My boyfriend managed to fix my computer (yes, he is wonderful) and I found a bunch of my old fics on it from a couple of years ago. This is one I began writing as a challenge someone sent me, but, when I found myself not quite as up to the task as she'd thought I might be, I took it down and forgot all about it.

Standard disclaimer: I don't own anything of the Herc/Xenaverse and I don't make any money from this. I own only my original characters, Deeta and Praxios. I do, however, belong to the gods of Strife. No, really, I'm an Erisian.
Oh, and since four actresses played Nemesis on the series, picture her whichever way you wish; I couldn't really decide how I wanted her to look, so let's just chalk it up to gods can shape-shift or something like that. Personally, I liked Teresa Hill's performance, so that's who I'm thinking of as I write Nemesis's parts.
Anywayyyyy . . . This first chapter is set years before the events of Young Hercules. Deeta looks like she'd be in her late teens and sort of goth. Loosely based on Young Hercules with possible references to future events on Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and allusions to some as-yet unposted fics I'm working on even as I type this.
Let's see how this progresses this time, shall we?

"Hey, Aunt Nemesis," Deeta called as she shimmered into the field where the goddess of retribution was meditating.

"Hi, Deeta," Nemesis called back dreamily. Slowly, she unfurled her long legs and rose to greet her niece. "It's been a while! You've changed your hair colour again!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"Yeah, I was getting tired of the purple, so I went back to black. It matches my clothes."

"Like Nyx."

"Yup. Grandmother liked it when she saw it a few weeks ago. Said it suited me better than that bright blue 'do with the silver streaks I had a few seasons ago!"

Nemesis laughed at that memory. "The nights certainly were darker for a while!"

"Well, how was I to know she'd get so upset over my hair colour?" Deeta pouted dramatically.

"That does sound like my mother, though; you do have to admit that. Oh! I have to go into town and check on someone today. Do you want to come?"

"Sure. Are we mingling or just observing?"

"Just watching. But if you want to mingle, I suppose we could."

"Hmm, maybe. Just give me a second to change." With a flourish of her hands, Deeta donned something more in keeping with local clothing. There was no sense in wearing what she normally wore if she were about to mingle with mortals.

In a flash, they were at the edge of town. "There's a local merchant who's become rather wealthy. He's done it at the expense of others. He's lied, cheated, stolen. And his pride is getting the better of him. He is beginning to believe himself to be above the law."

"Really? Does this mean I'll get to play with him?"

"If I don't have to execute him yet, I suppose you could. Maybe he'll change his ways with your . . . coaxing," Nemesis winked.

The divine pair strolled completely unseen by the townspeople. "So this merchant? How did he start out?" the young goddess of nudgery queried. If she was to help her aunt, she needed to hear his history.

Nemesis sighed before beginning the tale. "He grew up very poor. There were days he didn't even eat because there just wasn't enough for everybody. But . . . he survived. When he was old enough, he started working for a merchant in town. It was simple stuff at first, deliveries and such, and he'd learn from the old man. As he grew older, Praxios knew that he would never allow himself to be poor again. He started saving money and urging the old merchant to allow him to do more. This was done out of kindness, not greed. Once the old man died, Praxios took over the business and . . . the power and money got to him. Now, he is full of pride and arrogance. He does none of the things he swore he would do! He stopped giving alms to the poor and hungry, he doesn't even give the gods praise anymore."

"That's awful!" was all Deeta could say. "Maybe what he needs is a good swift kick in the seat of the pants?"

"We shall see."

A commotion briefly distracted them. "STOP THAT THIEF!" a baker shouted.

Deeta wasted no time in making herself tangible, though still invisible to mortals. A young boy crashed into her and toppled to the ground. He was dazed, then shook off his confusion to attempt to retrieve the pastries he'd stolen. The angry baker stomped towards him. The boy was obviously starving, so Deeta made herself seen.

The baker and the boy were startled by her sudden appearance. Nemesis could only laugh at their gaping mouths.

"Is there a problem here, sir?" she asked sweetly.

The baker recovered his wits quickly. "This little thief just stole all these pastries from me!"

"Oh, nonsense! He's just a tiny wisp of a boy!" she cooed up at the burly man. "Come now, how much could he have taken?"

"Well . . . it . . . it's not how much he took . . . but I don't take kindly to people stealing from me!"

"Will, uh, will this settle the debt?" she asked as she handed the baker a few drachma. She helped the boy to his feet and prodded him to apologise for his crime.

"I'm really sorry, mister," the dirty blond-haired boy sniffled. He really was quite small. He couldn't have been much older than eight winters old.

"Well, I suppose it's all right, now. Just don't ever do it again! Y'hear?"

The boy gave a frightened nod and ran off before anyone could stop him. Deeta had a funny feeling she'd be seeing him again. She shrugged it off and walked towards an alley where she could rejoin Nemesis. After a few minutes' stroll, they found the building where the merchant Praxios did his work.

They maintained a perch above his desk and watched as he squinted at scrolls and counted out coins.

"You said he was terribly poor as a boy, didn't you, Aunt Nemesis?" Deeta asked.

"Yes. He had to resort to thievery and conning people into giving him food and money at times . . . What are you thinking?" the elder goddess drawled, an inkling forming in her mind.