Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10
Title: Heir to Wickedness (1/?)
Author: Erin
Hercules looked around in bewilderment as the dust settled. The only
sign of the opponent that he had been fiercely battling moments before
was one errant footprint in the mud off to the side. Bacchus had vanished.
{Did I kill him? No, I couldn't have.....he's a god, he's
immortal....But..... where did he go.....}
Hercules shook himself from the state of bemusment that had settled
upon him at the pleasant thought that he might have killed one of the
monsters who lorded themselves over helpless mankind and left the
area, thinking no more on the consequences of what he had done.
In Olympus, gods and immortals alike paused and wondered at the small
tremor that shook the ground. Earthquakes in Olympus were often
harbingers of great change and danger, but even with this warning, no
deity was prepared for the absolute howl of rage and agony that came
from Zeus. Everyone blanched at the amount of true emotion that came
from their somewhat fickle sovreign, and quickly went for cover,
hoping to avoid being hit along with the guilty party in whatever had
upset Zeus.
The expected summons came and the twelve immediately transported to
the great hall of olympus. The air of the great hall was ablaze with
colors and sparkles as they all arrived at the exact same moment. Ares
immediately surveyed the room with a tactician's eye, seeking for a
reason for the anguish and hatred that was apparent in Zeus, but
everything looked in place and no one looked guilty or frightened.
{That's worse. If it were one of ours, then at least the problem would
have a solution. But if it's not....... This could be very bad. Even
mother's quiet. No, this is very, very bad.}
Ares went to go to his chair to sit down, but at a quick look from his
mother, paused and remained standing. The other gods followed Ares
lead and remained in a tense bunch, waiting for Zeus to regain his
composure. Zeus finally did recover enough composure to nod tightly at
Hera, who quietly removed a small mirror from her wrap. The entire
group stiffened slightly at this, for this small mirror was the only
one that could be keyed to the halls of time and allow everyone to see
an event that had just transpired. The mirror began to glow softly and
an image of two fighters became apparent. The group sat in silence as
they watched the fight between Zeus' favorite bastard and one of their
own. They only began to make noise as they watched Bacchus fade out
and Hercules walk away smiling, humming a happy tune as if nothing had
happened. As the image in the mirror faded, the room was filled with
the sounds of argument as the twelve immediately began demanding the
punishment of the demi-god, arguing about the rules that had protected
hercules in the first place, and backstabbing at Ares for not having
felt the fighting as a part of his godhood and intervened. But before
Ares could blow up at this last allegation, Hera once again intervened.
"We have more pressing problems than assigning blame and punishing the
brat," Hera said in a voice that could cut steel. All were aghast at
this statement, and the room immediately became as quiet as before.
Hera continued: "The death of Bacchus has left us with a very serious
problem with the power structure. Since Bacchus had no official heir,
most of his energy and power went back to Zeus. But this is not a
permanent solution because the power is already to much for Zeus to
channel properly. That's why Bacchus and the house of debauchery were
born in the first place. Aphrodite, Demeter and Apollo are probably
already feeling the power surge since they are the ones most closely
related to the power of the high gods." At this all eyes moved to
Aphrodite, who nodded quickly. Hera pressed on, "We must create a new
Head for the House of debauchery and we must do it quickly before the
power surges start destroying things here and amoung the mortals.
Since Bacchus was the head of his own house, the new Head must already
be either immortal or part-God. There's too much power tied up in
being the head of a house for a newly changed mortal to deal with. I
want all of you to swear on your god hoods that if the new head comes
from your house, that you will release him or her from their duties.
Do I have your words on this?" Each of the Gods in turn bowed their
heads in acceptance. "Good. Collect your houses. We will meet in the
temple of Bacchus in one hour."
Heir to Wickedness part 2/?
{}=thoughts
Cupid did his best to comfort his bawling son. Bliss had never seen or
felt a disturbance like this before in his short life and the
earthquake had totally scared the young godling. Bliss trembled in
Cupids arms, demanding reassurance from the one constant in his life.
And Cupid gave it gladly, greatful for the fact that comforting Bliss
gave him something else to think of besides the emergency meeting
taking place with the twelve. Bliss was so frightened that his little
feathers were pointing every which way. In an effort to do more than
cuddle his child, Cupid began to gently straighten them, hoping the
familiar soothing action would have an effect on his distraught son.
The motions were so repetitive that Cupid became entranced and was
startled when another pair of hands appeared before his focused eyes
and began assisting him with his task. Cupid looked up and was
immediately caught in another kind of trance as his eyes found ice
blue pools of calm to rest in.
{It's funny. For a guy whose very job is to create mayhem and who
prides himself on being unpredictable and insane, his eyes are always
so calm and sincere. No matter what has happened, even if it is a
whaling from Dad, his eyes are always so calm, like he can handle
anything. Why hasn't anyone else noticed this?}
Cupid tore his eyes away from the alluring calm and inclined his head
to acknowledge Strife's prescence and aid before returning to his
task. Bliss slowly but surely calmed as the stroking motion from the
four hands soothe his agitation. Soon he was asleep in Cupid's arms
and he leaned down to kiss the soft skin and fine wisps of hair at
Bliss' temple. Creating a soft pile of pillows. Cupid gently
disengaged Bliss' clenched fingers from his tunic and set him on them.
Bliss stirred gently, but remained asleep as his father slowly backed
away and turned to Strife.
"What news? Does anyone know what's going on? Is it a prophecy?" Cupid
whispered urgently, but softly to his best friend.
"Nobody knows anything. The big heads have been up there for half an
hour, but they haven't sent for anyone or anything. It's creepy, like
somebody died or somethin'," Strife whispered back.
"Sorry to duck out of our job like that, but Bliss needed me," Cupid
watched his son's quiet breathing.
"No problem. The kid should always come first. I was scared the first
time I saw an Olympus quake. I'm kinda amazed at how fast he settled
down. Zues knows it took me a long time and Unc 'n Mom had to spend
sometime cleanin the mess I made while i was scared," Strife was quick
to reassre Cupid.
Cupid melted inside at Strife's words. Strife always knew exactly what
to say to make him feel better. Even when Cupid had been under the
influence of one of his arrows like a druggie and his favorite drug,
Strife's prescence had always been comforting and they had remained
friends. {And Strife was the only thing to keep me from going batty
with anger and self-hate when the stupid arrow finally wore off. Zeus,
for that alone, I would worship him.}
The two friends remained there, watching Bliss peacefully napping,
while outside, stormclouds growing and blackening the Olympian sky
seemed to foretell of great disaster.
Heir to Wickedness (3/?)
Strife jumped as he heard the summons from Ares, even though he was
half expecting it. He was more startled when he turned to explain to
Cupid only to find his best friend in the process of doing the same.
"Both of us have been summoned? That's so not good!" Strife murmured.
"Actually, it's worse," Cupid said and turned to look at his sleeping
son. The tear tracks were still drying on the young godling's face.
"Shit! They summoned all of us?" Strife was totally aghast.
"Yeah. This sounds very bad." Cupid walked over to the small bed and
picked up his still sleeping son. Bliss fussed momentarily, but
settled down quickly into his father's arms. "See you there Strife."
Cupid whispered before flashing out without his normal effects.
Strife sat there shaking his head for a moment before he too flashed out.
One by one, the gods of the various houses of the Gods flashed into
Bacchus' temple, to pat respects to the fallen one. The entire group
was serious and the usual bickering and power plays that normally
accompanied one of their gatherings were absent, all lost in the grief
for one of their own. Even those who were once enemies of the House of
Debauchery and it's lord were grave. Pan, Bacchus' second in command
was practically inconsolable. His wail was an eerie descant over the
quiet murmurings of the Pantheon, but no one had the courage or the
heart to quiet him. Apollo had already offered to put the godling to
sleep, but was met with such angry and vehement protestations that he
gave up trying. Zeus was to busy trying to hold back the tumultuos
power that was already threatening to backlash despite his best
efforts. The storm that was brewing outside was proof enough of the
strain that the king of the gods was under. Those who were supporting
Zeus didn't look much better. In fact, any god whose powers were even
marginally in alignment with the dead god's were starting to look ill.
Time was running out for mourning, the new god would have to be
selected soon, or they would risk major damage in both the mortal
realm and on olympus. Recognizing this, Hera finally pulled herself
from supporting her husband as was her duty as the queen of the gods.
And strode to the center of the temple. Immediately, the quiet
murmuring died and the crowd waited expectantly.
"We're gonna try to do this in a quick and thorough manner. We'll go
one at a time before the altar, send our final thoughts to Bacchus,
and touch the cup in the statue. The cup will glow and move of it's
own violition when whomever is most suited amoung us to replace
Bacchus as the head of the house of debauchery touches it. You all
know better than to try and fake this. We all will know. Any objections?"
A complete silence followed Hera's words and she beckoned the nearest
god to the altar to begin. Hephaistos blanched, but did as his mother
indicatd. The cup was cool to the touch and rang dully when he touched
it, responding reluctantly to Hephaitos' godhood, but by no means
signaling him as the replacement. Hephaistos gave the altar of his
fellow one final nod before returning to the crowd.
Cupid trudged forward in the crowd, still bearing his sleeping
burden. His heart was full of worry for his son, regardless of the
outcome of the trial. Bliss had never had to deal with this amount of
sorrow amoung the Gods before and even now was running a low grade
fever. Cupid pressed as close to the front of the line as quickly as
he could, hoping to get his turn over with and remove his son from
this environment that was slowly poisoning him. Each god he passed
gave way with grace and most looked sympathetic if not as worried as
cupid himself did. Children were rare amoung the gods these days and
each one was treated with a kind of reverence. Children were
atomatically immune in their parents feuds and any god would protect
any young god without question or hesitation. Once Cupid neared the
head of the line, he was met by Hera, who wordlessly took bliss from
his arms and pushed Cupid to the front of the line. Cupid opened his
mouth to protest, but closed it again as he saw that Hera was invoking
one of her aspects as Goddess of the family and projecting an aura of
peace and security around his son. He turned to face the altar and
approached it with a heavy heart. The House of Love and the House of
Debauchery were closely aligned, and Cupid had often been sent to work
with Bacchus as they collaborated on many festivals and orgies. He
solemnly approached the altar and made his goodbye to his friend and
coworker before turning to the cup that was the base of Bacchus'
power. As he expected, his touch did make the cup react, but not with
the vehemence that Hera had said would accompany the chosen one's
touch. He blew out a small sigh of relief and went down to collect his
son.
Hera gave Cupid a small smile and said "Why don't you find one of the
lesser Gods who has already been tested and get one of them to watch
Bliss nap for a while. He's so young that he won't wake while all this
turmoil is floating around and you need to stay here and witness as a
member of one of the closest alligned houses."
Cupid blinked at this. He had been prepared to argue with the Queen
all of his reasons why Bliss should not even be considered a candidate
for the godhood, but it appeared that Hera had already dismissed that
posssibility. He gave the Queen an assent and went off to find someone
who'd already been tested and was free to leave to watch Bliss. It was
only later, as he watched his old and trusted friend, Boreas, one of
the four winds, disappear with Bliss to watch over him till the end of
the conclave that it occured to him that he had not seen Strife since
the summons.
Heir to Wickedness (4/?)
The sky grew progressively darker as the line of Gods waiting to be
presented as possible choices diminished. The major heads of
households stood to the side, watching the line dwindle with heavy
hearts. The minor gods yet to be tested were running out, and there
was no sign of the heir that was so desperately needed. The cup was
barely reacting at all. Even Pan, who had finally been coaxed out of
his wailing huddling in the corner had been unable to get the cup to
react more than dully. And with each passing moment, the strain left
by Bacchus' death weighed more and more heavily. Apollo looked
downright nauseus at the power overload and Aphrodite had already
given up any pretense of not being sick. It had already been asked
what would happen if the heir was not found amoung the minor gods, and
the predictions were very grim. And all attempts to reach the fates to
answer any of the hundreds of desperate questions that were hanging in
the air had failed. The mistresses were unreachable, even for Hera.
Ares gritted his teeth against his headache and watched as the line
became one last person. His twin, Eris. Like Hephaistos, she was not
technically a minor god, but since she was not the head of her own
house, she was being considered for the position. Ares narrowed his
eyes as he watched her sullenly waiting her turn. There was something
off with his twin. Not anything that anyone else would recognize, but
Ares was both head of her house and her twin. He had more contact with
the goddess of spite than any other god would even consider. And there
was something off about his sister's sulking.... she almost seemed
expectant. But what could she be anticipating? Sure, the turmoil on
Olympus and it's matching mess in the mortal realm had to be feeding
her powers at an unbelievable rate, but not even she was insane enough
to consider sabotaging this ritual. Wasn't she?
Eris lounged in the line, looking every bit the bitch that she
deliberately made herself to be. Eschewing any kind of somber or
formal clothing, despite being specifically told to show respect, she
was garbed in her traditional leathers, with a touch of blood splashed
here and there, as if she couldn't be bothered to clean it off. She
had lounged sullenly in the line, enjoying the unexpected power surge
that had accompanied the anouncement from the council. Every god was
in turmoil. {Hell, the energy comin' off the bitch o' love's harem is
more power than I've had in years} she thought bitterly. She was
practically sparking with energy, almost to the point of bursting, but
she continued to draw it in, gorging herself mentally. The temple and
the line within it had faded to a dull background as she swam with the
energy. It wasn't untill she felt the entire temple become even
quieter, if that was possible, that she opened her eyes and realized
that she was the last one to go. She smiled lazily and sauntered her
way up to the altar and the cup, aware of her mother's heavy
disapproval. Eris approached the cup almost nonchalantly, confident
that it had to be her. After all, who else would Bacchus' heir be,
except his former lover? {Not that he ever acknowledged me after
seducing me that night, the ungrateful, dickless bastard},
conveniently forgetting that it had in fact been she had killed two of
his accolytes in order to slip into the kitchen long enough to doctor
the sacrificial wine with a potion that she had "borrowed" from
Aphrodite. Bacchus had been so trusting as a young god, it had never
occured to him to test what had been brought to him in his chief
temple in the mortal realm for a godly potion. But one night of
drugged haze had been all that Eris had been able to coax out of him.
His reaction the following morning had been so violent, that Eris had
had to go to Apollo for aid in healing herself. But all this was
forgotten in Eris' mind as she approached the cup. {I know that it
will react for me. The I will feel this surge forever}
And react the cup did. No one, not even Eris was prepared for the cup
to blast Eris with a surge of energy, flinging her across the room to
land in a crumpled heap. Ascelpius immediately rushed forward to help,
and shortly a groggy, but determined Eris was demanding that she be
made head of the house of debauchery, since the cup had reacted to her
touch, after all. Pan's wail of greater dispair was lost in the murmur
of the crowd, which was demanding of the King of the God's whether the
reaction was true or not. Zeus' voice was weak, but it immediately
hushed the other gods, some of them with relief, when he said
confidently, "No, it is not". Eris immediate dry of protest, however,
was silenced by a different source as the hertofore missing fates
appeared before the altar. And standing with them was.....
Heir to Wickedness (5/?)
Strife felt nauseous as his flash to the temple suddenly jerked to the
side and dumped him elsewhere. {Hoo boy, this is embarassing. Haven't
done this since I was little an' Unc Ares and Cupe were trying ta
teach me how ta do it right. He looked around nervously, trying to
catch his bearings before he tried again to catch up with Cupe and go
to the temple when he suddenly recognized his bearings. Strife tucked
his head back down into the curl he'd fallen into when he arrived and
tried not to panic. {I did not get lost doing a simple flash. I am not
in the Fate's cave. I am not in the Fate's cave with the Fates. I am
not in the Fate's cave with the Fates who nobody could find, even Unc
Ares. I am going to look up and Deimos is going to make fun of
me...... well, maybe not that. But anything else other than the
Fates.} Strife finally convinced himself to uncurl a little and look
up, but the second look wasn't any better. The three Fates remained
standing patiently for him next to a large loom in the center of the
chamber. When a few moments passed and it became obvious to Strife
that he couldn't flash away without speaking to the Fates first, he
slowly uncurled from his position on the floor and walked over, full
of false swagger and confidence that would have failed to impress a
mortal child. The Fates watched him dispassionately, then as one,
stepped away from the loom and beckoned him closer. Strife did as they
indicate with an audible gulp and positioned himself as far from the
loom of fate as possible. Atropos, the eldest, spoke first:
"The wine is spilled,"
Surprised that he understood one of the Fates' famous riddles, Strife
made as if to respond, but stopped himself when the next sister,
Lacheisis spoke:
"The weft is warped."
She in her turn faded back, leaving the youngest sister, Clotho, to
speak to Strife.
"To cover the break, a new thread must join the pattern, split from
older, strengthened threads. A thread of a new color." She smiled at
him and turned to join her sisters.
Strife had enough time to feel really unsettled before the cave and
the loom faded from his sight and were replaced by the sight of the
temple he had originally been traveling to, complete with a massive
argument between his mother and grandparents. But he hardly paid
attention to the common sight as he spotted a very worried Cupid
headed directly for him. He made to go and reassure his best friend,
but was prevented by the three Fates, whom up to this point, he hadn't
noticed had accompanied him to Olympus. He tried to shake off the
hands, but they were like bands of Hephaestian metal on his shoulder
and were implacable. Slowly the hands turned him away from the
increasingly noisy crowd, that was starting to shake off it's shock at
his entrance, and he faced the altar of the Lord of the House of
Debauchery. He had seen the altar before, on errands with his godhood
that had coincided with the plans of Bacchus, but never before had it
appeared as it did now. The altar had always been black marble with
blood red streaks through it, but now the streaks appeared as if they
were liquid and pouring out of the wounded marble. Strife could almost
swear he could smell the coppery sweet tang of blood and hear the
agonized cry of the stone. The chalice which stood on the altar, sign
of Bacchus' godhood, was carved out of the same material as the altar.
It too pulsed like the blood flowing out of a wound, and, for the
first time, Strife could see that the carvings on it made it look as
if it were the hand of a drowning man, reaching out of his Great-Uncle
Poisdon's realm. The hand seemed to beckon to him and he approached
the altar in a daze, oblivious of the now quiet crowd and the
patiently waiting Fates. He reached out his hand and took the cup,
which immediately began to fill with a deep pulsing glow, which
intensified as Strife lifted the cup to his lips and drank the blood
laced ambrosia wine that now filled the cup. The liquid tasted
wonderfull to Strife, and quenched a thirst he hadn't even known he
had. He drank deeply, searching for every last part of this delicious
liquid he could reach. When at last he could drink no more, he lowered
Bacchus' {no my} cup to altar and turned to face the assembly.
The Fates, as one, looked at him and intoned "Behold Strife, God of
Mischief, Wine and Madness. Lord of the House of Debauchery." And with
this pronouncement, they faded away.
Strife had just enough time to acknowledge his new title before waves
of power slammed into him as the power of his new Godhood came to it's
rightfull owner. The last thing Strife saw before the sparkles before
his eyes erased anything real was Cupids worried face peering down at him.
Part 6
Strife woke up with a massive headache. It was as if waves of pain
were sparking down all of his nerves and returning gleefully to dance
in his head. He gave a low moan when one of the waves of pain was
stronger than the others, not even daring to open his eyes. Relief
came in the form of a strangely familiar, strong, calloused hand that
rubbed his forehead. Strife took a deep breath in relief and
recognized the scent of battle that clung to his visitor. {Unc Ares},
he thought muzzily through the now diminishing pain. The rubbing
continued untill Strife felt secure enough to try to open one of his
eyes. The sensation was dizzying as his eyes refused to focus
correctly for a moment, but eventually he was able to make out the
strong, familiar features of War. Unfortunately, nothing else seemed
to make sense, and Strife could feel the headache starting to rally
again. But he was distracted from this impending sense of doom by Ares
shaking his head slowly. {What on earth?}
"Quite a mess you've made, little mischief," Ares voice rumbled
quietly, oddly soothing for it's harsh tones. "You've gotten both you
and me into quite a mess. Truly an honor for your godhood."
"Unc Ares..." Strife croaked, trying to make sense of the fog and pain
that he felt surrounded by, but Ares put a finger on Strife's lips and
stilled any further inquiries.
"Explanations can come later, little one. First, you must do as I say.
It may hurt for a little while, but it is the only way to deal with
this. Understood?"
Not trusting his voice, Strife nodded and followed Ares' instructions.
He almost asked again when he finally realized that Ares was leading
him through a mantra designed for new gods, but he stopped at the look
in Ares eyes. Slowly, but surely, with the help of his Uncle, Strife
could feel the waves of pain come under his control. But the work was
tiring and he soon felt himself nodding off again. Ares, seeing that,
again stroked Strife's head, pushing him over the edge and back into
sleep.
Ares watched his sleeping nephew for a moment, enjoying the relative
peace and painlessness of the moment as contrasted with before. War
closed his eyes briefly against the memory of his lieutenant twisting
in unconscious agony as the immense buildup of power from becomming
Lord of the House of Debauchery hit him unprepared. It had taken
several hours for the godhood to even begin to appear stable and
throughout it, chaos had spread unchecked. Those gods who hadn't been
helping to tame Strife had been busy undoing the damage as the powers
had run pretty much unchecked. The mortal world had seen much change
in the last couple of days, but the mortals would never know how close
their world had come to destruction. Even now, Ares trembled with
exhaustion from having depleted his stores in his efforts, and few
gods were any better. Ares watched Strife for a moment more before
leaving the room to report to his mother.
Hera still looked regal, even with her powers at a low. Ares took
strength from his mother's appearance and knelt rather than collapsing
in front of her. She was quick to signal his rise and he sank
gratefully into a chair at the side of the one that she had
commandered in the antechamber to what had been Bacchus' bedroom. Hera
quirked an eyebrow at her son and he was quick to report the success
he had had in aiding Strife to get more conscious controll over his
power. She accepted the news gratefully, though it was quickly
becoming apparent that the power wasn't under full controll. But the
surges were mere shadows of their former strength and both gods bore
them without trouble.
"I beleive that he will be able to fully control them the next time he
awakens." Ares murmurred as the smaller wave died out.
"That is welcome news, Ares. The sooner this is controlled, the better
for him and for everyone else. Unofrtunately, we cannot afford too
much more time for this. Hercules must be dealt with, and Strife must
deal with his house soon, or this will all be for naught. I hope he is
resillient enough," Hera sid before standing and flashing out of the room.
{I hope so too, mother} Ares thought as he slowly wove his way to a
couch along the wall to sleep for a little while before aiding Strife
again.
The next time Strife woke up, he was alone. A fact for which he was
profoundly grateful. The agony and pain that had been a part of his
previous awakening had diminshed considerably, but Strife still felt
like he'd taken a header off of Olympus and into the mortal world.
Everything felt delicate, and Strife did not even attempt to use his
Godly powers, putting on the outfit he found lying on the foot of the
bed the normal, mortal way. He didn't even bother to wonder at the
outfit, which obviously wasn't his, but was just as obviously intended
to be worn by him. The fabric was soft, yet still sensuous, and the
dull colors, still dark, lacked the silver studs and ornaments which
had been a major part of Strife's bad ass look. Strife looked around,
but was unsurprised to find that the room was unfamiliar to him. {I
have to find out what is going on here... everything is so strange...
I feel so strange... Why don't I remember what is going on?}
A sound from behind him made him turn around, but this time the
surprise was a welcome one. "Cupid!"
The hesitant visitor at the door smiled and slipped in the room. A
finger to Cupid's lips silenced the verbal comments and barrage of
questions that were on the tip of Strife's tongue. Cupid sneaked
across the room, making no more noise than the proverbial feather.
Even Strife's pain addled brain was able to take the hint, and he was
prepared for Cupid's tentative mental brush when he sat down on the bed.
-Strife, are you healed enough to speak this way-
Strife was surprised to find that he could, and immediately began to
say all the things that he was ready to say previously.
-Yea Cupid. I seem to be alright. You 'k-
At Strife's immediate question, Cupid smiled and blushed inwardly at
the immediate concern in Mischief's mental voice {Oops, can't think of
him as mischief anymore.....he's more}
Cupid shook his head at the thought, not ready to go into the
intricacies of this yet, and hastened to reassure his friend. -I'm
fine Strife. Thank You-
-Then what's up with all the secrecy?-
-Nobody else know's that you are awake yet. If they did, they'd be in
here pestering you. I figured that you could use some time to sort
yourself out without the head cases wigging you out.-
-Thanks man I owe you one-
-No prob, man. I'm your friend.-
Strife smiled. -Yea-
-So you got any questions?-
-Do I? Man what happened.-
-Hoo boy. Big questions. What's the last thing you remember?
-I remember this gigundo storm brewin' and you an' me talkin' while
your kid slept-
-That's good....what else?-
-Else..... Else...... Aw man, please don't tell me that the part with
the fates was true?-
-I don't know what happened to you for awhile man. You kinda
disappeared. But when you showed up, you were with the fates.-
-Damn. The fates are always bad news-
-I know..... but it also means that whatever happens, you can't be
blamed for it for a while!-
-True... then what.... a cup... A cup!-
And with that, a flood of memory hit Strife. Images that he had never
seen before, but were somehow weirdly familiar to him, as if he had
lived tham and known them forever. Images of Bacchae, of festivals, of
wine darker than blood flashed before him. Lilting songs of madness
swirled in ruby depths and anger swirled with pleasure.
Blood....wine....and madness. And before it all, a pair of red eyes
which glowed from darkness.
Hercules slogged his way into town. It had been raining almost
continously from black skies like tears from a void. The roads, rutted
dusty tracks at the best of times, were a morass of mud and the
fields, newly planted in hopes of a mild spring, had turned into
swampy bogs. Nothing that was not manmade could even be considered a
shelter, and Hercules was desperately looking forward to being warm,
dry, and less muddy. He trudged as quickly as he could through the
uncertain footing. The town seemed very subdued, but Hercules paid it
no mind, thinking it to be the result of the awful weather.
The town of Piraeus was of a decent size, boasting of several roads,
but like all larger towns, the merchants and innskeepers were quick to
establish themselves in the center of the houses at the crossroads of
the largest roads. Hercules made his way to this market, knowing that
his desires would only be satisfied there. He was surprised to notice
that the rain had drived even this area to close up. {Merchants are
the hardiest bunch I know..... This rain shouldn't be enough to make
all of them close up and risk the possibility of fleecing some poor
traveler caught in this muck..... I wonder...} But the mystery was not
enough to distract Hercules from the faint yellow light coming from
beneath the local inn's door. Hercules made directly for the inn, like
an arrow, and slipped inside it with a squish of mud.
Inside the inn was smokey, but warm. Hercules swiped as much mud from
himself as possible, leaving as many wet belongings by the door to dry
as possible. He then made directly for the innkeeper, intent on his
goals of warmth, and a place to sleep that wasn't wet.
All around the room, the conversation that had been quiet (for an inn)
died a quick death. The room became deliberately quiet, as if everyone
was waiting. The tension was thick, but unobtrusive, and Hercules
never noticed. The innkeeper alone, of all the people in the common
room, continued with his previous occupation, but he too was watching
Hercules warily. Hercules was not so dense as to not notice the
tension, but as he was ignorant of the cause, proceeded.
"I'd like a room and a bath please."
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow, "You do, do you?"
Taken aback by the blunt and unexpected answer, Hercules said, kind of
stupidly "Uh ..... yes?"
The innkeeper looked at Hercules carefully before replying. His voice
contained none of the fear that his eyes had. "We are not in the habit
of providing anything for an accursed criminal."
At the inkeepers statement, the tnesion in the room doubled, as if by
the words that the inkeeper had dared to mention aloud, some horrible
curse had been fullfilled. People began leaving the room, either going
up the stairs into the safety of the second floor, or through the
kitchen to the misery of the outside. Hercules shook his head,
confused. {What's wrong? Why is he calling me accursed. I haven't done
anything wrong. Why is everyone afraid of me?} For even Hercules had
been forced to notice the fear which had moved the occupants of the
formerly crowded common room. Aloud, Hercules only said, "What crime
do you accuse me of?"
At this the inkeeper shuddered and his eyes left Hercules for the
first time since Hercules had entered the inn. "You are the Godslayer.
He who destroys that which is our only salvation. The man who seeks to
throw us all into chaos."
Understanding dawned on Hercules. "You mean my fight with Bacchus? But
that was nothing. I was fighting to protect us all from his evil. How
can you call that salvation? He hurt and hunted us for his own
pleasure. How can you call me a criminal and cursed for that?!
Besides, how can you know about that? I have come straight here! No
rider has passed me, no runner with a message. You're just twisting
some rumour."
The inkeeper refused to look at Hercules again. His eyes remained
above, as if waiting for a sign from the gods. His voice was low when
he once again spoke. "The message has gone out from every temple in
greece. The gods have forsaken you and sworn their vengeance upon you
for your act. All have been forbidden from providing you with aid or
shelter. The gods will punish you, and furies will hound you from this
life and through the next."
Hercules stared at the man, before turning and leaving the inn. No
amount of comfort, however much he wished them, was worth going
against such ignorance and hostility. {I'll just have to go on then,
and go to Athens. There I'll find out what is going on and who is
spreading such threats against me. The priests at Father's temple will
explain} And with that, Hercules mustered himself and went back out in
the muddy night.
Heir to Wickedness (9/?)
- denotes mind speech
{} denotes thoughts
As Strife's eyes rolled back into his head, Cupid immediately began to
panic. He screamed for his father with a voice that he hadn't used
since he had been young and had gotten in the way of one of Zeus'
thunderbolts without noticing. The door to the room shattered as Ares
slammed in, but the damage went unnoticed by any of the gods in the
room. Ares took one look at Strife's writhing body and he immediately
in a full body lock. This prevented Strife from writhing, but the room
began writhng instead as the power which had been under tenuous
controll erupted forth again in spurts like blood from an artery.
With Strife's body temporarily constrained, Ares tried to make contact
with his nephews mind to soothe or at least temper the flow, but the
slight distraction from his restraint was too much and with Strife's
next convulsion, Ares, war-god and defender of Olympus, went flying
across the room and hit the wall with tremedous force. The wall,
already bombarded by the chaotic energy emitting from the bed, gave
way with a low rumble, and Ares abruptly found himself scrabling to
keep hold as he was abruptly dangling from three fingers above the
tremendous drop between Olympus and the mortal realm.
Hera, who had been bare seconds behind her son, had initially gone to
Cupid, hoping to snap him out of his shock and find out what had
happened. With her sons' abrupt departure from the room, she too had
gone to Strife to try to calm him, but with her powers at such a low
ebb, she too had been flung across the room, though not as hard as
Ares. She slumped at the bottom of the wall where she had been flung,
too dazed to even consider her next action.
Cupid sat curled in a miserable ball. The guilt and pain he felt at
what his actions were causing made him feel like his heart was ripping
itself out of his chest. He keened miserably, hardly aware of his
father and grandmother's action. Nothing pierced his fog, not even
when the energy swirling through the room cause a sympathetic
whirlwind which hurled huge stones from the wall and the other
furniture in the room around. The sound which finally pierced his daze
was the sound of Strife screaming. Cupid forced himself up and over to
his cousin. The maelstom continued, and a piece of brickwork slammed
into his right wing, breaking it, but Cupid didn't even notice. His
mind only had room for Strife, who lay before him. His hand trembled
as it reached out and cupped Strife's cheek. At the moment of contact,
Strife's body made one final arch before collapsing to the bed below
and lying still.
In the deathly silence that followed the maelstorm, Ares finally
managed to pull himself up and into the room. He immediately made a
beeline for his nephew and his son. Cupid was crying and cuddling
Strife's body in a gentle hold, rocking it back and forth gently as he
babbled apologies and incoherant pleas. Ares limped his way to the bed
and gently touched his son's head. Cupid looked up, his eyes streming
tears in liquid flows. "I just wanted to help him...... and instead I
killed him........"
At Cupid's words, Ares felt his blood grow cold, and it took a real
effort not to hurt Cupid or to wrest his nephew from his son's
clutching hands and see for himself. He was distracted from this by
his mother's pain filled voice behind him, "You didn't kill him
Cupid.... He's alive...."
At Hera's words, some of the madness fled from Cupid's eyes, and he
immediately began to check the body in his arms for himself. Seeing
Strife was being tended to, Ares limped over to where his mother lay
and gently lifted her up. In a show of more tenderness than any who
had seen them interact in public with, Hera not only allowed this, but
put her arms around his neck nd cuddled closer to Ares. He slowly took
her back across the room and laid her down on the only intact piece of
furniture left in the room, the bed on which Strife lay with Cupid in
nervous, hovering attendance. As soon as she was settled, Cupid asked
the question that was foremost on everyone in the rooms mind, "What
happened?"
A low popping sound, not accompanied by it usual sparks and music
signaled the appearance of Apollo, who echoed the question in a voice
that was gravelly with fatigue.
"It's good that you are here Apollo. Would you please check Strife out
and make sure that he's ok?" Ares said when he saw the healer waver
between targets. "I have to go tell father what has happened." And
with that Ares began to charge for the transport that he had to make.
Apollo nodded and placed his hands over Strife's heart, his hands
glowing dully as he slowly gathered energy for the scan. As he
concentrated, Hera spoke again "It felt like he tried to channel using
his old pathways. You'll have to check those for damage."
Apollo nodded absently at this statement as his hands finally glowed
bright enough to begin. As he worked, Hera turned to Cupid, who was
again crying and nervously fidgeting next to her. "Don't worry, Young
Love, you did nothing wrong. We should have been prepared for this to
happen once he had recovered enough to start to remember. You did
nothing wrong."
"But what happened? Why was Strife remembering bad? Why did this hurt
him?"
Hera smiled gently at the phrasing of Cupid's simple sentences, his
emotions painfully clear for her to see, even though she had little
energy and small talent in that area. "When he drank from Bacchus'
cup, he was forced to make new pathways in his mind to even begin to
anchor the power that was passed on to him. But till he healed enough
to remember, what control he had of it was instinctive and poor at
best. Sort of like mortals just after ambrosia. But now that he knows,
even with the damage this caused, he'll have better control over it,
and be able to begin to use it.
These words conforted Cupid, and the wild agitation that he had
exhibited slowed to a mere gentle swaying. Hera closed her eyes, but
opened them when she realized that the glow next to her had stopped.
She turned her head and looked at the Sun God. "I've healed what I
can. He won't take any more energy from me, but what's left is pretty
minor. Give me a minute and I'll start working on you two."
"No rush Apollo. We'll heal on our own now that the energy surges are
over. When you have enough, you can help us, but there's no point in
depleting yourself to nothing right now. Why don't you taake Cupid and
go rest in one of the other rooms. I'm sure that Ares will send
someone along to help us shortly."
Apollo nodded wearily and snagged the arm of his nephew before wearily
walking out of the room in search of a less occupied bed.
Title: Heir to Wickedness
Author: Usia
Email: page-m@toward.com
Rating: R
Fandom: I think this one is primarily Hercules
Pairing: Cupid/ Strife and discretely Hades/Zeus
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. I do not intend
any disrespect or libel. And I have no money, so don't bother suing.
Warning: This will eventually have Mpreg.
Summary: The death of Bacchus changes earth and Olympus.
Status: WIP
Archive: Yes please, but let me know where.
Website: www.geocities.com/twistedusia/warning
Heir to Wickedness 10/?
Zeus was recovering slowly. As soon as someone came who had enough
energy to flash Zeus had returned to his rooms, because he knew that
in his depleted state he was more of a liability to Strife than a
help. But being alone only reminded Zeus of his loss and the only
sounds coming from his room was bitter, ragged weeping.
It was another day before Strife collected himself enough to wake up
again. Long before Apollo wanted him to be, Cupid was back at
Strife's side. Cupid only left for necessary visits with Bliss.
Apollo eventually gave up, knowing that it would take more energy to
prevent Cupid from returning than he had available.
Cupid had actually fallen asleep when Strife finally woke up,
sprawled between a chair and the edge of the bed, his hand firmly
wrapped around one of Strife's. He was so deeply asleep that he did
not notice the hesitant entrance of Pan. Pan edged his way to the
opposite side of the bed from the sleeping God and grasped Strife's
free hand. Strife's eyes fluttered open at the touch and looked
around dazedly. A slight smile crossed his face as he saw Cupid,
then he turned his head and saw the other God.
-Hello, sire.-
-Hey Pan. How did'ya end up in heah?-
Pan blushed a little. –Cupid was already asleep, but everyone else
was tired enough that I could nudge them to sleep with my pipes.-
-Good. Then no one will bug us when we go to talk. Help me get Cupid
on the bed, then we'll go.-
Strife rose from the bed and carefully detangled himself from
Cupid's grasp. Then the two Gods carefully lifted the sleeping God
and placed him on the bed. Cupid was so tired that the change in
position did not wake him. He was still fast asleep, but even in his
sleep Strife could see the stress in Cupid's face and dried tear
tracks. Strife paused and brushed the hair out of Cupid's face
carefully. Then he straightened, swaying a bit. Pan gripped him
quickly, steadying him.
-Are you sure you are strong enough for this, sire?-
-Yes. I need ta go now.-
Carefully moving to not awaken Demeter, who was the Goddess on duty,
they snuck down the hallway and entered the main hall of the House.
The room was empty, but the altar and chalice were still as they had
been before. Strife and Pan walked to the altar and the throne that
was behind it. Strife sank into the throne gratefully and Pan sat in
his usual place, to the left and slightly behind the throne. Strife
caught his breath, then began to speak, still using his mental voice.
-Whatta mess. If I wasn't sure they'd stick me in a bigger mess than
this, I'd moon the fates for this.-
Pan giggled. - Bacchus often said that.-
-I'm sure. Though I think this is the first time that someone ended
up in this particular mess. I have all of these urges, all of these
things I gotta do, and here I am, weak as a kitten.-
-We can help you with that. Me and the Bacchae. We're good at this.
Just tell us and we can help.-
- I'm sure, but first we need to do some sorta fealty thing so
people know that you're working for me.-
Pan immediately leapt up and knelt before Strife. - I'll do it now!-
-I know you would Pan, but it's not just for me. We need to show the
world that I'm in charge and that I have accepted you.-
-Then we should do that as soon as possible. But you should be
warned, your new followers aren't exactly reputable.-
-As if mine evah were. But since this is my first official thing,
maybe you should spread the word that tipsy is the farthest they
should go before presenting themselves.-
-Can do sire!-
-And knock it off with the Sire business! My name is Strife.-
-Yes Si…Strife-
-Now, I think we need to start this shindig off. I know that my
introduction has to be done with the usual splash and fanfare at my
new main temple… by the way, where exactly is that?-
-Thebes-
-Joy. But I think the usual thing for fealty is to do it in someone
else's temple. Sort of a show of no intimidation.-
-Yes-
-Would you mind if I ask Cupid to host for you and the Bacchae?-
-Not at all. Cupid's worked with us many times, it'd be very
appropriate.-
Strife nodded, obviously pleased. Pan noted this, and smiled to
himself. The fact that Cupid and Strife cared for one another was
more than obvious, and if duty provided them with a chance to court
each other, Pan would provide as many duties as possible.
Strife then rose carefully. –I'll go ask Cupid now. I'll let you
know when it's settled. But you can go start the prep for my
presenting.-
-Alright. Do you need help getting back.-
-No. Now that I know what's going on, I can avoid hurting myself at
least. Go.-
Pan nodded and disappeared. Strife walked across the room, fingers
brushing the chalice as he went. And if it glowed briefly, no one
was there to see it.
tbc