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Slowly, with the remnants of what felt like a stress headache fading away, Joxer slammed back into consciousness. His eyes snapped open and he was hit with a wave of disorientation. Blinking rapidly, he glanced around and realized that he was still at the Halls of War, but his father was nowhere to be found. Frantically, he scrambled up until he was perched on his knees in the middle of the big soft bed and looked around some more from this better view. Nope, the Mischief God was indeed, gone.

Joxer's pulse began to speed up as he registered the fact that he had been left alone. He was confused about Ares' announcement and a little afraid that when this whole mess was over he was going to be stuck married to a violent and angry God that resented his very presence. It didn't *matter* that it wasn't Joxer's fault, Ares would *still* need *someone* to take his frustration out on.

Trying not to slide headlong into panic again, Joxer contemplated leaving the bedroom and trying to find his Father...or even his Grandmother. He had a lot of questions and he could *really* use a friendly face right about now. However, it was possible that neither of them were even *on* Olympus right now, so...

It was at that point that Joxer heard a muttered voice from behind the bedroom door. The stone walls muffled it to the point where Joxer couldn't tell who it was or what they were saying. Hoping that it was the Mischief God, Joxer slid out of bed and walked across the expensive hand-woven Persian rug that lay on the flagstones. At the last moment, Joxer refrained from simply yanking open the door. Instead, he pressed his ear against the wood, straining his ears to listen even as he strained his "gift" to feel the emotions pouring off of the person beyond.

Normally, Joxer *hated* the fact that he was an empath. Nine times out of ten, when he stumbled or tripped it was usually because he was suddenly slammed with a strong emotion that slipped through his shaky shields and caught him off guard or because he was concentrating on using or suppressing them. However, there were times when he *did* appreciate them. And this was one of them.

On the surface, the person beyond the door felt mostly confusion and mild anxiety. A sense of uncertainty and even a fluctuating wave of protectiveness. Joxer could tell that these feelings were aimed at *him* specifically. Under those "surface" feelings was a repressed sense of anger. An almost overwhelming boiling cloud of pitch black *rage* that pounded at the being, crying for retribution and violence, screaming to be released on it's focus. And that focus was Zeus and Hera.

The muttering voice was still muffled and the words were unclear to Joxer, but the tones were not. It almost seemed like the person was pacing outside his door, giving himself a pep-talk.

Joxer knew that it wasn't his father out there. He could recognize the "texture" of the Mischief God's emotions when he felt them. However, this person *obviously* didn't wish any harm to the demigod, so he made a decision and flung open the door.

To see his "husband" standing there, his full bottom lip trapped by his white teeth as he gently nibbled on it lost in thought. Joxer's confidence melted away to nothing as his eyes met those fathomless pools of blackness that were the WarGod's eyes. Ares raised up one hand, made a vague gesture with it before bringing it up to run it through his mass of raven dark curls.

"Joxer. We...ah, we need to talk."

Mutely, Joxer nodded his head. Everything that he knew about the WarGod made him believe that he was about to be blasted into a pile of steaming sludge. But that didn't match the emotions rolling off of him and Strife *did* tell him that Ares had promised not to kill him. Mostly, Joxer was confused. And upset. And frightened.

Ares sighed and Joxer realized that he was just standing there staring up at him in terror and that *probably* wasn't what his "husband" had been hoping for. However, he had *no* clue what *was* expected of him. Then Ares gestured for Joxer to follow him out into the hall.

"Come with me. I'll try and explain what's going on while we get ready."

Joxer nodded his head again and tried to suppress the tremor that wanted to take up residence in his hands.

"Oh...Okay Ares. That...that would be good, 'cause I have *no* idea what's going on here."

Joxer stepped out into the hallway and began to follow the God who was now his husband, whether either of them would have chosen that course for their lives.

"I know you don't Joxer. Your education wasn't designed to prepare you for the intricacies of my Court. When you were born, you and your brothers were educated to be able to assist Strife and Eris with any jobs that they had but didn't require their full attention. Sort of how Xena was trained to be my Champion, assisting *me* with various jobs and as a figurehead for my army."

Joxer nodded his head in an automatic response, but then he stopped in shock as a hundred little memories suddenly took on a completely different light. All of the times he was asked to "keep an eye on someone and report their activities" and all of the times Jett had been asked to "dispose" of someone or all of the "dates" that had been set up for Jace. They had all been *jobs* for the House of Aggression.

He himself as a *spy*. His travels with Xena would allow for that, especially since his empathy would let him have a sharper and clearer idea of what the mark was planning. Jett was, and always would be, an assassin. An assassin who routinely eliminated people who had angered or offended the House of Aggression enough to warrant being visited by an actual *family member* but didn't rate the attention of a Council Member. And Jace? Jace's "gift" was the ability to seduce *anyone*. Was he the "distraction" that allowed plans to be put into motion without key players of the opposition realizing what was happening until it was too late?

Ares answered his unspoken thoughts and questions as if Joxer had said his revelations out loud.

"Now you begin to understand. You and your brothers were *born* into the House of Aggression. You belong by virtue of your *blood*, just as Xena and Autolycus does. Hercules, on the other hand was *assigned* to me by our Daddy-dearest because of his "gift" of godly strength and his innate need for dominating others. I had to decide whether Herc-i-poo turned out to be a hero or a tyrant. I chose hero and I often regret that. The sanctimonious shit."

Joxer almost stumbled into Ares' back when the WarGod stopped in front of a large black and silver door emblazoned with Ares' personal sigal. Taking a deep breath and whispering a small prayer to his Father that if Ares' blasted him to bits that he'd get a nice funeral, Joxer looked up at his husband and demanded an explanation.

"Why? I mean, why didn't anyone *tell* me all those times I was giving my "opinion" about different people to Dad and Gran, that I was *really* spying for YOU?"

Ares grimaced and he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Truthfully? Because you were always afraid of me. Then, after you started spending so much time with my daughter, she reinforced that idea in your mind. But for some reason you always had a soft spot for Strife and Discord and were willing to do any favor for them. And honestly, most of the time you *were* doing it for them and not me. The few times that you did it for *me*, they always insisted that you be given the chance to say no to the request. And I agreed."

The small spark of righteous indignation died away as Joxer realized that what Ares said was, in fact, true. His Dad and his Gran had *always* given him a choice to do favors for them. They never *insisted* that he talk about who he had seen or what he had felt from them. It was always up to him whether to comply or not. And he always agreed to help.

"Oh."

Ares flashed him a tight grin that didn't come even close to a smirk. Without waiting for Joxer to form a more detailed and intelligent sounding reply, he pushed open the door and led the way into the room beyond. Joxer followed and then came to a dead halt as the sheer opulence of the room hit him.

It was obviously Ares' personal suite of rooms and it was amazing. Firstly, it was a *huge* gathering room they stepped into with many others branching off from the twin corridors that stood at either end of the room. The floor was a dove gray marble with black veins running through it and the walls were of highly polished black stone. Vividly colored tapestries and wicked looking weapons hung upon the walls. The furniture was overstuffed with some material that looked soft, letting you sink into it if you sat down. It was upholstered in dark gray velvet with flecks of red and black running through it. The tables were topped with smokey mirrored glass and black wrought-iron frames. The air was scented lightly with leather, steel and...*citrus*? Joxer looked and noticed a red glass bowl of fruit sitting on one of the side tables and swallowed past the dryness in his throat and tried to push away his shock at the unexpectedness of Ares' having a *living room* where he could "relax".

Ares turned to him and chuckled deprecatingly.

"What? You thought I lived in a *shack* or something? Slept on my throne? Of *course* I have an apartment in the Halls of War. Tartarus, Joxer...I have the *biggest* one. Then again, I have a suite of rooms set aside for Eris, Hermes, Dite, Cupid and Strife. Not that they don't all have their own temples, but they each have a small set of rooms here as well. I also have a hallway full of single bedrooms that are for guests. That's where you were at before."

"Oh."

Joxer glanced around at the darkly masculine beauty of the room and shrugged.

"I didn't mean to...I don't know, offend you or anything. I guess I just never really thought about it before and it caught me off guard."

Ares looked at him for a long moment with an intense look on his face and Joxer began to squirm and fidget in a manner that strongly resembled his sire.

"Well, you'll have plenty of time to get used to it. This is your home now. I'll give you the formal tour later, but right now we have to get ready."

Ares turned and headed down a corridor and Joxer automatically followed him. About three steps later his brain replayed what Ares had just said. *This* was his home now. The tremor that he had managed to suppress hit him full force and his internal panic raised up a notch. He wondered vaguely if he was going to faint again.

Without even thinking of it, Joxer reached out with his empathy and "read" Ares' emotions again. The WarGod was filled with concern and mild anxiety that was aimed at Joxer. He couldn't tell *why*, but he figured that Ares was worried that he would somehow screw this...whatever they had to do up. However, he *was* relieved to know that the rage that rolled through the volatile God was still aimed at *Zeus* and not *him*.

They turned a corner and Ares pushed open another door. This one led to a bedroom that was as beautifully appointed as the living room had been. Joxer had a mental flash of being forced to consummate their unasked for marriage and that image created a wash of both lust and fear in him. After all, Ares *was* sexy, but Joxer was afraid that the WarGod would want it to be rough and painful and Joxer was *so* not into that type of thing.

However, Ares walked through the bedroom to a set of double doors and pulled them open. Beyond lay what was undoubtedly a dressing area. It was bigger than the kitchen at his mortal mother's stronghold and two walls held racks of various clothes, while the third was set up as a vanity. The forth held numerous shelves and hooks that were filled with accessories.

Silently, Joxer watched as Ares walked along the row of hanging clothes, muttering to himself. "...want this...don't need that...I remember this...yuck! what was I thinking?...goodbye...a keeper...nope..." Some items were passed and others flickered and disappeared. After he reached the end of the row, the WarGod put his hand on the last item and pushed them all together again. This left a fair sized space from all of the clothes that were no longer there. Then Ares turned and shrugged self-consciously.

"Lots of those things were gifts from Dite. Don't tell her I packed them up and put them away, but I'll probably *never* wear them. And now...*you* have space for the clothes I'm certain she'll inflict on *you*."

Joxer began to hyperventilate as a connection was suddenly made inside his head. When Ares had said that this was Joxer's new home, the WarGod meant his personal apartment, *not* just the Halls of War in general. However, he didn't have time to work himself into a panic attack because Ares interrupted his thoughts.

"Right now, I have to present you to the rest of the House of Aggression as my Consort. It's Olympian Law. If I don't, then no one will recognize your new titles and it'll make your life a living Tartarus and annoy the shit out of your Father, your Grandmother *and* me. It's not a big deal and you don't have to do anything but stand there and not faint. But that...armor has *got* to go."

Ares snapped his fingers and Joxer found himself naked except for his breechcloth. He squeaked in startled embarrassment and blushed a deep bright red even as he desperately tried to cover himself with his hands.

"Ares!"

The WarGod chuckled softly at his reaction and then snapped his fingers again. Joxer found that he was dressed in a long flowing silk wrap that was bright red in color with the sigal of the House of Aggression repeated all along the bottom in deep purple. He barely had time to appreciate the exquisite feel of the silk and the elegant lines of the wrap when Ares snapped his fingers again. A leather breastplate and wrist guards trimmed in red appeared on his body. He stumbled slightly as the shock and weight of it threatened to pull him off balance.

Ares just stood there with his weight on one hip as he regarded him intently.

"Hmmm, just needs a few minor touches."

Another snap of the WarGod's fingers and Joxer's boots were replaced by heavy leather sandals and a short dagger was sheathed at his waist. And a thin red enameled circlet was held out on Ares' extended hands. Solemnly, Ares placed the circlet on Joxer's head and then stepped back again.

"There. *Now* you look like the Consort of War."

Startled buy the odd look in Ares' eyes, Joxer turned away and saw himself in the floor to ceiling mirror next to Ares' vanity. He gasped in shock at the man staring back at him from the silvered glass. The change in his appearance was astounding and he wouldn't have recognized himself if he didn't know better.

"Th...thank you Ares."

The reflection of his husband smiled slightly and then Ares snapped his fingers again. In a bright flash of light, Ares changed his own clothes into that of his Official Robes. A deep purple silk wrap with a red enameled bronze breastplate and a red enameled bronze crown. His Sword of Power hung at his waist.

Joxer swallowed suddenly and turned to look at his husband in his Official Robes. This wasn't his volatile and angry Great-Uncle and Father of his best friend and favorite Cousin that he faced. This was the God of War, Lord of the House of Aggression. His new husband. Joxer felt faint and swayed alarmingly.

~

Strife arrived in the meeting room with Jett and Jace in time to see Cupid arrive with his psychotic son Julius Caesar. Almost instantly, Caesar started to leer at Jace despite the fact that Jace turned her nose up at him and leaned back against their sire. Cupid merely sighed in resignation. Jett felt no such compulsion and sidled up alongside the Roman General.

"Ya know, while I realize that Zeus' law prevents me from stickin' a knife between your ribs if you mess with Jace, they *won't* stop me from sending every single person loyal to your cause into the welcoming embrace of Hades. *Think* about that before your cock gets half the Roman Army killed in their sleep."

The two demigods growled at each other and it most likely would have come to blows, but then Aphrodite appeared with Hercules and Xena. The two heroes took in the situation with a single glance and chose sides in a heartbeat. Silently, they moved to flank Jett in his standoff against Caesar. Not being anywhere *close* to stupid, the Roman General backed down and began to practically *ooze* charm and social grace.

"Why Xena! You look as lovely as ever, my pet. Perhaps when this whole shindig is over, we can find some...quiet corner to...catch up on old times."

For half a heartbeat, the Warrior Princess swayed towards the Roman General, but then she braced herself and growled in a fair imitation of her father.

Aphrodite ignored them all and turned to face her son and his sometime lover. With a wide cheery smile and a delectable jiggle, she gestured to the room.

"Wow. Ares decorated for the event. It looks...well, dank and depressing and all this red just *screams* spilled blood. But for leather britches, this is a big improvement."

Cupid and Strife exchanged smiles and chuckles. The Goddess of Love and Jealousy was right. Ares' idea of warm and welcoming *was* a bit odd. And usually involved sharp pointy weapons, but that was besides the point. Aphrodite on the other hand, was still looking around. She noticed something, frowned and then sighed in resignation.

"It's been so long since the bonehead had demigods up here that he forgot to set a place for them. There's no room at the table and if we just let them mill around a bit there will be blood shed."

She glanced at her Grandson.

"Julie-poo has managed to piss off both Jett *and* Xena. Jacie and Joxie will fall in line with their brother and Hercie will follow Xena, so...it looks like it'll be *his* blood on the floor. We need to figure out where to stick these guys if we want to prevent that."

Strife shrugged. He didn't *really* like his lover's son and if it came to blows between Caesar and Jett, he'd be pulling for his own boy. However, he also didn't want to be banished from Cupid and Pysche's bed for the duration of time it took Cupid to get over the loss of his brat. With that thought uppermost in his mind, the Mischief God snapped his fingers. A row of low backed red chairs appeared on the stage behind the thrones of the witnessing Houses of Intellect, Divinity and Nature. He pointed.

"There. Let's assign 'em seats. We'll put Caesar on one end and tell Herc it's *his* job to keep the guy alive. Then we stick Xena and Jett at the other end of the row."

Cupid leaned over and gave Strife a deep wet kiss.

"You are a sick and twisted genius. Love you."

Strife blushed and grinned at the public display of affection. While it wasn't uncommon in the Halls of War, they normally kept it under wraps unless at Cupie and Pysche's place or his own place. Aphrodite and Cupid just chuckled at him began to organize the demigods.

For a long moment, it seemed that Jett wasn't going to cooperate, but then Hermes arrived with Autolycus and the assassin's attention was ripped away from his rival and riveted on his lover. Within moments, Xena found herself with a front row seat to the Jett and Auto tongue swap and make-out session. She tried *really* hard not to stare...she didn't *succeed* in not staring, but she *did* try.

The demigods in place, the Council of the House of Aggression began to take their seats at the conference table. Their voices rose and fell with their babble and speculation. There was a brief commotion when Psyche arrived with Bliss and promptly threw up into a hastily summoned basin, but then she cleaned herself up and settled down in her chair between her husband and their lover. Bliss ignored the whole thing as he was used to it. Instead, her flew out of his Mother's arms and directly to his Aunty Xena's arms so he could help her watch Auto and Jett try to have sex without removing their clothes first.

Apollo arrived in a flash of golden light and struck a pose to display his beauty. To his delight, Hermes leered appreciatively, as did Caesar and Jace. He had hoped to catch Psyche's eye as well, but he *did* have *some* morals and figured that as her personal physician, he should hold off on trying to seduce her until *after* she gave birth to her second child.

In twin flashes of blue light, Deimos and Phobos appeared. They both reeked of male sex and death. No one had to ask where they had been, it was obvious that they had both crawled out of Thanatos' bed to attend the meeting. Demeter arrived next, her nose wrinkling as it caught the scent waffling from Ares' youngest Godly children. Her one eyebrow rose up in an elegant arch as Pain and Terror giggled. Rolling her eyes, she turned away from them and took a seat on the sparkling green throne of the House of Nature.

Hepheastus and Athena arrived almost simultaneously. Hephy merely snickered at the boys and then limped over to sit by his wife, but Athena grimaced in distaste at them.

"You should learn to clean yourselves up after you play."

She snapped her fingers and then both Pain and Terror were clean and presentable once again. They both pouted at her. She rolled her eyes and Hephy snickered again.

All that was missing was Eris, Callisto and a representative from the House of Divinity. Everyone knew that Callisto's chair would remain empty until Ares had forgiven her for stabbing Strife with the Hind's Blood Dagger and killing him. It had cost the House of Aggression a LOT to get him back from Hades. So, that left Eris and someone from the House of Divinity.

Everyone's questions about that were answered then as Eris walked into the room through the door instead of flashing in. She was dragging a person behind her and everyone could hear the rattle of chains against the granite floor. With the entire Council craning their necks to see who Eris had with her, there was a loud communal gasp of indrawn air as everyone saw at once. Then the room fell deadly silent as everyone gaped in open mouthed astonishment.

Hera.

The Queen of the Gods was dressed in her finest formal robes. She had her crown on her head. She was also wrapped in hepheastian metal chains that included a power-negating hepheastian slave-collar. And a bright yellow gag filled her mouth and prevented her from crying out against her treatment. The Goddess of Marriage and Childbirth's face was bright red with humiliation and her eyes were narrowed in fury. Eris looked smug as she physically hauled her Mother up and dumped her unceremoniously into the pristine white throne between Apollo and Demeter.

"Sit. Stay. Good dog."

~

Ares looked over at his Consort. Joxer's face was set into lines of shock and amazement. He felt bad for the man. So many shocks and all of them were coming way too fast. He wished he could make this easier for him, but neither of them had a choice. Zeus had made sure of that.

"Joxer. Take a breath. It'll be okay."

The demigod took in a large draught of air and a small bit of color came back into his cheeks. Ares smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He wasn't sure how comforting he looked though, it wasn't something he tried to do often.

Then, reaching out with one large hand, he tilted Joxer's face up to look at his.

"Are you ready?"

A long pause, then Joxer nodded minutely.

"Yeah...I think so."