"Shades of Night," HL fic
This'll go up at my site and AO3 later/tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy! ETA: Now up at my site, here.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Definitely not mine. Written for prompts from Merfilly: revolution, Darius, Kastagir. Probably set during WWII in Greece, but you know, it might be the Turks a century and some earlier, too. Some days, Darius and Kastagir just won't tell me things. Beta courtesy of Dragon, Raine, Devo, and Annasbeta; mistakes of course are mine. Crossover100 prompt #75: shade
Rated: R. If only because I'm still going, "Wait, you want to do what?"
Shades of Night
"Even-handed One, Great Leveler, Final Judge, we beseech you. Dark Lord, Night Lord, Wealthy One, we call on you for assistance." A breeze scudded around Kastagir, riffling his coat ends, and scudded past Darius, where it picked up the tang of strong alcohol. "Lord of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, All-Mastering Hades, come forth, we ask, and hear our bargain, that you may add to your wealth in your own time."
Darius watched the storm gathering to the west and said quietly, "Sunda."
Kastagir nodded and drew a knife, holding it between the two of them. Darius twined one hand over his on the hilt and placed the palm of his free hand against the blade. Sunda mirrored him and they drew the knife down in a smooth motion that left blood falling from both hands.
Red drops hit the too-dry earth in soft plops of moisture on near-dust; by the time their hands had healed with shimmering sparks, the wind had died away.
The night fell silent, too: no dog-fox barked, no owl cried, not so much as a twitter of songbirds chirping sleepily about 'is it morning yet?'
"A bargain, you said," Someone breathed and Kastagir felt goose bumps rise on his skin and his nape prickle. "And why should I bargain for that which will be mine soon or late?"
Darius bowed to the shadows and said, "It is not the shortest of tales, Lord. We have metheglyn, or retsina, or boom-boom, if you'd like?"
It was a rusty chuckle out of the night, but a laugh nonetheless. "Boom-boom. And yes, Kastagir, stir up your fire. I am intrigued."
Kastagir grinned. "This isn't the sort of stuff that usually sends people to you; I have more pride than that, thanks. But you may like this one. I've been aging it in oak." He poked the fire into shedding a little more light and tugged a rock over to make a seat for himself. Darius filled a cup with boom-boom, closed the tap, and placed the cup beside the folding chair covered with a spare blanket they'd left empty for the god.
He appeared in it as Darius said simply, "Another attack comes through this pass soon, Lord. Maybe in the morning, maybe tomorrow night, but no later than that. If they're held off even another two days, the business of driving them back out can begin. If they make it through... it may be years, or longer, before these invaders can be sent out of your lands."
The cup in Hades' hand gleamed gold in the firelight where it had been pale wood before. "And when the attack begins, more souls will become mine," Hades said quietly. "They all come to me in the end."
"They don't all believe in you, Lord," Kastagir pointed out bluntly. "There are those who do, at the kind of level not even their church can overwrite, but if this army isn't opposed there'll be a damn sight fewer of them by the new moon."
Hades raised the cup slightly, acknowledging that point. Despite the light from the fire, shadows pooled around his feet and legs; they made it difficult to see his face. Kastagir suspected it was a kindness to them, or maybe he just hated seeing immortals come and go from his lands. "What do you want, and what do you offer?"
Darius said quietly, "Once, you let Sisyphus go back to see his death rites properly carried out. His punishment for trying to evade his return is legend still, my Lord. We are not such fools. Both Kastagir and I know the rites to send souls back to you. Will you lend us ghosts to hold this pass for their distant descendants? As soon as their descendants arrive to hold the pass, we will send them back to you."
Hades drank more of the boom-boom and waited, silence mounding around in ever-thickening layers, to see if there was more. When neither Darius nor Kastagir broke the night, he chuckled again, a sound like dirt pattering into a grave, and asked, "Why should I? They are already mine. You will eventually be mine. Those who come here will, one day, also be mine. What can you offer me that I do not already have?"
Kastagir shrugged. "We brought gifts, Lord, certainly. Rude not to, and no one sane is rude to you. Metals taken from your realms that once sent you souls, a gem or three taken from deep in the earth, more of the wine and boom-boom to take back for your court since it can't be made there."
"Other than that," Darius went on calmly, "we may only ask. We know that all things are, eventually, yours. But there are fewer and fewer who believe in you; we ask that we may continue to help you in your followers' realm."
"And then," Kastagir said reasonably, "in some ways, we're all worshipers of you and your lady."
Thunder rumbled far off as Hades leaned forward and tipped his cup over to sit upside down and empty beside the embers. "Explain yourselves."
"Who is more aware of life and death than we?" Darius said quietly. "We who have lived long enough to see how death comes, and life comes, and death again."
Kastagir added, "We who send so many to you, either wrapping them for the grave or sticking metal through them to send them there?"
"And who is more aware of rebirth, both our own and the world's, than we?" Darius asked seriously. "Your lady is well served by us."
Small flames danced over the embers, reflected in the dark of Hades' eyes; eventually, the shifting light indicated that he nodded. "As am I. You once sent me thousands, Darius."
"In another life," Darius agreed, and added, pained, "Some of those I trained still do."
Kastagir leaned back and drank more of his boom-boom. "And now he preaches rebirths to his flock."
"You," Hades murmured to Kastagir, low and slow as a late night pulse, "have sent no small number to me, Sunda Kastagir, and returned no few who were called away unlawfully."
Kastagir just nodded. "So I have. I don't hold with calling the dead up for small things, Lord."
"Meaning that you do not see this as a small thing and I should agree?" Hades asked them. But his words held no edge to cut them, dripped no venom to poison them.
"Agreement is yours to give or withhold," Darius said, hands turned up empty on his habit. "And the gifts are yours regardless, Lord. We're grateful you've come and heard our request."
"That said," Kastagir rumbled, "if we didn't think it was a fair bargain for both sides, we'd have been fools to call you up to hear it. We try not to be fools, and certainly not to or around gods."
"Being in no hurry to join me in my realms?" Hades finished, amused now. "So you offer me your gifts, the blood you have shed and likely will shed again here, the souls of my people's enemies, and the hope of more living souls who will remember and respect me."
Darius nodded. "Yes. And we ask it as those who bring the Even-Handed One a bargain good for both sides, and as ones who know you of old and respect you and your lady."
Kastagir grinned. "And if there's a wine or beer she prefers, I'll make her a batch when this blasted war is over and a man can get makings again."
The night folded in over them again while Hades considered it, silent as a dead cave and dark as a grave.
"She was always fond of apple wine," Hades said at last, mild as spring frost after the winter. He picked up his cup, solid gold now in his hand and gracefully curved as a collarbone, refilled it with the metheglyn and sipped the brew contemplatively. "Although these, too, have been fair. Very well. Bring forth your map and I will call my shades to the places you request. In return, I charge you both to give these gifts of yours into the nearest sinkhole you may find -- I do not underestimate the trouble of travel in these days, else I would have you bring them to my river in the southwest -- and to walk these lands in three nights and send back to my realm any shade fool enough to remain."
Darius nodded. "More than fair, Lord. Thank you."
Kastagir brought the maps out and said simply, "Thank you. We'll keep doing what we can for your people."
Hades smiled, slow and cold as the grave. "Yes. I know you will." And he leaned forward to take a more personal hand than usual in gathering possessions to his realms.
~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~
Notes, Comments, Commentary:
I think this is in Greece during WWII, but you never know with Sunda and Darius....
Metheglyn can be another name for mead, or it can be made with honey locust sap instead of honey. Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW
Disclaimer: Not mine. Definitely not mine. Written for prompts from Merfilly: revolution, Darius, Kastagir. Probably set during WWII in Greece, but you know, it might be the Turks a century and some earlier, too. Some days, Darius and Kastagir just won't tell me things. Beta courtesy of Dragon, Raine, Devo, and Annasbeta; mistakes of course are mine. Crossover100 prompt #75: shade
Rated: R. If only because I'm still going, "Wait, you want to do what?"
Shades of Night
"Even-handed One, Great Leveler, Final Judge, we beseech you. Dark Lord, Night Lord, Wealthy One, we call on you for assistance." A breeze scudded around Kastagir, riffling his coat ends, and scudded past Darius, where it picked up the tang of strong alcohol. "Lord of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, All-Mastering Hades, come forth, we ask, and hear our bargain, that you may add to your wealth in your own time."
Darius watched the storm gathering to the west and said quietly, "Sunda."
Kastagir nodded and drew a knife, holding it between the two of them. Darius twined one hand over his on the hilt and placed the palm of his free hand against the blade. Sunda mirrored him and they drew the knife down in a smooth motion that left blood falling from both hands.
Red drops hit the too-dry earth in soft plops of moisture on near-dust; by the time their hands had healed with shimmering sparks, the wind had died away.
The night fell silent, too: no dog-fox barked, no owl cried, not so much as a twitter of songbirds chirping sleepily about 'is it morning yet?'
"A bargain, you said," Someone breathed and Kastagir felt goose bumps rise on his skin and his nape prickle. "And why should I bargain for that which will be mine soon or late?"
Darius bowed to the shadows and said, "It is not the shortest of tales, Lord. We have metheglyn, or retsina, or boom-boom, if you'd like?"
It was a rusty chuckle out of the night, but a laugh nonetheless. "Boom-boom. And yes, Kastagir, stir up your fire. I am intrigued."
Kastagir grinned. "This isn't the sort of stuff that usually sends people to you; I have more pride than that, thanks. But you may like this one. I've been aging it in oak." He poked the fire into shedding a little more light and tugged a rock over to make a seat for himself. Darius filled a cup with boom-boom, closed the tap, and placed the cup beside the folding chair covered with a spare blanket they'd left empty for the god.
He appeared in it as Darius said simply, "Another attack comes through this pass soon, Lord. Maybe in the morning, maybe tomorrow night, but no later than that. If they're held off even another two days, the business of driving them back out can begin. If they make it through... it may be years, or longer, before these invaders can be sent out of your lands."
The cup in Hades' hand gleamed gold in the firelight where it had been pale wood before. "And when the attack begins, more souls will become mine," Hades said quietly. "They all come to me in the end."
"They don't all believe in you, Lord," Kastagir pointed out bluntly. "There are those who do, at the kind of level not even their church can overwrite, but if this army isn't opposed there'll be a damn sight fewer of them by the new moon."
Hades raised the cup slightly, acknowledging that point. Despite the light from the fire, shadows pooled around his feet and legs; they made it difficult to see his face. Kastagir suspected it was a kindness to them, or maybe he just hated seeing immortals come and go from his lands. "What do you want, and what do you offer?"
Darius said quietly, "Once, you let Sisyphus go back to see his death rites properly carried out. His punishment for trying to evade his return is legend still, my Lord. We are not such fools. Both Kastagir and I know the rites to send souls back to you. Will you lend us ghosts to hold this pass for their distant descendants? As soon as their descendants arrive to hold the pass, we will send them back to you."
Hades drank more of the boom-boom and waited, silence mounding around in ever-thickening layers, to see if there was more. When neither Darius nor Kastagir broke the night, he chuckled again, a sound like dirt pattering into a grave, and asked, "Why should I? They are already mine. You will eventually be mine. Those who come here will, one day, also be mine. What can you offer me that I do not already have?"
Kastagir shrugged. "We brought gifts, Lord, certainly. Rude not to, and no one sane is rude to you. Metals taken from your realms that once sent you souls, a gem or three taken from deep in the earth, more of the wine and boom-boom to take back for your court since it can't be made there."
"Other than that," Darius went on calmly, "we may only ask. We know that all things are, eventually, yours. But there are fewer and fewer who believe in you; we ask that we may continue to help you in your followers' realm."
"And then," Kastagir said reasonably, "in some ways, we're all worshipers of you and your lady."
Thunder rumbled far off as Hades leaned forward and tipped his cup over to sit upside down and empty beside the embers. "Explain yourselves."
"Who is more aware of life and death than we?" Darius said quietly. "We who have lived long enough to see how death comes, and life comes, and death again."
Kastagir added, "We who send so many to you, either wrapping them for the grave or sticking metal through them to send them there?"
"And who is more aware of rebirth, both our own and the world's, than we?" Darius asked seriously. "Your lady is well served by us."
Small flames danced over the embers, reflected in the dark of Hades' eyes; eventually, the shifting light indicated that he nodded. "As am I. You once sent me thousands, Darius."
"In another life," Darius agreed, and added, pained, "Some of those I trained still do."
Kastagir leaned back and drank more of his boom-boom. "And now he preaches rebirths to his flock."
"You," Hades murmured to Kastagir, low and slow as a late night pulse, "have sent no small number to me, Sunda Kastagir, and returned no few who were called away unlawfully."
Kastagir just nodded. "So I have. I don't hold with calling the dead up for small things, Lord."
"Meaning that you do not see this as a small thing and I should agree?" Hades asked them. But his words held no edge to cut them, dripped no venom to poison them.
"Agreement is yours to give or withhold," Darius said, hands turned up empty on his habit. "And the gifts are yours regardless, Lord. We're grateful you've come and heard our request."
"That said," Kastagir rumbled, "if we didn't think it was a fair bargain for both sides, we'd have been fools to call you up to hear it. We try not to be fools, and certainly not to or around gods."
"Being in no hurry to join me in my realms?" Hades finished, amused now. "So you offer me your gifts, the blood you have shed and likely will shed again here, the souls of my people's enemies, and the hope of more living souls who will remember and respect me."
Darius nodded. "Yes. And we ask it as those who bring the Even-Handed One a bargain good for both sides, and as ones who know you of old and respect you and your lady."
Kastagir grinned. "And if there's a wine or beer she prefers, I'll make her a batch when this blasted war is over and a man can get makings again."
The night folded in over them again while Hades considered it, silent as a dead cave and dark as a grave.
"She was always fond of apple wine," Hades said at last, mild as spring frost after the winter. He picked up his cup, solid gold now in his hand and gracefully curved as a collarbone, refilled it with the metheglyn and sipped the brew contemplatively. "Although these, too, have been fair. Very well. Bring forth your map and I will call my shades to the places you request. In return, I charge you both to give these gifts of yours into the nearest sinkhole you may find -- I do not underestimate the trouble of travel in these days, else I would have you bring them to my river in the southwest -- and to walk these lands in three nights and send back to my realm any shade fool enough to remain."
Darius nodded. "More than fair, Lord. Thank you."
Kastagir brought the maps out and said simply, "Thank you. We'll keep doing what we can for your people."
Hades smiled, slow and cold as the grave. "Yes. I know you will." And he leaned forward to take a more personal hand than usual in gathering possessions to his realms.
~ ~ ~ finis ~ ~ ~
Notes, Comments, Commentary:
I think this is in Greece during WWII, but you never know with Sunda and Darius....
Metheglyn can be another name for mead, or it can be made with honey locust sap instead of honey. Original post on Dreamwidth | Leave a comment on DW | Read
comments on DW