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Home Unknown	By : katecooley Category: S through Z > Xena Views: 15190 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Xena, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Same junk as before. See part one for all the jargon. Thanks to all you guys who reviewed! Nice to know I�m not just punching keys like a monkey here� ;) And I know on the show that Graegus was a yucky-looking Zool-from-Ghostbusters demon-like thing, but here, he�s a damn big doggie. Cuz it�s my story and that�s how I want him.

Part XIII � It�s Always the Quiet Ones�

What a load of utter bullshit..

Ares came very close to upending that benighted table and sending all of the soldiers to oblivion. He stalked the perimeter slowly, eyeing the two encampments. It was taunting him, thwarting his every movement. And had it not been a wooden inanimate object, he would suspect it was doing it on purpose. Just to spite him.

Stupid clan warfare. Can�t you people just live together? He frowned fiercely and fought back the urge to just start flicking the warriors off the map. He hated the petty squabbles that cropped up between little villages � they were almost always simple pissing contests run amok. They served no greater purpose other than to gain bragging rights for the victor and endless toil and repair for the loser. Aside from some low-level energy, they did little to nothing for him. He needed to step in and stop this nonsense, to set the people in each dorp back on their little paths before they caused some real damage to something significantly more important than their competing rhubarb crops.

So he rearranged the players, only to have them meander back to position. A chasm between the villages healed almost as soon as he�d made it. A personal appearance wouldn�t help, either. Whichever one he landed in first would assume that he sided with them, and the other village would start whining about preferential treatment and unfairness and things would only get worse. He�d even tried moving the villages apart, but they shuffled back to their starting points again. It had to be the table. Or someone else. Ares� dark eyes darted around his home temple. That would explain things, wouldn�t it� "Show yourself." He waited and when no answer came, he let his power wash over the whole hall, searching for the other god who had gotten it into his head to have the juice squeezed out of him by the God of War. There was a faint power signature, almost an echo of one, but other than his own, no fully realized godhood made itself known to him. And if there wasn�t anyone else there, that meant that� He groaned out loud, the mournful noise barging through the room like a foghorn.

"Why is it ALWAYS me? Don�t those three busybodies have ANYONE else to bother?" He flashed over to his throne and flopped into it with all the drama he could muster without a ready audience. In truth, he was one of the few who could get away with complaining about the possibility of the situation without finding himself spending a few years plagued with torment or scales. And it wasn�t always him saddled with mysterious prophecies and tasks, but it certainly seemed like it. There was also a worse reality. If the Fates had their collective finger on that little pissant skirmish he was tying himself in knots over, it was likely that he wouldn�t be able to fix it so easily.

Another grumble passed through the War God as the space in front of him dimpled slightly. That caught his attention. He�d half expected someone to turn up and confess to playing with him, but his middle son was the last one he�d anticipated. It just wasn�t like him. Deimos and Phobos, yes, but Anteros? Not that any of his sons lacked a wicked streak, but his second-born was the least likely suspect.

And yet, there he was, stepping out of thin air as easily as one walked through a door. Ares had to admit to surprise. And judging from the wry look he was getting from his redheaded godly child, it had to be plastered all over his face.

"Anteros? You?" That forehead, creased by years of contemplation, showed his confusion. Those soot-rich wings flickered restively behind him, a family trait. Cupid�s own snow-white feathers often did that when he was puzzled or frustrated� or guilty.

"Me what, Dad?" Ares� gaze darted from his second-born to the table that had been menacing him all morning and back again. His son�s eyes, so dark and so like his own, made the trip as well, coming back looking no less confused. Ares wanted to sound gruff and foreboding, but there was always something about his most reasonable offspring that thwarted that. He was always so calm and collected that he inspired you to the same. A nice change from the other four, who would inspire a god to tear out his hair in frustration at times. Still, the War God managed to grumble at him somewhat.

"What are you doing here?"

The words didn�t have the effect he was looking for. Instead of wailing or protesting or complaining, as any of his brothers most likely would have done, Anteros only looked sad and ashamed, his eyes darting down to study his sandals. It still didn�t make sense. This was so unlike him. Ares almost sagged in his seat with disappointment. A feeling which, fortunately, didn�t last past the moment.

"I was only coming by for a visit. I didn�t mean to disturb you. I know I don�t come around often enough, but� I�ll go, if you�re too busy for guests�"

Now Ares felt ashamed, blaming his son in the place of someone truly guilty. And of all gods, Anteros was the last one to meddle. There was so little guile in him � if he�d had a problem with any of his father�s battles or plans, he�d have shown up in person to talk about it, reasonably and calmly. A good quality in one in charge of harpies and bacchae, he supposed.

"For guests, yes. For you�" Ares was out of his seat and by his son�s side in half a second, wrapping an arm comfortably around him and minding the wings, "Never." The change from growly war god to indulgent father was seamless. He tugged lightly on a long feather to bring his son�s gaze up from the floor. "You�re always welcome here. You know that." Anteros nodded shyly, looking every bit the boy he once was. Ares gave him a comforting squeeze and then jostled him a little to make him laugh, bringing him back to his usual serene and easy self. "And you don�t come around often enough, either."

"I know. And that�s my fault entirely. I keep getting wrapped up in work. Centaurs aren�t easy to deal with once mating season rolls around." Anteros sighed inside. He usually left the pouting to Cupid, who was much more practiced at that whole �trembling bottom lip� routine than he was. But apparently it had been successful, since he wasn�t being rattled right now, which he should have been by all rights. A long childhood had taught him not to mess with that table, a lesson they all had gotten one by one. And it hadn�t taken long for him to learn it. Even now, it gave him a naughty thrill to know he�d gotten away with playing with �Daddy�s Men�.

"As opposed to the rest of the time, when they�re darn near jolly?" Ares cranked up an eyebrow at that notion, happy when his son barked out a laugh. "And you�re preaching to the Chorus. Work has a way of creeping up on all of us."

"Really? I heard you had a new pair of hands around here. Isn�t that working out?" Anteros made a big show of looking around the Hall, which had seen some improving force since his last visit. "Looks pretty good. Did he dust?"

"And he tended to the vineyard. And he organized all of the weapons in the armory. And he managed to rearrange the pantry in easy-to-access food groups." Ares looked around in the same manner as his son. The temple was looking better � who�d known a window in the place would improve things? Who knew there even was a window there? And Joxer�s influence stretched beyond the aesthetic. "And� he helped bring Polyphystos to a most satisfying conclusion."

Oh, DID he now? "Really? Sounds like you�ve got yourself a new favorite mortal. Xena should be well put out by that."

On that, Ares had to chuckle a little. "Probably will be when she finds out. She rails on about turning over a new leaf, leaving my service. But when it comes down to it, your sister is an attention hog. She always wants to be the favorite."

"And she isn�t?" A favorite game among Ares� children, they each would bait him when they got him alone and the answer was always the same, as it was now.

"Of course not, Little Ant�," Ares forced a serious face that was anything but. "You�re my favorite."

Anteros blushed fiercely, chewing the inside of his lip to keep from giggling. In any case, he had to smile broadly at his father. "You haven�t called me that since I ascended to full godhood."

"Oh, well then I�ve been seriously remiss in my fatherly duties," and he reached a hand up and mussed up the studious curls into a riotous tumble, which made the younger god sigh and cluck his tongue before magically shaking them back into place.

"So perhaps this Jawper character could help you with that�" swiftly changing the subject, Anteros nodded to the table that had been the source of his father�s ire before. "Though, I don�t think anything can really help with it. For as long as I can remember, you�ve been swearing bloody murder at that particular piece of furniture."

"Sometimes, it�s more trouble than it�s worth," Ares snorted, considering the table with an unhappy eye. "And his name is Joxer."

Let�s hope he�s not more trouble than he�s worth, Dad, Anteros� only move was a slight lift of his eyebrow. Hoping his father was distracted enough by his misbehaving battle plans, he reached out for the most unnatural creature in the area, giving him a friendly nudge and tweak. He sensed the activity start and soon, as his father was still giving the hairy eyeball to the uncooperative mahogany plain, he could hear scurrying footsteps coming closer.

The scrabble of nails on smooth stone approached at full gallop, bringing Ares attention away from the carved bane of his existence. In a flash, a lumbering flash of grizzled gray charged into the room, something white and flapping clenched in its massive teeth. The behemoth skidded to a halt and turned to face the way it had come, haunches high in the air and front end lowered to the ground, hindquarters wiggling like no tomorrow. A few muffled but playful barks came from the beast�s mouth as it danced around a little, narrowly avoiding upending several items of furniture in the process. The approaching slap of bare feet spurred the animal to action again, as it leapt to its paws and lumbered away from the noise, heading for the front hallway of the temple.

"GRAEGUS! Come on! I NEED that!" Joxer�s voice got there before he did, but it wasn�t much of a warning. As he pulled up the rear in this chase, quite literally as luck would have it, for one brief and shining moment, Ares forgot about war. Each step Joxer took was accompanied by a hop and a tug as he tried his best to struggle into those skin-tight leather trousers Strife had outfitted him with. Not that he was being particularly successful. Ares made a mental note to do something nice for his nephew in the near future. Joxer hopped and tugged his way to the middle of the main temple room before stopping to bend and yank on the pant legs that were fighting him. As he did, the waistband that he had to let go of slipped down his hips. Something very nice, Ares amended as his mouth watered.

He�d seen Joxer in many stages of dress over the past few years, since the would-be-warrior had started hanging around with Xena and her pet bimbo and, if he cared to admit it, some time before. But scrying pools and mirrors didn�t tell him anything about those little grunts and yelps or the sound of his breath coming hard as he worked. Said nothing about that smell, either, that clean, soapy slightly spicy scent of fresh-washed skin that was hard enough to deal with when Joxer was dressed, never mind when he was mostly naked as he was now.

And mostly naked was how Ares wanted him to stay forever. While those pants were the things wet dreams were made of, clinging to every lean muscle in those long legs, there was something so enticing about him right now, fighting to get dressed and not topple over in the process. And clothes, the war god decided, did Joxer no justice anyway. They covered up all that sleek sinew that he was positive no one appreciated fully. Certainly not while he was clanking around in that scrap-heap he called armor. Another lurch and tug and bend and twin pale cheeks peeked out over the top of the pants. Ares was finding his own trousers becoming binding as he watched the dance in progress. When Joxer stood up, the god could see a sprig of chocolatey hair in the wide-open vee of the front laces that were still undone.

"Not bad," a chuckle came from somewhere next to Ares, jerking him out of his Joxer Appreciation Moment. He was sure he didn�t like his son giving him that look. It was too much like one Cupid and Strife wore, a mocking little smirk and knowing lift of brow that would have made a lesser god blush and squirm.

The shock of a voice almost sent Joxer to the floor as he whipped around and blushed straight down to his feet. How long had Ares been there? And� one of his sons. Long enough to watch me stumble around half-naked. AUGH! He stepped up the pace, tucking and arranging everything before yanking the laces of his pants and closing off the view and tying a good, hearty though inelegant knot in the strands. "Hi� Good morning, I mean. How, uh, much did you�"

"Enough to know you�re not getting that shirt back," the redheaded god with the black wings grinned faintly. "I�m Anteros, Ares� son. We haven�t met yet."

"Hi. I�m Joxer, Ares'� guest. Nice to meetcha," he held out a hand that was met halfway and squeezed, genially. A connection clicked in Joxer�s head � this was one of the �kids� in the mirror at the bath. He was far more impressive in person, that was for sure, tall and imposing and looking a lot more like Ares than he�d thought at first. Those wings were� huge and black and satiny. Something else struck him. "Anteros as in the God of Unnatural Creatures?" A nod confirmed it. "I�ve always wanted to ask. What�s up with mermaids? Are they yours or Poseidon�s?"

"Actually, we share them," the young god grinned, tossing the mortal a wink. Yes, he�ll do. "As often as we can." He patted Joxer�s shoulder. "And be careful walking out of here today. I�d bet anything that old Furry and Ferocious is waiting for you in the hall. We used to play this game with him when we were all kids. I don�t think Strife actually owned a pair of socks for more than three days at a time." He turned to his father with a less leering grin. "I hate to cut this short, but minotaurs don�t manage themselves. I promise, I won�t stay away so long this time, Dad." A quick embrace passed between them, a short but strong hug that said everything they didn�t give word to. "And if that table keeps giving you grief, threaten it. Imminent peril does wonders for dispositions."

"The table?" Joxer felt his stomach take off for parts unknown. He knew this would come up sooner or later. "Something�s wrong with the table?" Please, don�t immolate me. I didn�t mean to break it.

"Yes, it thinks it�s in charge." Ares grumped playfully. "Little does it know�"

"Oh, but it�s OK and everything, right?" Joxer peered in that direction, hoping he hadn�t caused irreparable harm to an important piece of war equipment.

"For now. If it keeps misbehaving, I can�t make guarantees." Ares raised his voice as if addressing the table itself.

"I don�t think it�s listening." Joxer sniffed out a laugh before taking a deep breath, holding his hands out to deflect whatever came next. "About Polyphystos. I�"

"Knocked about three weeks off an already dragging campaign. I�ve been meaning to thank you for that." Ares nodded. "I thought that nightmare was going to haunt me forever. You�ve got quite the eye for details, Joxer."

"Oh. Um� thanks!" He couldn�t help being stunned. What he�d done, moving those little soldier-pieces, had actually helped a battle? Had won a battle? He was getting used to being useful, but that� that was� WOW! "I, uh� it just looked wrong, you know? Like a puzzle with a piece or two out of place."

"I know. My eyes were close to crossing from staring at it. It helps to get a fresh perspective on things. A new set of eyes to look things over." Ares cast a glance back to the menace in question. "And speaking of which, I�d like you to take a look at this. A little clan vendetta that seems to want to be something bigger. For some reason, I can�t make them see reason."

"You�re stopping a war?" Joxer couldn�t help sounding astonished at that one, making his god smile a little. And Ares smiling a little had everyone else smiling a lot beat by a long shot.

"It happens more often than I like to let get around." The War God rested a hand on that temptingly smooth back and led him to the map table. "I�ve got Eris down there now keeping an eye on things, but that�s only going to work for so long. Eventually, she�ll get pissed off and let them kill each other, probably encourage them a little in that direction."

"And you want me to look at it because�"

"Because you seem to have an eye for this sort of thing. And I�d like your take on it." Ares watched a measure of pride seep into his loyal worshipper and found him all the more beautiful for it. This wasn�t going to be easy. But, he could do it. He was a god. One of the most powerful on Olympus and Heir to the Throne. He could control himself around one mortal man.

Ares wanted his opinion on war. Unreal. But, as he couldn�t find it in him to say no to his god, all leathery and sexy and smooth-voiced as he was, Joxer took a deep breath as he walked over with the immortal. He could see the two sides grouped together in their areas, but as detailed as the map was, there was little to tell him the particulars of this problem.

"I�ve tried everything short of showing up in a rain of fire to get them to stop this blood-feud, but they won�t work with me," the god griped, pacing the perimeter again. "Thoughts?"

"Well� did you try separating them?"

"Yes. They just slide back into place. Watch." Ares pushed one group of miniatures away from the other and they almost immediately returned, moved by a low-flying burst of power from Anteros, who managed to sneak it in under the radar.

"Hm. And this hostility isn�t supposed to be happening."

"Not for a year or two. The region�s just recovering from the last blow-up."

Joxer bent over the table, studying the area intently before straightening up. He wasn�t sure what he was supposed to and not supposed to ask his god at this point, but Ares seemed agreeable to his assistance, such as it was. "Can I go there?" Ares raised a questioning eye to the mortal, who cleared his throat a little under the dark god�s intense gaze and took a deep breath before continuing. "I might be able to think better if I could see what�s going on. Y�know, get a feel for the place, the mood, the people�" He half-expected a grim �no� and that would have been OK, since who was he anyway? But Ares pursed his lips and nodded, as if that made sense to him.

"I see your point. All right." He beckoned Joxer closer, rolling his eyes when the mortal hesitated. "Come on then."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. The sooner we get there, the sooner we fix this." Ares waved his hand to Joxer again, calling him over to him. "And then the sooner we can get back and have lunch."

Lunch sounded good. Lunch with Ares sounded like Elysium. Joxer all but bounded over to his god, who laid his warm, sword-worn hand on Joxer�s back again, all but caressing the hollow it found just above his pants, making him sigh to himself. Helping Ares with war. Will wonders never cease? And� he�s touching me again!!! That thought carried Joxer a long way, warming him as a red flash of light surrounded them and whisked them away.

That�s one, Anteros smirked before slipping unnoticed back into the aether and heading back to his own pot of troubles. He only hoped the next part of his mother�s plan went as well as this one. Ares could use a little happiness. But then again, who couldn�t?

-tbc-
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