God Within 1 (Ares/Joxer, Cupid/Strife)
Title: God Within 1
Author: Wildannuette
Fandom: Hercules:tlj and Xena:WP
Warnings: Character death and mpreg
Notes: Borrowed some lines from 'Ameggeddon now I'
Pairings: Ares/Joxer, Cupid/Strife
Big thanks to Jo for betaing this for me, sorting out and putting up with my psychobabble ideas :)
Based on a plot bunny thrown out by Jessi on the mpreg mailing list (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mpreg/)
Summary: When Strife is stabbed with the Hinds blood dagger he finds a new way to survive with the help of his friend Joxer.
Strife had long since left hysterical panic and was now entering abject terror. Trapped inside his body, unable to move or speak, to even open his eyes he felt the cold sting of the deadly Hinds blood flood through him. Strife screamed within his own mind as he realised even his sense of feeling was fading, he tried to hold on terrified of the darkness that seemed to be swamping him.
He cursed himself for getting involved; that he even bothered to cosy up to Ares and Callisto. He should have gone with his instincts, she was a god but she wasn’t one of them, the way she’d jerked Ares around had proved he was right. Ares should never have trusted her.
//You know what? I’m gonna go to Zeus. We’re gonna get the gods-- no, that’s stupid. He’s gonna blame me for getting Strife killed, right here!//
Hearing remnants of the conversation around him he felt something inside him snap at Ares words.
Strife knew he wasn’t well liked and he sucked up to Ares but it wasn’t out of duty despite what the other Gods believed. No one, least of all a God, would put up with being treated like a whipping boy and dogsbody for that. Being told to ‘shut up’ and being constantly pounded on was not his idea of fun but most Olympians weren’t big on family relations so he had to play along to fit in.
*What’s the point in fighting, things can’t be any worse and no one would miss me anyway. No one cares.* Strife thought bitterly as he gathered as much of his power as he could, not to call out for help but to try to reverse the bloods toxic effects. He closed off his mind ignoring everything around him as he concentrated.
Joxer ducked around the side of Ares temple putting his plan on hold when he saw the fury on his Gods face. He’d had to do a double take when he saw Ares companion, Iolaus. Joxer had been following Hercules and Iolaus hoping to catch up with them and join them whilst Xena got her time alone with Gabrielle. He’d drinking in the village Tavern and overheard from the Warlords general chatter that something had been going on down near Ares temple, something that involved Hercules. When the ground had shook he’d felt a chill run through him that he couldn’t explain, he’d just known he had to get to the temple fast.
“The one great evil is here-- as part of that creature that was with her. And we’ve sensed him-- everyone on Olympus has. This-- this force of darkness-- spells the end of all of us-- gods and man alike.”
Joxer couldn’t see his face but Ares sounded upset, he strained to hear Iolaus’s reply as the two walked off but all he could make out was Ares answer of ‘Strife’ and ‘responsibilities’. He wondered what the younger God could have done to cause such chaos and upset.
“Strife?” Joxer ducked through the side door of the temple and peered inside, he knew when Strife caused mischief he usually hung around to see the outcome. He frowned wondering where all Ares priests were and why his friend didn’t answer his call. Generally Strife loved to recount his exploits to him, especially the big ones. He walked inside, looking around and expecting his friend to jump out at him from behind a statue.
“The ground was shaking, everything feels wrong,” he shivered slightly unable to explain the muggy feeling in his head. The upset and equally pissed off looks on Ares and Iolaus’s faces as they strode out together, something that was miraculous in itself, had prepared him to find Strife sulking and licking his wounds.
Still he didn’t expect to find him on his own and lying on the floor “Strife?”
Joxer felt his heart skip a beat and he stepped forward cautiously “Strife?” he hesitantly asked again, he wondered if had this time Ares had punished Strife until he passed out. Then he saw the blood staining Strife’s front. In a heartbeat he was at the Gods side, dropping to his knees he forced himself to calm as he laid his head on his friends chest. He placed a hand in front of the Gods mouth as he strained to listen for a heartbeat.
The poison was slowly destroying Strife’s organs making his heartbeat slow and his breathing too shallow for mortal ears to hear. Joxer could hear no beats or feel no breaths but he wasn’t even sure if Gods had them, he frantically strained to hear something, anything; *God’s don’t die, they can’t* he thought as he tried to reassure himself. The tone was pleading now and Joxers voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “Strife? Please wake up.”
Joxer touched his friend’s face gently; he noticed how unnaturally pale Strife was much more so then normal and swallowed hard, his mind still screamed that Gods didn’t die but a slow feeling of horror was creeping over him challenging that thought. Shaking he pulled Strife onto his lap, cradling him gently “You can’t die, you’re a God and Gods don’t die.” His voice hitched slightly as he spoke “You promised you’d never do anything stupid, you promised!” He held Strife tighter “What did you do? Who did this to you? Was it a punishment?” He took a few deep breaths as his body screamed at the wrongness of it all. God’s were omnipotent, they barely aged and they worked wonders, the idea that one could die terrified Joxer and shook his beliefs deeply. God’s didn’t die, if they did what could be powerful enough to destroy them
He gripped the God tighter “You promised.” he murmured softly, staring into the Gods face as he willed him to wake up.
“Can I call someone? Who can stop this? Zeus? Ares?” Joxer called the names knowing it was in vain. He especially didn’t want to believe the War God capable of hurting another God to this extent, least of all his nephew, but he couldn’t disbelieve it either. Ares had a foul temper and Joxer had often winced to hear of how he’d taken it out on the hapless Strife.
He waited; hoping one would appear “Discord? Aphrodite, Cupid? Anyone?” His voice cracked slightly and shook his head knowing that none would heed his call. Maybe they didn’t consider Strifes fate important enough, he knew they had issues and most of the Olympians hated Strife for something he hadn’t done but he’d at least thought his mother would come for her son.
//You promised//
*No one cares?* Strifes consciousness jerked awake though his body remained still, he could feel the barest hint of warmth around him; warmth and comfort. He pushed hard; fighting against the poison that tried to pull him down, not only to reverse the damage done to his organs but also now to hear and feel who had woken his mind. He was intrigued by the person and felt a sense of wild elation at the hope that maybe someone cared.
He tried to use what little power he had left to sense the person but his brief fight had exhausted him. He managed to fight, to stay rigid against the pull and listened.
//Remember when we first met? //
The voice was soft and filled with pain yet Strife could almost see the soft wistful smile he knew the person would be wearing, he found himself held, anchored only by that voice, by Joxer.
//I’d never seen a God before and you weren’t that taken by mortals. I wasn’t sure how long you’d been watching me but I hoped the grin on your face meant you weren’t going to punish me. If you’d stopped me halfway through I probably never would have done the grand finale and you probably would have never bothered with me again.// Joxer laughed somewhat shakily, //I didn’t know who you were or why you were in one of Ares Temples but I was terrified you’d call Ares, tell him what I’d done but you just looked and laughed. You got a kick out of my dad and his warlords getting what was coming to them, guess that’s why you came back next time I was in trouble. After that it seemed like I didn’t even have to cause much mischief and you’d appear. //
Strife drifted gently hypnotised by the sway of Joxers voice; he remembered that day well enough, he’d been bored out of his skull and dodged Discord several times already. She’d been pissed enough at him to stake out all his usual haunts but he’d known she wouldn’t bother to look in any of Ares Temples, with the mood the War God had been in at the time she wouldn’t have dared.
He’d snuck around one of the Temples expecting to find snivelling worshippers and arrogant warlords. What he hadn’t expected to find was the fragile looking boy that had been systematically crushing small pink berries and casually tipping the juice into wine caskets. He’d watched the young child crush berries and add them until his lap was empty. Strife remembered wondering how the child had known (at such a young age) what those berries could do but the excellent laxative effect they’d had at Ares’s feast that evening combined with the ease at which the child hid all evidence of his crime had given Strife one of the largest mischief bursts he’d had in a while. Something like that was only topped by the morning when he’d seen Joxer carry up a flagon of wine to settle his fathers belly, complete with extra berry juice.
That brief encounter had caught Strife’s interest enough to keep tabs on the child who seemed throughout his life to be a natural mischief-maker; even in adulthood he was a big magnet for trouble and able to cause havoc and mayhem wherever he went. Some was intentional, just like the berries; others like his natural ability to trip people over were not. Strife wholeheartedly encouraged the child by teaching him better and more cunning ways of hiding his crimes and appearing before Joxer every so often to exchange stories and ideas. Some was accidental caused by his clumsiness and ability to go off on strange tangents when observing something or speaking to someone but Strife had always made sure each little accident involved the other person falling into something nasty.
Despite being dedicated and worshipping Ares Joxer had always given Strife energy and power, no matter how small the act or how repetitive. Even when he decided to become a hero Joxer never lost the ability to cause mischief and chaos and so Strife had kept up the appearances and started a tentative friendship between them as they both sat on the sidelines and watched Xena and Ares, often critiquing their fighting skills.
//I couldn’t even tell you when we became friends but you were// Joxer seemed to mumble and Strife strained to hear// You were my best friend and I let you down//
Strife could feel the Hinds blood infecting his own and attacking with renewed gusto, his powers were weakening, unable to hold the poison at bay. Strife frantically fought against it as Joxers voice grew fainter; he tried desperately to find his anchor.
//They may not have thought you a great mischief God but you were to me. //
Strife strained harder fighting with all his strength
//And you were a great friend, I only wish I could have been the same//
Strife fumed against it all, against Ares, that bitch Callisto, the Gods, demigods, mortals- all of them for destroying his body and his friend. He heard the sorrow in Joxers voice and vibrated with fury at the self-loathing his friend was feeling.
//Maybe if I’d come clean I could have been here with you//
*I never would have let you get caught up in it* Strife shivered slightly as he felt the undertow begin again, he fought to feel Joxers arms around him, to hear his voice and he screamed with every fibre of his being to live. The idea came to him in an instant, so radical and amazing he had to pause. His body was gone; useless and poisoned and the Hinds blood was trying to destroy the rest of him but if he stopped fighting and gathered the last of his power to him maybe he still had enough to fight one last time to return to his friend, to the one person who cared and would miss him.
Strife wanted to live, not for vengeance but because he deserved to. Joxer believed in him, he’d even miss him. He had a new purpose now; to live for himself and for his friend, for both their sanity’s, for both of them to survive. Strife clenched and pulled everything towards him he could possibly reach. Ever part of him, ever power he possessed. He pushed out warping himself with his power and praying to the one relative he actually still liked and respected Gaia. A flash of bright white surrounded him, throwing him off balance he screamed…
He lived.
Joxer slowly laid the body of his friend down; not seeing the dull light that encircled him briefly and settled over his belly before fading out. Numbly he carried Strifes body outside, still hoping that some divinity would come. Carefully he laid Strifes body down and set about collecting every piece of wood he could find to construct a funeral pyre. He set about his task for his friend never once aware of the God he carried within him; the tiny ball of cells within his belly, which were rapidly dividing.
Author: Wildannuette
Fandom: Hercules:tlj and Xena:WP
Warnings: Character death and mpreg
Notes: Borrowed some lines from 'Ameggeddon now I'
Pairings: Ares/Joxer, Cupid/Strife
Big thanks to Jo for betaing this for me, sorting out and putting up with my psychobabble ideas :)
Based on a plot bunny thrown out by Jessi on the mpreg mailing list (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mpreg/)
Summary: When Strife is stabbed with the Hinds blood dagger he finds a new way to survive with the help of his friend Joxer.
Strife had long since left hysterical panic and was now entering abject terror. Trapped inside his body, unable to move or speak, to even open his eyes he felt the cold sting of the deadly Hinds blood flood through him. Strife screamed within his own mind as he realised even his sense of feeling was fading, he tried to hold on terrified of the darkness that seemed to be swamping him.
He cursed himself for getting involved; that he even bothered to cosy up to Ares and Callisto. He should have gone with his instincts, she was a god but she wasn’t one of them, the way she’d jerked Ares around had proved he was right. Ares should never have trusted her.
//You know what? I’m gonna go to Zeus. We’re gonna get the gods-- no, that’s stupid. He’s gonna blame me for getting Strife killed, right here!//
Hearing remnants of the conversation around him he felt something inside him snap at Ares words.
Strife knew he wasn’t well liked and he sucked up to Ares but it wasn’t out of duty despite what the other Gods believed. No one, least of all a God, would put up with being treated like a whipping boy and dogsbody for that. Being told to ‘shut up’ and being constantly pounded on was not his idea of fun but most Olympians weren’t big on family relations so he had to play along to fit in.
*What’s the point in fighting, things can’t be any worse and no one would miss me anyway. No one cares.* Strife thought bitterly as he gathered as much of his power as he could, not to call out for help but to try to reverse the bloods toxic effects. He closed off his mind ignoring everything around him as he concentrated.
Joxer ducked around the side of Ares temple putting his plan on hold when he saw the fury on his Gods face. He’d had to do a double take when he saw Ares companion, Iolaus. Joxer had been following Hercules and Iolaus hoping to catch up with them and join them whilst Xena got her time alone with Gabrielle. He’d drinking in the village Tavern and overheard from the Warlords general chatter that something had been going on down near Ares temple, something that involved Hercules. When the ground had shook he’d felt a chill run through him that he couldn’t explain, he’d just known he had to get to the temple fast.
“The one great evil is here-- as part of that creature that was with her. And we’ve sensed him-- everyone on Olympus has. This-- this force of darkness-- spells the end of all of us-- gods and man alike.”
Joxer couldn’t see his face but Ares sounded upset, he strained to hear Iolaus’s reply as the two walked off but all he could make out was Ares answer of ‘Strife’ and ‘responsibilities’. He wondered what the younger God could have done to cause such chaos and upset.
“Strife?” Joxer ducked through the side door of the temple and peered inside, he knew when Strife caused mischief he usually hung around to see the outcome. He frowned wondering where all Ares priests were and why his friend didn’t answer his call. Generally Strife loved to recount his exploits to him, especially the big ones. He walked inside, looking around and expecting his friend to jump out at him from behind a statue.
“The ground was shaking, everything feels wrong,” he shivered slightly unable to explain the muggy feeling in his head. The upset and equally pissed off looks on Ares and Iolaus’s faces as they strode out together, something that was miraculous in itself, had prepared him to find Strife sulking and licking his wounds.
Still he didn’t expect to find him on his own and lying on the floor “Strife?”
Joxer felt his heart skip a beat and he stepped forward cautiously “Strife?” he hesitantly asked again, he wondered if had this time Ares had punished Strife until he passed out. Then he saw the blood staining Strife’s front. In a heartbeat he was at the Gods side, dropping to his knees he forced himself to calm as he laid his head on his friends chest. He placed a hand in front of the Gods mouth as he strained to listen for a heartbeat.
The poison was slowly destroying Strife’s organs making his heartbeat slow and his breathing too shallow for mortal ears to hear. Joxer could hear no beats or feel no breaths but he wasn’t even sure if Gods had them, he frantically strained to hear something, anything; *God’s don’t die, they can’t* he thought as he tried to reassure himself. The tone was pleading now and Joxers voice cracked slightly as he spoke. “Strife? Please wake up.”
Joxer touched his friend’s face gently; he noticed how unnaturally pale Strife was much more so then normal and swallowed hard, his mind still screamed that Gods didn’t die but a slow feeling of horror was creeping over him challenging that thought. Shaking he pulled Strife onto his lap, cradling him gently “You can’t die, you’re a God and Gods don’t die.” His voice hitched slightly as he spoke “You promised you’d never do anything stupid, you promised!” He held Strife tighter “What did you do? Who did this to you? Was it a punishment?” He took a few deep breaths as his body screamed at the wrongness of it all. God’s were omnipotent, they barely aged and they worked wonders, the idea that one could die terrified Joxer and shook his beliefs deeply. God’s didn’t die, if they did what could be powerful enough to destroy them
He gripped the God tighter “You promised.” he murmured softly, staring into the Gods face as he willed him to wake up.
“Can I call someone? Who can stop this? Zeus? Ares?” Joxer called the names knowing it was in vain. He especially didn’t want to believe the War God capable of hurting another God to this extent, least of all his nephew, but he couldn’t disbelieve it either. Ares had a foul temper and Joxer had often winced to hear of how he’d taken it out on the hapless Strife.
He waited; hoping one would appear “Discord? Aphrodite, Cupid? Anyone?” His voice cracked slightly and shook his head knowing that none would heed his call. Maybe they didn’t consider Strifes fate important enough, he knew they had issues and most of the Olympians hated Strife for something he hadn’t done but he’d at least thought his mother would come for her son.
//You promised//
*No one cares?* Strifes consciousness jerked awake though his body remained still, he could feel the barest hint of warmth around him; warmth and comfort. He pushed hard; fighting against the poison that tried to pull him down, not only to reverse the damage done to his organs but also now to hear and feel who had woken his mind. He was intrigued by the person and felt a sense of wild elation at the hope that maybe someone cared.
He tried to use what little power he had left to sense the person but his brief fight had exhausted him. He managed to fight, to stay rigid against the pull and listened.
//Remember when we first met? //
The voice was soft and filled with pain yet Strife could almost see the soft wistful smile he knew the person would be wearing, he found himself held, anchored only by that voice, by Joxer.
//I’d never seen a God before and you weren’t that taken by mortals. I wasn’t sure how long you’d been watching me but I hoped the grin on your face meant you weren’t going to punish me. If you’d stopped me halfway through I probably never would have done the grand finale and you probably would have never bothered with me again.// Joxer laughed somewhat shakily, //I didn’t know who you were or why you were in one of Ares Temples but I was terrified you’d call Ares, tell him what I’d done but you just looked and laughed. You got a kick out of my dad and his warlords getting what was coming to them, guess that’s why you came back next time I was in trouble. After that it seemed like I didn’t even have to cause much mischief and you’d appear. //
Strife drifted gently hypnotised by the sway of Joxers voice; he remembered that day well enough, he’d been bored out of his skull and dodged Discord several times already. She’d been pissed enough at him to stake out all his usual haunts but he’d known she wouldn’t bother to look in any of Ares Temples, with the mood the War God had been in at the time she wouldn’t have dared.
He’d snuck around one of the Temples expecting to find snivelling worshippers and arrogant warlords. What he hadn’t expected to find was the fragile looking boy that had been systematically crushing small pink berries and casually tipping the juice into wine caskets. He’d watched the young child crush berries and add them until his lap was empty. Strife remembered wondering how the child had known (at such a young age) what those berries could do but the excellent laxative effect they’d had at Ares’s feast that evening combined with the ease at which the child hid all evidence of his crime had given Strife one of the largest mischief bursts he’d had in a while. Something like that was only topped by the morning when he’d seen Joxer carry up a flagon of wine to settle his fathers belly, complete with extra berry juice.
That brief encounter had caught Strife’s interest enough to keep tabs on the child who seemed throughout his life to be a natural mischief-maker; even in adulthood he was a big magnet for trouble and able to cause havoc and mayhem wherever he went. Some was intentional, just like the berries; others like his natural ability to trip people over were not. Strife wholeheartedly encouraged the child by teaching him better and more cunning ways of hiding his crimes and appearing before Joxer every so often to exchange stories and ideas. Some was accidental caused by his clumsiness and ability to go off on strange tangents when observing something or speaking to someone but Strife had always made sure each little accident involved the other person falling into something nasty.
Despite being dedicated and worshipping Ares Joxer had always given Strife energy and power, no matter how small the act or how repetitive. Even when he decided to become a hero Joxer never lost the ability to cause mischief and chaos and so Strife had kept up the appearances and started a tentative friendship between them as they both sat on the sidelines and watched Xena and Ares, often critiquing their fighting skills.
//I couldn’t even tell you when we became friends but you were// Joxer seemed to mumble and Strife strained to hear// You were my best friend and I let you down//
Strife could feel the Hinds blood infecting his own and attacking with renewed gusto, his powers were weakening, unable to hold the poison at bay. Strife frantically fought against it as Joxers voice grew fainter; he tried desperately to find his anchor.
//They may not have thought you a great mischief God but you were to me. //
Strife strained harder fighting with all his strength
//And you were a great friend, I only wish I could have been the same//
Strife fumed against it all, against Ares, that bitch Callisto, the Gods, demigods, mortals- all of them for destroying his body and his friend. He heard the sorrow in Joxers voice and vibrated with fury at the self-loathing his friend was feeling.
//Maybe if I’d come clean I could have been here with you//
*I never would have let you get caught up in it* Strife shivered slightly as he felt the undertow begin again, he fought to feel Joxers arms around him, to hear his voice and he screamed with every fibre of his being to live. The idea came to him in an instant, so radical and amazing he had to pause. His body was gone; useless and poisoned and the Hinds blood was trying to destroy the rest of him but if he stopped fighting and gathered the last of his power to him maybe he still had enough to fight one last time to return to his friend, to the one person who cared and would miss him.
Strife wanted to live, not for vengeance but because he deserved to. Joxer believed in him, he’d even miss him. He had a new purpose now; to live for himself and for his friend, for both their sanity’s, for both of them to survive. Strife clenched and pulled everything towards him he could possibly reach. Ever part of him, ever power he possessed. He pushed out warping himself with his power and praying to the one relative he actually still liked and respected Gaia. A flash of bright white surrounded him, throwing him off balance he screamed…
He lived.
Joxer slowly laid the body of his friend down; not seeing the dull light that encircled him briefly and settled over his belly before fading out. Numbly he carried Strifes body outside, still hoping that some divinity would come. Carefully he laid Strifes body down and set about collecting every piece of wood he could find to construct a funeral pyre. He set about his task for his friend never once aware of the God he carried within him; the tiny ball of cells within his belly, which were rapidly dividing.