*I submitted this to a fanfiction contest on Inkitt, and would love your votes! Just go to Inkitt and look for my profile under Stacey L.C.*

Epilogue

Iolaus had no idea where he was. Days that started out that way were never a good thing.

He blinked his eyes open and slowly sat up on something billowy and soft, which at least told him he was in a bed. Now, if he only knew whose bed…

He looked over to his right to see not one but two sleeping forms next to him and raised his eyebrows. Well… wherever I am, apparently I had a really good time.

It was damn hot as well. He heard what sounded like the howling of wind, but it was a whistling sound, almost as if it was coming from a tunnel, which gave him the impression that he was up high somewhere.

What the hell…?

He was in what looked like a stone dwelling of some kind. It was small and seemed to only consist of two chambers, separated by a curtain behind him. The bed he was in was in the front room; he could just barely make out the modest furniture through the light that was bleeding through the thatched door.

He couldn't remember anything from the night before, and as his tired mind slowly started working through its confused fog, the hunter in him started getting apprehensive. The two women next to him were still sound asleep, but he had no idea if there was anyone – or anything – else in the home with them.

Iolaus wrinkled his nose sniffed the air. There was some kind of sour smell… Oh, he thought, catching a glimpse at the small bedside table to his left. There were still some remnants of opium powder and the burnt ends of leaves scattered across it. That would explain why I can't remember anything.

He made to get up and then realized as the sheets moved against him that he was completely naked. He glanced around the room wildly, picked up the pillows and sheets, but his clothes, dagger, and sword were nowhere to be found. Dammit. That's just wonderful.

Wrapping one of the light bed sheets around his waist, he cautiously rose out of the bed so as not to disturb the two sleeping women and padded across the room to the door, trying to peek through the cracks to get some idea of where he was. He could see at least one of his boots laying on the stone walkway in front of the house. Okay, that's a start…

He also got a glimpse of mountains. Lots of mountains. And a lot of sky that seemed to go on and on for miles.

Fuck.

Making sure the sheet was secure, he quietly pushed the door open, stepped outside, and almost lost his footing. He shut the door and pressed himself against it, eyes wide. The hut was situated on top of a cliff. A very steep cliff, with a very narrow and windy stone walkway that lead even further up the mountain.

Where am I?

His boot was lying about two steps away from him, precariously close to the edge. Iolaus just hoped to whatever gods were listening that the rest of his clothes hadn't been tossed off the side some time during the night. At least he'd left his vest at Jason's. He would never have forgiven himself if he'd lost it.

He straightened his sheet and bent down to grab his boot when he heard the braying of a donkey, and turned to see an older Persian man leading it down the narrow walkway. The height or the narrowness of the path didn't seem to bother him, and he barely gave Iolaus a second glance as he walked by.

"Uh, excuse me?" Iolaus asked, cautiously. The man slowed and turned back around to face him. Iolaus cleared his throat and, holding his sheet up with one hand and the boot with the other, said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but, um… where am I?"

"Ecbatana," he answered curtly, and continued down the path.

Iolaus' eyes widened and he leaned against the outside of the house, stunned. "Ecbatana …" How in Tartarus did I get to Ecbatana? It was technically on the way to Chin, but that still didn't explain how he got up the mountain in the middle of the night, high as all hell, and with two women in tow.

He jumped and clutched at the sheet around his waist as the door swung open lazily and a dark skinned woman came sauntering out. She gave Iolaus an appraising look, running her hands over his hair and then down his chest.

"Um… hi," Iolaus said warily, taking the woman's hand and gently removing it from the trail it was making towards where the sheet was tied.

She smiled coyly at him and then turned and walked down the path the same way the man and the donkey had gone. Where did she come from? Iolaus blinked and then poked his head back in the door where he could still see the two women in the bed. Wow. I had a really, really good time. If he couldn't remember anything else, he wished he could at least remember that.

He shook his head to clear it of a completely different kind of fog that had settled over his brain. Okay. Enough of that. Find your clothes, and then get the hell out of here. He caught a glimpse of his shirt sticking out from underneath the bed. He grinned triumphantly, wriggling under it to find the remainder of his clothes and other boot. There were still no sign of his sword or dagger.

The two women started making waking noises, so he quickly threw the sheet on the floor and got dressed, hopping towards the door as he pulled on his boots. He threw a hesitant glance over his shoulder. He still needed to find his weapons. And there was all that opium on the table…

Weapons, he told himself, sternly.

Iolaus crept past the bed and over to the curtain, pulling it aside ever so slightly. Come on, they have to be around here somewhere… Ah! He spotted his scabbard, luckily with the sword still inside, on a large wooden table in the middle of the room. He decided he could do without the dagger, or just get another one, but he had to have his sword. And he needed to get out of wherever he was and back down into the city.

His senses heightened, he slipped through the curtain and across the room. There didn't seem to be anyone else home, but Iolaus knew better than to assume. Especially in Persia. And especially when there was opium involved.

He got a flash of memory. Someplace dark, crowds of people, sour smell, barely being able to see for all the clouds of smoke… an opium den. He'd been in another opium den last night.

There had been a fight.

Iolaus immediately halted as he felt a flash of pain he had unexpectedly become aware of. He lifted up his shirt to see a large, darkening bruise on his side, at the bottom of his rib cage. Not broken, at least. But definitely cracked. He got another flash of some guy hitting him repeatedly in the side and stomach, then a hot spray of blood…

Oh. That's where I left my dagger.

Something changed in the room. The hairs on Iolaus' neck started standing up. Get out. Get out of here now. He took the remaining few steps and grabbed the sword off the table before his mind finally registered the word, Trap.

"If you're looking for your knife, you left it in my brother's throat."

Too late.

Iolaus stiffened and slowly turned around. There was a man in the house now. A very large man, holding a very long, very wicked looking scimitar.

"You don't remember, do you, golden one?"

Iolaus blinked, trying to repress a laugh, and tilted his head to stare at the guy. "Golden one?" he repeated, incredulously. "You've got to be kidding me."

The big Persian raised the scimitar and ran a finger down the edge, examining its sharpness. "That's what my sisters called you. They found you very interesting. "

Iolaus winced. Damn. At least it was a brother and not a husband. Although he was sure one of those would probably pop up any second now, just for some extra fun.

The guy was leering at him in a way that made Iolaus' skin crawl. He didn't like where his eyes were going.

"Hey, buddy… I'm up here," he said, snapping his fingers and waving his sword. "The part that talks, at least. I know on you, that's probably not the case." He was rewarded for that insult with a vicious backhand that he wasn't quick enough to avoid, and it sent him spinning into the table behind him. Me and my big mouth. He tasted the metallic tang of blood and spit it out. The bastard had split his slip. He recalled Hercules telling him, on numerous occasions, that his fast and often smart ass mouth was the cause for a lot of his trouble. "What can I say, Herc?" he had joked once. "It's a gift. I can't help myself."

He heard footsteps behind him and stayed still against the table, slowly inching his sword out of its sheath, his body hiding what he was doing from his attacker. Iolaus, he told himself. Herc's right. You really need to learn to help yourself. At the last second, Iolaus spun, his sword flying out of its sheath and into the stomach of his would be assassin. The man stared at him, wide eyed. He hadn't even raised the scimitar. "Yeah, golden one is pretty quick on his feet," Iolaus said, retracting his sword and pushing the Persian out of the way. He grabbed the scabbard and quickly ran through the front of the house, startling the women who had just come out of their drug crazed sleep. He felt bad for them; they probably had no idea what had happened the night before either, and now he'd managed to kill both their brothers.

Killed. You killed two men in less than a day.

It's not like he had never killed anyone before, but that had been in war, or when there was no other choice. He and Hercules never killed if they could help it. He could have helped it.

He just didn't care.

Quick as a flash, he sheathed his sword and scooped up the remainder of the opium from the bedside table and then ran out the door, narrowly avoiding tipping himself over the side of the cliff as he did so. He stood there for a moment, looking down onto the jagged rocks and the city far in the distance. The hand that held the opium was shaking, covered in blood.

Iolaus felt sick; sick, dirty, and somehow violated. He opened his palm to stare at the powder before tossing it over the side of the cliff and wiping the remainder off on his pants. He regretted it instantly. That was how he knew he'd made the right choice.

He took off quickly but carefully down the path and back into the city, only stopping when he was sure no one had followed him. Enough, he told himself, firmly. Enough now. You're going to die before you even get to Chin. This has got to stop. You've got to stop.

At least that's what he told himself. He almost had himself convinced he could do it, too. And he didn't go back to any more opium dens as he traversed through Persia and into India.

But he also hadn't been able to resist the pull, the sweet escape that opium and wine brought, and by the time he'd gotten into India, he was having trouble remembering why he'd even come in the first place.

So I made the decision to break this into several books. It's already 140k words long (for perspective, "Deathly Hallows" was 190k). I already have the first three chapters of book two written since they were originally part of book one. I just wanted to get Hercules' part out of the way so I could focus on Iolaus' story and really deep dive into him as a character. So, fear not... this isn't over yet.