Become a Dragon 1/?
Title: Become a Dragon
Category: Drama/Fantasy/Romance
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Summary: He had merely been a world-weary traveler, grateful for a bed to sleep in and a hearty meal on the horizon when he became an unknowning pawn in godly games. Only the Fates could have forseen the path he had set foot upon when first he strayed into dream.
Authors' Note: This is an AU set in Ancient Greek mythology. For the purposes of the fic, the team members are the following Gods/Demi-Gods: Emily = Artemis, JJ = Demeter, Morgan = Theseus, Hotch = Zeus, Reid = Apollo, Garcia = Aphrodite, Rossi = Posiedon, Gideon = Hades, Elle = Persephone, Kevin = Eros. Also, please ignore all familial relations between the Gods...because otherwise things get all confusing and incestuous.
Derek slept poorly that night, tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed, lying awake beneath the threadbare woolen bedclothes. He was unable to resist brooding on the fact that one so well-fortuned as King Phalaris should offer better lodging than a hole-in-the-wall inn to an honored guest who had traveled so far to attend his banquet. Not that he considered himself someone worthy of honoring - those had been the king’s words, “his halls would be graced to bear the presence of such an esteemed guest.”
But he was used to sleeping on worse beds than a lumpy mattress. Such was the way of the weary traveler, leaving home in the quickly-fading distance as he sets off in search of adventure and foes. At least, he was moderately sure he needn’t be on the lookout for thieves ransacking his room while he slept.
Huffing, he rolled onto his side, staring out at the indistinct shapes of the scarce furniture occupying the room. Only, now there was something he didn’t recall having been there before. Atop the chesterfield sat a woman, gazing intently at him as he lay in the near-darkness. For a moment or two, he allowed himself to study her through half-lidded eyes before mentally chastising himself - it was a foolish man who allowed himself to lose himself in the beauty of his mind’s own creation, for surely he must be dreaming.
He closed his eyes tightly and willed his mind to stop playing tricks on him, to allow his restless conscious some respite. But when he opened his eyes again to prove to himself that the girl had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination, she still remained sitting there.
A mischievous smile seemed to flit across her lips as if she knew the thoughts playing through his mind. Her pale skin seemed to glow by the light of the room’s one candle as she raised an arm to brush raven locks back among her windswept mane. He gave up on the pretence of sleeping, allowing himself to stare openly, telling himself she must be real for his mind possessed not the power to create a visage so enthralling.
The woman laughed and the sound was as that of tinkling glass. “I am no trick of your weary mind,” she spoke, the words hanging in the air like a morning fog, faint and refreshing.
“I do not understand...” Derek mumbled groggily, looking intently at the beautiful maiden who sat across from him, smiling as if she were in on a secret he was not privy to. “Who are you?”
She raised a brow, smirking. “You do not know me?” she asked with laughter on her voice.
He shook his head, confusion clearly written across his face. He wondered if the nymphs were playing tricks on him, for they had taken to him when he tarried long at their spring on his journey over when the heat of the day became overbearing. “No. Why are you here? What do you want?”
“You are attending a feast at Phalaris’ palace tomorrow night.” She stated, rather than questioned, making Derek more suspicious of the woman's intentions. “I take it that you have not heard tell of his Bull.”
“I have heard whispers amongst the townfolk, but I do not believe it. It is nothing more than fear-mongering, spread by those who feel he is unfit to rule. It is but a tall tale.” He eyed her carefully. “Who are you?”
“My name is not important,” she dismissed with an airy wave of her hand. “Tomorrow, when you are feasting, the king will sacrifice another guest to the Bull. You will know because it will start braying as if it were real and smoking as if it were cooked. That is your signal to leave with haste if you wish to leave at all.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he questioned suspiciously, studying the curious woman intently. If she were telling the truth, he was greatly indebted to her - though, one should be wary of strangers who come bearing gifts. “What will happen if I do not leave?”
“You are in grave danger,” she said seriously. “If you listen to me, you will go on to defeat many villains who have plagued history and become a near God, earning your place in legend alongside Jason and Heracles.”
And with that, she disappeared into thin air, the candle flame flickering in a sudden non-existent breeze.
Derek awoke in a cold sweat, hurriedly sitting up to search the room for any sign of the beautiful maiden who had come in the dead of night to inform him of his impending doom. But search as he might, he found nothing more than his own pounding heart and fast-fading memory to convince him that such grace had ever trespassed upon his fitful sleep.
Category: Drama/Fantasy/Romance
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Morgan/Prentiss
Summary: He had merely been a world-weary traveler, grateful for a bed to sleep in and a hearty meal on the horizon when he became an unknowning pawn in godly games. Only the Fates could have forseen the path he had set foot upon when first he strayed into dream.
Authors' Note: This is an AU set in Ancient Greek mythology. For the purposes of the fic, the team members are the following Gods/Demi-Gods: Emily = Artemis, JJ = Demeter, Morgan = Theseus, Hotch = Zeus, Reid = Apollo, Garcia = Aphrodite, Rossi = Posiedon, Gideon = Hades, Elle = Persephone, Kevin = Eros. Also, please ignore all familial relations between the Gods...because otherwise things get all confusing and incestuous.
Derek slept poorly that night, tossing and turning on the uncomfortable bed, lying awake beneath the threadbare woolen bedclothes. He was unable to resist brooding on the fact that one so well-fortuned as King Phalaris should offer better lodging than a hole-in-the-wall inn to an honored guest who had traveled so far to attend his banquet. Not that he considered himself someone worthy of honoring - those had been the king’s words, “his halls would be graced to bear the presence of such an esteemed guest.”
But he was used to sleeping on worse beds than a lumpy mattress. Such was the way of the weary traveler, leaving home in the quickly-fading distance as he sets off in search of adventure and foes. At least, he was moderately sure he needn’t be on the lookout for thieves ransacking his room while he slept.
Huffing, he rolled onto his side, staring out at the indistinct shapes of the scarce furniture occupying the room. Only, now there was something he didn’t recall having been there before. Atop the chesterfield sat a woman, gazing intently at him as he lay in the near-darkness. For a moment or two, he allowed himself to study her through half-lidded eyes before mentally chastising himself - it was a foolish man who allowed himself to lose himself in the beauty of his mind’s own creation, for surely he must be dreaming.
He closed his eyes tightly and willed his mind to stop playing tricks on him, to allow his restless conscious some respite. But when he opened his eyes again to prove to himself that the girl had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination, she still remained sitting there.
A mischievous smile seemed to flit across her lips as if she knew the thoughts playing through his mind. Her pale skin seemed to glow by the light of the room’s one candle as she raised an arm to brush raven locks back among her windswept mane. He gave up on the pretence of sleeping, allowing himself to stare openly, telling himself she must be real for his mind possessed not the power to create a visage so enthralling.
The woman laughed and the sound was as that of tinkling glass. “I am no trick of your weary mind,” she spoke, the words hanging in the air like a morning fog, faint and refreshing.
“I do not understand...” Derek mumbled groggily, looking intently at the beautiful maiden who sat across from him, smiling as if she were in on a secret he was not privy to. “Who are you?”
She raised a brow, smirking. “You do not know me?” she asked with laughter on her voice.
He shook his head, confusion clearly written across his face. He wondered if the nymphs were playing tricks on him, for they had taken to him when he tarried long at their spring on his journey over when the heat of the day became overbearing. “No. Why are you here? What do you want?”
“You are attending a feast at Phalaris’ palace tomorrow night.” She stated, rather than questioned, making Derek more suspicious of the woman's intentions. “I take it that you have not heard tell of his Bull.”
“I have heard whispers amongst the townfolk, but I do not believe it. It is nothing more than fear-mongering, spread by those who feel he is unfit to rule. It is but a tall tale.” He eyed her carefully. “Who are you?”
“My name is not important,” she dismissed with an airy wave of her hand. “Tomorrow, when you are feasting, the king will sacrifice another guest to the Bull. You will know because it will start braying as if it were real and smoking as if it were cooked. That is your signal to leave with haste if you wish to leave at all.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he questioned suspiciously, studying the curious woman intently. If she were telling the truth, he was greatly indebted to her - though, one should be wary of strangers who come bearing gifts. “What will happen if I do not leave?”
“You are in grave danger,” she said seriously. “If you listen to me, you will go on to defeat many villains who have plagued history and become a near God, earning your place in legend alongside Jason and Heracles.”
And with that, she disappeared into thin air, the candle flame flickering in a sudden non-existent breeze.
Derek awoke in a cold sweat, hurriedly sitting up to search the room for any sign of the beautiful maiden who had come in the dead of night to inform him of his impending doom. But search as he might, he found nothing more than his own pounding heart and fast-fading memory to convince him that such grace had ever trespassed upon his fitful sleep.