The Love of War

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Hercules/Xena universe. They belong to Renaissance Pictures. If I did own them, I have this naughty image of Joxer in tight leather pants, no shirt, and a spiked dog collar. Yummy.

WARNING: This is the alternate universe where Joxer didn't start out as a bumbling idiot that trips over his own feet and only gradually gets better. He is a badass here. Go, Joxer!

The Love of War, Part Six


It took Cupid two hours to bathe his son, tell a bedtime story, and get him to sleep. It was at times like this that he missed having someone else around the temple. Not that Psyche would have lent a hand, the selfish bitch.

What had he seen in her? Then the image of his ex-wife in black leather, licking blood off her hands popped into his head. Okay. He knew what he had seen in her. They would spend hours in battle and then adjoin to the nearest temple to fuck like bunnies on coffee berries.

Things had been okay until she got pregnant. Cupid had been thrilled, Psyche had pretended to be. It had seemed just a good idea to marry her. Then, as Bliss had grown inside her, they had been told by the Fates that their baby was to be a god, so Psyche had needed ambrosia to insure that Bliss would be born safe and strong. Unfortunately, giving ambrosia to the baby entailed giving it to his mother. After Bliss was born, Psyche had pretended to like being a mother long enough to insure her position as the new Goddess of Discord, then she dropped any pretense of maternal affection. She had left them and sought the Olympian version of a divorce, leaving Cupid with Bliss.

Cupid looked at his sleeping son with love. From the first time he had felt Bliss move inside of Psyche, he had been completely besotted with his son. Then, his baby boy had come into this world with his daddy's blond hair and snowy wings, and an expression of mischief already on his face and the God of War had turned into a puddle of goo. Luckily, there was very little of Psyche in Bliss, except for Bliss' blue eyes. Then again, he could have very well got those from Grandpa Ares and that was a much more palatable idea to the God of War than anything of his son coming from his treacherous mother. Oh, well. She had helped to make a beautiful child, even if she didn't want him.

Greagus padded into the room without being called. He put his massive head under his master's hand for petting, but being quiet enough not to wake the sleeping godling. Cupid obliged with some scratches behind the ears and under his chin, then the dog curled up on his rug by the bed. It was just as well that no one was here to see how soft the God of War was at home. He'd have to start a massacre just to keep his image.

He returned to the mirror and was just about to recall Jessie's image to it when a familiar scent came to his nose, death and perfume. He turned to see the object of his earlier musing lounging in a chair on the other side of the room. Psyche, Goddess of Discord.

Psyche was certainly beautiful enough to be a goddess. Her long, mink brown hair fell in soft waves around a face that almost rivaled his Aunt Eris for beauty with their high, defined cheekbones and lush mouth. Bloodlust lurked in those wide, crystal blue eyes and a familiar smirk twisted her lips. Her black armor encased her lush figure and not too long ago, it would have incited Cupid to instant lust. Not any more though. The thought of bedding the goddess before him left him cold and the mortal having dinner in his temple caused a hot rush of passion to flood between his legs. Jessie wasn't as gorgeous as Discord, but then again, she wasn't psychotic either.

"Hello, lover." She smirked.

"Not anymore." Was Cupid's curt reply.

"We could be." Her eyes started to smolder in invitation. The God of War cynically wondered what his ex-wife wanted. He didn't rise to her bait, verbally or in any other way. Frustration started to twist her mouth, but she banked it with a swiftness that spoke of her duplicity.

"Oh, come on darling, we still work well together."

"And that's the only thing we do together, anymore."

Psyche stretched luxuriantly under his gaze, arching her back and running her hands down her sides and over her breasts. Holding his eyes, she ran her tongue over her teeth. The sight did nothing for him; there wasn't as much as a twitch between his legs. He decided to really piss her off and let his indifference show in his eyes. When she saw the complete lack of lust or passion in his eyes, shock flickered and she snarled, rising swiftly to her feet. Then, she smoothed her expression again.

"We could do so much more." Her voice was husky.

"What do you want, Discord?" He called her by her godhood, not even giving her the intimacy of using her name.

"I just thought that you might be getting lonely, what with you being a single father and all and you are a very busy god." She accented the word in such a way as to remind of how busy they used to get in the bedroom. Bliss had been conceived in a sexual marathon after the Spartans beat the Persian army. Psyche was all but licking her lips in memory of their bedroom antics. Cupid was unmoved.

"I'm not your toy, to be picked up when you're bored. You want to get fucked? Go to one of your temples and get a priest. I'm sure you have them trained by now, if you haven't killed some of them with your more...exotic tastes." He grinned maliciously.

With a growl worthy of Greagus, she flashed out, setting fire to the chair. He smiled and repaired it with a thought. She never could hold her temper and one day, she'd finally do something that even his even tempered grandfather, Zeus, couldn't forgive, and then he'd be rid of her.

He returned to the mirror and brought Jessie's image back. She was removing the combs from her hair and braiding it for bed. He huffed in irritation; he really wanted to see her hair spread out on the pillows. Well, that pleasure could wait until he had her under him.

And it would be soon, very soon.

An image rose in his mind. *He was lying on a bed, wearing just his trousers, watching Jessie run a comb through her long, wet curls. She was wearing a red wrap robe and her skin was still glowing from her bath. The room was lit softly with lamps and it had an intimate feel. The scent of sandalwood and spice was coming off of her from the fragrant oils she had used. She met his eyes in the mirror and smiled teasingly, knowing that it was driving him crazy to be patient. But, he wanted to draw out the lazy feeling of possession, of knowing that the bewitching mortal was his to do with as he pleased. She tilted her head off to the side and made another pass with the comb. Her hair was so much longer when it was wet. The neck of the robe slipped and the barest bit of her tattoo showed. She didn't adjust the robe and tilted her head the other way to show the long line of her neck and accent the tip of her raven. She pulled the heavy mass of her hair forward and over her breast to brush the ends. She shuddered as the comb raked gently over her left nipple.

Cupid had enough. He took a deep breath and blew it across the room, and her hair was magically dry. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"There, you're done. Come here."

She obediently rose and came to him. He stood her between his legs and slowly untied the sash. He opened the robe by sliding his hands around her waist so he could cup her ass. He brought her forward and sat her down so she was straddling his legs, still framed by the robe. His lips found one of her nipples. He ran his tongue around it and raked it with his teeth. One of her hands came up to cradle his head while the other slid around to stroke the skin between his wings. He shuddered and pulled her tight against him. When she ran her fingers around the base of his wings and he felt like there was a direct line from that area to his cock. He growled and switched to the other breast, causing her to shudder herself. Then her hands were gone and her back was arching as someone else stripped the robe off of her. His eyes rose to meet those of Strife, God of Joy. The sappy love god had a feral look on his face as he leaned over Jessie's shoulder to give Cupid a long, enthusiastic kiss, sandwiching the woman between them. Strife's hands slid between Jessie and Cupid to stroke down Cupid's stomach to his cock, but he and Jessie were so close together that the other god managed to stroke both of them at the same time. Strife broke the kiss with Cupid to lean down and bite Jessie's neck while his hands pet Cupid's erection through the leather. The feeling was incredible as Jessie writhed between them.*

Cupid opened his eyes with a jolt. How had that happened? How had the God of Joy intruded on his fantasy with the mortal? And why did the thought of the two of them in his bed seem so natural?

Damn. He had another hardon.

Eris looked at her nephew in the mirror. He was as hard as anthracite and just as ready to burn. She grinned. Her plan was working.

It took a delicate touch to influence a god. If Cupid hadn't been so distracted by his fantasy, she wouldn't have dared to try to inject her son into the mix, but the opportunity had been too good to pass up. And, it appeared to have worked. Cupid was a little confused, but hadn't been turned off to the idea of having both. She had added some sensory illusions as well, letting the God of War feel a little of what it would be like to have both of them in his bed.

"Eris, what are you doing?" Ares had popped in behind her.

"Giving your eldest a taste of what could be his." She smiled over her shoulder.

"Whatcha doing, Sis?" His twin looked just like the time she had snuck into their mother's kitchen and stole a whole cream cake for the both of them. Hera had been furious. It was one of the few times that the Goddess of Music had baked like a mortal. She'd come back to find her efforts were reduced to smears on her children's faces and crumbs on their robes.

"Adjusting a little daydream that Cupid just had." She explained. "And adding a little bit of what it would feel like."

"Oooo, Sis. That is so sneaky." Ares grinned and wrapped his arms around her middle to give her a hug from behind. "I could never do that so well."

"I just have a delicate touch with the erotic daydream, Bro." She leaned back into the hug. They both watched Cupid's bewildered expression and impressive hardon with the satisfaction of co-conspirators. They both chuckled when Cupid snarled and flashed to one of his temples to grab the nearest priest and throw him into the man's bedroom. The two Love Gods knew that the God of War never grabbed an unwilling priest and judging from the mortal's expression, the man was more than willing now. Eris reached out to give a gentle tap to the mirror, transmitting a delicate whirl of a spell, ensuring that the priest would be very satisfied come morning, but Cupid wouldn't be.

"Ooooh, Eris. That's just mean." Ares giggled. His son deserved it, but ooooo, to go all night and still get nothing was worse than a case of blue balls.

"I know." She smiled and blanked the mirror just as her nephew was ripping the man's tunic off and throwing him onto the bed.

"Have you given your 'delicate touch' to Jessie's feminine pride yet?" Ares released his sister and stepped back.

"Not while she's still in his temple, Ares. He'd sense it if I did it there. I'll do it when she's on the road tomorrow."

"That makes sense." Ares allowed. It was important that his sister strengthen Jessie's defenses, or Cupid would have her without much of a battle.

"I think that I'll bring Jessie to Strife's attention at the same time." Eris mused.

"Let me do that, honey. I can't interfere with the mortal, but the Fates said nothing about Strife." Ares offered. "Besides, we don't want your son thinking that you are trying to 'fix him up again', do we?"

He could tell that his twin wanted to scowl, but it caused wrinkles. As it was, she gave a disdainful sniff.

"I just want him to be happy."

"And you want to be a grandmother." Eris wasn't fooling him at all. It was like the gods had to worry about looking old or anything, and his sister wanted another baby she could spoil without having to be pregnant herself.

"You'd think with all the mortals he's slept with, he'd forget about protection just once!" She complained and fixed her brother with an angry look. Strife never failed to drink the anti-conception potion before he boinked, no matter how spontaneous the encounter.

"Hey, it's not my fault that he turned out to be such a responsible guy." Ares objected. "I mean, who'd of thought? Most of my kids screw anything that walks."

"Or swims. Or flies." Eris pointed out with malicious sweetness.

Okay, so some of his grandkids were merfolk and air elementals. She was just jealous.

"Let's not forget that my dear niece, Xena, is the bed toy of our half-brother, the Sovereign." The Goddess of Love tossed out. That one stung, but he pretended not to mind as he gave his twin a cheeky grin.

"Well, you know how it is around here, Sis. If you can't keep it in the pants, keep in the family."

Another morning without her dog. Jessie woke with a wistful sigh at the absence of her pet. She hadn't been without him since she had rescued the dog from the animal shelter. Jessie had received a semi-frantic call from the owner of Alexi's dam when the other woman had found out that one the puppies she had sold had ended up in the shelter six months later. Mei O'Donnell was married to Jessie's cousin, Aiden, and the couple didn't have the room to take in another pet. The half grown dog was scheduled for euthanasia in three days when Jessie was contacted by her cousin in-law. Jessie had gone and gotten Alexi that afternoon. It had been love at first sight for both of them. Her roommate Kate had been just tolerant at first, and then she had gotten to love the dog as well. Jessie knew that Katie would look after Alexi, but damn, she missed her 'Good morning, Mom!' slurp.

Jessie swung her feet over the side of the bed and stood up. She pulled on her new tunic and headed to the privy, thankful that there didn't seem to be anyone else up. There were soft leaves there again, so somebody was awake. Jessie returned to the guest room washed her hands in the basin. Then she caught sight of herself in the mirror and she decided that rebraiding her hair was definitely a good idea. It was straggling all over the place.

She was just tying it off when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in." She called and turned to the door. Spiros entered with a pair of boots in his hands. "Good morning, Spiros."

"They are ready, Lady." He said deferentially, holding out her new footwear.

"Spiros, why do you call me 'Lady'?"

"Because you are." He said simply. She didn't know quite what to say to that. He handed her the boots and watched as she laced them on. They laced up the front and ended just below her knees. Jessie flexed her feet and wiggled her toes. They were a little bit tight, but not too bad. They would probably stretch after a few days of wear.

"Thank you, Spiros. They fit fine." She smiled at the artisan. He smiled back and left quickly, before Jessie could get her belt pouch and give him some money for his trouble. Hell, he might have been insulted by it, she realized. She was fairly certain that Demetrius would be insulted if she tried to give any of her meager coinage to the temple. Insulting the priests of War was probably not a good idea.

She removed her boots and pulled on her breeches. The lacing on the side showed a fair bit of skin, but the length was good. Her new tunic hit the base of her neck in the back, but had a square neckline in front. At least there wouldn't be a strange sunburn over her tattoo, even if her chest would get a little toasted. She was relacing her boots when there was another knock at the door.

"Come in." She called again, wondering who it was this time. Maybe it was the kid from yesterday with her jeans and tank top. She looked up to see Nikos standing in the doorway holding a pair of saddle bags.

"Good morning." She greeted the priest with a smile and finished relacing her boots. She stood up and did a couple of deep knee bends to check the flexibility of her new duds. The leathers were tight, but they still moved well.

Nikos bit back a groan at the sight of the woman's antics. The sight of the flex and pull of the supple muscle of her legs under the leather and the bounce of her breasts as she went up and down was making him hard under his robes. He gritted his teeth and firmly got himself under control. Luckily, the robes were loose enough that they didn't show the state of his flesh.

"These are for you." He held out the bags to her. She accepted with another smile for him. Damn, the sight of those could get addicting.

"Saddle bags?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"We are giving you a horse as well."

"Nikos, you all have given me too much already." She objected. Horses were expensive, and the small temple couldn't have many to spare.

"Don't insult us by refusing our gifts, my dear." There was no point in telling her that the priests where thrilled to be giving gifts to one who had made a good first kill in their temple and who had given her own blood as Offering to Cupid without thought of any reward. Most of the older priests had also guessed that Jessie was soon to be the God's consort, at least for awhile, and were happy to make sure that their 'guest' was properly outfitted.

"Let's go have some breakfast and look at the maps." He suggested. He looked at the gold combs that were still on the table. "Don't forget to take those as well."

Jessie opened her mouth to object again, but he forestalled her with a raised hand. He had never seen those combs before last night and was fairly certain where they had come from. Jessie would accept the gear without much further objection, but ornaments from the God of War would let her know of Cupid's interest. The God of War's idea of courtship could be a little direct, so gifts before they had even met were charmingly old fashioned. There was no need to tell her of the strings attached to those combs; it was better that she thought they were another gift of the temple.

"Come, my dear. Breakfast is waiting." He motioned her towards the door. She set the bags down and he followed her out. She hadn't put on the segmented skirt yet so Nikos was treated to the sight of the firm globes of her butt flexing under the leather. He took a deep breath and willed himself not to react. Tests of patience didn't happen too often to him anymore, so it must be a joke at his expense that when one did come, it was a big one. If it had been any other god but his own, he might have chanced it.

Jessie went to the room to where Demetrius and their breakfast were waiting. Three wooden bowls of porridge, with another side of bread and fruit lay off to one side, while a map took up the rest of the table. Three steaming mugs anchored three corners of the map while the last corner had a sheathed dagger holding it down. The map was beautifully drawn, and looked to be pretty close to scale from what Jessie could see. The map reminded her of the end papers on a couple of her fantasy novels. There was just one problem; all the landmarks and directions were in Greek.

"It's a beautiful map, Demetrius. It's a pity that I can't read your language." The comment seemed to take both men by surprise, like they hadn't expected her to be able to in the first place. Then she remembered that women were seldom educated in ancient times, even in this alternate reality that she was in at the moment. Their surprise irked her a little bit, but she tried not to let it show. It wasn't their fault that she had been raised in a time of unilateral education for all. And, for all intents and purposes, she was an Amazon here. She was a female taking what they thought to be a traditionally male role in life. It seemed to be a point in her favor with them, being Cupid's priests. No sense in have angry words with her hosts about feminine rights for all women, there wouldn't be enough time to enlighten them properly.

"If I could have a quill and ink, please?" She asked sweetly through slightly gritted teeth. She made a conscious effort and relaxed. It wasn't their fault, much. "I could write down in my own tongue what the name is, and then I can probably decipher the rest later when I compare the two."

Both men nodded and Nikos went to a chest to retrieve the feather pen and ink. Jessie was glad for the calligraphy lessons that Barbara from the Renaissance group had given her. Because of her lessons at the dojo, Jessie didn't have a lot of extra time. She was just far enough along that she could write with the quill without leaving splotches of ink in the lettering and making a poor showing of her education. She dipped the pen, gauged how much ink she collected, frowned and dipped again. She made a silent promise that when she got home, she'd devote more time to practice, (she was fairly sure that she could find some time during the day) but in the meantime, thank the gods for weird hobbies!

She took the instrument and leaned over the map. The two old campaigners began the briefing, with their guest paying them complete attention and making notes.


****Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate the feedback, Gianni, Gia, Shadow, and Alice. Thank you *so* much for stroking my fragile author’s ego!