A Hero Comes Home

This is, in fact, my first sorta T, sorta M rated fic. This is what happens when you give me a movie with a sexy scene to watch!!!! Alright, so the pairing in this can be translated as Any AuthorxAny Smasher or Any Smasherx Any Smasher.

This is based on that one scene from Beowulf when he meets Grendel's mom for the first time…

Cast List

Any Guys: The Warrior

Any Girls: Grendel's Mother

Disclaimer: Don't own SSB, Beowulf, or pretty much anything else in here…

He was cold, he was hungry. As the thick darkness that surrounded him drew in, he felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. For the first time in his life, he felt fear. Raw fear.

It was fear that clutched at his heart with an ice cold hand as he continued his journey through the dark passageways. In his sweaty palm he grasped a golden drinking horn, melded into the shape of a fierce and mighty dragon. Its ruby eyes glimmered slightly in the dark as he walked on, a light sweat forming upon his brow. His weapon almost slipped in his moist palm as he walked on, his eyes wide and alert.

He walked some more in silence until he saw a faint light in the distance. Grasping the golden drinking horn with an iron grip, he ran towards the light, his weapon out and ready. With a great bellow he leaped at the light only to be met with the body of Grendel, whom he had slewed not so long ago. The ghastly creature was tiny in death. The horrible stench of decease lingered about him. The warrior's breath stopped short as he gazed upon the stump of what was left of the creature's right arm. His own arm tingled at the sight of the grizzled stump, remembering how he had torn off the horrible beast's limb that same night.

"So you have come…" a voice said, echoing slightly in the din.

The warrior whirled at the sound of the voice, honeyed and seductive. His hair stood up on end when he saw that there was no one there. Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he gazed at the massive mountains of treasure that disappeared into the never ending darkness above, but he was unable to discern anything out of the ordinary. His breath came in short, panicked pants as his eyes darted back and forth.

"Who goes there?" he asked, unable to keep his voice from shaking, "Show yourself, demon witch!"

"Demon witch?" the seductive voice asked, "How rude…"

A golden light appeared at the edge of a great lake. The warrior had dived down into this black lake only minutes before. Though fear still gripped his heart he prepared to dive back in. Bigger and bigger the golden light grew until it almost blinded the young hero. Shielding his eyes, he gazed right at the very center of this golden light and saw a figure emerge from deep within. The figure of a woman.

The light faded as she began to walk towards him, her every step never making a single ripple in the water as she walked upon its surface. Though the light was gone from the lake, she seemed to be bathed in a golden light with her every step, only adding to her radiance. Her hair was soft and flowing, with two golden tentacles sprouting out of it like twin pigtails. On any other mortal they would look ugly and uninviting, but this woman was no mere mortal. She was a vision, a goddess blessed to earth.

The warrior felt his heart race a hundred times its normal pace as he locked eyes with the beautiful woman. A golden spark danced in each eye, drawing him in and causing every part of his body to tingle with delight. She was naked, true, but a bright golden light covered her precious womanhood and her breasts. With every step she took the air became sweeter and music seemed to play in the background. Without even thinking, the warrior lowered his weapon, wondering how on earth this gorgeous vision could be the mother of such a hideous creature as Grendel.

A white hot smile broke out on the woman's features as she approached, her eyes narrowed in seduction. "So… you are the mighty one who has slain my son, Grendel."

Her voice was as lovely as her face and as she spoke, the warrior wanted nothing more than to listen to her voice forever. "Yes… it was I…"

He expected her to lash out, just like how any loving mother would react at the death of their child. Instead, she smiled even more widely and walked closer to him, gently touching his cheek. Her fingers were cool and soft, smelling of lilacs. The tentacles that sprouted out of her hair began wrapping themselves around the young warrior, caressing everything from his finely chiseled abs to his neck. Slowly, ever so slowly, they moved down to the lining of his pants, causing him to tingle deliciously all over.

"Brave hero," she cooed, "Strong hero… my hero…"

"M-Miss… I…" the warrior stammered, only to be cut off by one of her slim fingers gently pressed upon his lips.

"Sh," she said, "Let us not talk, but dance… dance and unite…"

For a single brief moment, the young hero snapped back to reality. "Madame!"

She gently pressed her finger harder to his lips, sending another delicious chill down his spine. "I see you bring me a treasure…"

"T-This is the Drinking Horn of Hrothgar," the warrior said distractedly, "He has given it to me for…"

"Give me the horn," the woman commanded gently, pressing her body to his, "And I shall make you king. You shall be the most powerful king the world has ever known. You shall be rich beyond all imagination! Just let the horn stay with me… and make me yours…"

The hero took a step back, pondering the offer of this glorious beauty. A seductive smile curled upon her beautiful, full lips as she saw his insecurity. Slowly, one of her tentacles began to undo the belt of his pants. She played her last card, the final thing which she knew would make him hers forever.

"You took away a son of mine," she cooed, once again pressing her body to his, "An ugly, unnecessary son. Why not give me another? I shall be yours forever, your kingdom shall be yours forever, power shall be yours forever! Just give me the horn you hold dear and… give me another son…"

The belt snapped in her tentacle, falling to the floor. It was not long until her two tentacles began work on the chainmail that covered his body. And as the night wore on, the halls of the demon's den rang with her high, clear voice as she began to sing a song that had been passed down through centuries upon centuries.

"Out of the mist of history he'll come again.
sailing on ships across the sea to a wounded nation
signs of a savior like fire on the water
it's what we prayed for, one of our own

just wait though wide he may roam
always, a hero comes home
he goes where no one has gone
but always a hero comes home…"