it free so I could touch his skin.
We sank into the hay, just the way we had so many times so long ago. Hercules liked to lick and kiss his way down my body, teasing me with his teeth and his strong tongue, his arms holding me effortlessly. Even without his godly strength, I was still so much smaller than he was that it was easy for him to hold me.
My hands slid under his tunic, pushing it up over his head. He stopped kissing me long enough to discard it, letting it fall behind us. I ran my hands over his chest, remembering how it felt, the soft, light hair over the hard muscles, the nipples taunt as I ran my palms over them. Locking my fingers behind his neck, I pulled myself close to him. He obliged, wrapping his arms around me, rolling over so I lay on top of him.
Our cocks rubbed against each other through the leather of our pants as we rocked together, our mouths busy. His hands unbuckled my belts, sliding my trousers down to my ankles. As my cock sprang free, I gasped, arching my back.
He chuckled, deep in his throat. "Still the same Iolaus," he murmured, working at his own belt buckles. As soon as I could, I slipped my hand inside his pants, catching his cock in my grip. As I did, he gasped, his head suddenly thrown back.
"Still the same Hercules," I whispered back, looking into his eyes. Yes, that was the same, that look of longing, of needing, of desire.
I moved in his arms, reaching for his cock with my mouth and hands. He groaned, the sound so familiar. His taste hadn't changed, nor the smell of him, nor the way his hands caught at my shoulders as I sucked. He still liked me to tease under the head with my teeth while my hand made small, tugging movements.
"Iolaus," he moaned my name, desperate.
I forced my mind away from the images of Serena doing this to him, of me doing this to Ares. This was us. This was the one thing I needed in my life more than I needed air.
Pulling away from his grasp, I moved so I was kneeling between his spread legs. I remembered, even after all these years, what Hercules liked best, what made him come the hardest. I knew where to press, how to stroke. I used those memories, wanting to hear him gasp and cry out as he came, needing to taste him.
He rewarded me for my efforts. I swallowed as he came, remembering how he liked me to swirl my tongue across the head as I pulled away.
"Iolaus." He kept saying my name. I knew why. I couldn't believe I was back with him, either.
He pulled me up to meet his mouth, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other wrapping firmly around my cock. His memory was good, too. He remembered how tightly I liked him to hold me as he stroked. He remembered how I liked him to rub his thumb across the slit, spreading the moisture he found there across the head. He remembered how I liked to be kissing him as I came.
We lay there for a moment, as our heartbeats slowed. I felt his body move and realized Hercules was laughing.
"Gods," he murmured, his fingers touching my semen on his belly, "Just like when we were kids."
"No," I said, reaching for a handful of loose straw to wipe him off, "if we were kids, that would just have been the warm up."
He pulled me back, his hands cupping my ass as his hot tongue rasped along my jaw. "Sounds good to me."
Even as I kissed him, a nasty thought started to niggle at the back of my mind. Damn Ares. Damn those years with him that made me suspicious and clever. I liked me better when I went with the moment.
"Herc." I pushed him away. Time was, when making him let me go took a lot more effort. "Wait."
He blinked, puzzled. "What?"
I hated to say what I was about to say but I did it anyway.
"What about Serena?"
"Oh." He got a funny look on his face, one I didn't recognize. Partly embarrassed, partly ashamed, partly something I couldn't identify.
I felt as if someone had poured cold water over me. I yanked up my pants, ignoring the hay sticking to me in uncomfortable places.
"This is a pity fuck, isn't it? Gods, she sent you up here to fuck me because she feels sorry for me."
Herc's hands caught at me, pulling me down to my knees, his eyes full of so many emotions I couldn't begin to classify them.
"No, she sent me here because she knew I needed this." His mouth pressed to mine, even as I tried, without much enthusiasm, to pull away. "I missed you," he breathed into my ear, his hands busy pushing my pants back down. "So much. And it didn't feel quite real. Now it does. You're back. You're free."
Assert yourself, you sorry bastard, I yelled at myself as I lay back down, his body over mine. The woman who broke your heart told him to fuck you. Don't you have any self respect? As Herc's mouth moved down my throat, I decided I didn't. So what if Serena sent him here, knew what we were doing? This still felt so good, so right, that I didn't care.
We didn't actually fuck. It had been too long for both of us to consider something like that. Maybe another time, when I had a bottle of oil handy. Now, we did the things we had done as kids, thirty years ago, with hands and mouths and whispers.
We whispered a lot of things. How much we loved each other. How much we needed each other. I'll be honest, it was probably pretty sickening. I would have been embarrassed to death--well, maybe not death, I'd been dead too many times in my life to wish for that again--but damned embarrassed if anyone had heard us. Fortunately, everyone kept well away from the barn.
Afterwards, we were washing up in the rain barrel behind the barn, I asked him.
"So, Serena thought we should fuck. Who else?"
Hercules looked offended, then ducked his head, grinning. "My mother was getting awfully worried. She thought maybe there was something, you know, wrong and you couldn't any more. Jason just said he was sick of listening to you jerk off every night. He thinks you're too old to do that."
"Oh, gods." I leaned back against the barn wall, humiliated and delighted at the same time. "Your family knows me too well."
"Yeah." Herc couldn't stop smiling. Neither could I.
"How can I face them?"
"The way you always do, with that big grin on your face."
He was right. What else could I do? I did make sure to sit well away from him at dinner, spending as much time as I could talking to the boys about a fort we were building in a tree. Only as I went to bed did Jason nudge me with an elbow as we passed in the hall.
"You two," he said, shaking his head, a pretend frown on his face.
"Jas."
"Yeah."
"Alcmene's heart isn't so weak she can't do a little squealing, is it?"
He blushed. I had actually managed to make Jason blush! I had made love to Hercules and made Jason blush. Life was good.
I wandered outside. The night was clear, with the warmth of summer still lingering. I walked away from the house, to where I could see the other house, in the valley below.
"Aphrodite," I whispered, sending up a sincere prayer. "Thank you. You're right. I'm glad to be alive again." A breeze, scented with roses, lifted my hair.
One down, I thought. "Hades. Thanks. I owe you big time. When I get there next time, I'd be happy to help you any way I can. You know, keep the dead soldiers in line, sort your paperwork, whatever you want."
No response. I didn't really expect one. Nobody in their right mind wants an answer from the God of the Underworld.
I took a deep breath. Here was the big one.
"Ares."
I knew he could hear me. Among the things he complained about over one of our winter dinners was prayers. He didn't mind formal petitions but it bothered him that every time anybody used his name, he could hear it. He said it was the reason gods got annoyed with mortals. Gods heard prayers, whether they wanted to or not. With practice, he said, a god can ignore everything but the really intense stuff but it was still a pain to hear mortal voices mumbling in the back your head all the time. It took real effort to shut them out. I probably wasn't very sympathetic.
"I still hate you but. . .I know it could have been worse."
"Damn straight."
I was surprised. He was there, no flashes of light, just Ares, leaning against a tree, arms crossed.
"I could have made your miserable life so awful, you'd have slit your throat to get away from it and damned yourself to Tartarus. But did I?" He dropped his arms and took a step towards me. For the first time in years, I took a step back as he approached. He looked pissed. "No. I was the nicest I could be, wasn't I?"
"Well, ah, yeah, actually, you were."
"See!" He seemed to be addressing someone else. Maybe 'Dite. Maybe Zeus. I don't know. He looked back at me, smiling. "Still, we had some good times, didn't we?"
"Yeah." All right, it wasn't all bad. I did some good things in his service.
"You know, this has all turned out to my advantage, really."
"How do you figure that?"
The smile broadened. "Those kids! You've seen them. Give them ten years and Iolaus and Iphicles the Younger are going to be so mine! Sons of Serena and Hercules! Damn, they are going to be the finest warriors that ever walked this earth."
"What if Herc and I convince them not be warriors."
Ares threw his head back and laughed. I did like to make him laugh, even if I didn't know what he found so funny.
"Are you joking? Those two boys have the fiercest, bravest hearts I have ever seen in mortals." He rubbed his hands together. "We are going to do great things, those boys and I."
I wondered if I should argue with him, then thought better of it. The tragic truth is, men are warlike creatures. As long as we are stupid and uncivilized enough to fight wars, we will need warriors and warriors need their god. I didn't like him but, as I said before, I had learned to respect him for what he did. For what he was.
"They'll still be Herc's sons," I pointed out.
"And my nephews." He winked. "They seemed pretty impressed to hear your stories about serving me. Wonder if they'd like to me meet in person?"
He preened himself a little, then laughed again. "Don't panic. I never recruit warriors until I'm sure they can sleep away from their mothers. Oh, and thanks."
"For what?"
"Didn't you know what you just did? In all the years I have known you--and remember, I knew you before you knew me--you have never prayed to me. Never. Tonight, I got from you a genuine, sincere prayer! Those two kids and your prayers! Life is good!"
He was gone. I stood there, blinking. He was right. I had prayed to Ares. Oh, crap.
The next morning, the second problem in my life was solved. Olaus and Iph and I were in the pen with Zeus. I was getting ready to put on his winter shoes and wanted to be sure they were the right size when we heard riders coming down the road.
Too many years a soldier, I stiffened, looking for a weapon, wanting to protect the boys, but then I saw the standard flying among the riders. The king of Corinth had come to visit his family.
Iphicles dismounted when he saw me, giving quick instructions to the other riders, who headed up towards Alcmene and Jason's house. He had trouble approaching me, because Olaus and Iph were hanging on his legs, screaming their delight at seeing him.
"I heard. . .Iphicles, let go, you'll make your uncle sing soprano if you do that. Why don't you two go up to the house. Your presents are there."
Giggling, the boys took off. Iphicles shook his head.
"Herc never should have named them after us," I said.
"No. Big mistake." He was studying me closely. "I heard all about the Persian demigod running you through with his spear and Ares showing up, hacking the Persian's head off, then personally picking up your body and carrying it away. I had over a dozen men, who were all eyewitnesses, tell me about how mad Ares was that you were dead. And how very dead you were. Then I get back home and find you're here already and very much alive."
"Well, ah, I guess I'm just lucky."
He snorted. "That's one way to put it. Anyway, you are alive, aren't you?"
"Yeah. Ghosts don't shoe horses."
"Good. So, what are you doing around here besides shoeing horses?"
I shrugged. "This and that." Which was an honest answer.
"Want to work for me?"
It seemed Iphicles needed a general. There weren't any wars on the horizon, everyone was feeling all united and Greek since the Persian defeat, but next summer, something was bound to come up. He needed someone as military advisor, more than a commander in the field, and someone to oversee the training and maintenance of the Corinthian army.
"You'll never believe it," he finished, "But Ares himself recommended you."
"Ares?"
"Yeah. Old Lycos went and sent some prayer up to Ares to help him decide who to recommend to me to replace him. Ares pops up, in person, which nearly made Lycos shit himself, because the while the old boy is a heck of a soldier, he'd never actually seen Ares up close before. Ares told him to get you."
"Huh." I didn't know what else to say. Ares recommending me for a job. All because of one, little, sincere prayer? Maybe I should have prayed to him more often.
"You'd get quarters in the palace, a stipend. I won't make you wear a uniform. What do you say?"
Could be worse. I'd be close to Hercules and his family, but have room for a life of my own. Iphicles and I always got on well enough. He was a good king. I'd be as proud to serve him as I had been to serve Jason.
"Sounds reasonable," I said. "Have to get Zeus shoed before I go, though."
He looked at the horse. "Why on earth did you name him that? He is the least impressive animal I have ever seen."
"Long story. I'll tell you some night over wine."
So, I ended up as one of Iphicles' key advisors, which must have amazed some people. I was good at it, too, which amazed me. I ran into an old friend one day in the marketplace, a woman named Lydia who I had first met on the road to Thrace years and years ago. She was widowed, with two sons, and one thing led to another. We've been married for ten years now, although that doesn't stop me from spending some quality time with Hercules now and then. Like Serena, Lydia understands. Iolaus and Iphicles the Younger are turning into warriors. I'm keeping my eye on them, and on Ares.
So why am I telling you this, in such detail? I don't know, really. Lydia said I should keep a record of my life, separate from the stories the bards tell. There are details, though, that I don't want anyone to know, at least while I'm alive. So I decided to write it down and seal the whole thing in a box that will be placed in a cornerstone of a new temple being built in Corinth. A temple to Ares. I figure, since he comes out so well in this story, he'll protect it.
Maybe, a hundred years from now or longer, after everyone I have written about, except the gods themselves, are dead, someone will read this story and learn something from it. What, I'm not sure. That love is the most powerful force in the world. That sacrifices made in the name of love are worth it. And that one mortal man, if he really tries, can make a difference, for the better, in this world. And you can always count on a true friend.

Written on the first day of the new year in the twentieth year of the reign of King Iphicles of Corinth by Iolaus of Corinth, also known as Iolaus of Thebes, son of Skouros and friend of Herakles.

(Thank you Melinda, for your assistance.)
October 2000