Heir to Wickedness

Title: Heir to Wickedness
Author: Usia
Email: page-m@t...
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
Notes: Now Edited!
Title: Heir to Wickedness (1/?)
Author: Usia
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 Hades, who quietly removed a small mirror from his robes. The entire group stiffened slightly at this, for this small mirror was one that showed the last moment of a soul before death. 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, Hades once again intervened.
"We have more pressing problems than assigning blame and punishing the brat," Hades said in a voice that could cut steel. All were aghast at this statement, and the room immediately became as quiet as before. Hades 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 house of debauchery." At this all eyes moved to the trio, all of whom nodded quickly.
Zeus spoke next "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 a God or a demi-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 godhoods 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. Zeus knows it took me a long time and Unc 'n Mom had to spend sometime cleanin the mess I made during that quake," 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.
Hermes had taken it upon himself to inform the gods as they arrived of the death of on of their own. He could not answer many of their questions, but everyone knew who had caused the death, and thoughts of vengeance were mixed with the fear and sorrow in the air. One by one, the gods of the various houses of the Gods entered into Bacchus' temple, to pay 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, Ares took charge, fulfilling his role as heir during the temporary incapacity of Zeus.
"We're gonna try to do this in a quick and thorough manner. Anyone who is not already the head of a house will go one at a time before the altar, send their 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 Ares' words and he beckoned the nearest god to the altar to begin. Hephaistos blanched, but did as his brother 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 god 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 Ares, 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 Ares was projecting an aura of peace and security around the godling. 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 Ares had said would accompany the chosen one's touch. He blew out a small sigh of relief and went down to collect his son.
Ares 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 why Bliss should not even be considered a candidate for the godhood, but it appeared that Bliss had already been dismissed from that posssibility. He gave the Ares 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 of fate 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. Was 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.
Heir to Wickedness 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 father.
On leaving the room, Ares found his father, but Zeus was sleeping deeply and he was loathe to wake the exhausted God when he was resting. Ares took a couple of steps, then collapsed into a chair. A few moments later, Hades entered the room. Of all the Gods, Hades looked the best as his realm had been unaffected by the torrents of power that were warping the world. So evne though he had expended large amounts of energy, he was able to recover to the point that he still looked regal. Hades didn't speak, but he quirked an eyebrow at his nephew and Ares was quick to report the success he had had in aiding Strife to get more conscious controll over his power. A look of relief crossed his face, 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," Hades said. "I need to go and finish my duties to my newest resident. You can rest for a while, it'll be some time before he is awake again." Hades gave Ares a final nod before standing and flashing out of the room.
{I hope so too, uncle} Ares thought as he slowly wove his way to a couch along the wall to sleep for a little while before aiding Strife again.
Heir to Wickedness part 7
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.
Heir to Wickedness part 8
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 tension 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.
Zeus, who had been bare seconds behind his son, had initially gone to Cupid, hoping to snap him out of his shock and find out what had happened. With his sons' abrupt departure from the room, he too had gone to Strife to try to calm him, but with his powers at such a low ebb, he too had been flung across the room, though not as hard as Ares. He slumped at the bottom of the wall where he had been flung, too dazed to even consider his 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 father's pain filled voice behind him, "You didn't kill him Cupid.... He's alive...."
At Zeus' 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 father lay and gently helped him up. In a show of more affection than any who had seen them interact in public with, Zeus not only allowed this, but leaned into the contact with Ares. They slowly went back across the room and Ares eased him 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 he 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 and check on Olympus." 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, Zeus 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, Zeus turned to Cupid, who was again crying and nervously fidgeting next to him. "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?"
Zeus smiled gently at the phrasing of Cupid's simple sentences, the emotions painfully clear for him to see, even though he 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. Zeus closed his eyes, but opened them when he realized that the glow next to him had stopped. He turned his head and looked at the his son.
"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.
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