So normally I don't pick a recent request as I try to keep up with my backlog, but this one immediately starting putting words and pictures in my head so I wanted to get them written down while they are still there. Kind of what happened with the Sleeping Beauty one, I fell in love with writing the one-shot. This one immediately broke my writer's block. So I apologize to all of you who have submitted requests that I have not gotten to yet. I do plan to go back and fish through older requests to find the next subject, this one just intrigued me. This one, like others I have done, could make their own entire fanfic series.

So I am pretty damn tispsy writing the first half of this... Please tell me if the wording of this is up to snuff or not. Rereading this I can't tell if me writing tipsy is bad, neutral, or (I doubt it) good. Being a one-shot certain ideas have to be explained rather than explored over a period of time. But tis the nature of a one shot. I hope you enjoy this guest. And if you are one of my regulars I would actually quite like to know who submitted this question. So some people may feel out of character. Keep in mind most of them their ENTIRE HISTORY is changed. Hercules was raised different, Hades's opinion of Hercules and his domination are different, Megara's experience in Tartarus would be different. I took a little creative licence. I hope you are satisfied with the drunken result.

Also, this is one is long. I had fun. Next to the Sleeping Beauty one, most fun I've had so far!

Guest: What if Hades had raised Hercules himself brainwashing him and made him his personal weapon instead of trying kill him when was a child and made him mortal.

Hercules looked up at the ceiling, too anxious to sleep. His entire life had been leading up to this day, and it was but hours away. Before the next sunrise Olympus would fall. All of the pompous Gods cast out, and the glory of Tartarus and Hades restored. He knew this battle was against his natural parents, but Hades had rescued him from such a fate and raised him as his own. He had rescued him as a babe, and brought him to Tartarus where he wouldn't have to suffer a life atop Olympus in its current state. To be raised as an arrogant fool who believes he runs the Cosmos by birthright. He feared to think the man he would have become if raised in such an environment. To prove his gratitude he would follow his given task and ensure Hades's victory over Zeus.

Zeus. The arrogant God who had murdered the Titans to prove his ugly glory, who took his own sister as his wife. Who ruled over Olympus and Earth as if he deserved such fanfare. The mortals worshiped him, bowed to him, sacrificed their livestock to him. Women slaved at his temples, men died in battle in his name, children trained to either become a warrior or bear more warriors to further the glory of Zeus. But soon the senseless worship would end. They would see Zeus for the old weak fool that he was, and see what true leadership was. His gaze shifted to the warm body of the woman sleeping in his arms, her groggy moans bringing him from his reverie.

She was Hades's most recent fury, a fellow denizen of Tartarus for shy of three years. And she was his betrothed. The young woman had sold her sold to Hades to spare the life of her lover, only to have the man desert her. He admired the sacrifice, such selfless behavior was so rare among the mortals. The man who had betrayed her was a truer display of mortal behavior. It was for such behavior he knew Olympus must be overthrown. To worship a God who was the very embodiment of selfishness only made these foolish humans more apt to behave as thus. With Hades as their new God, they would no longer see selfishness as the path to greatness. Hard work, ambition, sacrifice, honesty. These were the tenants they would bestow upon humanity. And the woman in his arms was the very embodiment of sacrifice.

Hades had promised that upon the completion of their marriage vows Megara would be granted immortality. He would not grant her the power of a God, but she had expressed great disdain for such power. With her at his side, he knew that she would provide a better model for the mortals. Even without the powers of a God. They would know of her extreme sacrifice, and learn that that is what the Gods will reward. Zeus had done naught to protect her when she willingly sold herself to what she believed was a malignant entity. She was willing to endure an eternity of suffering to spare the man's life.

Looking back he thought it almost laughable that they would end up together. If you had asked the day of her arrival if he thought they would be as bonded as they were now he would have laughed. When she descended into Tartarus on her first night, she expressed nothing but hatred for himself, and his father Hades. But beneath her boiling anger, he could see her intense fear. Which was perplexing, as she was the bravest mortal he had ever encountered. She would complete any task, face any foe, endure any pain that Hades demanded. But still he sensed an underlying fear, sadness, and self-loathing. Such a brave heartless soul did not deserve such foul tributes to rule her heart.

Hercules recalled how he told his father he would tend to the girl, as she seemed ill taken to Pain and Panic. She even rejected the presence of Persephone for a length. She rejected him too, but he would never forget the night that marked the turning point in their relationship. He had come to bring her the evening meal, and placed it on her table as custom. He had turned to leave when she called his name,

"Hercules," he stopped, and turned towards her "Why don't you join me tonight?" He smiled at her request and nodded,

"I'd be happy to, be back in a flash!" He went to the chamber that served as a kitchen to gather his own meal. It was no different than the meal he had served the fury. He had told Hades the young woman deserved no less than they did, and his father reluctantly agreed. He carried his plate, as well as a jug of watered wine spiced with cloves, back to the fury chamber. He found her sitting before the fire in her usual place. He sat down before her, "Are you cold?"

"I just feel comfortable near the fire," she replied. She was idly pushing some beans around with a chunk of flat bread. "I never thanked you for helping me with Nessus today," Hades had sent them to try and convince the River Guardian to join their side for the upcoming battle. He was difficult to convince. He had tried to make a deal, insisting on using Megara to slake his lust in exchange for his cooperation. Instead Hercules broke his nose and two kneecaps, but agreed not to break the other two in exchange for his cooperation. The uprising was months away, time enough for his bones to heal. Upon return to Tartarus Hercules had insisted it was Megara who had accomplished the mission, and Hades had rewarded her handsomely.

"Just doing my job," He tried to defend,

"Still. Thank you. So, what brought you here to this... lovely place," She crinkled her nose and Hercules frowned at her obvious discomfort.

"This is my home..." his voice trailed, shoving a bean-soaked wad of bread into his mouth to stifle any uncouth statements that might follow before his brain could filter them.

"Oh. Sorry." Her apology felt more startled than authentic, "sorry. I just... this isn't home to me." He was surprised to see her acting so candid. She always put up a show, trying to pretend she was okay.

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?" He was saddened that the provisions weren't satisfactory. He wanted to see her happy. Someone like her deserved to have her every desire met. She laughed at his question, and his frown deepened. "I mean it," She looked up at him, and their eye met for a few seconds before she broke contact.

"It's not that simple. This isn't my home. It's... different. You can give me all the warmest linen, nicest chitons, delicious food, glorious wine... but it doesn't make this home. I'm a slave. No amount of padding will change that. I'm told to do something I do it. Doesn't matter what I think," She stopped playing with her food and took a large bite, to silence herself. She had stolen a small carafe of wine, unwatered, and its intoxicating effects were dulling the parts of her that kept her silence. But rather than hate herself for it, she was finding talking to him strangely soothing.

By the end of the evening they both became heavily intoxicated. Megara had welcomed him into her bed, and it was the most intense evening Hercules had ever experienced. He wasn't entirely innocent. He had been with women before, but none he had strong feelings for. In the morning Hercules was expecting her to feel ashamed, and return to her self-isolation. But instead, she continued to open up to him. And as the months passed, he did to her as well. They grew close, and he loved her far more than he thought possible.

It was for this reason Hercules took his task to heart. Hades told him of the prophecy the Fates had foretold. 'If Hercules should fight, you will fail." the words were vague, and it was hard to discern the true meaning. For this reason, Hades had tasked him with guarding Tartarus while he led the Titans to Olympus. Hercules had initially been angry with this task, but then Hades pointed out defending Tartarus also meant defending its every denizen. From the Fates, to the Erinyes, to the souls, to Charon. And most importantly, his fury Megara.

She stirred again, mumbling incoherently against his chest. He smiled at her, and admired the curves of her body in the dim firelight. The casting shadows left enough of her hidden that he wished there were candles for him to light. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, causing her to hum gently and he smiled. He hoped he would make her, and his father, proud on this day.

He sighed, wishing he could join his father against Olympus. He had trained him, honing his strength, sharpening his intellect, showing him the true power of his senses. He was a warrior. He wanted to show his strength. Even if no one would remember his name, he wanted the glory of battle. But the fates... they predicted failure should he fight. This is why Hades tasked him with defense. He just hoped the arrogant Gods would be foolish enough to stumble into his domain with the unfortunate thought that they could defeat him. Or worse, show him his 'true' family and try to convince him to turn on Tartarus and join Olympus. But nothing would make him betray his father. Zeus may have sired him, but Hades rescued him from a life of arrogance, had raised him, had shown him his true potential.

"Ah! Already awake!" Hades' voice boomed, little more than a shadow in the doorway. "Is my warrior ready?" He clapped his hands, rubbing them together. The commotion woke Megara from her sleep, and she managed to keep herself from sitting up to source all the noise, maintaining her dignity considering her discarded garments were halfway across the chamber. Hercules was already on his feet, reading scrolls containing epic poems about war. His heart began to race at hearing his fathers voice, and was ready for all his training to come to fruition.

"Of course, father!" Hades smiled, the lines tugging his eyes genuine. When he had first abducted the obnoxious infant he had seen little more than a potential weapon. But had grown very fond of the ball of noise and body fluids. The helpless little blob had grown quickly into a very capable child, bold teenager, and finally a warrior. He considered him as much his son as he would any child he hoped to sire with Persephone.

"Today we finally do it! We kick Zeus's high and mighty ass outta' Olympus!"

"We'll show them that arrogance doesn't make you a God!" Hercules cheered. Meg shifted uncomfortably, their war-talk sounding oddly cultist. But she knew how long Hercules had trained for this day, how much it meant to him. She would stand beside him to matter what. She owed him that much. Hades approached, placing his hands on the young man's shoulders.

"I want more than anything to take you with me," His voice was uncharacteristically steady, holding no tones of sarcasm or hyperactive wit. "But I can't risk everything on how vague the Fates were. Seriously... verse... you think they'd catch on with the times, eh? Nope. Gotta rhyme. Must be cryptic. Not a prophecy if it ain't cryptic," He waved his wrist in small circles, rolling his eyes, "but just because it makes to sense to me... or, well, anyone, doesn't mean I can risk it all. But! I can give you charge of Tartarus, you can do it," Hercules returned his father's gesture, placing his own calloused hands on the taller man's shoulders.

"I won't let you down," He promised. The two men embraced, Hades patting his son firmly on the back.

"No way you could! I'd cook you alive! Ah, I kid I kid. I trained you too damn good to fail. Now, time to kick some ass! Off to gain some real estate, give these stupid mortals a show, huh? I wonder if those fools on Olympus even know what a fight is," He was confident in his fight. Nessus would guarantee Haphestus was cut off from the purest waters of Greece, thus leaving great flaws in his smithing. The Titans would bring a chaos unto Olympus that Zeus himself couldn't stop. Nothing could make this plan fail. Hades shifted his eyes to his fury, "You keep him safe. Understand?" Megara nodded at her boss, feeling an odd stirring within herself. She was actually getting excited for this. The Gods had never given her reason to hope, so she had no reason to hope Olympus would triumph over Tartarus. She turned to Hercules, allowing a smile to tug at the corners of her eyes,

"I'd give my life for him,"

"That's a good little fury!" Hades chimed. Despite the mockery of the words, for once she felt like he wasn't mocking her. "All right! Time to see of this real estate investment has paid off! Got a whole cosmos out there waiting for me!" Hercules watched his father depart, and wanted desperately to chase after him. He wanted to give an epic speech to rival those of Spartan generals. Wanted to inspire fear in his enemies, hope in his father, love and lust in his betrothal's heart. He wanted Tartarus to remain safe, so Megara would remain safe. But he wanted the glory and blood of battle. He wanted the Gods to make the mistake of wandering into his territory. Wanted them to feel the shame of defeat. To have, for the first time, their unquestioned glory shattered. Their shame public.

"Someone's excited," Megara chimed, and Hercules turned to her. She had a coy smile, her shoulders rolled back to exaggerate her bust, demurely hidden behind a thin sheet. He returned her smile, and walked over to the edge of the bed. "What do you say we burn off some of that energy, so you can... focus a little better?" She winked, her words quickly silenced as his lips clashed against hers.

She felt her heartbeat quicken, the sound of it throbbing in her ears as a wave of dizziness washed over her. She moaned eagerly against his mouth, her tongue meeting his with passionate urgency. He cast aside the sheet, breaking the kiss to bring his lips to her neck. His teeth bore down gently on her skin, his tongue tasting the salty sweat on her neck feeling her moan reverberating in her throat. He slid a hand between her legs, and found she was already slick with arousal.

"I'm not the only one who's excited," He said through a grin, meeting her eyes. Normally he would want to take it slow, tease her, draw it out. He loved making it last, until she was all but begging for him. But his own desires, intensified by the thrill of upcoming back, overtook him. His hips met hers, and thrust into her with animalistic lust. She moaned, moving her hips to match his thrusting. He held himself up with his hands, watching her passion-filled face. She lifted her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. He burned his face into her neck, kissing her again. She smelled of soil and trees, of sweat and passion. It was maddening. Soon her moans became more high-pitched, and he felt her legs writhing against the sheets and knew she was close.

"Don't... don't stop..." she panted, her nails raking across his back. He loved how her voice sounded, deep and breathy. His own moans began to match hers, feeling his climax building. He closed his eyes, wanting to focus on the intensity of it all. This incredible pleasure, the smell of her, the sound of her impassioned voice, the feel of her warm body writhing beneath his. She lifted her legs around his, clenching him as she quivered with her climax, her moans tapering into breathy whispers. He was not far behind her, and collapsed spent and exhausted beside her. They lay there together, panting for breath for several moments.

Despite the desire to lay there beside her, Hercules rolled from the bed to prepare for battle. He walked over to the wardrobe that he used for his armory, wondering which to choose. He had garments and armors from every part of Greece, old and new. He needed something practical, yet intimidating. He wanted to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies, but needed it to provide adequate protection.

"I like the Spartan armor. They certainly know their stuff," Meg suggested, chucking a little as she watched him fiddle through his various armors. She was lying on her side, supporting her self up on one arm. He looked back at her, momentarily admiring her curves in the firelight, and turned back to his wardrobe to hide the red staining his cheeks. Per her recommendation, he pulled out the Spartan garb. His set was older, but he agreed with her choice. It would provide adequate protection, and the garb was intimidating.

While he dressed Meg slid from the bed and gathered her discarded clothing, pulling on the cream chiton. It came from her back and over her shoulders, before two swaths of fabric met near her waist, where a sash tied them together. It was a very open garment, which worked well on the days she had to venture out in the summer heat. It reached halfway down her calves, keeping her legs cool. Her bare feet made a soft padding sound as she approached Hercules, who was fumbling with the straps to his armor.

"Here," She pulled the straps from him and helped him adjust the leather patches that provided an extra layer of protection under the metal chest piece. He wore a wool tunic under the leather fastenings, to keep his skin from chaffing on the edges of his armor. The tunic came down to just above his knees, but leather boots provided much of the protection below his knees. The wool had been dyed red, 'so my enemies can't see me bleed' a line she recognized from an old joke. "Give me the wrist bands," she commented, pointing to the leather and metal cuffs. They protected his lower arms during close-combat, especially considered in his right hand his weapon of choice was a double-edged sword. The cuffs protected him from how own weapon. "Sheild?" she asked, before fastening the metal to his left wrist.

"Two swords today," Meg grimaced at his response, and applied the leather cuff, but set the metal one aside to allow his wrist to better fit in the loop of his shield.

"You were tasked with defense. Use your shield. You've trained with it enough to use it as an effective weapon," She shot back,

"Okay fine" he recognized her tone, and knew arguing to use two swords would only end with her angry, and him sacrificing defense in the sake of offense. Her recommendation was correct. His shield would serve him better than a second sword. Were he with his father to obliterate Olympus his dual-wield would sit with him better. He watched her eyes shift from him, to his helmet, and back to him. "Don't worry I'll wear the helmet!" He shouted, louder than he intended.

"Like you did with Nessus? Or the Athenian rebels? Or those eleven self-righteous soldiers who thought they could take the souls of their entire squad back from Hades? Or-"

"I know I know. I don't wear it enough. I promise to wear it today," He pulled it down from the wall, tucking it under his arm. "But you need to wear your armor as well," he insisted. He had commissioned a set of leather armor be made for her after she sustained serious injuries on a job for Hades. She had been sent to try and seduce a trio of brothers to fight for Hades, and had returned to Tartarus with deep wounds on her sides, and bruises on her thighs that she refused to explain. The trio of brothers were unidentifiable when Hercules was done with them. After the incident he insisted she wear a set of leather armor on the job. While she appreciated the gift, she rarely heeded his request.

In addition to the armor he had also gifted her with a belt that held a supply of throwing daggers, as well as two small swords. After her encounter with the brothers he had trained her in these weapons, insisting that she know how to defend herself. She was tall, and fast, but Hercules still felt safer teaching her how to use a ranged weapon, and only using the swords once she was out of options. He had shown her how to use a bow as well, but she was far less apt at it than with the throwing knives. Nonetheless, he armed her with a shortbow and a quiver of arrows. She felt the precautions were excessive.

"Fine," She replied. Hercules walked with her back to her chamber, and helped her with the leather vest, boots, and bracers. She found the wool to restricting beneath the leather, preferring a linen garment. It had been made in a male fashion, meant for practicality with armor rather than feminine appeal. He then helped her arm herself with the weapons he had custom forged for her, "I look like a man," she complained,

"A very sexy man," Hercules replied. "Would make any spartan man blush to have you in his legion!" He gave her a rough pat on the back, nearly causing her to stumble. "Come on, I bet my father and Persephone are in the throne room. Most defensible place in Tartarus.

"Lead the way, Oh Mighty Hercules, Prince of Tartarus!" She mocked, puffing out her chest. He laughed, grasping her hand and pulling her along. They walked through the cold damp hallways, Meg feeling his anxiety with how tight he was gripping her hand. The throne room was a large skull-shaped structure. The cliff was deceptive, one would think the eyes led to the chamber but a few steps into them and you would fall into a deep precipice into the River Lethe, and forever lose your memory. If you could survive the swim to the nearest shore, you would wander Tartarus forever lost until you collapsed from exhaustion and joined the other lost souls of the Lethe. Charon ferried them to the entrance, and as Hercules expected Hades and Persephone were both waiting in the throne room.

"Ah! There he is!" Hades announced, clapping his hands. "Okay, here's the scoop. Me, Olympus, awesome. You, here, awesome. Persephone, sexy, always. Meg," Hades paused, tilting her head, "looks surprisingly good as a cross-dresser,"

"Hades!" Persephone protested, crossing her arms, pouting her bottom lip.

"Oh come on! Just look at her! You gotta admit... oh... nevermind," he pinched his nose. Persephone's jealousy could almost rival that of Hera. "Anyways. Prince of the Underworld, cross-dressing fury, super-sexy queen of hell. Roll call complete! Now that the class is all here, what'd'ya say we all have somethin' nice. Good ole' meal together. Eh? Family Sunday dinner? Don't need to fight on an empty stomach," He was swinging his fingers in the air and snapped, large platters of food appearing on the table. Meg felt lost at half the words, and shrugged it off. The smell of the newly materialized meal was making her mouth water. A confusing host wouldn't make the meal any less delicious.

The group gathered at the stone table, filling their plates with various foods from the spread. There was laughter, stories, and a sense of peace. Meg wished this sense of familiarity was the norm, that each day could be like this. Ever since the death of her mother she had yet to feel the warmth of a 'family meal'. But soon reality set in. With full bellies, and hearts lusting for battle Hades and Hercules regaled each other by repeating the mantra of the year. They went over, again, their plan. Ensuring every detail was perfect. Confident that he could leave to await the release of the titans he gave Hercules a final embrace, and turned to Meg once more, to make her repeat her promise to protect Hercules. She repeated it. With Hades departed, the quiet became unsettling. Hercules paced the chamber anxiously, and Persephone appeared bored at her seat on the throne.

"Why did you choose to be with us, instead of your mother?" Meg asked, hoping not to accidentally enrage the woman. She knew little of the Goddess, save for the mythology of her marriage to Hades. She was unsure how much of it was true, from what little she did understand about Persephone she doubted that the marriage was entirely against her will.

"Why are you sitting here with us instead of hiding above ground where you would surely be safer?" She replied. Damnit, do all Gods answer in questions, rhetorics, and riddles? She thought sourly. Meg gave a tilt of her head in response, and found Hercules looking back at her,

"That's a good question. Why don't you let me bring you above ground, you'll be safer there," Hercules asked, ceasing his pacing.

"You remember the stories of before the Titans were defeated? You really think topside is safer? Besides. Hades would more than kill me if I were up there and you got so much as a scratch. I'm not going anywhere," she replied, crossing her arms and sitting back down at the stone table. "Plus I'd look pretty out of place up there armed to the teeth. They'd probably call me something nonsensical and try to drown me. Or worse, bring me to my father," she scoffed. Hades, being a God, was well aware of who she was and had passed on this knowledge to Hercules.

Time felt as if it was crawling, the calm of the throne room stretching until Hercules let his guard down and sat down at the table with Megara. She could sense his agitation, he wanted battle and was growing tenser by the minute. She was beginning to grow skeptical of the peace herself. The situation quickly changed,

A quick flash of light startled the trio, and a flaming arrow collided into the wall close enough to Persephone to cause her to shout. Before Meg realized where the arrow had come from Hercules was on his feet, shouting at her to get back with Persephone. He stood before them, shield raised, sword ready.

A second flaming arrow quickly followed the first, followed by three more, and second set of three that flew with poor accuracy. Three. There are three of time. Hercules thought to himself. Poor start, he was hoping for more. But this was merely the opening act. He searched the darkness for the source of the arrows, but he could see nothing from the shadows. He quinted, gripping his sword tighter, when he saw a flicker to his left, a quick glimmer flashing across the stone expanse followed by a nearly inaudible 'whud' and series of cursing. Hercules threw a quick glance over his shoulder at Meg,

"Really?"

"Don't act so surprised. You trained me afterall. Now pay attention before you get your pretty face hit with an arrow," He gave her a quick smile and turned back to one of the eyes of the skull structure where he had seen the glimmer vanish into.

"Why over there? I thought you couldn't get in here from there..."

"You clearly haven't played enough hookie. How do you think I got out of here so often? Just takes a little more agility,"

"Yeah, but you know this place. Those eyes are a deathtrap. If you go in there unaware..."

"Anyone who tries to get in here unaware is an idiot. You don't wander into Tartarus and expect everything to be as it seems,"

"But..." He paused, quickly lifting his shield to block an arrow, another glimmer of light flashing to his right this time ending in the sound of metal meeting stone,

"Damnit!" Meg cursed.

"Not as good as you thought, eh?"

"You hush before you find one of these wedged into your perfectly sculpted ass Wonderboy," Their banter was interrupted by another volley of arrows, this time the pattern varied. Five? No way three could land a volley like that Hercules thought to himself, but his question was soon answered by four figures bursting through the eye of the structure. Four men, led by a woman, and Hercules quickly recognized their leader. That's how they knew about the eye! Eunike, She was a former fury, who had finished her service to Hades. He had no time to warn Meg about who she was, as he rushed at the attackers. Now this is m ore like it!

Meg threw another dagger with her targets now rushing at them. A fifth man appeared in the rear with an obvious limp, blood flowing down his leg. He had made the mistake of removing the throwing knife she had successfully lodged into his upper thigh, blood flowing freely from his leg. She aimed for the woman who was leading the charge, but Hercules bashed her with his shield knocking her to the ground causing her throw to miss. She cursed under her breath again. She was down to three daggers. Hercules ran past the downed woman who was struggling to her feet, and charged at a tall man who was only a few steps behind her.

Hercules lifted his shield to meet his first blow, swinging the sword low, aiming for his legs. But the man was quick, stepped back recovering quickly from the shield block. He watched his leader run past him, charging at the two women in the back of the room. He swung his sword at Hercules, trying to occupy the Prince of Tartarus to keep him from attacking her. He bellowed, cheering on the charging woman. Hercules knocked him back, slamming the butt of his sword into his shoulder causing him to stagger, followed with a blow from his shield that shattered the man's face in a spray of blood and teeth. He fell to the ground. Dead or unconcious, Hercules had no time to assess as he nearly failed to block a blow from a second attacker, and felt a sudden sharp hot pain as an arrow buried its head into the meat of this thigh.

Hercules ducked, lifting his sheild to strike the second man below his chin with his shield. He heard the sound of the impact against his head before the pain registered from the woman bringing her own shield down against his head. A third man ran past him, but the woman and the second man had him too occupied,

"Meg!" He shouted, but she was already aware of his presence. She lifted her sword, but was knocked back by his opening blow. She rolled to her side, leaping to her feet and sweeping two steps left, swinging the blade at the back of his legs but he was too quick. He parried her and she nearly lost her grip on the blade. He impacted her in the center of the chest with the butt of his sword, knocking her down again.

"Pathetic," He spat on her, letting down his guard. She took advantage of his underestimation and swept her arm, gripping a dagger and releasing it with one swift movement. The man tried to block, startled, but missed and her blade stuck into the forearm of his sword hand causing him to reflexively drop it. Meg took advantage of her momentary opening and rose to her feet, lifting her shortsword and prepared to strike when she felt a sudden hot impact in her right side. She gasped, her sword clattering to the ground as her hand grasped at her side, feeling the long wood shaft of an arrow. She heard laughter, and it sounded distant. She shook her head to try and regain her senses,

"Pathetic," the man repeated. He too, had torn the throwing knife from his arm, holding his sword clumsily with his left arm as his right dripped blood onto the ground "Shame to kill one so pretty. You'd look good beneath me in bed," he chided. "Maybe I should let you live," Meg struggled to regain the breath knocked from her with the impact of the arrow. She staggered back to her feet, holding her own sword in her left hand. She was horribly outmatched. She glanced past her attacker and saw Hercules had slaughtered the second man, and was standing before the one she had wounded in the leg.

"You're the pathetic one. Out of the Prince of Tartarus, The Queen of the Underworld, you pick the skinny mortal woman. Worried you'd be outmatched?" she taunted. She leapt back to dodge his fist, and felt bile rise in her throat threatening to make her vomit as the pain in her side momentarily overwhelmed her. I'm still breathing. Couldn't have hit anything fatal. She tried to reassure herself. She knew how terrible she was with the sword, but he wouldn't fall for a close-combat dagger throw a second time.
"Hades made my beloved Eunike suffer. I will make Hades suffer. I will kill his fury."

"I really don't understand your logic," she shook her head. "That tiny amount of blood loss must be getting to your head. You must be even weaker than I originally thought! Poor thing. Why don't you go sit down. I'm sure when she wakes up Eunike can finish this fight for you"

"Shut up! You mouthy whore!" She tried to dodge, but his sword was too long and she felt the tip tear through the leather of her armor and slash the skin just below her breasts. She staggered, but managed to stay on her feet. She tried to think of more insults but she was beginning to grow dizzy with the effort of standing. She looked up and grinned, her tactic had worked.

Hercules swung his blade, taking off the man's head with a single blow. The corpse fell, blood pouring from the stump of his neck. Meg shifted back, trying to scurry away from the blood. She looked up at her hero,

"I guess this is the part where I thank you? But I had that. I was good," She lied, nodding sarcastically, tapping her hand against the top of her chest. "The others?" she saw him open his mouth to speak and cut off his question with her own.

"Eunike is unconcious. I have questions for her. Three are dead, the fourth is over there bleeding to death. I want to give you the glory of his death. Seriously, that was a good shot with that dagger," Meg looked over his shoulder to see the ruined mess of the second man. Hercules had severed his arm, and the large pool of blood pooling beneath him evidence that he had been skewered.

"I had a good teacher,"

"You're still talking, that's a good sign." Hercules replied, gingerly touching her wounds. He slaughtered the other men with ruthless abandon, and she found it so bizarre that he could be capable of such tenderness so soon after showing how violent he could be.

"Yeah. I think the cut on my chest is shallow, doesn't feel deep. Just get this arrow out of me," The arrow had entered her side, and had failed to pierce her completely. Hercules felt the lump on her back, identifying the tip of the arrow. She winced beneath his touch, taking in a sharp breath, "Take your time. Doesn't hurt,"

"Clearly..." He trailed off, and looked around for Persephone. "Persephone?" He called out, hoping the Goddess was safe. She peered out from her hiding place behind the throne. "Don't scare me like that! Father would skin me alive!" The Goddess pouted at him, and then her eyes fell upon Meg and she felt suddenly ashamed for hiding.

"Oh. Megara..." She bit her thumbnail, and came to join the other two. "I didn't know,"

"First off, never use my full name. Ever. Second, I'm glad you hid. Hades would skin us both alive if you had so much as a scratch. Better me than you," She tried to hide her resentment. Vowed to protect her or not, she found it rather offensive the immortal Goddess would hide while the mortal fought alongside the warrior-God.

"Meg, you are not gonna like me in just a moment," Meg's gaze shifted, and she eyed him skeptically.

"Elaborate?"

"The arrow is almost all the way through, hit you at a shallow angle. Missed your lungs. It's why you aren't dead,"

"I'm not dead? But... then why am I here in the Underworld?" Hercules chucked, glad she maintained her sarcastic wit. He would be more worried if she would take this seriously.

"It would do less damage to push the arrow all the way through, break the tip, then remove the shaft,"

"And what makes you think that?" She shifted away from him, less than enthralled at the idea of having the arrow pushed all the way through. Hercules gestured to his bleeding thigh,

"Pulled one out of my leg. Cruel arrows... the tips have notches facing back so they tear you apart when you pull it out. I need to find out who forges those. Might commission him." Meg grimaced,

"The infallable Hercules, wounded?" He placed a hadn to the back of his head, drawing back to find blood on his fingertips,

"This'll teach me to be sexist. Seriously. Women proving they can be warriors too,"

"Yeah. Brilliant warrior am I. Arrow in my chest, my insides nearly made my outsides, having to be rescued by my night in dented armor," She quipped. Hercules gave her a stern look, a bit saddened that even after showing how strong she was she would still be so self depreciating.

"You killed a man hiding in the dark with a single throwing knife-"

"I'm not dead yet! I'll kill you! You little whore I'll kill you!" A quiet voice chimed.

"You fended off a man nearly twice your size, took an arrow like a man, a slash to the chest like a man, and still managed to stay on your feet," Hercules continued, ignoring the bleeding intruder. "I know men who would have fallen, or at the very least be wining about his wounds a whole lot more,"

"Speaking of," Persephone interrupted, her tone indicating her dwindling patience, "Get that arrow out of her, get her bandaged up. If that was just the first wave I shudder to think what will be next." She flicked her arms, and at the eyes of the structure large rose bushes began to grow. Thick tentrils bearing long spines grew, and startingly beautiful roses bloomed on the bushes. "That should bottleneck anyone to the entrance we took, or at the very least make any attempt to get in that way very noticable." Meg and Hercules looked at her incredulously,

"And why didn't we make a wall of thorns in the first place? Also, put one at the other entrance!" Meg gaped, shaking her head. She gasped, clutching her wounded side. "Also yeah. Get this arrow out of me. Now."

"Because, like Hercules, I didn't know that was an entrance!" Meg sighed, shaking her head.

"Also, don't block the entrance. I want to meet any more enemies head-on,"

"I'm surrounded by crazy..."

"Okay okay. I need some supplies to bandage this up. Persephone, can you grow any good flowers to make sure this doesn't fester? Also I need some wine, linen thread, a needle, and lots of wool or linen cloth," The Goddess gathered the supplies after much complaining. Upon her return Hercules instructed Persephone to hold Meg still. He wanted to offer her wine to dull her senses, but he feared that would leave her even more helpless.

` "Ready?" Hercules asked,

"Oh yeah, completely." She replied sarcastically. Hercules gripped the shaft of the arrow with one hand, holding her skin taught with the other. Persephone was holding the young woman's arms by her sides. With one quick thrust he forced the arrow through. Her sudden scream sent chills through him, and left his ears ringing. The scream tapered off into a long string of curses. Persephone pulled back, covering her ears from the scream, causing Hercules to mutter under his breath. Meg used her now free arm to punch him, and immediately whimpered, "That was dumb..." she muttered.

"Okay, ready for the next part? Worst part is over,"

"Over? Dear Gods does it hurt," She leaned forward, resting her head against his chest. She was taking shorter breaths, her injuries beginning to wear her out. Tears built up on her eyes, and Hercules could feel her beginning to tremble.

"You're gonna be alright," He promised, kissing the top of her head. While was resting her head against him he reached around her, and broke the head off the arrow. The motion brought more curses and whimpers, and another loud shout when he pulled the shaft of the arrow out. Blood quickly began to flow from the two wounds. "I can't stitch this yet. You might bleed to much inside where the arrow was," She nodded her head against his chest. He unfastened her leather vest, sliding it off of her carefully, and used one of her own daggers to cut larger holes in the linen tunic so he could better see the wounds. He reached for the wine-soaked linen straps, pressing them against her "Persephone, hold these," The Goddess wrinkled her nose at the thought of touching the linens soaked in wine, and risk touching all the blood. Hercules saw her hesitation and bit his lip to try and reign in his temper, "Please" She reluctantly came over, and helped press the clothes against the wounds.

The pain made Meg want to scream again, the alcohol making the wounds burn even worse than when the arrow was still in her. It was beginning to exhaust her, dizziness and nausea joining the calamity in her body. Hercules instructed her to lay down. She felt the awkward bulge of one of the cloths on the wound in her back, tears flashing to her eyes at the pain. Hercules unfastened the leather vest, opening it so he could access the wound beneath.

The sword has torn clean through the leather and the linen tunic Meg wore underneath. The blood stain told him the wound was shallow, and may not need stitching afterall. He cut the linen to see, and his hopeful conclusion was correct. He grabbed the wool linens for the wound on her chest. He sat her up again, and used the longer strips to wrap around her, holding all the bandages in place. He fastened her leather vest tightly, hoping to use it as additional pressure.

"You okay?" he asked, steadying her with a firm hand on her shoulder. She hummed in response, nodding her head.

"I'll be better once I can go to bed."

"Hey the good news is I don't have to sew the large wound. It'll heal well enough as long as we keep it clean," He assured her. Truth was he feared for her. The wounds themselves would not prove fatal, but risk of them festering would. Originally he had wanted their wedding to be a large, loud, romantic affair. Now he considered taking their vows in private, to grant her her immortality that was promised.

Megara sat against a back wall, having been carried by Hercules. It was as far from any of the entrances as he could get her. He had gathered her used throwing knives, returning the blood stained objects to her to refill her arsenal. Persephone sat with her, suppressing her desire to hide. She admired her bravery, and would be sure to tell Hades to reward her justly.

The rose bushes proved a worthy wall, forcing subsequent attackers to use the only unblocked entrance. The first immortal to come to test his mettle against Hercules was Prometheus. The man bore two flaming swords, in a mockery of his own crime. His chest and abdomen was covered in thick unforgiving scar tissue, pulling on him tight enough he had a slouch. Like the others, Hercules slayed him. Following him were mortals, taunted by Zeus with glory. Minor Gods seeking a higher place beside Zeus. Only the women, sent to offer their bodies to slake his lust in exchange for surrender were allowed to leave Tartarus unharmed. Further proof of Zeus's arrogance. By the end of the night the room stank of metallic blood. Hercules had pushed the bodies into the river Lethe, to keep the smell of rotten flesh from overwhelming them.

Meg lay where Hercules had left her, Persephone beside her. Her dress was stained with blood, her fists bruised, her arms bearing minor cuts. Despite the way she presented herself, she had proven to be a capable warrior and defended Meg from any intruders who managed to make it past Hercules. He too, had not walked away from the battle unscathed. His face was bruised, one eye swollen shut. Two teeth had been knocked out, his nose was broken and bleeding. A dislocated shoulder hung useless at his side. He was covered with enough lacerations it was hard to discern the blood of his enemies from that of his own. But he was victorious.

Hercules was sitting against the wall with Meg on his lap. Persephone had helped him, with much instruction, to relocating his arm. He wanted to return to their bedroom and sleep for half an eternity. But until Hades returned with news of victory there was risk of more battle. His betrothed was shifting uncomfortably, the odd moan and whimper breaking her otherwise wordless silence. Persephone sat beside them, exhausted herself. Already many of her wounds were beginning to heal. They had ceased bleeding, and many bruises green at the edges. The pain was ebbing to little more than aches. Hercules too was feeling the advantage of his immortal blood. The pain was ebbing, but he knew the deeper throbbing aches would take much longer to end. He looked down at Meg, and found it unfair that her pain was no better, and would take significantly longer.

Hades returned before midnight to announce his victory. Olympus had fallen. There was cheering, laughter, and drinking from the small group. Charon, the Fates, and the Erinyes had also joined the throne room to hear Hades's announcement of victory. The lesser denizens departed quickly, for their jobs were never ending. Hades expressed his unending pride in Hercules, embracing the man, patting his back hard. He never would have thought the disgusting oozing noisy infant he had abducted would eventually grow to be his son, the defender of Tartarus.
"I'm so proud of you," he reiterated, and Hercules had tears in his eyes. He turned then, helping Meg to her feet. She rested most of her weight against him, straining against the pulling pain to stand strait.
"So am I," Meg smiled,
"And you," Hades stated, his eyes traveling over her. She had clearly participated in the fight. The blood on the sword having from her side, and on the throwing daggers at her hip was evidence of that. She hadn't simply allowed herself to be attacked. "You weren't kidding when you said you were willin to die for him, huh? Not sarcastic for once!" He laughed. "Okay okay. I guess I need to do a little somethin' for ya. Don't get used to it," He swirled his hand producing a phial, which he handed to Hercules. "This will help the pain. Should help her sleep better too, which will get those wounds healed. Also, I guarantee they won't fester." The thought of something to remove this pain almost made Meg weep with joy,
"Thank you,"
"'Sephy!" Hades turned to the third member of the group, who had been sanding impatiently with her hands on her hips. She began to tap her foot and Hercules looked at Meg in his arms, ready to sleep.
"What do you say we go to bed?" He got a sleepy groan in return. He lifted her carefully and carried her to bed, leaving an arguing Hades and Persephone behind. He carried her to the lavatory, wanting to wash the blood off her, and himself, before climbing into their bed. He helped her into the hot spring that served as their bath, and the hot water felt glorious on his aching muscles. The spring was large enough for them to share it together, but Meg did not want to submerge all the way, the thought of the water on her wounds making her cringe.

He helped her wash, cleaning the dried blood from her, and trying to keep up with the fresh. He changed his mind from his earlier conclusion, and stitched the wounds. The arrow had struck her at a shallow angle, through fat under skin but missing muscle and lung. He wrapped her again in wine-soaked bandages, and wrapped linens around her chest to keep them in place. He lifted her, and carried her to bed, pulling blankets over them both.

"I meant it," Meg whispered in the dark. "I would have died for you today, if it came to it." Hercules shushed her, turning her cheek to kiss her gently.

"I'm glad it never came to that."

I suck at fighting scenes. I seriously do. I am so sorry for how terrible they are... I also had to start rushing it up a bit after page 12. If you want an extended version I can go back to my original document, extend it, and repost this one-shot with the extra-long version. If you want this, please state so in the comments. Also not sure how much I like the ending...