The Love of War

DISCLAIMER: I don't profit from my writing. (Sigh.) I don't own these characters. I'm writing for all other naughty minded Hercules/Xena fans. The characters belong to Renaissance Pictures. If I owned them, there would be a lot more Cupid smut. He looks too good in tight leather even if the actor looks better with dark hair rather than a bleach job.

WARNING: This is the alternate universe where Iolas is a bumbling fool for the Sovereign rather than the suave, sexy hunter who kicks ass and the only sword that Xena uses has nothing to do with forged metal.

The Love of War; Chapter 2


"It has to be one of our boys?" Ares asked, his voice getting higher.

"Yes, it has to be one of the sons of Love and Marriage." Aphrodite said as firmly as Lachesis had when the Measurer of life had explained it to her.

"But why Cupid?" The God of Love asked, amazed. "He's just so-so...."

"Stubborn? Bullheaded as a tribe of Minotaurs?" She suggested.

"Yes!"

"Like his father?" She said with a direct look at her former lover.

"I'm not that bad." He grumbled.

"He got it from one of us, dear, and it wasn't me. You are just as bad when it's something you want." The gods had coined the phrase 'Love's a bitch' because Ares could be the biggest bitch on Olympus when he was denied something.

"But still, Cupid? Why not the twins? Demos and Phobos would definitely be up for mortal seducing." Passion and Pleasure were always diddling mortals. Ares and Aphrodite had more half mortal grandchildren than the rest of the pantheon combined because of those two.

"The Fates showed her thread to me Ares. The twins are just too...soft for her. I love those boys dearly, but they are definitely not alpha males. The Fates said that it would have to be one that could hold her interest beyond a night's pleasure. One that would show her loyalty and gain hers in return. And as much as I love Phobos and Demos, they aren't the most constant of lovers once they get what they want."

Ares stiffened. "Not one of their lovers has ever gone away unsatisfied." His tone said that he was a little insulted to think that he hadn't trained their sons in proper lover's etiquette.

"That's not what I mean, brother. You're right. I've seen a whole temple full of people leave our boys, barely being able to walk and with grins on their faces for weeks afterwards." She rolled her eyes. How had those two shameless hustlers had come from her? "But they just won't do for this one."

"Anteros? Aether?" Ares asked, desperately.

"Once you get a look at her aura, you'll see what I mean." She assured him.

"It isn't just his normal bad attitude, sis. When Psyche abandoned him and their son after she attained godhood, he got a little ticked." A complete understatement. His temple had looked like the Titans had kicked it over and if not for his baby; Cupid wouldn't have torn himself from creating bloodbaths for years.

Aphrodite grimaced in agreement. The whole incident still left a bad taste in her mouth. Her grandson's mother was someone she'd just as soon forget, if possible. Psyche had given Cupid their son, Bliss, though. He was the one good thing that had come from that union. Cupid absolutely adored his baby boy.

"He won't fall for another mortal easily." Ares had to concentrate to keep from frowning. He didn't want wrinkles.

"Psyche appealed to him because of the bloodlust they shared. This one doesn't have that darkness in her." She explained.

"No?"

"No. She has a whole different kind of darkness in her." The Queen of Olympus sighed.


Jessie opened eyes to dappled sunlight and a hard root digging into her back. She lay at the foot of a large tree and she was surrounded by waving grass that didn't grow in the desert. She took a deep breath and tried to decide whether or not to get up. Looking around would be a good thing, but she was still feeling dizzy. A few more breaths told her that the air was a lot fresher than she was used to. She looked around without moving her head too much. She was propped against one of the larger roots of the tree, her cherry cheese Danish and triple fudge cream- cheese brownie lay on a cloth napkin next to her and she couldn't see any cars, roads or houses.

Slowly, giving herself plenty of time to get over the dizziness, she sat up. There seemed to be a dirt track a little ways to her right. She'd head over there in a few minutes. Right now, she didn't feel like moving. She reached over and plucked the brownie off the napkin. Whatever was happening, it didn't make sense to face it on an empty stomach. Toula's baking was not going to waste.

As the chocolate decadence melted on her tongue, she pondered her situation. It was plain that she wasn't in Vegas anymore. The kind of lush plants around her didn't grow in a desert and she couldn't see the mountains that ringed the valley. In fact, she didn't recognize most of the plants. She also couldn't smell any exhaust or see any exhaust trails in the sky from passing planes. Her keys were still in her pocket with her multitool. She frowned and patted her other pocket where she felt something. She fished around with one hand while balancing the brownie with the other. Waste not, want not. The lump in her pocket proved to be her small stick of lip balm. How had that got there? She didn't remember picking it up this morning. Then her mind zeroed in on the obvious: how had she got here and why?

She moved her head cautiously and felt no residual dizziness. She sat up more fully and got a more complete look around. No tracks. She took another bite of brownie. She hadn't got any weird premonitions this morning. There had been no little churn in her guts to warn her of something coming. She also couldn't have been unconscious for long because there hadn't been any interested insects around her breakfast. She popped the last bit of brownie into her mouth and looked around hopefully. Damn. No coffee. Toula's coffee would have been wonderful about now.

Jessie pushed herself up and onto her feet. She collected the remainder of her breakfast and headed over to the track. The more she looked around, the more familiar area seemed. Where had she seen this before? The answer was teasing the back of her brain like a feather on the back of her neck. She just couldn't grab onto it.

The track now lay at her feet. It was just a little wide to be just a path and a little small to be a road. Hmmnn. Right or left? She shrugged; it didn't seem to matter either way since she had no idea where she was. The track off to the right seemed to have better shade and since she didn't have any sunscreen for her pale, Irish skin that probably was the best choice. She knotted the napkin around her Danish, slicked on some SPF 15 lip balm, and set off.

The two Olympian parents looked at the woman in the scrying mirror. Ares was still uncertain that this was a good idea, but when the Fates handed down a prophecy, it wasn't good to ignore it. He considered the mortal walking in dappled sunlight. Nice. She had beautiful curls and the graceful movement of a dancer. Her excellent figure was shown off by her strange clothes. A bit busty and good hips too. They could bear children well. Her pale skin went very well with that dark chestnut hair. He felt his interest stir as well as other parts of his anatomy.

"Look at her aura before you start drooling." Aphrodite cut into his burgeoning arousal. She recognized the look on her former lover's face.

He slanted her a look, but obediently let his eyes focus on a different level. His breath hissed out at what he saw. The bulk of her aura was a rich purple with streaks of dark maroon that hinted at her bent toward the darker side of eroticsm. Her aura bled blue around her heart, telling of her intense loyalty to the people she cared about. The black around her hands said that she wouldn't be afraid to kill if someone she loved was threatened. The sheer intensity of the colors told of a very powerful mortal. Usually, such rich shades were reserved for demigods, but she didn't have the feel of someone sired by a god. His erection wilted. Ouch, this one could be a problem.

He blinked his sight back to normal and turned to his sister. He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going to ruin his complexion, he just knew it.

"You're right. This chick is so not for the twins. Persephone would just love her." His cousin, the Goddess of Dark Magic loved women like this one. The fact that she was married to Hades, God of the Sun and was completely devoted to him was the result of a massive amount of scheming and planning on Ares' part. His uncle thanked him for it every time the two gods met.

"I'm still not sure about this 'Dite." Ares had been trying to pair his eldest with Erin, the God of Joy for a long time and the God of Love was unwilling to put his plans aside just yet.

"Cupid is the only one of our sons that will appeal to her. It has to be him." The Queen of Olympus knew that the god next to her was trying to pair their nephew and son together. After all, she was the patroness of marriage. And Ares wasn't being very subtle about it, but Cupid and Erin were just blind to anything regarding their feelings.

"Well, I suppose that I could just whammy the two of them." Ares mused. "All it would take would be getting Cupid and the girl in the same room."

"No. We can't use our powers to directly interfere." Aphrodite let that choice piece of information trip off her tongue with a sour look.

"Great. Just, great." Ares scowled. "They don't make it easy. I hope that the Fates know what they are doing."

"Me, too, Ares. Me, too." Aphrodite sighed. She looked back into the mirror at the unsuspecting mortal. So much rided on such a frail being.



Jessie walked along the track, hoping that she would come across some water soon. The helpful individual who had left her the two pastries had neglected to leave any liquid. The day wasn't too hot, but the track was now going uphill and getting rocky, so she was getting thirsty.

Towards the top of the hill, the trees began to thin. At the top, Jessie could see the surrounding countryside. What looked to be a stone temple was a little ways off, but where the track was going. A temple might mean water, she considered. It also might have some pamphlets on where she was. She started down the hill towards it.

She stepped carefully. The ground was still uneven. As she passed a clump of trees, she got the feeling that she was not longer alone.

She turned to see three burly men in crappy armor lounging under the trees. Again, there was the feeling of familiarity, but no complete recognition. She did recognize the look of predatory lust on their faces as they looked at her, though. They got to their feet and exchanged looks of anticipation. Not good.

"Well, look at what we have here." His twisted smile revealed a lack of interest in tooth care.

"Pretty bit, isn't she?" The second man remarked, licking his lips.

"And all alone, too." The third grinned nastily. All three of them looked as though bathing was not a part of their daily routine. They also didn't look as though they were doing a skit. The language they were speaking wasn't English, but she could still understand it, which was odd. She didn't pick up new languages easily. Four years of Spanish during high school and she could still barely order in restaurants.

They started towards her, their intent plain. Jessie looked around. Ah, hell. The ground was too uneven to fight on. She could slip and why make it easier for them? She turned and ran towards the temple. Even if there was nobody there, the ground should be even around it.

There was a bray of laughter behind her and she could hear the sounds of pursuit. As she sped downhill, she took care to keep her breathing even. She should have an advantage, since she wasn't burdened with armor. Jessie also thanked which ever benevolent deity inspired her to add running as a part of her workout.

As Jessie entered the courtyard, she saw through the massive open doors that there were weapons hanging in the temple and there didn't seem to be anyone there. She hesitated an instant and made her choice. Weapons or open ground? Weapons. Weapons were good. She pounded up the stairs and through the entrance. She took another instant to choose from the startling amount of weapons hanging on the walls. Maybe they were alarmed and someone could help. She grabbed a throwing ax and a broadsword off the wall. No alarms rang. Damn. She wasn't going to get any help. She turned to the entrance just as the first of her attackers came through.

The ax flew from her hand and buried itself in his forehead. He looked surprised for an instant before he dropped to the floor. Jessie was already moving forward. She jumped kicked the next one. Her heel crashed into his esophagus and he fell, desperately trying to pull in air through his crushed windpipe. The last one managed to slide to the right and out of her line of sight as she recovered her balance sent her sword gliding after him. He jumped out of the way, clawing for his own weapon. Jessie knew that she had to keep the initiative if she was going to come through this. She sent her blade slashing for his eyes. He ducked and stumbled on his flopping friend who was still trying for a breath that wouldn't come. She spun a kick to send him all of the way to the floor and felt the heel of her sandal connect with his crappy breastplate.

She would later wonder why she didn't hesitate when he went down. Or why her world had narrowed to the slight bit of throat showing under his chinstrap. She would wonder about how easily the blade curved down and there was a deep line of red showing against his dirty throat and surprise in his eyes. She would later wonder, but not now. Her eyes were cool as she watched him choke on his own blood.

"What? You thought I was easy meat?" Fury lit his eyes for a second, yes; he had thought she would be easy. Then his eyes started to dull as his life drained onto the floor. He was dead.

Jessie heard a sound behind her and whirled to meet it. An old man in what looked to be priest's robes held a knocked bow and arrow in his arthritic hands. His face and arms bore the scars of a lifetime of battles and though it must have been very painful, his hands were steady on the bow. Adrenalin was spiking in her blood as she waited to see what he would do. She was pretty sure that she could dodge an arrow if she had to. But there wasn't any need, he lowered the bow and put the arrow back in its quiver. He stood the bow against the wall and walked toward her with both hands spread to show his intentions were good. She backed away, keeping a little distance between them. He went to the attacker with the crushed windpipe, took a knife from his belt, and dispatched the unfortunate with a professional stab behind the ear. He wiped the blade on the rapist's sleeve and stood. He turned slowly toward her, sheathing the knife.

"Peace, woman. I mean you no harm." His voice sounded like crushing gravel, but it was warm. Again, the words weren't English, but she could understand them.

"So, were you waiting to see who won, or were you going to help?"

"You didn't seem to need any help." He said with a contemptuous look at the dead men. He also wasn't having any problem understanding her. "You don't look like you are from around here." He nodded at her jeans and tank top.

"No, I'm not from around here. In fact, I don't even know where 'here' is." She said with another look around. The architecture teased her memory, like the countryside and armor. She also didn't hesitate about telling the old man that she was a stranger. There was something about him that told her that she could trust him. Jessie always followed her instincts. The few times that she hadn't, had not ended well.

"Well, you're in Greece, in the temple of Cupid, God of War."

Jessie froze and felt a light bulb go off in her memory. The countryside, the armor, the pseudo Greek architecture. Hooh, boy. She was in the Hercules/Xena universe. And if Cupid was the God of War, she was in the alternate Hercules/Xena universe. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Then, looking at the men that she had killed, she took slow, deep breaths to keep from throwing up.

The priest seemed to understand. He went outside for a moment, and came back with a small plant in his hands which he handed to her. It was a sprig of mint. She popped it into her mouth and chewed. Her nausea ebbed. Good. Throwing up would have been a waste of good brownie.

"You've never killed before." It wasn't a question.

She shook her head.

"You'd never know it." He nodded to the result of her first real battle.

Jessie didn't want to look at that just yet. She looked around, seeing other things that she had missed in her split second survey for weapons. Weapons hung all over. There were fresco paintings of battle, most featuring a tall, blonde warrior with wings. Black and red seemed to be the predominant colors. Then she looked at her feet where blood and feces were pooling. She sighed. It almost went with the rest of the decor, but not quite.

Wait a minute. Gods manifested physically a lot in this universe. Especially in their temples. Maybe a little clean up was in order?

She went over to the one with the ax in his forehead. She jerked it free and did what the priest had done, wiped it on the dead man's sleeve. The look of surprise creeped her out the closer she got to the body. Think of it as the body. Don't think of the fact that he had been alive not too long ago. Don't think of how warm the body still was. She replaced the ax on the hooks on the was, grabbed his ankles, and started dragging him towards the door.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked curiously.

"I may not follow War, but it seems disrespectful to leave them in here to stink up the place." She continued out the door.

She didn't see the pleased smile that graced the old man's face as he watched her drag the body out.

Crushed esophagus went next. Damn, they were heavy. And the armor was scraping the tiles, leaving long scratches leading out the door. Oh, well. Some things couldn't be helped.

"Can I help?" The priest asked as she took up the next set of ankles

She looked over and gauged the form of the old warrior. Arthritis had gotten his hands, but he still stood tall. She wouldn't mind some help, but these guy were very heavy.

"Yes, could you get me a bucket and mop?" She nodded at the bloody streaks where the bodies had been dragged through the pools of their own bodily waste. The priest's mouth opened and closed for a second, and then he shrugged, shook his head, and headed toward the back of the temple while Jessie dragged the last body out.

The helmet clunked down the steps. She had briefly considered just rolling them down, but reconsidered when she realized that that would just get more icky stuff on the temple steps. She grunted with the effort of keeping them from just rolling. Damn unwieldy bastards. Ah, well. It was her own fault for running into the temple to kill them.

The priest came out as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

"Where do you want them?" She asked. The bodies were in a pile at the foot of the steps. Blood and dirt were now coating all of them.

"Just put them over there, in the trees." He waved toward a clump of vegetation a little ways off. Jessie looked at the distance between the steps and the trees and she sighed. The old man correctly interpreted the sigh and said, "There is a cart around the back of the temple."

"Thanks." She walked around the temple to get it. It was like an oversized wheelbarrow. Perfect for body removal. She heaved one body after the other into the cart, panting with the effort and thankful for her workout routine again. She wheeled the bodies over to the trees and dumped them.

"Won't they start to stink after awhile? It isn't like they were too clean to begin with."

"The rest of the temple priests are away until tomorrow," he explained. "When they get back, we'll strip the bodies of anything you don't want and melt it down for reforging. Then, we'll put them in a communal grave. Why don't you see if they have anything you can use?"

"Loot the dead?" She asked dubiously.

"My dear, it isn't as though they were some great hero or an honest soldier, they were common thugs. They meant you harm and would have definitely done the same to you."

She thought about it for a moment, the she shrugged, conceding the point. She just wished that he had brought it up, or that she'd have thought of it before the bodies were coated in dirt and blood. Damn. Getting closer to the bodies was getting more and more gross. Their personal hygiene had really not been good. Then, there was the whole being dead thing. At least she hadn't gutted them. Jessie had a feeling that the smell would have been much worse if she had. She started breathing through her mouth and closed her nose.

Some money, a half way decent belt knife, nothing else. She wouldn't touch the clothes again to burn them. She paused for a moment, and then counted out enough of the money for the Charon, the Ferryman of the dead. Since the gods did manifest physically on this plane, the Ferryman wasn't just another myth. She laid a coin on each eye. Giving them the fare just seemed right. She straightened and arched her back, grimacing at what was now coating her hands. And, she was still thirsty.

"They wouldn't have done the same for you." The gravelly voice said behind her.

"I know. I didn't do it for them." The priest was now wearing the face of a professional soldier. Closed yet confident. Yet she could tell that her answer pleased him. She climbed the steps again and tip toed through the gory streaks. A bucket, a mop (she wondered if they had really had mops back then or if it was poetic license by the writers) and a steaming tankard lay just inside the door. She washed her hands in the soapy water and picked up the cup. A whiff from the top told her that it was mint tea. Ahh, her thoughtful companion had given her something to keep her stomach settled. She took a healthy swallow and looked around for her Danish. It was by the wall where her weapons had hung, far enough away not to be ruined by the fracas. Ah, good. It would have just capped her day to lose that pastry on top of everything else.

"Sir, I am probably going to need another bucket of water." She said after assessing the mess on the floor. He nodded and left the room. She cleaned the weapons first. After wiping them carefully, she rehung them in their places and started on the floor. Flies were started to buzz around, rising with almost angry sounds as she started to clean up. The first bucket of water got nasty very quick. The second one arrived and she went on with the chore. A third bucket came. Man, this was gross. A fourth bucket appeared. Finally, the floor and steps were clean. She didn't bother to clean the cart at that point. Someone else could do it.

"Sir-"

"My name is Demetrius and I insist that you join me for a meal. Not many who don't follow Cupid would bother to clean up after a battle and I'm curious to know how you got here."

"Yes, I am a little curious about that myself. I accept your invitation, but is there somewhere I can clean myself up? I don't want to eat like this." She gestured at her now filthy jeans and shirt.

"The baths are this way and I'll get you something to wear." They went deeper into the temple. Jessie paused to pick up her Danish. No way was she going to allow this tiny slice of decadence get away if she could help it. She followed Demetrius deeper into the temple, cradling the napkin in one hand.

The baths were more like a pool. A wonderful pool of hot water that steamed invitingly. Jessie set her Danish down on a bench and without looking at the man next to her, she stripped to her skin. If she remembered correctly, ancient baths in Greece weren't gender segregated. She saw a flash of male appreciation in the eyes of the old man and he blinked at the sight of her tattoo. A tribal raven spread her wings over Jessie's back. The raven had been her gift to herself after losing six dress sizes. She imagined that tattoos were not too common on women in this area. Then he turned and left the room to get her some clothing.

Jessie decided to take the Japanese approach to bathing. She scrubbed herself down outside the pools in a basin first. Then, after she was clean, she waded into the larger pool to soak. The water felt lovely. She sat in a bench that had been carved into the side and let the warm water soothe her muscles, if not her mind.

Reaction was setting in. Why hadn't she hesitated to kill that last man? He had been down; she could have just knocked him out. But that small bit of skin on his throat had seemed to get so big. Her hand had just seemed to come down on its own. Even when she had been sparring on the practice field with her Renaissance group, she hadn't gone for the throat like that. Then, she started to shake. She was a killer now. She had taken human life. Then she calmed. Why let it get to her? They were going to do the same to her after they raped her.