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Strife in my Life	By : AmberDDawn Category: S through Z > Xena Views: 2142 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own "Xena: Warrior princess", or "Hercules: The Legendary Journey" They were produced by Renissance Pictures I am not making money for this fiction.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
I really really hope you guys are still with me. I kinda refreshed the page a few times working on my corrections before I realized it counted as new visits. It's strange it wasn't doing that on the other story. Maybe it was because it was a single chapter at the time. I don't know. But I do know I'm determined to keep writting.
This chapter starts out light and goes dark and angsty toward the middle but then I didn't want to leave you in that mood so it brightens back up at the end.

Strife in my Life
Chapter 3: Mortal for a Day...or Two?

"Ok I sent word to Psyche that I have an emergency job and asked her to either keep Bliss for a little longer or to take him to Mom's. Psyche won't question it and Mom will understand," Cupid explained the situation to Strife. Strife only nodded and sipped his ale. Cupid kept watching him drinking and it was starting to freak the younger god out.

"So we bettah get back to tha feild. Ah didn' intend ta leave 'em hangin' this long," Strife left money on the table and got up Cupid followed. He hadn't been drinking and the tavern keep was eyeing him evilly. Taking up precious chair space that paying customers could be using. Of course his custom had declined greatly since Rhoda left. She had been a meek presence but she had also been in charge of the cooking and cleaning. He hired on some girls but they weren't the same as her. Lazy and always expecting to get paid for their paultry work. If he didn't know the two women had very big and very possessive husbands he'd back hand the both of them. (So old Alcimos hasn't learned his lesson. Too bad.)

"What exactly are you doing here anyway? I mean I know you're hiding out from Pops but what's with the training," Cupid looked at Strife waiting for an answer the other god moved ahead of him in a bit of a hurry to get back.

"Exactly what it looks like Cuz," Strife didn't look back or he'd have caught Cupid ogling his butt.

"I mean why are you doing it?" Cupid's hands were itching again and he was clenching his fist. When Strife hopped over a pothole his backside jiggled a little. He had to put his hand over his mouth to check for drool.

"Cause they need it...bad," Stride said in a determined voice.

Cupid needed something bad!

"Sides its fun," Strife giggled, "Fah once people ain't runnin scared ah me...and they ain't talking bad 'bout me, or sneerin at me neithah." Strife sounded serene, but what he said really bothered Cupid. Strife was treated badly on Olympus, by his family. From what he remembers even his mother was nasty to him. She used to only refer to him as 'the brat' now she calls him Strife but as far as anybody knows their association is strictly professional.

Cupid and his mom didn't always see eye to eye but there was genuine love there. Aphrodite would do anything for him. Hell she had turned Psyche into a goddess for him, without consulting Zeus first. That was risky, luckily the house of love was in good with the King of the gods. Still that was sticking her neck out very far for them and if she hadn't he wouldn't have gotten Bliss, the light of his life.

Admittedly the marriage was rushed and a disaster. They had nothing in common other than sex which was great for a while but the thrill faded quickly. Then she got pregnant. Bliss was one thing that he could never regret from that fiasco. Then the arguing started and finally it was Psyche who admitted her feelings had faded. She also admitted she was picking fights hoping to get that spark of passion back from the god of love. It turns out that she had been having doubts about their relationship from the beginnning, maybe had even gone along partially out of fear.

That had really hurt Cupid. He thought he felt love and excitment from her. He was the god of burgening love damn it! He still feels guilty. Psyche could have been left unburdened with a godhood and lived a happy natural life span. She was now stuck as a goddess. Thankfully she was a strong woman and was able to take up her responsibilities and succeed in her given profession where she and Cupid had failed in their personal life. In the end it was a mutual breakup and for the sake of Bliss they tried to stay friends (That wasn't always easy with the dissapointment in eachother and themselves).

"...Archery," Strife was talking and he'd missed it. He cleared his head and his throat.

"Sorry I got distracted," Cupid apologized.

"Ya arn't starin at ma butt, are ya?" Strife teased and wiggled his butt. Gods yes he had been. Strife didn't realize. He repeated what Cupid had missed, "Ah said ya could teach these gits ta shoot. Ya know bows, arrahs, tahgets. Maybe play some William Tell."

"What's William Tell?" Cupid asked.

"Oh its a futuah legend, This guy was such ah great shot with 'is bow that tha king ah tha land ordered 'im to shoot an apple offa 'is son's head. Well 'e had ta or tha king woulda had 'em both killed. So Tell pulled out two arrahs. One fah tha apple and one fah tha King. Ya see he wasn't sure he could hit tha apple and if 'is son was hit then he'd be sure that tha king wan't gonna live eithah," Strife gaily recanted the tale from the future, "Anyway people will joke about playin' William tell, most won't actually do it, but yah can bet theah'll be some deaths related to tha 'Apple Shot'."

Cupid thought he would have just shot the king the second he even suggested putting his little baby boy in danger. He was a deadly aim but he would never risk his son. Though most of his arrows wouldn't harm him in a physical manner. They were infused with his godhood and designed to imbue love energies not physically injure, "Let's not play that game Strife. If we're trying to help these people getting half the regiment killed off in a stupid contest of skill isn't a good idea."

"Its temptin though....maybe we could mock up ah pratice dummy ah two and shoot an apple offa its head?" Strife's eyes sparkled from even the thought of mischief. He turned grinning at his cousin.

Cupid's lips turned up into a smile, "Why not...we can see if you have good aim too...Maybe teach them the art of throwing knives?"

"Lets get some apples!" Strife veered off throught the marketplace headed for the fruit stall.

Cupid shook his head but he was grinning inspite of himself.

"I wanna buy alla yah apples!" Strife was jumping in place excitedly. He slapped down a pouch of coins, and just scooped up the entire pile. Strife was dropping apples all over the place and the man at the stall looked distraught. Even as he was counting out the money. Cupid thought up a basket, nobody seemed to notice. He held the basket up and Strife dumped the fruit into it and started picking up the rest. Cupid watched him chase apples down, bending and snatching; and giving the nicest show to his cousin and anyone interested that happened to be in the area and wasn't blind or dead below the waist.

The men and women were waiting back at the feild. The men were much more excitable. They didn't like the idea of Erin going off with that handsome stranger. There was a mutual agreement that the interloper was likely a jealous lover. Competition. Not good prospects for them. Erin was so delicate and yet feisty. Every unatttached man there wanted him and some of the married ones liked to at least get an eyefull of that beautiful behind. They didn't question the atraction they were past that in the first ten minutes of knowing the gregarious man from Britania.

Erin was full of energy and mischief. He loved to tease and tease he did. That body was a such a tantalizing lure. The men wondered how he'd gotton so far south on his own. His was the kind of exotic beauty that would have slavers on his tail. But Erin had proven that he was resourcful and had shown himself to be a confident warrior. Where size and bulk lacked he made up easily and he was strong for someone so slender. Even the biggest warrior there had been bested in single hand to hand combat. It was a marvel. There was talk of him having a bit of the divine in him. It would explain his unearthly charms and strength.

It was really almost funny the contrast in how Cupid and those mortal men saw Strife and how he saw himself. To Strife, he was skinny and pasty. He thought that his eyes looked weird and his hair was an unruly mass of midnight black curls. He looked about as far removed as possible from the ideal of Olympion beauty. Even his dark haired uncle was beautiful and tan. Ares' curls brushed his shoulders gracefully...when he'd worn them long. He had been wearing his hair shorn recently and only looked more devestatingly handsome as a result. And that beard...His beard made him look intimidating.

If Strife thought of growing a beard. It would probably look silly. If he had any stubble to think of. He wondered if perhaps he wasn't fully mature maybe his beard would come in one day...well he could think one up for himself but that wasn't the same, plus it took extra energy to glam up some facial hair.

Strife had Cupid think up a couple dummies and carry them back when they were in the secluded path to the training feild. Strife had his apple basket on one arm and a quiver and bow on the other. Cupid couldn't use his crossbow. That would really get some attention.

"Erin!" Onias came over and took his basket, "Let me get that for you."

"Uh...Thanks," Strife smiled and the large man blushed and grinned.

A shorter gangly looking teenager came over and took the quiver and bow, "I'll take that for you Erin!" If he was a puppy his whole backside would be wagging.

"Thanks...um...Tiro," Strife said to the man but looked a little puzzled.

"He remebers my name," The teen gasped and blushed.

Cupid frowned and looked around. Well I'll just set these up. He grumbled as he moved to the end of the feild. He drove the dummies into the ground by the stakes in their backs the looked like basic scare crows but their heads and torsos were sturdy enough to hold an apple and to stand up to quite a few arrows. He was satisfied they were straight and not going to fall.

Cupid walked over and grabbed an apple from the basket looked at Onias who was about to bite into one of them. He snatched it irately and marched back over to the dummies. He placed an apple on each. He walked over to the teen. Snatched the bow and quiver of arrows. He took the bow in his hand and slung the quiver over his shoulder. He marched to the opposite end of the feild from the dummies. It was a rectangular feild so he set it up for the longest ranged shot possible.

Everybody was watching him by this point. The men were a bit angry and maybe a bit miffed watching the play of strong muscles under fine white linnen. Cupid nocked the arrow drew it back, and lets it loose. The arrow flew across the feild hit the apple dead center; peircing it through the core, and knocking the apple off the dummy. He nocked another arrow and pulled back. He hit the other apple. He took three arrows out lined them up pulled back and hit the left dummy in the center of its face, in its chest where the heart would be, and in its crotch where the family jewels would be. He repeated this feat with the other dummy He reached for another arrow and found he was out.

He almost thought up more arrows but managed to stop himself remembering he was supposed to be a mortal. He had a lot of agression he needed to get out. If he went on a jealous rampage that would not only be bad for him (and letheal for all the men and maybe even the women) it would probably terrify Strife. If he let his jealousy take over he might accidentally hurt his cousin.

Cupid took a few clensing breaths. It had been his ex-wife who had actually suggested that technique. Give your body time wind down, slow down, and then think before you act. He felt a bit better, and much less iritated. He looked at the people who were staring stunned. Strife was grinning. He shouted and whooped, "That's mah cuz! Woo!"

Strife's cheers started something and the group joined in. The women were swooning at the display. The men looked impressed, some jealous and some a bit mortified that he wasn't only handsom but skilled too.

Strife came over and smacked Cupid on the shoulder careful of the other god's wings...they were still there just the mortals couldn't see them, "Yeah! In' he great! Cupe's gonna help us out with archery, and..." Strife took out one of his daggers and flicked it carelessly. It embeded just left of the chest arrow on the right dummy, "I'll show ya how ta throw a knife. 'M a fair hand at it, ah say." The men fawned over him clapping his shoulder and shouting cheers, hooting.

Cupid shrugged and opened his mouth, "Well if you have bows, go get them." He and Strife went to collect the arrows and Strife's dagger.

The rest of the afternoon Cupid showed the women and some of the men how to shoot and Strife attempted to teach his skill with blades. Throwing daggers is a mite harder and less accurate than arrows, but it looks so damn cool!

Everybody got to pratice shooting apples and the leftovers were baked as a treat for the troops, Strife, and Cupid.

Strife invited Cupid to share his room at the tavern. Cupid didn't get his hopes up about them sharing a bed, and as predicted there were seperate beds.

"It was one bed but I figuahed ya want ya own space," Strife explained smiling. He knew if he was Cupid he wouldn't want to sleep next to someone as ugly as him, "I turned it inta two beds. Tha taven ownah won't notice and we can fix it when we leave."

Cupid wanted to push the beds together. He really did, but he didn't want to frighten Strife. Strife was starting to trust him and that was great. He just wasn't ready for anyting as intimate as sharing a bed, even for sleeping.

Cupid turned away and started to undress. He willed away the tunic and changed his leather pants for some linnen ones. He would have slept naked but he didn't want to upset Strife. His wings ruffled a bit as he stretched.

Strife could appriciate beauty like anyone else, just because he was from the house of war didn't mean he didn't like pretty things...er...people. Just some people's attitudes irked him. Strife looked over at his cousin. It sometimes hurt to see something as beautiful as his cousin, and when you got to know him and to know that he wasn't just pretty to look at he was kind and so very different from Strife who was ugly inside out.

He would love to have that...to have love. He wanted someone to hold him, not in lust...well not just in lust. Passion and love would be nice, but most people, gods, beings, that touched him; or wanted to touch him; only wanted to create violence. To take. He didn't want to be touched with hurtful intentions. He knew he was part of war. He wasn't supposed to love. His mother didn't love. His uncle didn't love. War was the other side of the coin from Love, the opposite. Love was beautiful, caring, protective and light. War was repulsive, angry, voilent, and dark. There was lust in both love and war. Love had lust of the body, sharing a beautiful moment of rapture with another, joined together...But war was all blood lust, taking the body, raping it, tearing it apart, and breaking it. He was broken. Strife looked away.

Cupid didn't turn when he felt his cousin watching him. He felt such a well of heart break. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn't know what to do. Strife was hurting. He had known about it, always felt it, but it was like taking care of an injured animal. One that had been taught not to trust. Sometimes more effort had to go into teaching the animal that you weren't going to hurt it than into the actual healing process...Or in this case teaching Strife to trust him was part of that process.

He wished he knew more about Strife. He had known of his cousin since the boy was born, but he hadn't taken an interest in him until much later. He knew of Strife but he didn't know Strife. He felt like the last few weeks he had been making progress but this deep sadness that had peeked out was quickly stuffed back into whatever box in Strife's mind it was meant to be kept.

Cupid blinked away his tears and sniffed. He stretched and rubbed his eyes to clear up the evidence, feigning a yawn. Then he turned. Strife was laying facing away from him in the far bed.

"Night Cupe," Strife said.

"Goodnight...Erin," Cupid used Strife's given name. Strife stilled for just a second, then he smiled and relaxed.

"Sleep well Cupid," Strife whispered before snuggling under his blanket.

The morning came quickly. Cupid was awake before dawn. He wanted to watch his cousin sleep. Strife had a gentle smile on his face and he looked peacful. It was a lovely scene, but he needed to see if he could get a better gage on the things he felt last night. No luck. Strife was a light sleeper and the second Cupid attempted to pry he got a face full of boot. Ouch. At least the foot wasn't still inside.

"Nice try cuz, but ya have ta get up earliah than that ta get tha drop on me," Strife wagged his finger and hopped up out of bed, dressed and ready for the day's work, "Lets get some breakfast an get out there. Ah promised Eos Ah'd do mornin patrol, and since yah wit' me then Ah guess ya can tag along."

Cupid was standing there stuttering. Strife collected his precious foot apparel. He slipped it on and ran out the door cackling. Cupid finally came to his senses and willed his clothes on and made the bed whole again in case someone came in to clean the room while they were out. After taking another calming breath he left the room. He didn't want to ring Strife's neck but he might enjoy spanking him throughly. No of course he wouldn't do it...not until the younger god was ready for that kind of play.

Ares was pacing his war room. It was trashed; he had destroyed it, fixed it, and destoryed it again. His nephew was out there with no protection. He cursed himself for not slapping hephaestian chains on the boy while he was out cold. Ares didn't like to show weakness and love was weak in his eyes. However he felt responsible for his nephew. He was barely an adult in the eyes of the gods and he was vulnerable. As a small child he was brought to Ares. The boy was scrawny, he was timid, and shied at every touch. He was also covered in bruises.

His mother said he was hopeless and that his only chance at redemption was if Ares took him under his wing. She was tempted to drop him on earth and leave him, she had said. He didn't doubt it. Eris had not wanted the child but Zeus' law prevented her from exterminating the pregnancy. The bruises he had assumed were from her because there were only two ways a godling could be that injured. Either another god inflicted the injuries or he had been forced to wear hephaestian metal and well Ares did not want to think that Eris would allow any mortals or immortals to harm her child (He dare not even think of a third possiblity, that the injuries were self-inflicted).

Those bruises could have been from overzelous training. That was always what Ares told himself. A lie he told to sooth his conscious (yes the god of war has one of those. Don't tell anyone or the god might visit you one night and skin you alive). He had a sense of right and wrong and a sense of family. Families protect their children. Raise them to be strong and independent. Strife was...well he was weak. Then and he still is. It is sad really. He should be stronger. Ares didn't undertand it. He sould get loads of energy from war, but it never seemed to fit. He never seemed to fit. He was half cocked. As a child he would talk to himself a lot. Still did sometimes. He said it was the children. They talked to him. Told him things. Some of them were funny. Mischief stuff he supposed. Some of them were not funny, they were frightening.

Ares woke one night to the sound of something thwacking against the wall. He got up, dressed and went into the main hall. Strife was there smacking his head into the wall. He was making a sick splating sound and blood was splattering over the wall and dripping down into his rich red carpets. "Go on gal! Touch it. Do it right or ah'll burn yah 'gain! Yeah ya lil slut at's daddy's gal. Ya gonna make a good lil whooah fah daddy. Go on gal, go on gal, go on, go on." Strife turned blindly and stared right through Ares. His head was crushed on one side. He was crying from his unruined eye. He screamed, "GO ON GAL, STROKE DADDY'S COCK!" Strife's one good eye closed and he collapsed against the bloody wall smearing his gore over the black marble.

Ares had screamed for Apollo. His heart was in his throat he had never been so horrified; and he has seen some atrosities, had committed about every vile act on the battlefeild. Had even seen children torn apart and killed, but this was his child. Strife was his from the day Eris had dumped him at his feet.

Apollo was disgusted, had accused him of attacking the boy. Strife was taken from him until a review in the halls of time showed them what had happened. It took weeks of painsteaking work to restore Strife's face and then his mental recovery was even longer. As far as they could figure Strife was living the expirences of a traumatized child. A girl who's father had sexually assulted her and abused her. With a little probing into Strife's mind the mortal was found and killed the child was taken. Her body healed and the memory of her family wiped. She was given to a caring family and lived a long happy life.

During her ordeal she had been so afraid that she latched onto Strife's innocent goodhood and prayed for help. Strife had dreamed her abuse and couldn't handle it. In order to deal with the trauma he had harmed himself. He was restored, those memories were taken away and a supresser had been placed on his mind. He still got prayers but the darker side of his godhood was blocked until he was old enough to handle it. Ares always wondered if that had warped his young mind or salvaged an already damaged psyche.

Strife wasn't properly connected to his dark side when he started to get trained. He seemed to seperate himself from his light side. Then he had trouble pulling back. When he killed he enjoyed it, when he tortured he loved it, but when he saw a child playing in a field he seemed to glow and his crazed smile fell away. Children playing games, and pretend, and innocent pranks were not what war needed so Ares pushed him to his darker side. He saw less and less of the timid frightened boy and more and more of the crazed murderer. Strife hid himself. He still indulged in the innocent side but he tried to hide it from his Uncle and Mother. Ares knew though and he hated himself for it.

Strife was only allowed to be half of his goodhood. He should be stronger. He should be confident in himself and not afraid of his shadow. Afraid to be touched. Ares knew. The boy was terrified. He had learned that lesson well, nobody touched you unless they wanted to take from you. Ares had once gone to the halls of time to review his nephew's life but he stopped at the door. He didn't want to know because, in the recesses of his mind, he already knew. Between he and his sister they had ruined that child.

He didn't want Strife taken away from him. If he knew the truth he wouldn't be able to live with it and he would do something regretable. The house of war hinged on the fate of one tormented broken godling...And now that lost little boy was out there in the world. Vulnerable and alone. He could defend from mortals, and even demi gods, but even a god was not completely invulnerable.

What if Strife took a lover, if he became pregnant? That could not be hidden like Joxer could. A godling or a demi god born of a god would be noticed, questioned and likely punished. Ares wasn't worried about himself, or his siblings, he was worried about Strife. Strife was his child. He had never admitted it to the boy, but he did love him, He did care about his welfare, but he couldn't afford weakness. He couldn't afford the other gods knowing he even gave two shits about the boy, or they would hurt him.

Most of the panthean hated his side of the family. Even thought they snubed Strife and treated him as a lesser being, his treatment was fathoms above what they would do if they realized Ares actually liked his screw up of a nephew. He'd be strung up, raped, humiliated. The baby that would be brought forth would probably be cursed and thrown to earth to die. Strife was cracked but he still had spirit. His inocence was there waiting to be unleashed and heal him, but War couldn't do it. Love could but they wouldn't. In spite of his trysts with Aphrodite and their shared children. The goddess resented him for taking her children. Maybe not out in the open, but the tension was there.

Knowing her she'd spite him by cursing Strife. Even if it was Zeus who assigned their houses and even if he sent their sons to see her whenever they wanted as long as it hadn't interfered in their training. He only got to see Cupid when he had been old enough to transport himself over and he had asked for training. He had to say Ares insisted in order to get the goddess to agree. She accused him of trying to steal another of her babies.

Ares scrubbed his hands through his hair. It was sticking out at odd angles making him look like a buffer and more tanned version of his nephew. He had no idea where to find the boy. He could be anywhere and one thing the boy was good at was hiding. Perhaps it was because his godhood was cracked and he only got a portion of his rightful energies that he could supress and hide himself so well. Strife was unpredictable and might be hiding right under their noses, but enough under the radar to go unnoticed.

He asked Discord if she had seen or sensed her son and she snorted, "Not if I can help it bro. He's your problem now, I washed my hands of the brat a century and a half ago." He hadn't expected less or more from his twin. She was discord. Suffering and being insuferable were her stock in trade.

Ares thought he might ask Cupid. His oldest son had lately been around Strife. He had hoped it meant Strife was finally healing. Bliss talked a lot about Strife actually. His grandson liked Strife and said so often. He would ask if Strife could play, and unfortunatly, he kept his nephew fairly busy causing unrest. The job following that crazed gargarean man had been a rare side job. Him helping watch after Joxer had been as well very out of the ordinary, but Strife actually liked Ares dedicated follower. Said he was a mischief magnet. Ares trusted Strife to handle Joxer like he would a child. Even in the coldest grip of his dark side Ares beleived Strife would never harm a child. It went against the nature of his being. His godhood was made of the dicodimy of mishief. Innocent childish fun and horrible bloodthristy mayhem.

Ares flashed to his son's temple. There was a note sitting on the main alter. He took it up and read.

'If you're looking for me I'm on an important job. Leave me a note on the alter and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.'

Ares crumpled the note and tossed it aside, "Cupid! I need to speak with you it's urgent."

'Did you not read my note Pops?' Cupid spoke directly to Ares' mind and he sounded annoyed.

Ares rolled his eyes, 'I did son and I tossed it on the floor. Did you not hear that I said it was urgent?' Ares gritted his teeth. He formed a fireball in his hand and turned to shoot the note. It was engulfed and charred to ashes in a second.

'Spill Pops,' Cupid demanded. He was none too pleased with his father at the moment. He still beleived Ares forced Strife to drink that potion. He was angry and jealous that his own father would think of taking advantage of Strife.

'Have you seen Strife?' Ares started. He flexed his hands trying to stay calm and not yell at his son. He sensed some hostility from the younger god.

'If I have?' Cupid drawled out in his father's mind.

'Ok son. I need you to shut up and listen,' Ares warned. He felt a burning tingle in his brain as if the love god were about to rip into him. He just knew that Cupid knew where Strife was. Ares hoped he was protecting the weaker godling. Ares bit the inside of his cheek and took a second to clear his head, 'He took that blasted fertility potion.' Ares started. He took a sharp breath when he felt the killing intent rolling off his son's mind in waves. He pushed forward, 'We need to find him before another god discovers what's happened before...'

Cupid had heard enough. Cupid was certain, Ares just wanted to make sure no other god got the chance to bed Strife before him. He growled at his father, 'Before someone else can take advantage of him, so you get your chance first!'

'Cupid? No I don't want to see Strife hurt! For now only you, I, Apollo and Asclepius know. I trust Ace to keep his mouth shut and well Apollo is going to do what's best for Apollo. That means keeping his big mouth shut...' Ares tried to break through again.

'Nobody else is going to find out. I'm going to protect Erin. I'm not letting you or anyone else hurt him again! Cupid closed his mind off from his father.

Ares cursed loudly. It echoed throught the empty temple. He hoped Cupid did know where Strife was and he prayed to the fates that Strife was safe. Ares flashed back to his own temple. He had been putting off his own work to look for Strife for the last few days. He couldn't afford to let it go anylonger, and maybe if he could get close enough to Strife he could feel him. If he could know his nephew was safe...He couldn't afford to go soft now.

Strife had realized after about thirty paces and lots of genial chattering that Cupid wasn't with him anymore. Cupid was standing still glaring at a tree at the base of the distant mountain. Strife tromped back over and poked Cupid in the middle of his chest. That seemed to wake him up. He shook his head and looked through Strife for a second.

"You awright Cupes?" Strife looked concerned.

Cupid smiled at him warmly, "No Cuz. I'm ok...was just thinking."

"Bout what?" Strife was still frowning.

"Nothing much," Cupid said and reached out. He felt the urge to just touch Strife. He put his hand on Strife's shoulder and the other stilled, but he didn't jerk back. Strife gasped quietly.

"It didn' look like nothin," Strife argued softly, "Looked like ya wanted ta burn tha forest down with ya mind."

"Sorry I guess I kind of spaced out there Erin," Cupid rubbed his arm. Strife blushed. Every time Cupid used his name it made him feel all warm and tingly inside.

"We ah, we bettah get a move on, Lots a ground ta covah still," Strife pulled back and turned.

Cupid grabbed his arm and pulled him close. Strife squeeked indignetly, "I promise I won't let anyone hurt you Strife. Never again."

Strife looked into Cupid's eyes they were mostly warm gold flecked with green, and they were so serious that Strife had to look away, "Sha Cuz, anythin ya say," He patted Cupid's arm and tried to remove his arms gently. Cupid pulled him into a full hug and squeezed. It wasn't hard enough to hurt but strong enough that Strife knew he'd have to think up a prybar to loosen those muscular arms. Also it didn't feel too bad. It felt safe and warm. Cupid wasn't going to hurt him and Strife knew that, but he also knew that if the stayed like that too long he would contaminate Cupid's purity.

"Ah that's nice Cuz, but we gotta finish ah rounds fore lunch time," Strife pulled back and looked at Cupid's face.

Cupid was looking into his eyes, "You are beautiful Erin." He leaned in like he was going to kiss Strife. Strife was stunned immobile. Cupid leaned closer and then something over Strife's shoulder caught his attention, "Something's burning."

"Yeah?" Strife uttered. He felt a charge going through him. Cupid turned his head and there was smoke. There were also a bunch of men running from the blaze.

"Bandits...set the damn wall on fire," Cupid growled, "Strife go sound the alarm I'll try to round up the culprits."

Strife nodded and took off for the gate. Cupid went toward the bandits, grabbing his bow and nocking an arrow as he ran.

"Fiah! On tha west wall!" Strife barked at the gate guards and the bell was ringing. He lead a group of men back to the fire. Cupid was standing there with a group of boys tied together and begging to be let go. They were local teens, not one of them had reached his majority yet. The fire was already out. A pile of charred hay lay stamped out and Cupid looked really sour. He had been making real progress with Strife, with Erin. They had ruined a really nice moment.

One of the boys was whining about his father making Cupid pay and he wacked the kid across the head with his bow. The kid started sniveling, "Don't kill me please! It wasn't even my idea! It was Thonin's idea! He put us up to it!"

"Shut your mouth Simo!" The largest boy growled. Cupid wacked that boy too. All the boys had lumps on their head and were whimpering by the time the Captain and Lieutenant had arrived.

"What in tartarus is all this?" Captain Eos demanded.

"Seems you have a few boys with too much time on their hands," Cupid growled and prodded one of the children with his bow. The kid whined. Strife frowned.

"Easy on em Cupe?" Strife stepped up. Cupid sneered at the brats. Strife shook his head and continued, "If ya hurt em too bad they can't muck out tha stables can they?" The boys all turned green at the prospect. Strife couldn't hold back his grin.

"Excelent Idea Erin," The captain clapped his shoulder, "We'll have to talk to their parents and explain why they're going to be working for the next few days. If they have time to endanger the entire village, then they have time to work for the militia."

The children were untied but thankfully they were smart enough to not try to run. Afterall that big blond man had his sharp pointed arrows aimed at them, and he hits really hard too. Strife was walking ahead. Cupid had his attention split between the boys and Strife. He needed to remember his mantra, 'patience, patience, and more patience.' Strife was coming around he just knew it. He just had to give the younger god time.

TBC
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Strife in my Life