by Kendaa
"Are you sure he's gonna be there Herc?"
The blonde hunter hurried to keep up with the tall demigod as he made his way up the slope to the cave situated high above them on the hill.
Hercules shrugged. "Well, you heard that soldier. He said he had heard Ares telling one of his commanders that he would soon have things in Chalkis in hand, once he had Hestia's Hearthstone in his possession."
Iolaus slipped on some loose stones and hastily reached out to catch himself before replying. "Yeah, but why would Ares want Hestia's Hearthstone of all things? I mean, it's not like it's something he can use in a war. Or is it?" He asked, frowning.
His friend grabbed hold of a small tree to pull himself up, before turning to look down at the smaller man coming up behind him. He reached out and pulled Iolaus up so he was standing panting beside him. "I don't know. Why does Ares do anything?" he put his hands on his hips, and looked up at the mouth of the cave through narrowed eyes. "One thing's for sure - if Ares wants it, he's up to no good. Come on. I want to be there to give my half-brother a warm welcome when he shows up."
The son of Zeus moved forward again, determination written on his face. The two heroes had been on their way to visit the Amazons when they ran into one of Ares' soldiers on his way to join Ares' main army as it moved northward. After a little encouragement, the man had told them that the army was heading towards a confrontation with a large contingent of soldiers that had streamed across the border between Greece and Macedonia. Further persuasion had elicited the information that the lone soldier had been separated from the rest of the army because Ares had sent him as a a messenger to several of his southern commanders. The God of War had given them specific instructions as to where he wanted them to be when he called for them, and had apparently added the interesting information that their forces would be augmented once he had taken Hestia's Hearthstone into his possession. That had been enough to send Hercules and Iolaus on the detour they were now on - to the cavern where Hestia's Hearthstone resided.
Iolaus hadn't known much at all about the Hearthstone of the goddess, but Hercules had told him it was a gift from Hestia to mortals, and that while it remained in its designated resting place, peace would reign in mortal households. But without it, mortal families would fall into conflict and deep division. Hercules had to admit to himself that while his brother thrived on human conflict, he really didn't understand why the God of War would want to cause dissent in mortal families.
The mouth of the cave was close now. They climbed the last several feet and moved onto a large flat area blanketed in crocuses in front of the cave. Hercules peered into the mouth of the cave, but could see or hear nothing. "I can't see anything," he told Iolaus. "Wait here - I'll be right back."
The tall son of Zeus warily entered the cave. After walking down a short tunnel, he emerged into a large cavern which wasn't at all dark, as he had expected it to be. The place was illuminated by a rectangular stone that rested on top of what appeared to be an altar at the other end of the cavern. The stone filled the space with a warm, golden glow. Hercules looked around, but could see no sign of the God of War. He made his way back to the mouth of the cave.
Iolaus looked a question at him.
"Nope, it's still there, and no sign of Ares. I'm going to go back and wait for him to show up. Will you stay here and cover our backs?"
The golden hunter smiled. "No problem. Give Ares my regards," he told Hercules with a wicked grin.
His friend grinned back, and turned to re-trace his steps back into the cave.
Hercules had been in the cave for perhaps two turns of the hour glass. He was seated on the cave floor behind a pile of rocks, and leaning against the stone wall, arms folded. There seemed to be little air in the cave. He yawned for perhaps the twentieth time. In the middle of the yawn, there was a flash of light in the cavern. The demigod abruptly closed his mouth and peered around the pile of stones.
The God of War was standing in the centre of the cave, his attention focussed on the Hearthstone.
Hercules rose to his feet, and moved around the pile of stones.
"Hello Ares," he greeted pleasantly.
The tall Lord of War turned casually, not betraying his surprise. "Why brother! What a...pleasant...surprise," he replied equally as cheerfully. Between the two brothers, the caved seemed likely to develop a coating of pure ice.
Hercules smiled politely. "I'll bet it is. Pleasant, that is."
A dark brow quirked. "Let me guess," Ares mused. "You haven't come all the way up here for the air, right?" He grinned. The smile didn't reach his eyes.
His demigod half-brother's grin was equally as insincere. "Got that right in one! Tell me, Ares, why would you of all people want Hestia's Hearthstone?" He asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.
The God of War cocked his head to the side, pretending to give the question serious consideration. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm feeling like settling down?" He volunteered brightly.
Hercules nodded, smiling. "Right, and I'm taking singing lessons from the She-Demon."
Ares sighed heavily. He was tired of the sparring. "Whatever. Now if you don't mind..."
He moved closer to the Hearthstone, his hand reaching out. A strong hand wrapped itself in a vice-like grip around his wrist. The God of War blinked and looked sideways at his half-brother. "Let go," he demanded icily.
The tall, golden-haired demigod grinned. "Not a chance," he retorted softly.
"Fine. Have it your way," hissed Ares, his free hand whipping around to grab Hercules' arm. With minimum effort he hurled his brother clear across the cavern. Hercules crashed to the cavern floor and lay sprawled in stunned surprise for an instant.
Within seconds, he had hauled himself to his feet and was charging the leather-clad God of War. They both went flying into the cave wall with enough force to cause the ground to shudder.
Iolaus suddenly appeared in the mouth of the tunnel that led to the cave's entrance. "Hey, everything alright in here?" He called, taking in the struggle before him.
"Get out of here, Iolaus!" Yelled Hercules, his leg lashing out to send Ares flying to the ground.
"Oh just peachy keen," snarled the now-enraged God of War, lurching to his feet and somersaulting through the air to land his feet on Hercules' chest with enough force to send him crashing to the ground again.
The golden hunter looked from one to the other, and decided to leave them to it. "Ok. I'll, uh...I"ll be outside if you need me, Herc."
"You'll be waiting a long time, you little weasel," Ares told him viciously, just before Hercules' fist collided with his face.
Shaking his head, Iolaus turned and headed back the way he had just come. Hercules would be able to take care of himself against his vengeful half-brother. He emerged into daylight once more and moved to sit on a rock not far from the entrance to the cave. The ground was now shuddering intermittently under the impact of one or the other of the combatants as they hit the floor or wall of the cave.
Hercules and Ares had been at it for several minutes when a particularly hefty shove from Hercules sent Ares to crash into the wall of the cave.
There was an ominous rumbling, during which the god and demigod both froze, closely followed by an avalanche of boulders and rocks of all shapes and sizes.
Hercules groaned, consciousness slowly returning. He sat up groggily, rubbing the egg-sized lump on the back of his head. "Why do caves always insist on falling on me?" He muttered to himself, and then coughed. The rocky space was thick with dust.
"Probably because you always insist on trying to beat up your relatives," came a calm voice from the other side of the now rock-filled cavern.
Awareness returned. He and Ares had been fighting and there had been a cave-in. He clambered to stand unsteadily on his feet, and looked towards the entrance. Only there was no longer any entrance to be seen. A massive rock-slide was now blocking what used to be the entrance to the cave.
"Nice job, brother," came that quiet voice again.
Something about the quality of Ares' voice made Hercules turn and peer through the dust in his direction.
His eyes widened.
Ares sat, or rather, lay sprawled, on the cave floor, his back against one of the fallen rocks. His face was very pale. As Hercules' eyes travelled down the leather-clad form of his half-brother, his eyes widened. A large sliver of stone was protruding from the top of Ares' left leg. Blood streamed from the wound.
Hercules' eyes narrowed in confusion. Something wasn't quite right about the picture before him, illuminated by the golden light emanating from the undamaged Hearthstone on the other side of the cave. "Ares... You're a god, you can't bleed," he pointed out carefully, the fight forgotten for the moment.
The dark Lord of War raised his face to his half-brother, a sneer twisting the handsome features.
"My, my, you are the bright one today, aren't you," he snarled quietly.
The demigod son of Zeus shook his head impatiently. "Just cut the sarcasm, Ares. Why can't you heal your leg?"
Ares rolled his eyes, and then winced, as pain shot through his wounded leg. "I'm mortal," he informed his half-brother tersely. "And so are you - fully mortal, that is," he added more cheerfully.
Hercules' hands went to his hips in frustration. "What are you talking about?"
His divine half-sibling gritted his teeth, his hands reaching down to grip his wounded leg. "Our little...disagreement...caught Zeus's attention. A long time ago, he made a rule that if anyone, no matter who - full god or mortal carrying godly blood - entered Hestia's cave and he caught them, he would take away their powers," he enunciated carefully as if talking to someone who was particularly slow of mind. "So thanks to you and your tedious interference in something that doesn't concern you, I am now mortal until such time as a mortal forgives me for entering this cave," he finished, glowering at Hercules. "And the same applies to you."
The tall, golden-haired man moved closer. "But I wasn't the one trying to take the Hearthstone. You were," Hercules pointed out.
Ares glared up at him maliciously. "Fine, then try and get us out of here, because I certainly can't do anything about it."
Hercules moved to stand contemplating the rock slide for a moment, before reaching out to lift one of the larger boulders. After several minutes of effort and grunting he was forced to give up. He hadn't been able to move it one inch. He turned back to Ares.
"Alright, I believe you. But why would Zeus do this? Take our powers and place the proviso of forgiveness for getting them back?"
The dark son of Zeus moved restlessly, biting off a curse when the movement caused sharp pain to his wound. "You are just full of questions today, aren't you?" He muttered, but in no real anger. "Dear old dad gave this place to Hestia and declared the Hearthstone to be under his protection - like so many other useless objects and individuals," he shot at his half-brother, unable to resist the temptation.
Hercules sighed and folded his arms across his chest. "Just get on with it," he urged the wounded God of War.
Ares shrugged slightly. "You know what the Hearthstone means for mortals." It wasn't a question but Hercules nodded silently. "Well, Zeus felt that seeing it was a gift from one of the gods to mortals, if another god, or anyone with godly blood, for that matter, attempted to interfere with it, it would only be fitting that it would take the forgiveness of a full mortal to return their powers to them." He correctly read the look on Hercules' face, and continued. "And since you were here too, you got zapped as well."
The blue-eyed son of Zeus went down on one knee to examine Ares' wound. "Alright, so we're stuck here until Iolaus gets help to dig us out. Why did you want the Hearthstone?"
The God of War sighed. "Not that it's any of your business, but...will you be careful! Zeus, you wouldn't give Asclepius any competition," he growled as Hercules probed around the sliver of stone.
"Sorry," Hercules muttered, intent on the wound.
"There's an army of barbarians in the north. They've come over the border from Macedonia. I've got a large army massing north of Amphipolis. My warlords have sent for all of my followers in the area. Unfortunately, the...men of Chalkis aren't that keen on going into battle. They've grown soft over the last ten years or so. Don't want to leave home and families, and all that sort of thing. Bunch of soft pansies. I was borrowing the Hearthstone to stir them up," he finished. "Olympus, will you be careful!" He repeated impatiently as Hercules' probing fingers touched a particularly tender spot.
Hercules shrugged slightly, his attention still on the wound. "So you did intend returning the Hearthstone? This will hurt, by the way," he added, just before he took a hold of the stone sliver and gave it a strong tug.
Ares roared and arched up off the floor, before subsiding to lie back against the stone behind him. He had broken out in a cold sweat. "Of course I intended to return it. I'm not stupid," he snarled in between panted breaths as he glared at his brother.
Hercules tossed the bloody sliver aside. "Is that right?" He asked, without any malice.
His dark sibling glared balefully at him. "And you wonder why I hate you...," he gritted out between clenched teeth.
Outside the cave, Iolaus was desperately trying to find an opening in the tightly-packed rubble, while listening anxiously for sounds of life from inside the cave. But he could hear nothing, and that worried him. He started pacing.
"Ok, ok...think Iolaus!"
He slapped his forehead impatiently in an effort to calm his rioting thoughts and think of a reason why neither Hercules or Ares had blasted or torn their way from the cave. But nothing came. He stopped pacing and cocked his head, listening.
No sounds emerged from behind the pile of boulders and rocks.
The hunter shook his head. "Alright. So they're not making any noise or trying to get out...they can't be dead. Ares is a god and Herc is...well, Herc is always alright in the end." He looked up at the jumble again, taking a deep breath.
"Not good. This is not good." He stood in thought for some minutes.
He moved closer to the buried mouth of the cave and screamed his friend's name as loudly as he dared, fearful of causing another rock slide. But there was no response.
He licked dry lips, running his hand through his blonde hair in agitation.
"Ok... The Amazons are pretty close. Well - half a day close, but it's better than nothing." He waited for a little longer, but still no signs of life emerged from behind the tangle of rock.
Taking another deep breath, he turned and began rapidly climbing back down the hillside, in the same direction from which he and Hercules had come just a few hours previously, slipping and sliding in his haste to reach the bottom. When he reached the bottom of the hill, he took off at a dead run in the direction of the City of the Amazons.
"Must you do that?"
The God of War glowered balefully up at his half-brother, who had removed his under-vest and after tearing it into strips was carefully but tightly wrapping it around Ares' still-bleeding wound.
"Do what?"
Ares ignored the preoccupied question. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" He asked his demigod half-brother sharply, catching his breath and grimacing as another jagged bolt of unaccustomed pain shot through his leg.
Hercules sighed, his attention focussed on bandaging Ares' leg. "No, I'm not enjoying this. I'd rather be anywhere else than stuck in here with you. Just sit still, will you? The sooner you let me finish this, the sooner it will be over."
"Like you care," Ares snarled at him, his dark eyes fixed on the golden head bent over his leg.
The demigod sat back on his heels and regarded his raven-haired brother calmly. "Look, we can't stand each other, I know. But we're stuck in here for now, so let's just try and make the best of it. I may not be overly fond of you, but as much as I might like the prospect, I can't let you lie here and bleed to death. Now shut up and let me finish," he ended curtly, returning to his task.
Ares lapsed into resentful silence, closing his eyes for several minutes as Hercules finished binding his leg. He opened them again to stare expressionlessly at his brother as he felt him move away from him.
Hercules smiled slightly. "You're welcome."
Ares rolled his eyes. "You know, out of all my relatives, you are really the most annoying. If dear old dad hadn't slapped that don't-touch protection order on you, I could have long since been enjoying a Hercules-free existence. But no, ohhh no. Zeus just has to protect his precious baby boy. What he ever saw in you, I'll never understand." He settled himself more comfortably against the rock behind him, anger mixed with pain clouding his handsome features.
On the other side of the cavern, Hercules lowered himself to sit, legs similarly stretched out in front of him, arms crossed. He regarded his half-brother for a moment. "What makes you think I have it so good?" He asked, not really expecting an answer. "Do you honestly think Zeus cares that much for me? What is it about me that annoys you so much, Ares?" Hercules asked quietly.
Ares said nothing.
The golden-haired son of Zeus shook his head. "I know it's always bothered you that Zeus seemed to personally protect me, but believe me, it's been a joke, really. A sad, twisted joke. He doesn't care for me any more than he cares for you. Maybe he doesn't really care for any of his kids. I honestly don't know." He frowned, thinking. "All my life, right from the day I was born, I've had to fight to stay alive, thanks to Hera, you and any number of the other gods."
Ares blinked slowly. "Oh please, you're breaking my heart here," he sneered.
Hercules rolled his crystalline blue eyes. "I should have known better than to think you and I could ever have anything resembling a snarl-free conversation."
The God of War glared at him. "And what would you like to talk about, brother? Your lost family - yet again? Your little lost deer? Please. I've heard it all before, by the bucketload."
Hercules stared at him for a moment, unblinking. Then he slowly nodded. "Yes, I can understand how it must be tedious for you to listen to me, considering you're the god who arranged the death of my wife."
The dark man on the opposite side of the cave stiffened. "I did not order the death of your wife," he told Hercules in a quiet, cold tone.
The demigod laughed shortly. "Give me a break, Ares! You can't tell me that Strife had the brains to think that up all on his own."
Ares looked away for a moment, and Hercules was surprised and puzzled by the look of pain that passed fleetingly across the dark features.
"I was..." He shook his head, pausing, as if to find the right words. he swallowed before continuing. "I was angry. Strife didn't have to be told to kill Serena." Dark eyes gazed into blue ones. "After all, she chose you over me - you, my father's bastard son," he whispered bitterly. "When I could have given her everything. I saved her from Zeus, I took her in and trained her so that she surpassed even my expectations for her. And then you came along." He shook his head, his silver earring dancing in the light from Hestia's Hearthstone. He swallowed again. "You came along, and she just threw everything I'd ever given her, been to her, away - as if it had been worthless. And you wonder why I was angry?" He exhaled, leaning back tiredly against the stone supporting him.
Hercules shook his own head, incredulous. "So that gave you reason to kill her? Because she preferred me to you?"
"And what would you know of being discarded for another, brother? All your life, you've been protected. Yes, you lost your family, yes, you lost Serena. But you had their love. You were secure in knowing you were loved."
Ares turned his head away. Olympus, being mortal is hateful! My mouth just has a mind of its own. How do they ever keep secrets from each other?
It was Hercules' turn to be silent now. The edge of raw pain in Ares' voice had taken him by surprise. He looked over at his brother. Ares sat with his head leaning back aganst the stone behind him, eyes closed and obviously in pain. There was a sheen of perspiration on his forehead.
"I don't care what reasons you had - you took my wife. There can be no excuse for that. Beyond you being the cold-hearted, ruthless bastard you have always been," he threw at the dark man sitting opposite him.
For a moment, Ares didn't answer. Then, oddly, he smiled slightly. "Are you so sure of that, brother?"
Hercules moved restlessly. "Half-brother! I hate it when you call me that!"
The other man laughed softly. "I know." He opened his eyes to gaze at Hercules from pain-dilated dark eyes. "You may hate knowing it, but we are brothers, even if only by half." He moved his leg slightly and winced at the subsequent pain. He licked his dry lips. "Gods, but I'm thirsty," he complained softly.
Hercules shrugged. "You're in shock - but there's no water."
Ares' mouth creased into another slight smile. "Thank you for stating the obvious."
His gaze remained on Hercules for a long, thoughtful moment.
"You think you know me, but you don't. You know nothing about me, brother. Not the first thing."
Hercules was unimpressed. "Is that so?" He retorted disinterestedly, arms folded across his chest.
Ares nodded slightly to himself, as if he had expected the response. He thought for a moment.
"You'd be surprised at what the gods might have been like had we not been...gifted with our particular areas of responsibility," he told Hercules quietly, almost as if he were talking to himself.
The dark Lord of War closed his eyes again, shutting Hercules out of his thoughts and vision. Voluntarily locked within himself, his for-the-moment human mind wandered at will through sights and sounds he had long since buried to never again see the light of consciousness.
He sifted through his memories, going right back to the first day of awareness. The day when a small, sunny-natured godling with warm, dark eyes and thick black curls was forewarned of the destiny that would soon be his.
He didn't remember how old he had been that day when Zeus and Hera came for him. He did remember that he had been playing with some other young godlings, running with wild joy and abandon through the great Halls of Olympus.
And then suddenly there had been a curious silence. All his playmates gradually ceased their chatter and noise. He was still laughing happily when the two shadows fell across his small form. He looked up, and beamed. But the innocent smile soon faded beneath the solemn expressions on the faces of his parents as they gazed down at him.
As if sensing something beyond the normal for Olympus, the young godlings and nymphs with Ares began backing away. Silently they faded into the background.
The King of the Gods gazed down at his small son for a long moment before turning, saying over his shoulder, "Come." It was not a request.
The young child swallowed, suddenly nervous. It was almost as if he had had a premonition. But he quietly followed his parents as they moved towards the Great Hall of Olympus - where stood eleven great thrones, nine of them very new, since it had only been recently that Zeus had chosen those among his family who would sit enthroned over the other gods - and over the mortal world.
Zeus and Hera moved into the enormous space, and then stepped aside, allowing the young godling an unimpeded view of the thrones.
He looked from the thrones and back to his parents, not understanding what they wanted from him, as they didn't seem disposed to speak. Then he noticed something. Another throne had been added. His dark eyes widened. The new throne had been crafted from black marble with designs and emblems carved intricately into the marble with what had to have been consummate workmanship.
Hera indicated that he should move closer and examine the throne.
Curious now, he did. Then he paled, for the throne was covered in every imaginable symbol of death, suffering and war - concepts he knew from listening to the older gods talking were very new to the young world of the mortals. He shuddered and would have turned his eyes from the scenes carved into the throne. But Zeus wouldn't allow him to do that.
Curtly, the King of the Gods addressed his young son. "Look, Ares. Look upon the throne that will soon be yours - is yours, once you have been prepared to assume it."
The child god stared up at his father, not entirely understanding the enormity of what Zeus was telling him. Perhaps he didn't want to understand. "I don't understand," quavered the childish voice.
His mother reached down and ran a hand over his head, much as she would stroke one of her hounds. "you have a great destiny before you, my son. For you will be among the greatest and most feared of the gods. You will be God of War," she told him proudly.
The small boy god shook his head, desperately trying to deny what his parents had just told him. He looked back at the throne, and then back at the implacable faces of his parents. And his innocence began to die.
Ares abruptly shook his head, drawing in a deep breath. He opened his eyes to find Hercules regarding him quizzically.
"Haven't you got anything else to stare at?" He snarled at his half-brother.
Hercules rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Ares. It's not like there are that many things in here to focus on."
The God of War gritted his teeth and tried to settle himself more comfortably.
Hercules looked a little closer and frowned. Perspiration was visibly running down Ares' flushed face now.
"You look like you have a fever. That was fast," he observed, surprised.
Over-bright dark eyes glittered coldly at him. "Like you would care," the Lord of War retorted hoarsely.
"Fine. Have it your way. I don't care," Hercules replied, giving up the battle to be at least civil. Sighing, he settled down for a nap. But his eyes snapped back open at Ares' next words.
"Tell me something. Have you ever been in a place so dark, so empty that insanity was almost preferable to staying there and knowing the place?"
The tall demigod shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
But Ares wasn't even looking at him anymore. "You see, I have," he said matter-of-factly to no-one in particular, let alone his half-brother, as he stared blankly into space.
"What place?" Hercules asked impatiently.
Those dark eyes wandered back to Hercules. "The place where gods are formed, brother."
In spite of himself, Hercules' eyes widened. He had no idea what Ares was talking about, although he suspected it was the fever talking, more than his normally very laconic half-brother. Ares' now-mortal system wouldn't be used to illness, so it wasn't all that surprising that he had developed a fever so quickly. The demigod gazed at the flushed face of the dark man opposite him with renewed interest and, in spite of himself, a twinge of concern. The God of War wasn't used to pain either. His wound must have been excruciating for him.
"Are you alright," he asked carefully.
Ares laughed softly. "Oh just fine brother, just fine. Just remembering the good old days is all." He thought for a moment, frowning before turning to Hercules again. "You know, you really have no idea. I mean, really... You have it so good," he told his half-sibling with an overly bright alertness that didn't fool Hercules at all.
"Ares, you're babbling," he told the dark god, who peered at him and giggled, shaking his head.
"Oh you'd like to think that, wouldn't you? But you were never the one sent to that dark, dark place. Oh no...you had daddy's protection, right from the beginning of your miserable half-mortal life. You have never really known or understood what it's like to be a god," he informed Hercules, before closing his eyes again.
His mind wandered again. Back to another long-ago day when Zeus and Hera had summoned him to the great Throne Room.
It hadn't been too long after the day when they had shown him the dark throne that was, they said, reserved for him, and him alone. Since that time, he had known fear for the first time in his young godly existence. To sit on that throne and...do what? He had no idea. His godly soul hadn't yet been corrupted. He was too young for that.
But that day he was summoned, and he entered the great Throne Room nervously. His eyes widened when he saw that this time all the thrones except one were occupied. All eyes were on him. Two attendants closed in to walk beside him as he moved slowly forward, even then not fully understanding what they intended for him.
When he reached the foot of the massive Throne occupied by Zeus, the King of the Gods stood, his face stern. He stepped down from the dais to stand before his dark son.
Ares swallowed, but tried to keep his own face impassive. He was, after all, the only son of Zeus and Hera. And being such, a certain regal dignity was expected of him.
Zeus beckoned and another attendant materialised, carrying a golden chalice filled with unidentifiable liquid.
The son of Zeus looked at the chalice without comprehension.
Then Zeus dipped his hand into the chalice and in one fluid gesture smeared its contents on Ares' face and cheeks.
The iron, metallic smell told him, of course.
Blood. Mortal blood.
Zeus had blooded his son, and as he stood before him, shocked, he began to speak, his solemn voice resounding throughout the vast space.
"Thus do I anoint you, Ares, as Lord of War. You will now take your destined place, to rule the mortal sphere in all matters pertaining to war for all time. Take the throne that has been set aside for you, and you alone," he bade his son.
Ares was still, his eyes almost vacant for a long moment. Then they searched the faces of the other enthroned gods until they found and locked with Aphrodite's in agony. The young, newly-crowned Goddess of Love gazed back in pain, tears pouring silently down her face.
He shook his head slowly, disbelievingly, before turning back to his father. In the background, he was vaguely aware of his mother, arms resting elegantly on her throne, smiling in satisfaction.
He threw his head back, and that great space was filled with scream after agonised scream.
A brutal slap to his face cut off the string of screams abruptly.
He raised his head again to his father, breathing heavily. "No," he whispered. "Don't make me. Get another," he pleaded, dark eyes beseeching his father.
But Zeus's face was creased in a snarl. "You disgust me. You, the Prince of Olympus - crying like a baby. You should be ashamed of yourself for making such a display."
Hera had left her throne to stand beside her husband. She gazed at her son with delicate disinterest.
"Well husband, it seems I was right, and you must send our beloved son to that place you have made so that he may have some time to reconsider," she said in a voice that caused her son to flinch involuntarily. He very much feared he would retch all over her if she continued.
But Zeus was nodding slowly. "And when he comes forth, he will have discarded this ungodly foolishness and be ready to take up the mantle that is his," he mused out loud, his cold eyes never leaving his son. "Very well." He gestured to the two attendants beside Ares. "Take him and cast him into that place that has been prepared for him. He is not to be brought forth until I permit it."
The two attendants beside Ares took his arms in a firm grip. Without another word, his face still covered in the now-drying mortal blood, he was turned and taken from the Great Hall of Olympus, and cast into a place of utter darkness, to remain there alone until such time as Zeus saw fit to free him.
"You know that other guy - in that other place?" Ares asked Hercules, apropos of nothing. The tall demigod shook his head and gave up any thought of a nap.
"What other guy?"
Perspiration was running freely down Ares' flushed face. "You know - the other guy, in the place that your really cool double comes from...the war guy," he added.
Hercules finally understood. "You mean the other Cupid."
Ares chuckled. "Yeah, him. Well he went mad in that place where war gods are made," he told Hercules in a confiding tone.
"So I've heard," Hercules yawned. He didn't think he was that tired. Then he frowned.
"Ares - we're running out of air." It was becoming slightly more difficult to breath.
"Well of COURSE we are," Ares retorted, as if talking to an imbecile. "The entrance is blocked, in case you'd forgotten."
He looked sad for a moment. "To think - I might die in here as a mortal...with you, of all people. What an ignominious end for the God of War," he said, sighing. He looked distinctly crestfallen at the idea.
Hercules rolled his eyes.
"We're not dead yet. Iolaus will be back with the Amazons pretty soon."
For some reason that sent Ares off on a tangent. He laughed.
"What's so funny?" Hercules asked, humouring him.
"Kendaa," Ares said, as if the name explained everything.
"What about her?"
Ares grinned. "She once threatened to smack me, you know. Me - the God of War!" He laughed louder at the very thought.
"Is that right?" Hercules said, amused in spite of himself.
The dark son of Zeus nodded, still grinning. "I was mortal at the time. I complained and she said she'd smack me if I did it again."
The high-pitched giggle was back.
Hercules sighed. "Pity she didn't take the opportunity to smack you a real good one," he muttered, waiting in resignation for the fever-ridden god's fit of hilarity to pass.
After several hours of alternately running and jogging, Iolaus was finally nearing the perimeters of the Amazon City. As he neared the gates, he saw the guards snap to attention, focussed on him. Once they saw who it was, they waved him on. He was through the gates, hardly knowing where to head, or who to seek out. His dilemma was solved for him when he caught sight of Ceallach moving across the torch-lit central square of the City.
"Ceallach!" He managed to gasp out, while waiting for the Celtic Amazon to reach him.
"Iolaus! What the Hades are you doing here? I didn't think you and Hercules were anywhere near our neck of the woods."
The golden hunter shook his head. "Listen! Something's happened... Hercules and Ares... They're trapped in a cave."
Ceallach's grey eyes narrowed. "Iolaus - Ares is a god and Hercules is a demigod..." She shook her head. They should have been able to get out easily.
Iolaus ran a hand tiredly through his hair. "I know! But something's wrong. I came to get help to dig them out. They're in the cave where Hestia keeps her Hearthstone."
The Celtic Amazon placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "Don't worry, we'll get them out. Come on, we'll round up as many as we can find."
With Ceallach in the lead, they headed off rapidly in the direction of the huts where the sister warriors slept.
They hadn't gone far when Klio, Kendaa and Laurissa emerged out of the darkness. Not that they needed to go looking for them. Kendaa carried a screaming, tearful Leonides in her arms, while the other two Amazons were doing their best, on either side of the dryad Amazon, to calm the distressed child.
"Iolaus!" Klio greeted her friend. "What are you doing here?"
He quickly explained to the new trio the reason for his visit.
"Hestia's Hearthstone?" Klio frowned. "Well that explains it. They can't get out because they're both fully mortal."
All those around her gaped.
"What?" Asked several voices in unison, except Kendaa, who was trying to keep a firm hold on her agitated and still-crying son.
Klio shook her head and began to explain rapidly. "My father told me about it a long time ago. If anyone with godly blood goes into that cave with the intention of taking the Stone, or even just goes in there and is caught - Zeus has placed a proscription on the place; they become mortal until such time as a mortal forgives them for defiling the cave with their presence. I have no idea why father would want to go anywhere near it." She shrugged, at a loss.
Iolaus was angry in spite of himself. "Because he was trying to steal it, that's why! And now - his stupidity could have caused Hercules to be hurt or worse!"
"And what of Ares?" Asked Kendaa quietly, trying to calm her inconsolable son. "Now I know why Leo has been so upset. He kept trying to tell me his father was gone, but I didn't understand. He's always had a link to Ares, and it's apparently been cut," she added, looking down at the young boy in her arms. Her impassive face betrayed nothing of her own fears.
Iolaus sighed. "I'm sorry. But if Ares hadn't been in that cave after the Hearthstone, Hercules wouldn't have gone in after him, and none of this would have happened."
"Alright then, we need to get a team together to get into that cave. Let's go round some people up, get some tools and get going," Laurissa suggested, hands on her hips, her face determined.
It took some time to inform the Queen of what had happened, to gather over a dozen off-duty Amazons together, and to collect the necessary tools they would need. In the meantime, Ceallach made sure Iolaus had something to eat and drink, and Kendaa took Leonides to the City creche, calmly reassuring him that his father was alright and unharmed. She hoped she was telling her son the truth.
It was perhaps three hours before first light when the rescue party left the City, heading in the direction of Hestia's cave.
The dark Lord of War's fever had worsened. His head lolled back against the stone behind him as he moved restlessly, his eyes closed.
Hercules frowned. He climbed to his feet and went to crouch besides his half-brother to inspect the wound. As he carefully removed the makeshift bandage his frown deepened. The area around the wound was swollen, and an angry red colour.
The tall demigod sat back on his heels after he re-wrapped the blood-soaked bandage.
"Great," he said to himself in frustration. While the possible death of his half-brother would be no great loss to him personally, Hercules knew that the entire mortal world would be in deep trouble without a sitting God of War to keep warriors focussed, and peaceful people in control of their anger. As much as he hated to admit it, the world needed Ares.
He was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp cry from Ares.
"No, father! Please! Let me out! Mother!" It was a tormented cry, torn from the depths of a suffering soul. And it totally shocked Hercules.
Ares, wandering deliriously through tormented memories, arched up off the cave floor, his rigid body betraying all too clearly the pain he was reliving.
He was muttering again now. "Mother? Where are you? Why won't you answer?" He cried out in a trembling, bewildered voice.
Hercules, privy to something he had never expected to witness, closed his eyes briefly. He reached out and gently touched the over-hot shoulder of his brother. "Easy, easy. It's just a nightmare," he murmured quietly. But Ares didn't hear him. He was caught in the web of horrific, unwanted memories.
That dark place.
He had spent a long time after he was immured trying to find a way out. Terrified, he had screamed and cried for what seemed like - and probably was - eons.
He had wandered through the inpenetrable darkness seeking something real to touch. But his questing hands found nothing, no matter how far he walked. There was simply nothing - in any direction.
Eventually, he lay down on what passed for floor in that place of nothingness, his body curled up in a fetal position, and retreated to the place that served as sleep for the gods. He willed himself to stay there for a very long time.
Time passed. Then more time. Brutal, unrelenting, uncontrolled conflict covered the face of the mortal world. Still Ares slept. Millenia later, he woke to the all-encompassing darkness and called for his mother and father. But there was no answer. There would never be any answer in that place.
He sat, staring into nothingness, his face - if there had been the benefit of light to see his face - apathetic and blank. His mind had been playing tricks for some time when he first noticed the voices. He couldn't tell where they were coming from. They could have been within him, they could have been around him. He didn't know. They were cruel, taunting voices.
At first, their words were unintelligible. He tried ignoring them, but they wouldn't go away that easily. They jabbed at him with sharp barbs, over and over again until he buried his head in his hands and screamed, long and loud. And still they taunted him.
After some time, he thought he could see their forms around him - vague, nebulous things that floated in the aether surrounding him.
They became his companions. In fact, they never left him. Their cruel voices never let up.
In time, they took on definition, and he began to know them for what they were. Rage. Hate. Suffering. Pain. Cruelty. Fear. Jealousy. At first he cowered away from them, but they just crowded all the closer around him, their voices like daggers, slicing into him. Tearing at his resistance.
He wept. He pleaded. But still they danced their vicious dance of entrapment around him. They showed him unspeakable things; things that he had never imagined existed or were possible. He felt his mind begin to falter. And he was deathly afraid.
Gradually, however, he stopped crying. He began to listen, even while something hard, dark and cold began to grow within him. And he became utterly determined to survive that unspeakable place. The growing hardness within him was a boon, he found; it strengthened his determination. Soon he had developed an iron will.
As more time passed, the voices of his unrelenting companions began to make sense to him.
One day, as he listened to them while they danced around him, he slowly stood upright, stretching, testing and flexing his now full-grown body. He thought of his parents and all they had done to him. Yes, there was now a very good reason for him to give in to his tormentors.
For the first time in that place he smiled - a cold, calculating smile.
And in that dark place of nothingness, he let go of himself and surrendered to the invasion of the dancers.
They crowed in victory, and surged forward, one by one entering into him and filling him. Then he in turn let out a cry. It was a bloodcurdling roar of completion as he embraced the darkness surrounding him and drew it to himself.
Zeus had been watching, waiting, and knew when the moment of his son's apotheosis occurred. He smiled in satisfaction.
The dark prison that had held Ares for so long fell away from him, and for the first time in many millennia, his dark eyes fell upon his father.
And he knew raw, unsurpassed hatred for the first time in his existence.
Ares was rambling aloud in his fever-induced sleep. Hercules had heard every horrifying, tormented word. he looked down at the stricken face as if really seeing his dark brother for the first time. He shook his head slowly. "You were right," he whispered. "I didn't know. I had no idea."
He sighed deeply, thinking of all that Zeus had done or allowed to be done to himself. It was a profound shock to realise that Ares hadn't always been the ruthless, cold-hearted god he had assumed him to be. Zeus had damaged both his sons in different ways.
The dark son of Zeus stirred, shifting in his fevered delirium, still lost in memories of a long-ago time.
It was a transformed Ares who emerged from confinement. He walked beside Zeus once again to the crowded Great Hall of Olympus. But he went as a full-grown god. He walked with a natural, predatory grace, his head high, dark eyes not deigning to meet the eyes of any in that vast Hall, until he came to a halt before his mother's throne. Now he raised his eyes - and Hera had to stop herself from physically recoiling from the hatred that blazed forth from those hypnotic dark pools.
"Hello mother," Hera's son greeted her in a low, cold, taunting voice. It was a voice that promised retribution at some time in the future.
Zeus had moved past him to stand before his own throne. He gestured, and attendants came forward carrying clothing fit for the about-to-be-enthroned God of War. It was a drab collection of brown items, with over-done, elaborate metallic ornamentation all over the tunic top, pants and boots.
"Your new clothes, my son - as befits the station of the God of War," Zeus informed him.
There was complete silence in the Hall as Ares' eyes moved from the pile of items being held out to him and back to his father.
"They're not to my taste," he told his father dismissively.
A gasp, quickly stifled, came from one of the eleven occupied thrones. Ares didn't have to look to know what it had come from Aphrodite.
Zeus blinked, and was about to open his mouth when Ares abruptly re-clothed himself with a thought.
All eyes were on him, gazing in astonishment. He ignored them, keeping his eyes on his father. "There. Much better." He smiled - it was a cold, deadly smile that openly dared his father to question his choice of black leather pants, black boots, and black vest. The ornamentation that covered the vest and the top of his boots was actually very simple in comparison to that which had been previously offered to him. But if Ares had wanted to project an image that would terrify those around him, and keep those who would shortly be under his dominion in their place, he could not have chosen better.
"If one is going to bring death to stalk the mortal world, one should at least dress appropriately, don't you think?" He enquired of his father with quiet sarcasm.
The King of the Gods could do nothing but nod shortly in agreement, unable to do anything else before the calm, open and unquenchable defiance of his son. With all of Olympus watching him, he indicated that Ares should move to stand before the throne that had been designated his. If the dark son of Zeus still felt anything other than the cold, dark hate and bloodlust that now filled him, he didn't show it as he stood in front of his throne.
Hephaestus had left his own throne and was limping slowly forward. Almost reverently he handed Zeus a great, shining weapon, still in its sheath.
Zeus turned to Ares and offered the great sword to him. "Behold the Sword of your Godhood - the Sword of War. Take it and claim that which is yours to claim!" His voice rang throughout the Hall.
Ares didn't move for a moment, gazing at the Sword with something that could almost have been lust now. Then he slowly reached out and drew the weapon from its sheath.
Olympus held its breath.
He slowly raised the weapon high above his head in unmistakable victory. Lightning flew from the blade in a blinding coruscation of light and Olympus reverberated with a great crash of thunder.
When he lowered the Sword he took the scabbard from his father, and sheathed it, strapping it now around his waist. Then he moved back to take his seat on the throne behind him, his beautiful face devoid of expression.
The God of War had been wed to his destiny.
And Zeus looked at his son and for the first time knew something resembling regret.
Hercules was finding it harder to breathe now. He rubbed a weary hand across his dirty face and looked down at his now-quiet half-brother. Ares lay still, in the exhaustion of delirium, his face dark red, and his breathing laboured. To Hercules's eyes, he looked dangerously ill. Without thinking, he reached down and gently brushed damp curls off the hot, flushed face. "Hang on, Ares. Iolaus and the Amazons will be here soon, and you'll get your godhood back," he murmured quietly.
There was no response from Ares. The tall demigod shook his head. "What a mess."
He moved to sit beside the half brother he had hated for so long, wishing for water himself now as he stared absently into space.
Ares' fevered mind was visiting the early days of his ascendancy as Lord of War. It hadn't been all that bad. In time, he had come to realise that the state of war in the mortal world was inextricably tied to his own being. Mortal wars were all the longer, more brutal and bloodier the more he immersed himself in the hate and bloodlust that was now such an integral part of his nature. Most of the time he took very seriously his role in the universal scheme of things, and maintained a self-imposed commitment to personal responsibility for order in the making of war, although he had no qualms about what he viewed as his job. As much as he looked on mortals with impatient annoyance, he realised that if they engaged in unrelenting, unrestrained warfare, there would soon be no mortals left for the gods to rule.
He was philosophical about his lapses when they occurred; mortals suffered, of course, for when the God of War lost control of his temper, simply lost control, or gave in to the bloodlust within him, wars did rage out of hand. Nevertheless, he did try to contain his rage and savagery, but in time, the mortal world came to hate and fear him. Ares shrugged and told himself they were worthless anyway. He was, after all, one of the Twelve Enthroned Olympians, and the opinions of mortals carried no weight at all with him.
His brother and sister Olympians regarded him now with something resembling repugnance. His overt darkness unsettled them, and he soon found that most of the august Olympian company went out of their way to avoid him. He shrugged that off too. He told himself their opinions didn't matter at all. He knew his father continued to watch him, and he therefore went out of his way to annoy Zeus. But somewhere deep inside the Olympian War God, buried deeply, there lived that once-smal godling who so desperately sought his parents' love, only to go unsatisfied. Not that he would ever have admitted it, but the coldness and disinterest of his parents had always hurt him, and when he was younger he had always tried very hard to please them.
Now, however, his hurt was transformed into anger. Zeus, Hera and the other gods soon learned that an angry Ares was a dangerous Ares. And most of them came to dislike him all the more for it. He watched them, and brooded. Inevitably, the mortal world suffered for his anger.
But if Ares stirred up hate and bloodlust in his pursuit of all things related to war, there was also another side to the picture - an aspect that he acknowledged deep within himself, and that pleased him greatly, for al that he would have denied it outwardly.
If war was pain and suffering and bloodlust and hate, it was also equally courage, perseverance, adherence to duty and self-sacrifice. Zeus's dark son fostered these qualities in mortals no less than he did their opposites.
At some point in those dimly-remembered long-ago times, oppressed women looked up from their drudgery, a new awareness filling their tired eyes. In an act that could almost have been spontaneous, many women throughout the known world threw off the chains of their oppressors and marched forth to found new cities - and a new nation. And in a far-away mountainous region, in a place that would come to be impervious to assault, a new city was founded - Themiskyra. It was the first and ancient home of the Amazon nation.
Artemis came to be revered as the Goddess of the Amazons, but they sprang equally from Ares' fierce warrior's spirit. The wild, fierce Amazon spirit was born of both a godly sire and a dam.
Ares, as did Artemis, took a special interest in these warrior women, personally training many of the most promising among them throughout the centuries. He took a fierce pride in their warlike nature - a nature that made them feared throughout the world and which freed them from the tyranny of men. They became his favourites among the mortals.
Over time, Ares warmed to his role. As the eons passed, his name became a byword for cruelty and brutality. If parents wanted to instill fear in misbehaving young ones, they only had to mention his very name. He gloried in it. He did many things that would have made others - even among the gods - ashamed. If he had been honest with himself, he would have acknowledged that somewhere deep inside him, shame was crucifying his godly heart. Unwilling, however to face it, he viciously stamped it into submission, allowing anger to over-ride it. All the wasted early years of trying to please his father and to somehow gain his approval combined to fuel the deep rage within him. He gave it free rein. As his father and the other gods looked on in disgust and repugnance, he went out of his way to disgust them even further. If he couldn't have their approval, he at least could make them well and truly wary of him, and of the power he wielded as one of the Twelve.
Now, however, in his fevered dreams, his mind saw all that he had done with vivid, hideous, overwhelming clarity.
And Ares wept.
Hercules, preoccupied with his increasing difficulty in breathing, turned a startled glance towards his brother. His eyes widened. Tears were pouring out from under the long lashes fanning the handsome face.
For a long moment, the demigod sat still staring at his sibling, unsure of what he could or should do. Then, slowly, carefully, he rested a hand gently on the shoulder of the unaware, quietly sobbing man beside him. It felt strange, after all the years of mutual hatred, to feel softer feelings for his half-brother. His own gentle heart cringed when he thought back over all he had heard during Ares' delirious raving. And his anger with his father grew. With his hand still resting on his dark brother's shoulder, he laid his head back aganst the stone behind them, and wearily closed his eyes. He didn't think things would really change between the two of them, but in future he would view the dark Lord of War through eyes that were a little more aware and understanding.
There were white spots dancing behind his eyelids now - the effects of lack of air, he thought. It was hard to concentrate now too.
Some time later, a slight movement from the man beside him brought his eyes open. Ares was awake. Awareness slowly filled the dark eyes, and he frowned, turning to look down at the hand still resting on his shoulder. For a moment he was silent, watching that hand with bemused eyes. Then he turned slowly to Hercules, one dark brow raised.
"Care to remove that hand?" He enquired sardonically, his voice hoarse.
Ares' fever had broken.
Hercules hastily removed the offending object, but didn't otherwise move.
"Getting really hard to breathe in here," commented Ares tiredly, his own breathing laboured.
The golden-haired son of Zeus nodded, wiping away the perspiration that was running down his face. "Yep."
"If your little buddy and my Amazons don't get here soon, we're history."
Hercules shrugged. They'll be here." He sighed. "And they're not your Amazons," he added.
The God of War smiled slightly. "You'd so love it if that wasn't true, wouldn't you?"
"It is true. They don't belong to you, Ares," Hercules told him, struggling to draw breath.
"You never give an inch, do you?" Ares rasped softly, then coughed, wiping his face with a limp, shaking hand.
Hercules laughed softly. "Neither do you."
"True." Ares turned to view the half-brother he had hated almost from the day of his birth.
"Tell me, has Zeus's protection order really improved your quality of life? I'm really curious," he said, for once meaning it.
The demigod son of Zeus sighed. "What? With you, Hera and the other gods around to make my life a misery. You've got to be joking, Ares," he said quietly, closing his eyes.
"I would have been better off without any help at all from Zeus," he said aloud, more to himself than to Ares. "He was never around when I was growing up. He never lifted a finger when Hera destroyed my family. He never saved Serena..." He stopped, knowing that to go down that particular path would only serve to re-open already-deep wounds.
Ares nodded slowly, closing his own eyes to ease the vicious dizziness that was making him feel nauseous. "Ok. I'll grant you that," he said, surprising Hercules. "But at least he cared for you."
The sadness in the dark man's tone was haunting. Hercules didn't know what to say, so for several minutes there was silence in the cavern, except for the laboured breathing of both its prisoners.
"Yeah, I guess that's why he was always around when I was growing up," Hercules finally replied, the bitter sarcasm heavy in his voice.
"He's never around for anyone," came Ares' reply. "He'd like nothing more than to see me die in here," he added with cold, pragmatic certainty.
Hercules shrugged. "Well, indifference isn't much better, I can tell you that." He laughed softly, then coughed when he couldn't get enough air for a moment. "Who would have thought we'd ever actually agree on something. Just amazing." He shook his head in ironic disbelief.
In spite of himself, Ares found himself smiling slightly at the irony of it all too. He grunted an affirmative reply of sorts. "If that irritating little twerp who follows you around and the Amazons don't hurry, they'll be carrying out a pair of corpses," he complained softly. 'I never thought I'd be willing to permanently give up my godhood for one mouthful of water," he added.
"Well I wouldn't give up on them yet. They're probably outside right now, and already digging us out."
Ares winced as pain shot up his leg. "Ever the optimist. It's one of the many things I so love about you."
And for some reason, they both laughed quietly.
A flash of bright light filled the cavern.
Hercules looked up dazedly, while Ares opened heavy-lidded eyes. A tall, strikingly beautiful dark-haired goddess stood before them. She wore a robe of brilliant white, with a shawl of light material of the same colour covering her head.
"Hercules. Ares," greeted Hestia.
"Come to watch us die, have you Hestia?" Queried Ares nastily.
The Goddess of the Hearth smiled. "No. Because neither of you will die. You're right Hercules, Iolaus and the Amazons are right at this moment digging their way through to you. It shouldn't be much longer, and you'll both be free - and forgiven," she told them, still smiling gently.
"I don't suppose you'd have any water with you?" Ares asked her, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice.
She shook her head slowly. "I'm afraid not. This punishment must continue until you're freed. That was Zeus's proviso, not mine. But I do have something for you, Ares," she revealed.
Dark eyes gazed up at her out of a face set in a frown. If she didn't have water, then she had nothing he wanted just then.
"When you've regained your godhood, you may take the Hearthstone and use it as you had originally intended," she told him.
"Oh goodie," Ares retorted. "Thank you for making my day."
She ignored him, although the warm, tolerant smile stayed in place.
Hercules wearily pushed now-lank hair off his sweating face. "Tell me, Hestia, couldn't you just free us yourself?"
The Goddess of the Hearth nodded. "Yes, I could," she replied without hesitation.
"Then why won't you? It'll be hours before the Amazons and Iolaus get in here," he demanded in frustration.
For a long moment, the dark-haired goddess didn't respond as her beautiful eyes moved slowly over both the men before her.
"Perhaps, this particular...'punishment'...is not so much about punishing you both," she told them quietly. "I'm not Goddess of the Hearth - and therefore of peace in families - for nothing. ...Think about it," she bade them both with a gentle smile, just before she vanished.
"Oh well that's just great," sneered Ares softly. "She expects us to walk out of here a pair of pals. The woman is obviously seriously deluded if she thinks that's gonna happen."
Hercules had to agree, although he said nothing out loud for several minutes.
He idly picked up some soil from the cave floor, watching with detached interest as it trickled through his slightly open fingers. "You know, I can't remember a time when you weren't out to destroy me, or when I didn't hate you." He frowned. For some reason, that saddened him.
Ares was, at that particular moment, immersed in struggling for air. Eventually, he turned a tired, irritated face to his brother. "What did you expect? That I would welcome you with open arms? No matter what you think, Zeus did care for you - more than he ever did for me." he swallowed, ignoring the unaccustomed pain that surged through him, and which seemed to be centered on his heart. He shook his head. "Right from the time you were born, Zeus couldn't shut up about his blue-eyed baby boy. And you weren't even a full god at that! Yeah, Like I was really gonna warm to you, bro'."
His half-brother turned opalescent blue eyes to him. "I was never a threat to you, Ares. I'm sorry he wasn't a better father to you. But really, he was no better to me either. We both lost out. Maybe if things had been different..." He stopped abruptly. Oh no, Hercules told himself, we are definitely not going down that path. He sighed, leaning his head back against the stone behind them. "I'm sorry things were the way they were," he said softly.
Ares considered that. Then he turned, and dark eyes gazed into blue ones. "So am I," he whispered distinctly.
Hercules stared, stunned, into dark eyes that were for once free of guile or anger. In the long, drawn-out silence, something passed between the two brothers, one dark, one fair. Shaken and surprised, their eyes fell away from each other. Whatever the future would bring, a small, tenuous bond had been forged between them in that moment. It surprised Hercules as much as it unnerved his brother.
It was then they heard the indistinct voices.
There were, as yet, too many rocks to be removed for the cavern's two prisoners to be able to clearly discern what was being called from behind the barrier of stone, and in any case, they were both too weak to put any force into replying. Instead, they were forced to wait patiently as the voices and sounds of digging came steadily closer.
"You know, if they don't have any water with them, I'm going to be seriously annoyed," commented Ares, as they both kept expectant eyes focussed on the wall of fallen rocks, as if will alone could remove the barrier between them and freedom.
His half-brother nodded slowly, tiredly. "Can't say I disagree with that. They'll have water, don't worry," he said with certainty, and not a small degree of longing of his own.
The voices were more distinct now. Their rescuers could only be feet away from breaking through.
"Herc?"
The golden-haired son of Zeus's eyes flashed open. Iolaus. He'd never been so glad to hear his friend's voice in his entire life.
"In here Iolaus! Hurry!" he tried to make his voice project, but he didn't have the strength to make it go far. He looked sideways - and was thoroughly alarmed. Ares' head had rolled back against the stone behind them. His eyes were closed and each breath was terribly laboured. Hercules feared for him. He turned back to the cave-in, desperately gathering strength for one last try.
"Hurry! Ares is in trouble! Get in here!"
On the other side of the barrier, everyone stilled. Iolaus's stunned eyes automatically flew to Klio and Kendaa. Then, almost as if on a signal, the exhausted rescuers redoubled their efforts, throwing themselves again and again at the wall of rocks and clawing and pulling them away as quickly s they could. Klio didn't even notice her battered and bloodied hands as she dragged yet another rock away to the side of the tunnel. Kendaa's hands were a mirror image of those of the daughter of Ares, as were most of the hands working to free the two men.
Then, so suddenly that it seemed almost impossible, there appeared a slight glow through one of the spaces between two stones.
"We're almost in!" Cried Laurissa, using every ounce of strength she possessed to tear at yet another rock.
And then, there was a small hole. Iolaus climbed gingerly up onto the remaining rocks to peer into the cavern. In the soft glow from the Hearthstone he saw a sight he never dreamed he would see; Hercules and Ares were sitting side by side, both with their eyes closed now, their breathing terribly laboured. Ares' unaware form was resting against his brother. Iolaus swallowed. They both appeared to be in big trouble.
"Herc? Hercules??" He called out, careful not to cause any further rockslides. There was no response.
Fearfully, he climbed down.
"Come on! We've got to get in there NOW!" He ground out grimly.
In a matter of minutes, a hole was cleared that was large enough for several of the rescuers to crawl through.
Iolaus went first, followed in quick succession by Kendaa, Klio, Laurissa, Calee, Calico, Bwell and Chantal, while the others remained behind to work on widening the opening.
Once inside, Iolaus and several of the Amazons made for Hercules, while Kendaa, Klio and Laurissa made for Ares.
Gently the two men were moved apart so they could be ministered to.
Klio sat on the earth floor of the cavern and pulled her father against her, while Kendaa knelt beside him, holding a full skin of water against his mouth and trying to get him to drink.
On the other side of the cavern, Calee and Iolaus were performing the same task for Hercules.
After several minutes of the water dribbling out of the side of Ares' slack mouth, Kendaa glared angrily at the erstwhile god. "Damn it Ares, don't you do this to me! DRINK, damn it!" The water slowly started trickling into his mouth.
His eyes were still closed as he drank, and once he seemed to have had a generous drink, she pulled back slightly, looking down with a frown on her face, while Klio gently brushed the unruly, damp dark locks away from the still over-hot face.
"You are the best thing I've seen in centuries," the familiar, if somewhat hoarse and weakened voice remarked quietly.
"What? Me or the water skin?" The half-dryad asked dryly, trying to keep her voice calm and even.
Dark eyes gazed blearily up at her. "In this instance, definitely the water skin."
In spite of herself, the tall blonde Amazon laughed quietly.
Klio was frowning. "Why did you do it, father? Knowing the consequences."
Ares' eyes pleaded with Kendaa for more water. She obliged and for a few moments he was silent, drawing the liquid into his parched system. He indicated he wanted to sit up, and Klio and Kendaa helped him back into his former position leaning against the stone.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he muttered quietly, sounding offended. Therese had since left Hercules and was now inspecting his leg. He winced as her probing fingers gently eased the blood-soaked bandage away.
"If you must know, I was borrowing it. Only Hercules showed up and we had a...disagreement, and the cave fell in," he told his daughter through gritted teeth.
Ares' daughter, however, was having a hard time believing that. "And I suppose that's why you lost your powers...because you were trying to do the right thing for once."
"He's telling the truth, Klio," Hercules told her, taking her, Laurissa and Kendaa by surprise.
They all stared, unsure of what to say, while Therese took the water skin from Kendaa and poured water over the angry wound.
Ares, however, was finding that the water he had consumed was doing wonders for him. "Oh don't look so surprised. It's not like my name's Autolycus. I DO have a sense of responsibility, and I need the Hearthstone. Hestia is lending it to me, once I get my powers back."
That was a cue for the rescuers to assist the two men to their feet, where they both stood, wavering with fatigue.
For a long moment there was silence in the cavern, as if all present were unsure of how to proceed. Hercules looked at his half-brother, who was standing with the aid of Klio, Kendaa and Laurissa. He looked terrible, Hercules thought. He smiled slightly.
Ares caught the smile and inclined his head tiredly. "We'll have to do this again some time - it's been...illuminating," he told his sibling quietly.
As Iolaus and the Amazons looked on curiously, Hercules laughed softly. "Yeah. Yeah, it has. But once was enough," he retorted quietly.
The tall dark man smiled slightly in response, and nodded his head. "Oh yeah." The two words contained a wealth of meaning evident only to the two of them.
With a decisive step, Calee moved to stand in front of Hercules. She reached out and warmly clasped his large hand between both of hers.
"I forgive you," she told him, smiling softly, before reaching up and gently kissing him on the cheek.
The change was instantaneous. He seemed to shrug off a lot of his fatigue and stand more firmly upright, for all that he still looked very much exhausted. He pulled Calee to him and enveloped her in a warm hug.
Across the cavern, several others stood uncertainly around the God of War, not entirely sure of how to approach him. Ares wasn't helping matters by wearing an expression that was at once remote and forbidding. Yet, for all his apparent disinterest, Kendaa could sense a most extraordinary depth of pain within him. She took a deep breath and stepped in front of him, preparing to say the words that would give him back his godhood. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, Ares forestalled her.
"It can't be you," he muttered in a low voice, taking her completely by surprise.
She frowned, shaking her head in confusion.
"You're not fully mortal," he explained tensely.
The half-dryad's mouth fell open, as she gazed into his eyes. He gazed back, his own eyes revealing nothing. And she wondered.
Klio moved around to confront him. "Well I guess it'll have to be me, then."
Kendaa looked askance at her in surprise, but Klio's face was unreadable. "Are you sure?" She asked quietly, earning a furious glare from Ares which she disregarded in her concern for her sister Amazon. She knew the sketchy details of what Ares had done to his daughter, and it was enough for her to ask the question.
Klio paused for a moment, looking up into her father's face, but instead reliving in her mind the scene, long ago now, when she had tried to force him to annihilate her. His rage at her intrasigence had been terrible, and he had been anything but gentle when he had torn her immortality out of her. Could she forgive him that? She drew a deep breath, the scene fading from her mind, to be replaced by her father's dark, hypnotic eyes.
She looked away for a moment. Somehow, in spite of what he had done to her, her feelings towards her father weren't clear-cut. They confused her. Where she might have expected to find hatred in her heart, she found something she had never entirely owned. But she knew now it wasn't hate. Her eyes returned to him, and she smiled slightly, wryly. "Yes, I'm sure."
Reaching out, she touched him lightly on his arm. "I forgive you, father," she told him quietly, her own eyes moist for some reason. For a curious instant father and daughter looked at each other as if the rest of the world had disappeared, and then Ares was once more himself; the tall, dark, immortal and immaculately-groomed God of War.
He didn't waste any time. He moved with pantherish grace towards the Hearthstone and gathered it carefully into his hands. Turning back to the other occupants of the cavern, he smiled slightly.
"Until later, brother," he told Hercules with a slight inclination of his head.
"You can count on it," Hercules replied. But there was a perplexing lack of animosity in the brief exchange that surprised Iolaus and the Amazons. For a brief instant it was as if something indefinable passed between the two half-brothers, and then Ares disappeared and the world righted itself.
Laurissa sighed, shaking her head. "'Thank you' mustn't be part of his vocabulary, I guess," she said, smiling slightly.
But just as they were all turning to leave the cave, a voice growled out of nowhere.
"Thank you."
They all laughed as they exited the cave that had almost become a tomb.
Once outside, the Amazons gathered up their tools and prepared to lead the way back to their City. Kendaa was standing to one side, after collecting a pick and an iron bar and was hefting them over her shoulder when Hercules aproached her.
"Kendaa, I..." He hesitated, unsure of what to say.
The tall Amazon raised a brow in query.
Her friend nodded slightly to himself. "I just wanted to tell you - you and Ares..."
The half-dryad waited, silent.
"I was wrong," he finished, his blue eyes gazing into forest-green eyes and communicating far more than his words ever could.
After a moment, she smiled slightly, and reached out to lay her free hand gently on Hercules' shoulder. "I know," she told him quietly, before moving around him to join her sisters for the return trek to the city.
As Iolaus and Hercules brought up the rear, Iolaus glanced up at his friend. "That was close. So, what happened in there between the two of you while you were trapped? It must have been awful being stuck in there with Ares."
Hercules gazed absently into space for a moment before answering with a smile.
"Iolaus, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Come on, I heard the Amazons say they're going to provide us with a good meal when we get to the City."
The golden hunter laughed, distracted, as Hercules had hoped he would be, and they began their descent down to the plains.
From a place unknown to mortals, Ares watched Hercules, Iolaus and the Amazons begin their journey back to the City of Amazons. They would all have been shocked to see the naked haunted, yearning look in the beautiful eyes. For an instant, Ares' face was transformed into a mask of unbearable anguish as he watched his brother, his daughter and his lover laughing and talking together as they moved tiredly off. He closed his eyes for an instant as long-supressed pain tore through him with all the unstoppable power of a tidal wave.
With a supreme act of will, he viciously tore himself out of the centre of the maelstrom that was consuming him. When his eyes opened again, his face bore its customary severe, cold appearance.
The God of War turned and walked into the ether - as always, a solitary figure.