The barkeep took one look at him, bit the gold piece, filled a pitcher and poured him a mug. Ares tossed it down and began to look at the available goods. Yeah, he was definitely in the mood for men right now, and these were just his type.

He liked the big men, with heavily muscled backs and arms, and legs like tree trunks. The real warriors who fought hard with no thought for anything but the battle and *maybe* their brothers-in-arms. Who thought of no one *but* their brothers-in-arms afterwards. Ares chortled.

Ah...there was one now - a huge redhead with bright green eyes and a face covered in freckles. His armor fit him like a glove and showed off lovely muscles under more freckles. Ares like them exotic, and this was about as exotic as he'd ever seen. He looked up and caught the pretty boy's eye.

Green eyes smiled and sidled closer to him. "Are you wishing to speak to me, man?"

Ares grinned. The man had a truly delightful lilt to his voice. He was about as far removed from the common, ordinary..."Could be. My name is...Arry."

"Is it, now? Well, they do be calling me Padraig." He eyed Ares up and down.

"I've not seen you about."

"I'm new. You aren't from Mycena, are you?"

The man laughed - a big, happy laugh that filled the bar. "And why would you be thinking that, I wonder? Aye. I wandered down from Eire. Would you be looking for a partner, now?"

Ares smiled. "Depends on what you want the partner for. I'm not in the mood for...fighting."

"Ah. I've had my fill of fighting for the day." He poured himself a cup of Ares' wine and tossed it down with a charming grin. "I believe there are rooms in back..."

"I believe so." Ares caught the eye of the bartender.

"Two coppers for an hour, my lords. One for each additional, and I'm closing at midnight."

"And what would we be getting for that sum? Bare pallet?"

The bartender scowled. "Three coppers gets you sheets and oil if you're so delicate."

"Done!" Padraig tossed the man a silver coin. The man then gestured to one of his potboys, who led the two of them to a small room behind the kitchen. The lad then went to fetch sheets and a small pitcher of oil. He made up the pallet and lit a small lamp, and then stood, shaking as much as that buffoon had.

"What do you want, boy?"

"M...master said I should ask if...if you want anything more from me?"

The God and the man exchanged glances. "You couldn't have a hair on your body, boy! Out you go and tell your master I'll speak to him when I get out."

"Boy! This is for *you*, not your Master." Ares handed him a large gold coin - large enough to keep him for several weeks. The boy's eyes grew wide. He grabbed it and ran off, and, Ares hoped, right out of that tavern.

"That was most generous, Arry. I do not like this use of children here."

Ares had never thought about it before. He preferred size and strength in all of his partners, male or female, but tastes differed and boys and girls were ubiquitous. Then again, this boy was scared and he had pale skin and dark hair and eyes, and reminded him of...

He closed the door behind him and grabbed the big man from Eire, who filled his arms quite thoroughly and willingly. Padraig's lips were chapped, which Ares ignored for the delights of his tongue.

Ares wasn't used to undressing his partner manually, but this time it was a pleasure. Each layer of leather and wool revealed more of the man's beauty to both his eyes and his touch. As for Padraig...Ares didn't need Godlike perception to know just how aroused the man was.

They tumbled together on the pallet, hands and mouths and bodies exploring each other. How could Ares have denied himself the pleasures of a man's body for so long this time?

And pleasure it was. Padraig had put his journey to Thebes and his time there to good use. Ares found himself doing things he'd only imagined before, with Padraig's superbly muscled body wrenching out every dram from him.

Finally, as the Eireman pounded his length deeply into his body, Ares shouted his final release loudly enough to reach Olympus itself, and then collapsed on the now drenched pallet.

Padraig slowly withdrew. Ares could picture his shaft, long and thick, covered with transparent, freckleless skin and gleaming with oil and fluids.

He sighed and pulled the man closer to him. "Why doesn't a man like you have a swordmate yet?"

Zeus, the man actually blushed. Ares wouldn't have believe anything could make this man blush...not after he'd done *that* with his tongue.

"Well...it's not like you know the man. He's in my unit, and a better fighter you never did see. A brave man, too...not one to ever back out or run. He's given me the time of day and more, but he could have his choice of partners, and wouldn't be wanting the likes of me."

"Good-looking?"

Padraig held Ares closer as he bit his lips in thought. "As to that.. .I couldn't say. Not like you, bonny man that you are. He looks like himself and that's all I can say, but I'd never tire of it."

"Give it a chance, Padraig. You're...bonny yourself." Ares kissed him on his forehead.

"I will. And you talk to yours, Arry."

"Mine?"

"You shouted a name at the last. Jacka or the like. It's then that the heart speaks. It does what it wants sometimes."

There was a knock on the door. "Closing time!"

Ares pulled Padraig close for one last kiss and then they both cleaned themselves off and got dressed.

As they left, the bartender stopped them. "You owe me for the room, and for the boy you let run off."

Padraig tossed him a silver piece. "That should cover the room. As for the boy..."

"Don't beat the next one." Ares gave the man a small pouch. "I will come to check." For an instant, he allowed the man to see him as he was.

They left him cowering in the corner of his bar. Ares stopped to kiss Padraig on the cheek as they went their separate ways. "May you always fight strong and may you and your shieldmate know only glory and honor."

Padraig blinked, not knowing that a god had blessed him. "May you also be given honor and love, Arry. Fare you well!"

The big red-head wandered away into the night. Ares watched him. Having sex with Padraig had cleansed him of the sliminess he'd felt with Discord.

Everything about the man...barely a man, as he was only about twenty summers, but not a boy...had been open and honest, and above all, happy. There was nothing hidden, nothing dark, and there was no more evil about him than any other human. Just touching him and his soul was freeing.

Ares leaned against the tavern wall. His body was sated, but not...something else.

He'd gone there thinking he'd find the warrior of his fantasies...big, nasty, punishing, the sort of man it was a pleasure to dominate, to put in his place.

Padraig loved to fight. He loved the clash of swords and feeling he got during and after a long battle. But after a fight, he'd be perfectly happy to take his foes for out for beer and bed, and never mind the cleanup, the wounded or the dead. He'd never go beyond sword-fodder.

And that was a shame because Padraig was so sweet and, despite all the blood on his hands, so innocent. As innocent as...

But Joxer wasn't innocent. He'd seen battles and death and helped mop up afterwards. He had blood on his hands himself - it just wasn't blood he himself had shed, other than by accident. And not that he stayed away from the thick of battle.

Why had he thought of Joxer as a coward? And why had he cried out his name? What the hell was he doing?

He needed more wine...no, he'd had too much of that. And he'd had the best of lays. And today's battle had certainly fizzled out. And all because of that...very well. Where was the buffoon anyway?

He cast his mind out searching. There is was, a light shining brightly in the moonless night. There were two others nearby. This was a familiar scene indeed. Why did he always end up with those two women?

Getting up, he moved the hundred or so miles that took him to Joxer and the others. There was a single campfire. Xena and that annoying blonde bard were lying in each other's arms in its light.

Normally, daughter or no, he would have stopped to enjoy that sight, but this time it only irritated him. Where was Joxer? Ah...a few yards that way. He had his armor off again, and his bedroll laid out beside a tree. There were the remains of a rather skimpy meal - crumbs of bread and cheese and a flash of water.

Joxer dropped the armload of branches he held onto a small pile and settled down onto his bedroll, which he wrapped around him like a cloak against the chill in the air.

Ares made himself visible. "Why don't you light a fire, or even join those two?"

"Ares! What do *you* want?" Joxer leapt to his feet and pulled out his sword. His grip was so clumsy that he couldn't hold the weapon straight. Who let him hold a sword in those hands?

"Just some information. There is a nice warm fire only a few steps away, and you have enough wood here to keep it going all night long. And put that sword down before you hurt yourself."

Joxer did as he was told, and collapsed back on the ground. "Why are you asking these questions?"

"Is it so strange that I might actually be concerned?" Ares sat back on his heels.

"Well, actually, yeah. I didn't even think you knew I existed."

Ares shrugged. "I'm having an off-night. Humor me."

Joxer shook his head. "This is too weird. First today at the stadium and now here. Xena and Gabby...are happier when we sleep apart. It's not like I haven't done it before. And one fire is dangerous enough. Two...I'm fine."

"You are *not* fine. You are shivering."

"Well, pardon me. The God of War has dropped down on me without warning and he's wondering if I'm all right. Of course I'm shivering."

"I'm not going to hurt you. Here." He snapped his fingers to produce a furlined cloak. He held it out.

Joxer reached for it tentatively, but when it showed no signs of biting or even of teeth, he wrapped it around his shoulders with a sigh.

"Why?"

"You were cold."

"Yesterday, I might as well have been an insect."

"Maybe yesterday, I was a fool." What was he saying? Didn't he even have control over his speech?

"I don't even want to know. Why are you here, Ares? And why are you being *nice* to me? What do you want me to do?"

"Just talk to me. Answer my questions."

Ares couldn't keep the anger out of his voice. Joxer flinched.

He sighed. "Please?"

Joxer inched back further. "Are you possessed? What's going on here?"

"Please...don't go. I'm serious."

Joxer stopped where he was. "What do you want to know?"

"Just...why? Why did you get mixed up in all that today? And why are you taking care of those two now?" Ares glanced at the pile of branches. He knew those branches were destined for *their* campfire.

Joxer shrugged inside the cloak. "What else was I supposed to do? Not even try to stop them? Let the injured get trampled? Let that man die alone? "

*That's what a sensible man would have done.* Yet Joxer made it sound like *he'd* taken the only real action.

"This doesn't make any sense. You got no reward and you could have gotten killed."

Joxer only shrugged.

"Even Xena...why are you helping them?"

"They're my friends. They help me...once in a while. And...there's Gabrielle."

"You're in love with her." Why did that hurt to say?

Joxer bit his lip. "She's not in love with me. She's in love with Xena. Anyone would be."

"So why are you with them? Why are you torturing yourself?"

"It's not torture. I get to be with them, with her, and I know she's happy." Joxer shrugged.

"You are the most...incomprehensible person I've ever met. You're worse than my *brother* - at least he has muscle behind his do-gooding. Keep the cloak. I'm going." Ares took himself back to Olympus. That was the most...why was he obsessing about him?

Why was he so angry at Xena and Gabrielle for treating him like dirt that he could happily blast either of them then and there.

Because he was. They were taking advantage of him, of his feelings towards both women, since he was clearly worshiping Xena as his personal hero. And it was obvious that they knew. They probably thought it was cute rather than funny, but they knew.

He was worth ten of either of them. He was trying to beo what they were, with neither grace nor skill nor strength, things they had in abundance. All Joxer had was...a heart that held more bravery than any ten men.

Even any ten laughing redheads from Eire.

It was time to pay a call on his sister. He thought about getting more wine, but decided that he wanted his mind as clear as he could.

"Aphrodite! Where are you, you little...!"

"Stop that shouting, Arry. A girl needs her beauty rest, you know." Aphrodite popped up, wearing a transparent negligee.

Ares noted this last fact without any reaction. "How's Hep?"

"He was just *fine* a moment ago. We were *right* in the middle of...well, you know." Aphrodite grinned. "Now, I want to get back to my cuddlebug. So, give."

He motioned her to a seat. "Did you put a spell on me? Or your son or that grandson of yours?"

Aphrodite blinked. "Give a girl a chance to breathe, why don't you?"

"Well, you *are* in a hurry." Ares grinned for a moment. "Well?"

"Okay, okay. Let me check you out." She closed her eyes. Then she giggled and opened them again. "Sorry, big guy. It's the real thing." She giggled again. "And *you* have got it *bad*."

He sat down hard. "I'm really in *love*? I've...that's impossible! And with...Joxer?"

"Oh, wait'll everyone hears *this*. The God of War in love with 'Joxer the Mighty' - isn't that how his little song goes? This is, like, too cool!"

"What's so funny? He's...good. He's...he's the bravest mortal I've ever known." Ares stared in horror at the words he was saying...and meaning. "The joke would be if he fell for *me*. He *hates* me."

Aphrodite was still giggling. "If you dare tell me to keep *this* to myself, I'll...you wouldn't. This is the most delicious thing *ever*."

Ares barely heard her, nor did he do more than notice when she disappeared. He was in love with that...that buffoon, that clown, that inept fool...

Who was none of the above. Behind the very real clumsiness and puppyishness were steel and honor, strength and compassion. Why did no one else see that?

Because no one tried. Because...because for some reason, no one ever tried to get close enough to see them, even those who called themselves his friends.

Aphrodite was right. He had it *bad*. Now the question was, what did he do about it? His sister would be no help - while this was in her purview, it was all his problem. Besides, she was just too happy over it.

He could...he could let the whole thing die. Except that just thinking that way made it difficult to breathe. So that was out. He could make Joxer fall in love with him. He could take him to Olympus and shower him with gifts and make love to him until ...

That wouldn't work.

No matter how *good* he was, no matter how he made that experience, it would still be rape unless Joxer came to him willingly.

And he couldn't do that. He couldn't hurt this man. If he couldn't forget the man, and he couldn't *make* him fall in love on his normal terms, he had to find another way.

Zeus! So far as Ares knew, Joxer had never had a single moment's thought about another male. How was he going to overcome *that*?

He could change himself into something...more acceptable...no. He didn't just want Joxer's body - actually, he was rather surprised that he wanted it at all, let alone so much - he wanted Joxer's love. And he wanted Joxer to love Ares, God of War.

For that, he had to be worthy of Joxer's love, no matter how it manifested. He had to be the sort of person Joxer could love. Ares sat in his chair staring at the rising sun and contemplated an impossible task.

********

Go to Part 3.