Puppies are Cuter
Disclaimer: All characters from Xena: Warrior Princess and Hercules: The Legendary Journeys do not belong to me; they belong to MCA/Universal Studios. I own nothing. Please don't sue me. I promise to return all borrowed characters in roughly the same condition that I found them in.
Author's Note: This story is a response to a challenge of sorts; my friend Michelle asked me to write Ares as a cocker spaniel puppy. It takes place just after the Hercules episode One Fowl Day and helps explain how Discord is restored to her normal shape, among other things. Basic familiarity with that episode as well as the events of Armageddon Now I, Two Men and a Baby and the Xena Rift arc episodes might be helpful to have before reading this. This is the first piece of fan fiction I have ever completed, and I am indebted to a number of (far better) fanfic authors for helping me get my footing in this strange new world, particularly Amorette and Secular Atrophy (Sunnepho). Their work is way better than mine, and you should read it if you haven't already. Now, on with the story!
Ares popped back to the Halls of War, appearing in a flash of white-blue light. Discord, still a chicken and still asleep, was tucked under his arm. He patted her head affectionately and grinned. He almost liked her better this way. Her voice didn't grate on his nerves quite so much as a chicken, and her incompetence, while more obvious, was also easier to explain.
He sighed, moved forward and set Discord down on the armrest of his throne. She twitched her head and shuffled her feathers lightly as she slept. He had to change her back; he knew that. His revenge on Hercules' little friends had been fun, but it hadn't solved his main problem—his second-in-command was still a chicken.
Discord had only taken up her position as his commander recently, replacing the departed Strife. Thinking about Strife sent a shiver down his spine. He suppressed it before it could shake his balance. Callisto would pay for what she'd done. He just had to figure out how. He wouldn't toy with her the same way he'd played with Iolaus and Autolycus. No. Given the chance, he'd rip her heart out and watch her die slowly. Or maybe he'd let her live—live in slow torment while one of his warlords or other minions had their fun with her.
Messing with his minions was tantamount to messing with him. He wouldn't let it pass.
But before focusing on Callisto, he had to restore Discord. "Where did that bow get to?" he muttered. The last he'd heard, Aphrodite had used it to turn a woman into a pig. He sent a call along the aether that connected all gods toward her, and she appeared before him a few moments later, spilling pink and gold confetti all over his floor as she materialized. He nearly snarled; cleaning up that confetti was always a chore. She needed to adopt a less high-maintenance entrance.
"What is it, Ar?" she asked distractedly. "You pulled me away from the cutest little Hestian—"
"Save it," he said. "What happened to Artemis' bow?"
Aphrodite shrugged. "I returned it, duh. Artemis is in a foul mood. I can't believe she let it out of her sight long enough for it to get stolen."
"She didn't," Ares said. "Our bastard half-brother's little thief friend stole it off her back."
"Really?" Aphrodite giggled. "No wonder she's pissed." She picked at one of her nails and bit her lip. "Is that why you called? The bow, I mean?"
"Yes. I need it back."
She looked up briefly from her nails and snorted. "As if. Artemis is so clingy with that thing right now I wouldn't be surprised if she married it."
"Aphrodite," he said, his voice taking on a firmer, metallic edge, "you're not listening. I need you to get the bow back for me. Now."
He had her full attention now. "How do you expect me to do that?" she asked.
"Go take it from her."
"What?" Aphrodite pouted and put her hands on her hips. "You want me take little miss prissy-gold-bikini's signature weapon away again? She just got it back, Ar. She's not going to let me borrow it."
"So take it," he said, looking significantly at the chicken on his throne. "I only need it for a second."
"Why can't you take it?" she asked.
"Artemis and I aren't on speaking terms," he answered smoothly. "Something to do with one of my warlords selling an Amazon tribe into slavery or something."
Aphrodite's eyes narrowed dangerously, and her hands locked firmly on her hips. "Nope. Not helping you." She started to flash out, but Ares caught her arm and held her in place.
"Please," he said. "I need it back. And I'll return it to Artemis—in person—as soon as I'm done." There was a world-weariness in his tone that made Aphrodite frown. When she caught sight of the chicken on the throne, she smiled a little, then nodded once, very slowly.
"I hate that skank," she said, nodding toward Discord, "but she's still a goddess. And she shouldn't stay like that." Ares let go of her arm and stepped back. "You owe me," she said, disappearing in a shower of golden sparks, spraying still more confetti on the floor.
Ares wondered how long it would take her to retrieve the bow. He stared up at the high ceiling of the hall and noted cobwebs hanging from a corner. Bored, he zapped them down and watched them burn up quickly on the floor, incinerating some of Aphrodite's confetti on the floor as the flames went out.
As he watched the debris burn, Aphrodite arrived, out of breath, with a brown-and-green bow locked in both hands. She thrust it toward Ares as if contact with it hurt her. "There. Use it quick. She doesn't know where I am, but she'll find out soon."
Ares took the bow and heard its bindings creak as it bent slightly in his hand. He wanted to ask Aphrodite how she had managed to weasel the bow away from his other sister, but her panicked attitude told him they didn't have time for her to answer that question. The bow was in his hand, but… "Where are the arrows?" he asked.
Aphrodite creased her forehead. "You're the god of war. Don't you have lots of those?"
"I need arrows from her quiver if I'm going to turn Discord back to normal."
Aphrodite threw both hands in the air. "Of course! Well, I'm out. You can get those yourself." Before he could say anything, Aphrodite vanished, saying, "You still owe me. Later."
Arrows. Ares sighed inwardly. At least the arrows were relatively simple to get his hands on. Like him, Artemis stored many of her weapons in storage caches attached to her temples. After setting the bow down, he popped to one of her temples in Thrace that had been abandoned for nearly three years and helped himself to a few of her gold-tipped projectiles, then returned to the Halls of War. He hoped that Artemis was distracted enough by her search for the bow not to worry about her arrows going missing.
He had two arrows in his hand. Placing the extra one aside, he picked up the bow and drew the arrow, pointing its tip toward Discord's fluffy chicken body. He released the arrow, and a moment later she grew into her normal shape, her leather-clad limbs sprawled all over his throne.
Discord continued to sleep after the arrow hit her. Her head was wedged into the gap between the chair's arm and back, but she didn't seem to notice. Ares sighed inwardly and set the bow aside. That was done. Now all he had to do was return the bow, preferably without Artemis realizing he had taken it.
Suddenly, he heard a shuddering sound behind him. "Ares!"
Artemis. Shit. Her shrill voice could strip meat from bones. He'd seen her do as much on the battlefield while protecting her precious Amazons.
She wasn't in the throne room, but she was definitely close by. He placed the bow behind base of his throne—not a great hiding place, but one big enough to conceal the weapon—and moved to intercept Artemis. He thrust open the dark double doors to the room with both hands, scanning the hall outside, searching for her. He heard her call his name again, from the left. Instinctively, he moved right, ducking into a tapestry-hidden black marble alcove as she stalked down the hallway. He watched her through the tiny gaps in the detailed cloth in front of him. Unlike some other gods and even mortals he could name, Artemis could not sense him very well. Her tracking abilities were incredible, but they were reliant on the more human skills of training and expertise, not on animal instinct. For all her protectiveness of them, Artemis considered herself a cut above most animals. This hubris worked in Ares' favor now.
Artemis stood still as he watched her. She may have known that he was here in the Halls of War, but she probably didn't expect him to hide from her. He was surprised that he was hiding, himself. If he confronted her, he would have to explain why he'd been responsible for taking her bow away for the second time in less than forty-eight hours. If he kept hiding, she might not be able to find him—and he might be able to return the bow to her dwelling on Mt. Olympus without her being any the wiser. But he hated hiding, even when it was strategic.
He pushed the tapestry in front of him aside just as Artemis turned in the opposite direction. He followed her at a little distance, making more noise than usual, hoping she would turn. But she didn't. A short time later, she froze, back muscles going rigid; then she vanished in a puff of green smoke.
Something in Ares' chest eased; apparently he'd been holding his breath. She would probably come back, but now he had time to return the bow. He slipped into the aether, returning to his throne room to retrieve Artemis' stolen weapon.
§
"Dad?" Cupid asked, his voice echoing loudly from the vaulted ceilings of the Halls of War. Nobody answered him. "Bliss?" he called. Again, no answer. Curious. He approached his father's throne and noticed Discord sprawling facedown on it, snoring loudly into the seat cushion. "Good place for her," he muttered, then looked around the room once more. He wasn't completely surprised to find Ares gone, but he was still shocked at his child's ability to disappear without a trace within seconds, no matter how closely he was watched.
Cupid rubbed a hand against a twitching muscle in his cheek. He was stressed, and his work was beginning to suffer. He had hoped that his father could watch Bliss for a bit while he straightened out a marriage pact gone awry in Corinth. His mother had been his first choice to babysit, but she was away from Mt. Olympus as well, when he'd checked in on her a few minutes ago. "Where is everyone today?"
He heard a tiny, bubbly giggle in front of him and took a few steps forward to investigate. This place was always so dark. With a flick of his wrist, he sent out godly energy to the lamps he knew were in the room, providing more illumination.
In the new light, Cupid saw his son's wings poking out from behind Ares' throne. "What are you doing?" he asked in an extremely patient (and extremely fake) tone of voice.
"Look, daddy!" Bliss said, rounding Ares' throne. He clutched a large brown bow, much taller than he himself was, in his chubby fist.
"Careful," Cupid said on impulse, remembering what had happened the last time Bliss had run amok with a bow.
"Let me play with it, daddy," he begged. "Please?"
Cupid looked around the hall, then sighed, his wings shifting inward in defeat. "Fine. You can shoot it one time, then we're going home."
Bliss dropped the bow to the floor and spun in joy. Then he scrambled to the floor, finding a curiously shaped golden arrow on the floor. He stood up, arrow in one hand, and stooped to pick up the fallen bow. Holding the weapon and the projectile in his childish hands clumsily, he aimed at a place near the stone doors.
Briefly, Cupid worried about Bliss causing damage to the hall. Then he remembered that Ares liked destruction and probably wouldn't care if Bliss scraped some shavings off the wall. With a mildly approving nod, he indicated that Bliss should shoot. The grandson of Ares should get more practice with weapons, he reflected. He's been jumpy ever since Bliss had stolen his bow for the first time. Maybe he should be more encouraging.
Bliss released the arrow just as Ares materialized outside the doors to the hall. The arrow hit him in the shoulder, and he staggered back, catching himself on the wall for support. A heartbeat later, Ares disappeared, replaced by a very small, black-furred creature.
"Puppy!" Bliss cried with delight. He alighted on the ground and approached the dog. The dog bared its teeth and yipped at Bliss before he could come within six feet of it.
"Bliss," Cupid said with as much force as he could, "come here. The dog isn't for you to play with."
The dog's eyes locked on his for a moment. He thought he saw gratitude in them. When Bliss settled beside his father, Cupid asked, "Why did you turn your uncle into a dog?"
"He's not a dog!"
"What?"
"He's a puppy!"
"Why not a dog?" There didn't seem to be much difference.
"A puppy is cuter!"
Ah. He stood corrected. "Bliss, give me the bow."
Bliss harrumphed and handed it over. He remembered the spanking he'd received the last time he'd played with his daddy's bow, and he had no desire to be punished again.
Cupid weighed the bow in his hands and thrummed the string. "Where are the arrows?" he asked his son.
"Um…there was just the one."
"What?"
Below them, the puppy barked angrily, then whined.
"What is it?" Cupid asked, trying not to let exasperation seep into his tone. Clearly, the dog wanted to speak, but…
Can you hear me?
Cupid heard his father's voice and nodded once, puzzled. "What just happened?"
Artemis' bow. The dog fixed him with its droopy eyes, and it was all Cupid could manage not to scoop him up and pet him. Ares would undoubtedly bite him if he tried this.
"Artemis' bow," Cupid repeated. The bow that could turn both humans and gods into animals. Great. "So we need arrows," he said.
The puppy barked acknowledgment.
"All right." He turned to Bliss, who was still holding the bow in his awkward grip. "Stay here," Cupid said, "and don't cause trouble. I'll be right back." He vanished, leaving behind a faint trail of pink hearts.
§
Bliss didn't stay put. As soon as his father dematerialized, he threw Artemis' bow aside and wrapped his fat arms around Ares' neck. Ares pulled back automatically, baring his teeth and raising his hackles. The child was undeterred and kept coming, so Ares elevated himself on his front paws and clawed at the boy while snapping with his teeth. He may have been just a puppy, but he hadn't forgotten how to defend himself from unwanted attention.
"Bad puppy," Bliss said, holding his hands above his head. "I'll take you to mommy." Ares took a few steps back, but failed to realize that Bliss was backing him into a corner. When he had Ares trapped, Bliss picked him up in his chubby little arms with his head facing out; Ares felt his back paws resting on the nubs of Bliss' wings behind his back and struggled to get free.
Then Bliss was in the air, and Ares stopped struggling. He had no desire to be dropped from this height. He tried to zap himself back to Olympus, but he remained where he was, perhaps because Bliss was holding him so tight, keeping him with the boy. Or perhaps his powers didn't work when he was a dog.
Puppy, he reminded himself. The blasted child wanted a godsbedamned puppy.
Almost unwillingly, Ares thought back to when Hercules had been turned into a pig. Had Hercules still possessed his strength as a barnyard creature, or did the bow strip its victims of power as well? He didn't know, and didn't know how to test whether he still had his powers or not without risking considerable damage. His ears flapped in the wind, and it was all he could do not to snap out at them to hold them in his teeth and keep them still.
He squirmed in Bliss' grasp, trying to see the ground, but it was too far away. Bliss started to shiver, which only made him hug Ares closer. "Cold up here," he said. Slowly, he angled his feet and dropped a few inches, then a few more, until the earth came into view. Ares saw a river, a field and a farmhouse in the middle distance, and something twisting and brown-black that could be a road.
Bliss noticed a flock of birds in the distance and squealed, nearly dropping Ares. He beat his wings faster to catch up with the birds, which darted around the child and down. Bliss followed them, sparing one hand from holding Ares to snatch at the birds. Ares felt his stomach dropped and prayed to whatever god handled situations like this that the idiot child wouldn't drop him.
The birds soon bored Bliss. In his chase, he had flown even closer to the ground, so they were only a hundred feet or so off it. Something colorful appeared in the corner of Ares' eye, even further down—a butterfly. Bliss saw it, too, and angled himself toward it, moving as fast as his little wings permitted. They were only ten feet off the ground now; Bliss was reaching for the butterfly. Ares saw his chance and squirmed, yelping as the boy lost his grip and he fell to earth.
Ares landed on his side and rolled. He felt something rip in his leg, but he ignored it. He had to get away from Bliss—and where? Back to Olympus? He didn't even know if he could pass through the aether in this state.
The aether. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed Bliss behind him, his bottom lip jutted out in extreme displeasure and his eyes puffy with new tears. The boy took a few awkward moments to land; in that time, Ares tried to vanish into the aether, but he again remained where he was. He sprinted toward the river before Bliss could get his footing on the ground. His injured leg sent a jolt of pain up his leg at every bound, but it didn't bother him. He was War. He was used to pain.
Bliss cried out behind him; he didn't stop until the boy's voice faded away. Looking over his shoulders a few times, he made sure his annoying nephew was actually gone before limping slowly to the stream and lapping up some water. So close to the shore, it tasted like dirt. He tried moving into the aether again—force of habit—and felt something odd. He could access the aether—that is, he could hear the prayers of his followers and he felt his son calling for him along the gods' communication line—but he couldn't touch it himself. When he tried to communicate with Cupid to tell him where he was, he received no response.
So, no powers then. No teleportation, no fireballs, no lightning. Shit. He glanced up at the sky and was relieved to find that Bliss still hadn't found him. He trotted along the ground, more slowly now because his leg really was injured and he was no longer being chased. He would have to stop somewhere and take stock of the damage done to him, but not yet. He didn't know where he was or what his options were.
He needed a plan. As he trotted, he thought about where he could go so that Cupid would find him. Bliss might not be helpful at providing directions to Cupid, but he also felt sure that traveling too far from this place wasn't wise. He walked across one of the fields near the river and sat down on its edge, thinking. In the distance was a homestead surrounded by a fence. A small pond was next to the homestead. He remembered seeing all this, in miniature, from the air.
Slowly, Ares approached the pond for another drink. Being a dog wasn't quite as bad as being mortal, but he could have done without the pain and thirst. A bloodfly settled on his haunch; he flicked it with its tail and killed it before it could bite him. As his tail settled back, he heard a child's giggle and tensed. Had Bliss found him again? He scanned the sky quickly and saw no sign of his nephew. Then he heard the giggle again, and whirled toward the sound.
A little boy sat a few feet away from him at the edge of the pond. The reeds surrounding him were taller than he, which was why Ares hadn't seen him before. As Ares inched closer, he saw the boy's dark hair and freckled face and froze.
Evander. He'd know his son anywhere. Apparently Hercules had relocated Nemesis and Evander to this region. He hadn't thought much about them since Hercules had meddled. Now he watched as flies buzzed around Evander, flitting through the rushes above his head. The boy ignored them. His attention was diverted by something else.
Ares looked tensely around for Nemesis, Evander's mother, but she didn't appear to be nearby. Cautiously, he parted the reeds in front of him and moved through, closer to Evander.
Evander looked up from the tiny frog at his feet when he heard the soft padding of feet on the grass. His curly black hair fell into his eyes and his mouth dropped open. "Look! A puppy!" the kid yelled, slapping his hands together happily. He wasn't yet two and couldn't move very far, so he extended his arms toward the black furry beast, hoping the dog would come to him instead.
Ares stayed where he was, scenting the air around the boy. He needed a bath, from the smell of him, and his hands were sticky from playing with the frog. Maybe making himself known hadn't been such a good idea.
"Please, puppy," Evander called sweetly, spreading his arms even wider. "I give treat." A thin strip of rawhide appeared in the little boy's hand, sending his super-sensitive nose wild. Ares' mouth watered despite himself. "Do you want treat?"
He hesitated. The boy had powers. The rawhide had come out of nowhere. Ares had always suspected that, but Evander had never shown him those powers during the brief time they'd spent together. He was pleased, and took the treat from the boy's hands, very gently. Now that he had it, he realized that he wasn't very hungry. He set the rawhide aside and licked his son's hands clean. As he did so, the little boy crowed with delight and kissed him on the nose. Who would have thought that being turned into a dog would have its perks after all.
"Evander!" a familiar voice called from behind him. Ares growled low in his throat.
"What is it, puppy?" the little boy asked, eyes as round and shiny as coins.
"Evander!" the voice called again. Ares let himself growl louder this time. Hercules was nearby, and he was powerless.
Ares heard heavy footsteps crushing the vegetation near the pond, turned and noticed Hercules coming from the left—the direction that the farmhouse was in. "Did you make a friend, Evander?" Hercules asked, smiling and bending to pet the puppy.
Ares yapped at Hercules and sprinted away quickly. He had no desire to let his insipid half-brother see him like this. He had the satisfaction of hearing his son wail in grief as he ran away. Cupid, where are you? he thought into the aether. Why haven't you found me yet?
He was so distracted that he didn't see the man until he bumped into his leg. The man looked like any typical unwashed thug. Ares sniffed once and decided unwashed was too polite a term for what this man was. There was a bare sword tucked into his belt that had seen better days, and all his clothing had rips and tears; Ares was surprised that it stayed on.
Ares winced as he hit the man's leg and spun gracelessly on his stumpy little legs, anticipating a blow or a kick from the man. Instead, the man smiled, revealing two rows of missing or rotted teeth. He held out a big, calloused hand almost tentatively. Ares cocked his head to one side so that one of his long ears brushed the ground. "It's adorable," the thug squealed, setting his hand on Ares' head. Ares backed up and was about to claw the man's hand when another thug, almost identical to the first when it came to hygiene and weaponry, caught his legs from behind.
Ares tried to spin again, but with one man in front of him and one behind—and, all the gods damn it, another one coming in from the left—he couldn't move. Remember, Ares thought to himself, there are more of them than there are of you, and they have swords. He closed his eyes, waiting with baited breath for more humiliation to come, when he heard a familiar—and incredibly welcome—sound.
"Alalalalalalala chee-ya!" Xena flipped onto the road in front of the thugs, and kicked the man to Ares' left in the head. Ares yelped as the thug went down and landed on his injured leg. Two quick punches dispatched the man with the rotted teeth, and a staff wielded by Gabrielle took care of the third man. She bonked him across the back, and he fell face-first onto the ground.
Xena reached down and grabbed a scroll out of the hands of an unconscious man. "Bounty for Jett, just like I thought. It's a shame Joxer looks so much like him."
"Yeah," Gabrielle said. "Life's hard enough without needing to protect him from bounty hunters."
"I think this lot's taken care of," Xena muttered. Then she noticed the puppy pinned under one of the men. "Gabrielle, look!" she said, pointing and pulling the thug off the creature. "It's a dog."
"Hey, it is!" Gabrielle smiled beatifically and reached out a hand to pet the dog. It leaped at her with sharp teeth bared, biting her hand before she pulled away. "Not very friendly," Gabrielle said. "I wonder who it belongs to."
"Not sure," Xena said. "Maybe the thugs." She held out her hand to the dog, and it bounded forward happily to lick her fingers. She got to one knee and rubbed his belly. "Hm. Seems perfectly friendly to me."
"Typical," Gabrielle said, rolling her eyes. "Just great." She looked down at the teeth marks in her skin and shook her hand out. "I hope it isn't rabid."
The puppy growled at her, then licked Xena's face.
There was a sudden popping sound; both Xena and Gabrielle looked up. Cupid, his wings slightly askew and his expression troubled, stood a little ways up the path from them.
"Cupid?" Gabrielle asked. "What are you doing here?"
"Have you seen a—" he stopped short when he saw Xena petting the dog. "That."
"Sure," Xena said. "This guy belong to you?"
Cupid grinned sheepishly. "Something like that." He beckoned to the dog. "Come on, now."
The dog hid behind Xena and wouldn't come.
"Not very well-behaved, is he?" Xena asked.
"What can I say? My son trained him," Cupid said, a little coldly. The puppy barked once, then approached Cupid and sat still. Cupid picked him up. "Thanks," Cupid said, looking between Xena and Gabrielle. He and the dog vanished in a cloud of puffy hearts.
"That was odd," Xena said.
"I think this is swelling," Gabrielle muttered down at her hand.
§
"Artemis isn't too happy with you for keeping her bow," Cupid explained to puppy-Ares. "Or for letting anyone steal it from her in the first place. So she's got it strapped to her back—there's no way to change you back right now." The puppy's eyes flashed on him briefly, and Cupid thought he saw something like anger in that flash. "Don't worry," he said. "We'll change you back, somehow. I promise."
Ares gave a low growl and closed his eyes. Cupid felt an almost overwhelming desire to pat his head, but resisted the impulse. He disappeared in a flurry of hearts.
As soon as he left, one of the doors to the Halls of War opened, revealing Aphrodite. She was pouting. "Ar?" she called in the tone of a person who has been calling, not once, but several times. "Stop sulking and come out!"
Ares huddled into the corner of his throne and didn't look at her. For once, he was grateful for the big, fluffy ears. They hid his face quite effectively. He closed his eyes and tucked in his legs, pretending to be asleep.
Aphrodite's eyes locked on his brief movement. As she approached the throne, a slow smile spread over her face. I wonder when Ares got a puppy? she thought. Its legs twitched as it slept, and she heard soft yips as if the dog were barking in its dream. She extended one hand to her side and snapped her fingers. A soft pink blanket appeared in her hand. She covered the puppy with it very gently. "Cute," she sighed. A puppy might be good for her brother. It might teach him responsibility. If nothing else, the puppy would give him love, and he needed all the love he could get.
Suddenly, the puppy opened one bleary eye and looked at her through a gap in its huge ears. It noticed the blanket covering its body and gave a very human-like shudder of disgust or alarm; she couldn't tell which. Then the puppy leaned toward her and licked her hand, once, before curling up on top of the blanket and returning to sleep.
Aphrodite turned on her heel and left the throne room of the Halls of War, shutting the high black door behind her. In the hall, Cupid bumped into her and nearly ripped the light covering that hung over her stomach.
"Watch the dress," she said. "Just changed it."
Cupid mumbled an apology and noticed the closed door behind her. "Did you see dad?" Cupid asked in a hushed tone.
"No," she said. "But I met his dog. I like it. What's its name?"
THE END
Disclaimer: Gabrielle's bite wound did not fester during or after the production of this motion picture.