Celestial Chess
Title: Celestial Chess
Author: Katyd katydau@pacific.net.au
Archive: YES PLEASE. Joxerotica and anywhere else that'll tell me so I can brag
Rating: Well, it starts out R, will wander through G and hopefully hit a
couple of strong NC17's
Pairing: primarily Joxer/Ares with some mention of Strife/Cupid,
Herc/Iolus, Gabrielle/Xena and various others as they come to light.
Category: This is a first time angsty romantic drama which will eventually evolve into a crossover. Oh yeah, and it's a challenge response.
Warnings: Adult themes, violence, sex, slash, mentions of child abuse and general angstyness but hopefully nothing too disturbing. My squick
tolerance is pretty low so there shouldn't be anything here to offend
anyone who can watch the show
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Flat Earth et al own it all.
Spoilers: Not really, and besides, nothing happened after Joxer got Xena
and Gabby down from those crosses anyway.
Sumamry: Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases,
escapes, true love, miracles.
Thanks: To Danielle and Shadowmage7 for beta'ing and to Damej and AnnD for listening to me rave on and on about the story even though neither of them ships this way and AnnD refuses to be turned to the Slash side of the force (We'll get you yet my pretty)
The Challenge - Posted by Shamenka on Joxerotica a long long time ago.....
Shamenka's Challenge
Use the following paragraph as your opening paragraph and include as many of the following plot points as you want or can fit in.... I very much doubt anyone could fit them all in. But I'm willing to be pleasently proven wrong here...
Plot Points
Joxer instructing the new God of War in his/her duties....
Hercules or Aphrodite as said new God/Goddess of War
Ares working on his son (Cupid)'s birthday present - ergo he
needs the time off, make it something suitably silly, interior design I don't know, use your wickedest imagination....
Zeus' guilt trip wondering what's happened to Ares.
Joxer's point of view.
Does he (J) or does he not know what Ares is doing?
An orgy in honour of Cupid's birthday
Ares' private quarters being done out in a colour other than
black, for a change.
Joxer's key to said private quarters
A litter of black and white kittens.
And the opening paragraph!
Zeus had been calling his volatile son for almost an hour. Off and
on, anyway. So now there he was, making a 'personal appearance'
in Ares' main temple in Sparta. The War God's last known location. Exasperated by having to make this effort the King of the Gods looked around. Finally his eyes fell on a carefully folded piece of parchment sitting squarely on Ares' throne. He picked it up, read it, read it again and finally tried reading it out loud to see if it would say anything different this time.
"Hi Dad, Suppose you've finally come looking for me. You wont find
me! I'm out of time, out of sight, out your hair and out of that
shit job you dumped me with. I'll be back when and if I get back. Hey, you could always get your beloved son or equally beloved daughter to fill in...that covers everyone else in the family, sans Discord of course. But that's your nightmare, not mine. See you around maybe. Love Ares (?)" Zeus tried it again. The message didn't change, but what did he mean 'love Ares' question mark? Did he think he wasn't loved? That he didn't love Zeus? That it wasn't really Ares' note...he was a prisoner somewhere?
***********
Part 1a
Zeus had been calling his volatile son for almost an hour. Off and on, anyway. So now there he was, making a ‘personal appearance’ in Ares’ main temple in Sparta. The War God’s last known location. Exasperated by having to make this effort the King of the Gods looked around. Finally his eyes fell on a carefully folded piece of parchment sitting squarely on Ares’ throne. He picked it up, read it, read it again and finally tried reading it out loud to see if it would say anything different this time.
"Hi Dad, Suppose you’ve finally come looking for me. You won’t find me! I’m out of time, out of sight, out your hair and out of that shit job you dumped me with. I’ll be back when and if I get back. Hey, you could always get your beloved son or equally beloved daughter to fill in... that covers everyone else in the family, sans Discord of course. But that’s your nightmare, not mine. See you around maybe. Love Ares (?)" Zeus tried it again. The message didn’t change, but what did he mean ‘love Ares’ question mark? Did he think he wasn’t loved? That he didn’t love Zeus? That it wasn’t really Ares’ note...he was a prisoner somewhere?
And what about ‘you’ve finally come looking for me’? What did that mean? He’d only been calling Ares for an hour; it really wasn’t that long a time for Ares to be missing. An uneasy feeling began to creep over Zeus’ consciousness. When was the last time he saw Ares anyway?
An hour later Zeus was back in his study and, after a brief poll of Olympus, no better off than before. No one had seen Ares in more than two weeks. He flushed guiltily. (I should have looked for him before now. I should have known he was missing. He is my son after all and I don’t even know where to start looking for him.) The guilt didn’t last long however. Damn it, he was the King of the Gods, he didn’t have time to keep track of everyone. It was Ares’ responsibility to let his father know where he was and to be here when he was needed. The boy was useless, he barely managed his job properly, never seemed to be able to follow out his father’s orders; always one damn excuse after the other. ‘Hercules did this…Xena did that…’ And the rest of them were almost as bad. Not one of them had even realised the boy had been missing at all let alone for two weeks. How was that even possible?
“Well you didn’t notice either and you’re the boy’s father. Is it any wonder that the rest of the Pantheon takes its tone from you and ignores him whenever possible? He doesn’t exactly have any friends here…you saw to that.”
“Hera.” Zeus turned to face his perpetually angry wife. “Do you know where he is?”
“He hasn’t told me what he was doing in over two hundred years. He’s the God of War; he’s good at holding a grudge. Why are you looking for him anyway?”
“Aggression is getting out of hand. We need a war to bleed off…” his voice trailed away as Hera stared at him icily.
“So not out of fatherly concern then.” It was a statement, not a question.
Zeus felt a renewed twinge of guilt at her words, but damn it, he was the king of the Gods! He didn’t have to answer to anybody. “He has a damn job to do.”
“Do it yourself. Or have your precious Hercules do it. You’ve been looking for an excuse to bring him to Olympus, and he seems to think he’s as good as, if not better than, the gods. Give him a chance to find out what that actually entails.” She flashed out of Zeus’ study with so much force that his windows imploded. As the broken glass showered down around the room Zeus transported out as well.
***********
Hercules and Iolaus had been headed to Corinth to see Iphicles when they ran in to Joxer. It had been a while since they had seen the small warrior wannabe, and neither man had had any real objection to him joining them on the trail. Joxer was not much of a warrior but he was a great communication system. He always had the latest news of Xena and Gabrielle, Autolycus and Salmoneus, and many of their other mutual friends. The news always came through what Gabrielle called ‘the special Joxer filter’ but his friends knew him well enough to pick out the relevant parts of the story.
Today, however, Joxer’s news was grim and he told it without embellishment. When he had last seen Gabrielle and Xena they had been fighting to save a town from the attacks of a hydra. According to the headman of the village the hydra had been set on them for failing to make an ‘appropriate’ sacrifice to Zeus. The sacrifice in question was the youngest child of every household.
The women defeated the hydra and there had been no further contact from any god so they moved on. It was only one of many embattled villages they had seen lately. The story was similar to the situation Hercules and Iolaus had faced in several villages. Hercules, currently undergoing one of his rare periods of reconciliation with Zeus, believed that one of the other gods, most likely Ares, was trying to discredit the King of the Gods. Iolaus wasn’t so sure but despite their regular periods of estrangement Hercules’ faith in his father’s integrity was unshakeable.
At any rate Hercules obviously didn’t feel the need to share his theory with Joxer, but he did invite the smaller man to join them on their journey to Corinth. Joxer joined them happily; apparently oblivious to the idea that his friends felt he needed their protection. The three men were enjoying the day and their travels when they were interrupted by a flash of light on the path in front of them.
“Father!” Hercules looked simultaneously pleased and worried to see his godly parent. The pleasure won through and he rushed to his father’s side. Iolaus and Joxer exchanged a rueful look and moved forward to where their companion was talking to the King of the Gods, who completely ignored their arrival. “What are you doing here? Have you been to see Mother? Did she give you a message for me?”
Joxer blinked at the idea of Zeus reduced to the status of a messenger, even on behalf of his hero son, but no one else seemed to notice the incongruity of the remark. Even Zeus seemed prepared to let it go, so Joxer wasn’t about to make an issue of it.
“No son, your brother is missing.” Hercules looked at him blankly until Zeus explained. “Ares. That worthless, unreliable son of a…”
“God.” Joxer spoke quietly but Zeus heard him and unaccountably flushed. Iolaus took a step away from Joxer, expecting to see the man struck by lightning, but nothing happened. Zeus ignored him and continued talking to Hercules as if he and Iolaus were not present.
“Ares has disappeared, and no one seems to know when or where. I can’t find him and I…he’s needed. Somebody has to be the God of War and if he isn’t here to do it himself I’ll have to find a replacement. I don’t really have a choice about that.” For a moment he seemed to be looking over Hercules’ shoulder as he spoke. “Have you seen him?”
“No Father, he hasn’t bothered us in months.”
“He was in Crete last month.” Again Joxer spoke just loud enough to be heard. “He was looking for Xena.”
Zeus didn’t actually bother to look at the warrior as he snapped out a couple of terse questions. “Well? Where is she?”
“She and Gabrielle were headed for Chin.” Joxer stood unnaturally still, his eyes trained on the god who continued to ignore him.
“Damn it, I can’t go traipsing all over the world looking for him! I don’t have time for this. Hercules,” he looked at his son sternly, “I need a God of War. You’ve just volunteered.”
“Father, you know I don’t want to be a god.” Even as he protested there was a speculative glint in Hercules’ eye. Iolaus was worried, he knew that Hercules had turned the offer down before and just hoped his friend could be as strong again.
Zeus, however, saw only another attempt to thwart his will. “I wasn’t giving you a choice, I was giving you an order. You are my son and you will obey me.”
“Alright,” Hercules agreed, nodding slowly. “I’ll do it, providing you don’t interfere with the way I do it.”
“Done.” Zeus’ voice echoed around the surrounding countryside like thunder.
Iolaus knew that this couldn’t be a good thing. In spite of all they had seen in their travels, all the damage that had been done to innocent people in Zeus’ name and the hero’s own rocky relationship with the god, he knew that on some level Hercules idolised his father. In Iolaus' experience nothing good ever came of their contact with Zeus. The King of the Gods treated them erratically, protecting Hercules from the other gods but at the same time setting them in conflict against each other. He opened his mouth to protest but Hercules turned to him and grabbed his arm.
“Think about it,” he hissed. “It’s only temporary, but it’s our chance to stop wars before they even begin. We can do more good this way than any other.” Turning back to his father he added: “I’ll need help.” He waved a hand behind him to where Iolaus stood, possibly even forgetting that Joxer stood there too.
“Fine. You can take your friends with you, but you will be the only God.” He poked his finger into Hercules’ chest to emphasise his point. “Nothing changes for…them.” Zeus waved his hand and the three men found themselves transported into a large echoing hall. The only furniture in the room was a black marble throne at one end and a low wooden table beside it. The hall was large enough to dwarf the three men standing before the throne. Around them they heard the disembodied voice of Zeus. “Hercules, for the time being at least you are the God of War. You have the powers and the knowledge to use them. You and your companions may stay here in the Halls of War. Help yourselves to whatever you need. Iolaus you may come and go around Olympus provided you are escorted by Hercules or one of the other Gods. Joxer may not leave the halls.”
If Iolaus thought it strange that Zeus referred to Joxer in the third person, rather than addressing him directly, he seemed to be the only one. Joxer just nodded his head in acknowledgment and Hercules didn’t notice at all. Instead he was looking around the room in a disapproving manner.
“I wonder why there’s no furniture in here?”
“It’s Ares’ audience chamber, linked to each of his major temples so that he doesn’t have to travel around Greece in order to see his worshipers. Supplicants who come to his temples on audience days find themselves here. No one who comes here stays long enough to need to sit down.” Joxer took off his helmet and ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. “His private apartments are better furnished.”
Hercules looked at the little warrior in confusion. “How do you know all that?”
“My father was one of Ares warlords and I was practically raised in the Halls. The Halls here are the same as Ares main temple in Corinth. And Sparta and everywhere else actually. I know the layout like I know my own home.”
“Good.” Iolaus was bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “Then maybe you know where the jakes are?”
“Through there.” Joxer was pointing to a heavy tapestry. “There’s a corridor, the first door on the left is the Jakes. The second is the bath. Doors on the right are guestrooms; there should be clean clothes and anything else you need. The door at the end of the hall will be locked. It leads to Ares private rooms.”
“Thanks.” Iolaus nodded quickly and was gone, obviously in serious need.
“So,” Hercules was happy to accept Joxer’s familiarity with the Halls, “where can I get some more furniture? Iolaus is going to need somewhere to sit. And you too of course.”
Part 1b
Joxer was too used to being an afterthought to his friends to take any real offence at this. He pointed to a tapestry on the opposite side of the hall to the one through which Iolaus had just passed. “Through there is a formal reception room. It should have all the furniture you need. On the other hand it’s smaller and more comfortable than the main Hall. You could use it as your main base of operations. It has access to the War Room as well as the dinning hall.”
“Thanks, I guess I’ll check it out.” Hercules wandered away without
bothering to ask if Joxer would like to accompany him. Joxer was only left alone for a moment when Iolaus reappeared, looking considerably
refreshed. The blond hunter gazed curiously around the Hall. Wordlessly
Joxer pointed to the tapestry on the opposite side of the room. Iolaus
flashed him a grin of thanks and went in search of the hero.
Joxer sighed deeply and turned, passing into the corridor Iolaus had just left. Walking slowly but purposefully he soon reached the locked door at the end of the hall. For a moment he simply stood there, his head resting against the dark wood of the featureless door as he drew in a series of deep shuddering breaths. Finally he straightened and reached inside his breastplate for a chain which hung around his neck. Pulling the chain free he wrapped his hand around the silver emblem which hung from it, a replica of Ares’ sword of power.
His friends didn’t know he carried this symbol of Ares and would probably have been surprised to discover the man they considered the worst warrior in history had been gifted with the mark of the God of War’s Chosen. They would have been even more surprised to learn that of all such emblems this was the only one made of Hephastian silver. Holding tight to the symbol Joxer pushed on the door which swung soundlessly open before him. A black cat sprang through the door as it opened and twined itself around Joxer’s feet. He reached down automatically to pat her gently, smiling at her swollen belly, before she moved on down the hall. He watched after her for a moment then turned back to the open doorway before him. For the first time in over two hundred years Joxer the Mighty, immortal demi-god and Ares’ Fool, stepped into the private rooms of his god.
The first room he entered was Ares’ bedroom. It was not the black on black theme that many of his followers would have expected, that was reserved for his ‘public’ bedrooms where he was first and foremost the God of War. This room was the bedroom of Ares; son, father, brother, lover. The walls were cream and bare of weapons. Instead they were decorated with finger paintings and other instances of childish art. A single feather was framed and hung in a place of honour, Joxer knew it was the first that Cupid had ever shed. Beside it was another in a matching frame and he guessed that it was Bliss’. Unlike the stone floors in the rest of the Halls the floor here was made of boards which glowed richly and seemed to hold the warmth of the sun. A fireplace took up most of one wall and before it was a collection of soft rugs and cushions, bracketed by low couches.
The centrepiece of the room though was a bed. The bed was huge; big enough to sleep four adults or, as was more usually the case, one adult and a slew of children. It was piled high with pillows and soft rugs in shades of green and bronze. The hangings around the bed were made of sea green gauze and behind the bed was a huge window, which stretched up the wall and to the ceiling high overhead, where it became a skylight. At night you could lie in that bed and look at the stars, in the morning the first rays of the sun warmed you and when it stormed outside there was no safer place to be. Most of Joxer’s happiest childhood memories were of time spent in that bed with his brothers and cousins, listening to and telling stories, giggling and mock fighting; simply being children.
He smiled at the memories but didn’t linger in the room. Instead he passed through to a second, slightly smaller room. This was Ares dressing room. On one wall hung Ares’ leathers, worn when he was fulfilling his duties as God of War, on the other were the softer, more comfortable clothes he wore when he was just Ares. In the middle of the room was an odd device, a wooden pole with long pegs set at various points and a wooden ball, the size and shape of a man’s head, set at the top. Joxer stopped in front of this and began to strip off his armour, carefully placing it piece by piece on the dummy that had been made to hold it. The sword slotted neatly into the base and the display was complete. In his breeches, old worn boots and undershirt Joxer continued through to the third room.
This was Ares’ private bathroom, the main feature of which was a marble
bath, sunk into the floor and the size of a small pond. Stripping off his clothes Joxer spoke aloud. “Jasmine and sandalwood.” As an afterthought he added: “Bubbles.” He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them the bath was full of steaming water and frothy bubbles. He grinned remembering how, as a child, he had tried to catch the bath doing its magic trick but had never succeeded, and the way Ares had managed to keep a straight face when he told five year old Joxer that the bath was ‘shy’.
Ares. Sinking into the sweetly perfumed water Joxer’s eyes closed again.
He could smell Ares; he could practically feel him, although he knew the
god was far away. Being here in this place again after so many years
brought the memories flooding back. The last time he was here was the
sweetest memory he owned.
************
Joxer had been babysitting Cupid in the Halls of War. He got on well with the mischievous little god, probably because of the Mischief in his own make up, and it was no hardship for the twenty-eight-year-old demi-god to look after his cousin. But today Cupid had somehow managed to get hold of Aphrodite’s secretly hoarded supply of chocolate sauce and had liberally painted Joxer with it. When Aphrodite came to collect her son she found him being chased by a giggling and chocolate-coated young man bent on revenge. She had whisked the young godling away to safety just as Ares returned from the battlefield.
Ares arrived covered in filth and blood from the battle, took one look at his chocolate covered young friend and had burst out laughing. “Bath?” he asked when he finally got himself under control and Joxer had grinned and agreed. They had gone naturally to the bath in Ares’ private quarters, stripping as they walked and leaving a trail of soiled clothing from hallway to bath, Ares calling his orders as they went so that they walked in to find the bath already filled. Ares had sunk into the water immediately and dunked his head to remove the worst of the filth. Joxer was only a step or two behind.
Joxer had shared this bath before from earliest childhood; with Ares and
Aphrodite, Strife and Eris, Cupid, Jett, Jace, Hera, Hephasteus, or any
combination of the group. On one memorable occasion they had all climbed
in together, the adults nursing the children. The splashing had been
tremendous. Nudity was not a taboo on Olympus and none of them had ever
felt self-conscious. But today as he slipped into the water Joxer could
feel Ares’ gaze on his skin.
An unaccustomed flush heated the young man’s body and at first he had been unable to meet Ares’ eyes. When he did he was almost frightened by the look he saw but didn’t recognise. Only the knowledge that this was Ares, his friend, stopped the young man from shying away. And then,
unaccountably, Ares dropped his gaze and blushed. Joxer felt a rush of
power sweeter than ambrosia followed by the burn of shy embarrassment.
“Ares?” It was a quiet request for enlightenment but the response was
overwhelming. At Joxer’s soft voice the dark god brought his head up
swiftly and their gazes locked.
“Joxer.” Ares’ voice was ragged but the command was implicit and Joxer had never yet disobeyed a command. He moved swiftly through the water until he sat beside the older god. He felt breathless and his eyes slid shut. He could smell the sharp tang of Ares’ sweat and underneath it the copper scent of blood like a distant echo. He could smell jasmine and sandalwood and the dark sweetness of chocolate. He could, he could, he could feel the back of Ares’ fingertips as they traced a line of fire down his cheek and the warm push of breath against his lips. And then Ares’ hand was cupping his face and their lips were pressed together. Joxer froze, sure his heart would stop beating, until he realised that Ares’ lips were moving against his in a rhythm he could feel in his blood. He breathed deeply and his lips parted slightly. It was all the invitation Ares needed and suddenly Joxer’s mouth was full of the taste of Ares. So many of Aphrodite’s hints and jokes suddenly made sense and Joxer understood what was happening. Shyly he stroked Ares’ tongue with his own and was rewarded with a groan and fingers slipping into his hair, drawing his face closer.
He opened his eyes when Ares broke the kiss, a moan of disappointment and loss escaping him even as the contact broke, but a moment later those lips were on his cheek in a wet kiss and the caress of a tongue. “Oh, my god.”
Ares answered him with a chuckle, “Yes?” He pulled back far enough to look in Joxer’s eyes and saw the glaze of passion there. Joxer’s lips followed the retreat seemingly of their own will. His mind had shut down
completely. “Was there something you wanted?”
“More?” Joxer leaned in, pressing his lips to his god’s. He tasted
chocolate and shuddered when he realised the taste had come from his own
skin. Slipping his tongue between his lips he tried to gather more of the taste. Ares growled low in his throat and opened his lips beneath Joxer’s kiss, drawing the young immortal’s tongue into the moist heat of his mouth.
Everything in Joxer’s world was heat and caress. The fingers that stroked through his hair left trails of fire on his scalp; he could feel the hot pulse of blood in his lips as they were brushed by warm flesh; he was wrapped in a cacoon of warm water that lapped against his skin and his brain was on fire. Tentatively his hand reached out beneath the water and came to rest on Ares’ knee. The god groaned low and withdrew from the kiss. He sat back against the edge of the pool his eyes closed and a look of pain on his face.
Joxer’s eyes opened slowly. His body ached with passions he had never felt before and he was confused by Ares’ sudden and complete withdrawal. “Did I…did I do something wrong?”
Joxer was drawn forward to rest on Ares’ shoulder, held firm in his
embrace. “No love, no.” Ares’ hand stroked his back soothingly and kisses were rained down on his face. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but we can’t do this, not yet. You know Zeus’ Law.”
“I know,” Joxer turned his face up to meet Ares’ gaze, “but we were just
kissing.”
“But I wanted so much more than that.”
Joxer blushed as Ares’ words inflamed him. “So do I.” He spoke in a
small quiet voice and was amazed by the way Ares’ breath caught at his
words. Before he could speak again his lips were crushed in a passionate
kiss. Ares’ hands cupped his face and when the kiss ended he breathed
words into Joxer’s mouth.
“I think perhaps you should go see Aphrodite. Soon.” His voice broke on
the last word and Joxer was determined to find a way to ease his would be lover’s pain. In the next heartbeat Ares’ was gone and Joxer was alone in the bath.
***********
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