Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the order in which the following words appear.

………

Oh muses nine, of birth divine,

Sing to me a tale….

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Prologue

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Lightning streaked across the night sky, a blinding harbinger of the thunderous crashes that immediately followed. Zeus was in rare form tonight, his anger playing out across the dark canopy of clouds while rain slashed down in heavy torrents upon the city below.

Some said Knossos was cursed, that the Fates had ruled against the Minoan capital. Others countered that it was blessed, that no other nation had such a massive, powerful army or the good fortune to be ruled by a demi-god. In a way, both opinions were correct…

Within the sprawling palace, in a dim, lamp-lit room paced the King of Crete, the half-demon who was rumored to be a bastard offspring of Zeus himself. The storm raging outside had little to do with his current dark mood, though it complimented it very nicely. His bare feet stomped across the lavish floor as though attempting to crack the intricate mosaic tesserae upon which they trod.

"My liege, please," a steward pleaded from a corner of the room, "calm yourself. The midwife knows her business well. Doubtless this birth will be like any other…"

In a flash, the half-demon was in the man's face, one clawed hand around the steward's throat as he shoved him up against the wall and lifted him a few inches off the ground.

"Calm down?" he repeated, his amber eyes tinged with red. "We both know that child may not be mine!"

The steward's only response was a choking gasp for air, his eyes wide and desperate.

The next instant, the king released his grip, and the man slumped down to the floor, starved lungs gratefully heaving. He lifted his head and blearily watched his leader return to restless pacing, even as his ears picked up a far-off sound, something between a grunt and a scream. No doubt the King of Crete, with his enhanced hearing, could perfectly discern those cries of exertion. No doubt the queen's labor-pains were the sole source of his ire.

Some said Knossos was cursed.

"Surely the curse was fulfilled months ago," the steward feebly attempted. "The gods have smiled on you since! None can stand in the way of your armies, and since that… that time of punishment, your queen has returned to her former mind. Were this child an offspring of that curse, surely she would have remained in her frenzied state throughout her pregnancy. Poseidon has had his revenge and is appeased!"

His leader paused in his pacing, head tilted slightly as he studied the steward upon the floor, contemplating his logic. Some of his anxiety seemed to disappear, but a tortured sigh escaped his lips nonetheless. "If only it were that simple," he ground out.

"Perhaps it is that simple. A mistake was made, and a punishment given. Justice has been meted out. You have made your offerings to Poseidon without fail. What purpose would he have in punishing you further?"

A silence fell between them, both inwardly musing on the possibility of the steward's words being correct. When it came to the Olympians, it was often difficult to tell if forgiveness was given or not. No one held grudges quite like the gods…

"His Majesty has much reason to worry."

Both men jumped and whirled, their startled gazes coming to rest on a hunched old figure that stood in the chamber doorway. Her bulging eyes stared back at them almost sightlessly, and a malevolent smirk twisted across her weathered face. She had appeared seemingly from nowhere, her presence overpowering.

"Much reason indeed," she added, stepping forward unbidden.

The steward was the first to recover himself, scrambling to his feet and dropping into a low bow. The king's attention jerked toward him briefly before he followed suit.

"Sibyl of Delphi," the Minoan monarch managed thickly, "you honor us with your presence."

A bitter chuckle escaped the newcomer's lips. "You seek to sway old Urasue with mere words of kindness?" she inquired archly. "I am not so easily bought. The Fates have spoken, Inuyasha, King of Crete, and I am to deliver their message. All the flattery in the world could not undo the words I shall pronounce upon your head this night!"

A crash of thunder reverberated through the house. The king could not bring himself to speak, merely gaping at the ancient crone, awaiting her dark tidings.

One corner of Urasue's sunken mouth curled up into a wry smile. "Your queen, grey-eyed Kikyo, defied the gods with her presumption, and a terrible curse was brought down upon her head in retribution. This much you already know, King of Crete. Tonight that curse comes to fruition."

Her two listeners waited breathlessly for the completion of her prophecy, their eyes widening as they watched her expression contort to one of pure malice.

Urasue's words were as hot acid on their ears. "Tonight, in that birthing chamber, the once-pure maiden shall bear a monster such as this world has never before seen! Each time the moon waxes to its fullest, the beast shall gorge itself on human flesh, young men and women offered in sacrifice to keep it at bay, to satisfy its bloodlust! Countless innocents shall tremble in fear and perish, and you shall be powerless to intercede! Such have the Fates spoken!"

Silence fell across the room, deafening in its emptiness, only to be shattered by the unmistakable wail of an infant child.

"Kikyo." The single word wrenched itself from Inuyasha's throat in a strangled whisper. He whirled toward the source of the disturbance, even started moving in that direction, before recalling the ill omen of his guest. When he swiveled back to give the old woman a piece of his mind, however, his golden eyes met nothing but an empty doorway.

Urasue had vanished.

He cast a frantic glance toward the steward, who could only shrug in oblivious astonishment. "Kikyo," Inuyasha pronounced again, firmly, then bounded away down the hall. His advisor watched him leave, an expression of mingled fear and wonder on his face.

A maid was just stepping out of the birthing chamber as the king scrambled toward the doorway. Whatever words she spoke were lost in his frenzy of emotion, and he callously brushed by her into the room beyond where lay his wife and her newborn child.

Kikyo looked up at his unceremonious entrance, her face wan but her eyes shimmering.

"Are you all right?" he demanded, arresting his steps upon catching sight of the small bundle in her arms. The midwife bustled about in the corner of the room, cleaning up the vestiges of childbirth as though this evening's work had been no different from any other.

"Just tired," Kikyo managed, her gaze straying down to the tightly wrapped infant resting against her bosom. "He's beautiful," she whispered in awe. "Come look at him, Inuyasha. Our child is beautiful."

He tried to ignore the iron grip clamped around his heart as he stepped forward. It was very possible that the child could be his, after all. He and Kikyo hadn't exactly been celibate around the time when the child would have been conceived. At this moment, he desperately wanted to believe that the curse had been fulfilled all those months ago, that this child was not the monster offspring foretold. He wanted to believe that the Fates were wrong, and that the words of the Delphian Oracle were nothing more than the rantings of a senile old woman.

Leaning forward gingerly, he caught his first glimpse of the infant boy, a thick head of coal-black hair and the smooth baby-skin of a perfect face. Eyes scrunched closed, the newborn opened his mouth and let out a short wail, which Kikyo quickly silenced by placing her pinky on his lower lip.

"I think he's hungry," she smiled, watching her son suck ravenously on her finger.

Inuyasha wanted nothing more than to believe that everything was as perfect as it seemed. He swallowed hard, his eyes raising to meet his lover's gaze even as the grip on his heart tightened. He wanted to believe, but one bald fact stood in his way:

The Fates were never wrong.

………

Tribute

Chapter 1

Twenty Years Later

Athens

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"…and then, just as the gorgon was bearing down on me, I slashed my sword and cut off her head! It went tumbling to the ground, the snake-tresses writhing in agony and a voiceless shriek coming from her hideous mouth!"

Several horrified gasps sounded from the group of small children gathered at the speaker's feet, and their expressions indicated that they were enthralled with the story.

"Really? Is that really how it happened?"

"That's not all," the dark-haired girl answered with a nod. "I thought for certain that she was dead, but just when I reached forward to shove her head into my knapsack, she… jumped!" The storyteller lunged toward her audience, who shrieked in petrified delight.

An undisguised scoff cut through the afternoon air, and all eyes immediately shot toward the corner from whence the blasphemous sound had originated. A man leaned against the garden wall, his hands folded over his chest and an expression of pure disbelief etched into his features.

"Come on," he said derisively. "It was Perseus who killed the gorgons! You can't take credit for his deeds!"

The storyteller straightened primly and brushed off the skirt of her long peplos. "I was only giving a dramatic re-enactment," she said with deadly calm. "Of course Perseus killed the gorgons. Everyone knows that."

Her critic snorted. "You should save drama for the men, like the gods intended. And while we're at it, you should save your aspirations of heroism for the men as well. Women are meant to adorn the bedroom, not the battlefield."

The girl's back stiffened perceptibly as she drew herself up to her full, albeit diminutive, height and glared down her nose at him. "Try telling that to any self-respecting Amazon," she retorted, then immediately returned her attention to the small cluster of children. "I think that's all the storytelling for today," she said apologetically. "I'm sure your mothers are all wondering where you are."

The group obediently dispersed, with only one tiny girl lingering behind, clutching tentatively to the draped woolen fabric of the storyteller's skirt. "Are you going to finish the story tomorrow, Kagome?" she asked, her words hardly discernable in the softness of her voice.

The object of her query knelt down, looking her in the eyes and smiling. "If you want me to, I will," she answered almost as quietly, her eyes briefly flicking toward the figure still leaning against the garden wall.

The little girl beamed and nodded, then scampered away, leaving the two youths alone.

"What are you hanging around for, Kotatsu?" Kagome inquired with hostility. Her aversion for the man, usually so well hidden, was perfectly visible at the moment.

"You think you're hot stuff, don't you?" he responded, a sneer in his voice. "Just because the king adopted you and lets you live here at the palace, you think you're above the rules of this society."

"There's no rule saying a woman can't tell a group of children a simple story."

Kotatsu grunted, unable to come up with a suitable retort. "You have other tasks to be attending to, I'm sure," he finally accused. "Your stepmother would no doubt appreciate your help with her weaving."

"Actually, she prefers that I steer clear of her looms. And what about you? Don't you have a fresco to be working on?"

"What's the point?" he shot back with a sneer. "Why would I paint when I've been chosen for death?" Her confused reaction to his words spurred him on. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Precious? Apple of the king's eye! I'm sure your name wasn't even in the drawing, was it?"

Kagome was scrutinizing him, trying to detect any sort of deception. She could plainly see that he wanted her to ask for more details, but at the moment, she certainly wasn't going to indulge him. With an arrogant toss of her head, she turned and walked away. Kotatsu called after her, his voice jeering.

"That's right, Princess! Walk away, safe and sound, while we true Athenians sacrifice our lives for you! Must be nice to be so blessed by the gods!"

She quickened her pace, tuning out his voice even as it faded away with distance. Anger bubbled in her chest at Kotatsu's reference to "true Athenians." This was her home, even if she wasn't born here, even if she'd only lived here for the last few years, even if she was only a poor stranger of questionable heritage… Tears were stinging at the back of her eyes, but she ruthlessly suppressed them, her sandaled feet breaking into a run.

Her steps led her through the Acropolis, straight to the palace and her adopted father's presence. He stood with a group of advisors and a couple of foreign dignitaries, all their faces grave as they discussed serious matters. At her entrance, though, the king readily took leave of his entourage.

"Kagome, my dear child, what brings you here?"

"What has happened, Father?" she inquired in a hushed voice. "Are we at war?"

"War?" the man repeated in surprise, a bemused smile spreading across his face. "No, of course not! What could ever make you think of something like that?"

He was trying to pawn her off, she could tell. "Then what is this about a drawing and being chosen for death?" she persisted.

The smile on his face faltered. "You heard about that, did you?" Slinging one arm around her shoulder in a comforting gesture, he walked with her, guiding their steps toward the temple of Athena. "It is merely a ritual, nothing more. Do not worry yourself over it."

"A ritual that involves killing Athenians?" Kagome demanded, not one to be put off her goal.

Her adoptive father winced. "Perhaps 'ritual' is the wrong word. To put it simply, Kagome, Athens pays tribute to Crete. Years ago, the Minoan army invaded and threatened to destroy our beautiful city. They spared us, in return for the lives of fourteen youths—seven men and seven women—and a promise that the same tribute would be paid whenever they demanded it. The lives of a few to save the multitude, you see. Of course we accepted their offer. There really was not other option. And this is only the third time we've had to pay in twenty years, so we should consider ourselves lucky."

"But what do they do with the tribute?" she pressed in confusion. "Why would Crete wish to slaughter the youth of Athens?" A sudden protectiveness spiked within her—these were her people, after all. She owed much to the goodness of the beautiful city.

His face held a very somber expression now, his eyes shadowed and his mouth frowning. "No one knows for certain. I've heard it said our youths are offered to appease a hideous monster that lives in the underbelly of Knossos," he admitted. "Truth be told, we are not the only city-state to pay such tribute. Crete has a long, powerful reach, and many colonies must send the chosen of their rising generation into that abyss. In twenty years, not one has ever come back alive."

"If Crete is so powerful, why do they not kill the monster and leave off with the human sacrifice?" Kagome demanded, suddenly irate. "Or why do they not call upon a band of heroes to do it for them, like Hiten and the Argonauts?"

"Shh!" He quickly cupped a hand over her mouth, a horrified expression his face. "Don't say that name! If your step-mother hears it, she'll fly into a rage!" The king's eyes darted around momentarily, checking to make sure that no one was within range of their voices. Satisfied, he hesitantly released his silencing hold on her.

"You'd think after chopping his children to bits and feeding them to him, Yura would feel vindicated enough not to hold a grudge anymore," Kagome commented dryly. She couldn't help but smile as her adoptive father flinched. "Anyway, we're off the subject. Why doesn't the king of Crete destroy that monster rather than feeding it?"

Her father heaved a tired sigh. "Rumor has it he is powerless to intercede. Many tales are told of the beast's origin, and I don't know where to separate fact from fancy, but if the majority of the stories are correct, then the monster which lurks beneath the palace was born of the Minoan queen herself."

Kagome recoiled in confusion. "The queen gave birth to a monster? How did this come about?"

He looked around himself furtively before pulling her into a secluded area and seating them both on a small stone bench. "This is only rumor," he began, and Kagome inwardly smiled at the king's propensity toward gossip, "but some have said that the king and queen of Crete offended Poseidon himself. Stupid thing to do, really. Everyone knows not to upset him."

"No kidding," she agreed.

"Well, in return, it's said the sea-god called a curse down upon their heads: the queen was made to lust after a hideous creature, her passion driving her to madness and culminating in a forbidden joining between herself and her object of desire." He paused, observing his daughter's revolted expression. "Aphrodite's influence will do strange things to a person," he commented with a shrug before continuing. "At any rate, the queen seemed to return to normal after that time, but it was discovered that she was with child. Months later, she delivered a monster so hideous and gruesome that the king constructed a massive labyrinth beneath the palace foundation just to hide it from sight."

"Why did he not kill it at birth, while it was still young and weak?"

"Who knows?" he answered sadly. "It is not even our place to ask such a question. All that matters, Kagome, is that for the life of only a few, many thousands are kept alive. Crete is our ally, and trust me when I say that we don't want her for an enemy."

"I see. And you choose the sacrificial youth by drawing their names?" Kagome inquired.

"That is correct. All youths between the ages of six and twenty-six have their name placed in a basket, and the tribute is picked at random. We performed it this morning, and the ship to Crete shall leave three days hence, our treaty once more renewed. It is with heavy heart that I send these young ones to their deaths, but I must think of the greater good…"

"Father," she interrupted, an unsettling feeling in the back of her mind, "was my name in the drawing?"

His eyes had begun to take on a glazed expression, but he immediately snapped out of it. "Your name?" he repeated with a short laugh and a paternal pat on her knee. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course it wasn't."

"Why not?"

"Because your fate does not lie at Crete. Your step-brothers' names weren't included either."

Her mind raced through a host of thoughts all at once, Kotatsu's jeering words playing a chorus to her stream of consciousness. "Send me," she suddenly blurted.

The king jumped in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"

"Send me instead of the youngest maiden chosen," Kagome clarified, the many half-molten ideas in her head slowly taking shape and solidifying.

A breathy laugh escaped his lips. "Absolutely not!" he promptly responded.

She wasn't one to be denied, however. "I insist. The safety of Athens is as much my responsibility as it is any of the other youths chosen as tribute. Send me, Father. Send me, and I shall slay the monster and free our city from this scourge forever!"

………

A/N: I'm sure this and future chapters will be one long-running anachronism, so I'll apologize for that right now. I've done some basic research (as you'll see in the next chapter), but I'm not obsessive enough to make certain every little thing fits within the time period being used (circa 900 BC, aka Ancient Greece).

Also, I'm using Minoan when referring to the civilization of Crete because the term Cretan sounds like an insult. I mention this because the word Minoan stems from that ever-famous king of Crete, Minos, whose position Inuyasha has filched. So in this story, theoretically I could refer to Crete as the Inuyashan Civilization, but I felt that would be a bit much. ;-) Minoan it is.