Annabuphia The Hydra Slayer

[menomegirl]

Writer's note: You have no idea until you try, how hard it is to write "Buphia" instead of "Buffy".

Disclaimer: Those of these characters that do not belong to me I believe are in the public domain. The concept of a Slayer, as told in this story, was created by Joss Whedon, and I don't own that. The rest of this story is mine.

Annabuphia The Hydra Slayer

by Leather Jacket

He watched from behind an outcropping of giant fennel, peering through the leaves.

The girl was walking slowly up the beach, dark hair billowing behind her in the breeze. She looked to be in her mid-teens, small, in a creamy yellow gown. After she'd passed a small string of rocks leading out into the sea, she bent down and started fingering the twigs lying on the beach.

That's when the serpent rose up out of the sea, and the man burst from behind his hiding place. Startled, the girl looked up at him, instead of behind her at the beast that was about to strike. He raced forward, sword drawn. He was a tall man, deeply muscled, with a thick mane of light brown hair framing a chiseled face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" she cried out.

"Don't be afraid," he yelled as the blade swept across the monster's neck and the head fell to the ground at their feet. The serpent's neck slid back down into the water.

"What did you do that for?" The girl stomped her foot in frustration.

"I just rescued you," he answered. "And a thank you would be nice."

The girl frowned and crossed her arms over a modest bosom. "Alpha: I never asked to be rescued." She ticked the points off with her fingers. "Beta: what gives you the incredible gall to think that you're the person to rescue me?"

Just then, another serpent's head rose up out of the sea. But this time it was followed by a second. They towered over the arguing pair, as a third serpent's head rose up to join them. The three heads screeched in an ear-splitting cacophony.

"And gamma," she continued, "that's a hydra. You cut off its head, it grows two more to replace it." She grabbed his arm and pulled him away as the beast struck where he'd been standing just moments before.

"Delta: RUN!" she shouted.

They ran together away from the beast and the shoreline, toward the plantings where he had been hiding moments before. Just then, he stopped short. "I don't run," he insisted, "I fight." He turned around to face the beast, sword drawn.

"Then you'll die," she called, and turned back to find cover.

The beast reared up, the central head reaching toward the sky and let out three horrible squeals. The heads separated, surrounding the man. He raised up his sword directly in front of his face. The hydra opened three mouths wide and as all three converged on the man, he could feel the breath on his neck.

Wait --- that wasn't breath. A series of twigs arced through the air past him, piercing the hydra's six eyes. The beast screamed as a small hand grabbed the man's tunic and pulled him down to the ground. The girl grabbed his sword. She ran into the sea, at the now-blinded hydra, sword raised. With a yell, she brought the sword down, deep into the sea, cleaving the monster's torso. Blood poured out of the beast's heart, painting the sea crimson.

She pulled the sword out of the hydra's body, turned, and walked back ashore, toward the startled man, who was just clambering up off of the sand.

"You should leave the monster slaying to the professionals," he chided.

"Pro--pro-- I just saved your egotistical --- self," she exclaimed, aghast.

"Yes, well ... I'm sure I would have come up with that--"

"Blinding the hydra so it wouldn't see me attack? Of course you would have." She breezed past him. "I'm sure you were just about to do that when you got distracted by your nice, shiny sword." She handed him the sword. "It's ... not so shiny anymore."

He took the sword and sheathed it. "It's a sword. It's what it does. Gets bloody, that is." He held out a hand to her. "I am Heracles."

"Annabuphia," the girl replied.

"That's quite a mouthful," he laughed.

"And I suppose Heracles just dances off the tongue like skipping through the poppy fields."

"I know," Heracles stated, "I shall call you, 'Anna'."

"Try it and I'll use that sword on your ... besides, who in their right mind would name a person 'Anna'? I am Annabuphia and Annabuphia I shall remain."

"No," he insisted, "from now on, you are Anna."

"Fine. Then I'll call you ... 'Acles'."

He sighed heavily, "Oh, alright, if you hate it that much, I shall call you 'Buphia'."

"I think I would have preferred 'Anna'."

"Buphia, the Hydra Slayer," he continued, ignoring her protests.

"And what, exactly, makes you think you'll be calling me anything once this day has passed?"

"Oh, we are going to be excellent friends, Buphia" Heracles insisted, wrapping a thick arm around her tiny shoulders. "I shall teach you all the ways of heroism, and you shall teach me how you knew that was a hydra and not a common serpent."

"If you say so, Herc."

* * * * * * * *

White marble steps led up to the god's temple. Grape vines twisted and intertwined about the columns and covered the archway leading into the entry courtyard. The woman in the green and blue gown walking up the steps stroked a leaf to her left. The leaf withered and browned.

"Dionysus!" she called, "Dionysus, I shall see you this instant."

A man with long, flowing hair and a soft belly, with a purple cloth draped around his waist peered around a doorway. "Mother," he sneered, "How wonderful to see you."

"I've told you not to call me that."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "Mom." He ignored her growl. "What do you want?" He brushed past her, touched the leaf she had withered and it sprang back to green, full life.

She sat down on a marble bench that had a plush red cushion laid on it. "I need you to do something for me."

"Really, Mommy?" Dionysus walked over to join her on the bench and draped an arm around her, "Do you need a favor?"

She growled ... again ... as she stood up. "I need you to take care of someone for me."

"You know, Mamma Mia --- oh, fine, Hera!" Dionysus stood, himself. "You could be nicer to people when you want their help. Who is it?"

Hera walked over to a fountain in the center of the courtyard and waved her arm. As Dionysus joined her, in the water, he saw an image of Heracles, battling a giant crab.

"He's beautiful," Dionysus cooed as he ran a hand down his own chest.

"He's also a pain in my Athens," Hera growled.

"And here I thought Athens belonged to Athena."

She turned to glare at her husband's bastard son. "His name is Heracles."

"You might have mentioned that before you showed him to me. You do realize Heracles is my half-brother."

"You won't have to hurt the boy..."

"He's more of a man at this point," Dionysus mentioned, appreciatively.

"Whatever. You don't have to hurt him. Much as I'd like you too, as soon as anyone tries, that's when Zeus gets in the way." She pressed her fists firmly against her sides. "Either that or he manages to strangle not one but two snakes with his bare hands or he kills a lion or ..."

"So, what did you have in mind? I'm not going to get him drunk and have my way with him. I told you. He's my brother."

"Half-brother." Hera groaned. "And you're showing a shocking lack of imagination. Seduce him with your wines, bring him into your parties, then you can enslave him to your service."

"He's Heracles," Dionysus reminded her, "He's not going to abandon his life of do-gooding to drink and party."

"He's killing my beasts!" Hera shouted. "Figure something out."

Dionysus sighed. He walked over to a corner of the courtyard, where a statue stood. The statue stood six feet over its platform. It was of a young man, with chiseled features, a full chest and rippled abs. The statue carried a pitcher in its arms. "Do you see this statue?" he asked. "One of my followers offered me this statue as a sacrifice, in the hopes he could renew his grapes and produce a good wine this year."

"Yes, it's lovely. So what?"

"What do your worshippers give you? A dead goat? A dead cow?" He grabbed her shoulder and turned her to look him in the eye. "A dead man? When was the last time your followers offered you something really and truly beautiful?"

"Your point?" Hera grumbled through clenched teeth.

"My point is that if you offered your people love and treated them well, they would offer you love in return. Instead, they offer you fear. They make sacrifices to avoid your wrath.

"Let Heracles live in peace. Get your beasts to stop pillaging the villages of Greece. Stop demanding tribute. Then Heracles will stop fighting you and your people might just start offering you statues."

"Like this?" Hera touched the pitcher the statue was holding and the pitcher shattered. Then she turned back to Dionysus. "You do not want a war with me. Find a way to enslave Heracles."

Dionysus gently touched the hand of the statue. The hand flinched and then reached up, across the statue's chin. As Hera and Dionysus backed away, the statue climbed down off of its platform.

"Impressive," Hera said sarcastically. "Is this going to help me in some way?"

"He's beautiful," Dionysus explained. "Heracles will love him."

"He's stone," Hera protested. "Heracles will think he is stone."

"Now it's you who's showing the lack of imagination." Dionysus walked back to the archway he'd entered the courtyard from, stuck his head through and called, "Could you come here for a moment?"

"What are you doing?" Hera groaned, but the answer came a moment later. The man who came out through the archway was tall, lean and blond, shirtless, with tight, golden leggings. Once he was in the courtyard, he spread pure white wings out from his back.

"What's going on, Di?" Then he saw Hera. "Grand-ma-ma." He smiled brightly.

"I see you both share the same sense of humor. You will not call me that, Eros."

"You'd prefer 'Granny' then?"

"UGH!" Hera shouted.

"What's up?" Eros asked Dionysus. Then he saw the statue and patted Dionysus' chest. "Stop." He walked over to the statue and placed his hands on its shoulders. "Who is this?"

"You've seen my wine bearer statue before," Dionysus said.

"But I never realized how beautiful he was." Eros turned back to his host. "Animating him is a splendid idea. Oh, I can have lots of fun with him."

"Maybe later. Your grand-ma-ma..."

"Step grand-ma-ma, at least," Hera snorted.

"Your step grand-ma-ma wants me to enslave Heracles," Dionysus said.

"Oh, Zeus isn't going to like that. Not to mention, Uncle won't enslave easily."

"But, just think," Hera exclaimed, "If you're successful, you could have your uncle Heracles here, at this temple, all the time."

Eros began to bounce. "Ooo! Or he could stay at my temple in Thespiae! I love uncle Heracles."

"You learn quickly," Dionysus told Hera. Then he turned to Eros, "So, I thought I could send him," and he indicated the statue, "down to Heracles, and you could make Heracles fall in love with him."

Eros looked the statue over, a hand to his chin. "I don't ... No."

"No?" Hera burst out.

"Bide your time," Dionysus warned.

"Now, Grand-ma-ma --- Step Grand-ma-ma," Eros corrected himself, "It's just ... He's Heracles. He's not going to be seduced by a block of marble, no matter how ...” Eros stroked the statue's chest absently. "... chiseled."

"So fix it. Or come up with a better plan." Hera gritted her teeth, then she added, "Step grandson."

"I am a god," Eros reminded her, "Don't let the idols fool you. I haven't been in diapers in quite some time." Then he turned back to the statue. Eros kissed it and the statue's lips parted readily. As the statue's hand reached around Eros, the fingers began to turn pink and soft. The pinkness and softness spread from the fingertips, through the wrists and up the arms, into the chest. At the same time, the marble lips reddened along with the cheeks. Stone carvings turned to thick waves of dark, almost black hair on top of the head. As Eros' hands traveled over the body, color spread down into the abdomen and legs, finally reaching the feet. Reluctantly, Eros separated from what had once been a marble statue.

"Hello," the thing said.

"Oh, he is a beauty, all right," Eros stepped back to admire his work.

"He's going to need a name," Hera said. "He can't walk up to Heracles and say, 'Hi! I used to be a statue.' I think he might catch on to our plan."

"Well, I made him," Eros said, "... or at least, I finished him. I think we should name him after me. We'll call him Eron."

Dionysus pondered this. "It ... lacks something."

At this, the statue spoke. "I can assure you, I am completely ... not lacking."

"No, no, no, I meant the name," Dionysus stammered.

"Yeah," Eros added, "We can actually see that you're not lacking."

"I'm naked?" the statue cried. "I'm naked!" His hands dove to cover himself as he frantically looked around for something to cover himself.

Hera chuckled, bemused by this folly, then she pointed a finger at the former statue. A drape of golden silk drew itself over his shoulder, down diagonally across his chest and wrapped itself around his waist. "Don't say I never did anything for you."

"Or there'll be Hades to pay," Eros said under his breath.

Hera only looked at him, smiled and said, "You got that right."

"Anyway," Dionysus said, "About the name. Eron is good enough for a start, but if we really need something that oozes class."

"Because class is always something you want to ooze," laughed Hera.

Dionysus ignored her. "We shall call him Erroneous. It ... says something."

Both Eros and the statue snorted. "How much did you have to drink?" the god asked, "Yes, it says something. In a couple thousand years or so, it'll say a lot more than you want it to."

"I do like Eron," the statue offered and he smiled sweetly at Eros.

"But will it work?" Hera asked.

"Believe me," Eros explained. "When he smiles like that and looks you in the eye, there's not a human who'll be able to resist him. He might even turn a goddess' head. I'm not so sure about the garment, though... You sure it's not too much?"

"Says he who painted his legs gold," scoffed Hera.

"They're very comfortable. I think I'm going to call them 'trousers'."

"Whatever." Hera rolled her eyes. Then, reaching over, she touched Eron's garment.

* * * * * * * *

"I have dreams." Buphia took a berry from a bowl and popped it into her mouth. She and Heracles were sitting in a meadow, over a hillside from where they had faced the Hydra.

"You mean like prophecies?" Heracles asked.

"I guess. They told me where the hydra was, and to not cut off its head. They tell me other things, too."

"Perhaps you should visit an oracle and have them interpreted. I hear Delphi is good."

"I know what they mean." She looked off into the distance. "I'm not sure how I know, but I know. There will always be a slayer. I'm the slayer now. When I'm gone, another will replace me. We've been here since the beginning ... well, not here here, but here.

"There is a group of people," she continued, "They have a name, but I'm not sure what it is. They created the first slayer to fight back the monsters. I'm not sure why, but they haven't found me yet."

"Maybe they aren't getting the dreams."

"And there will be more slayers, one after another, after another, living in secret, but not in secret, because tales will be told. And eventually, those tales will be on something called television..."

Heracles looked up, puzzled. "What's television?"

"I don't know." Buphia thought a moment. "The visions don't always tell me everything, but I believe it's a device used to hypnotize large masses of people."

"Sounds evil," Heracles decided. "We should fight this television."

"It does sound evil," Buphia agreed, "But I don't think it exists yet."

Heracles frowned at this news.

Buphia laid a hand on his. "I'm sure as soon as it does exist, we'll find a way for you to kill it."

"Excuse me?" A voice called from behind a tree and a tall man with thick dark hair appeared from behind it. He wore a deep green garment, trimmed in ornate gold. "Oh, yes, good, there are people here. I was hoping you could help me."

Heracles stood to face the man, and stretched out a hand. "If we can, I would be delighted. I am Heracles."

"I am Eron." Eron gazed into Heracles eyes and smiled broadly. "I seem to be lost."

"I'm Buph---Annabuphia," Buphia interrupted, "and unless you need a monster killed, I'm thinking we won't be able to help."

"What?" Eron glanced at Buphia briefly, "oh, hello." Then he returned his attention to Heracles. "Can you help me? I need to get back to Thespiae." He smiled that warm smile again.

Heracles gazed at the young man and smiled in return. He stepped closer and placed firm hands on those smooth and chiseled shoulders. "Of course," he cooed, "I shall see to it that I bring you back to Thespiae."

"Wait ... what?" Buphia looked around, puzzled. "Herc --- Heracles?" She raced to him and turned him away from this intruder. "Isn't Thespiae an island? Why don't we just take him to the shipyards and let him get his own passage?"

Heracles' smile grew. "Thespiae is an island," he agreed, and he turned his attention back to Eron, "and I shall get you there if I have to build a boat myself."

Eron embraced Heracles. "I don't know how to thank you." He drew his hands to Heracles' sides and looked into his eyes again.

"Eron is a beautiful name," Heracles said.

"Thank you," Eron bowed graciously. "My parents named me after Eros, my patron. I serve him at the temple."

"I've always wanted to see that temple." Heracles smiled broadly. He wrapped an arm around Eron, turned him and led him toward the docks. "Eros is sort of family of mine, you know."

"Really?"

Buphia watched, stammering helplessly as the two young men walked off. "Great. You go build a boat." She bent down and picked up the bowl of berries. "I'll just ... clean up here." She dumped the berries out of the bowl. "I'm sure I'll be done before you are. ... Maybe?"

* * * * * * * *

Eron and Heracles walked, arms around each other's waists, up the gang plank leading to a large schooner. They were surrounded by large, brown-wooden ships with tall masts and dirty sails that used to be white but had grayed through steady and hard use. They passed several rough sailors with dirty beards and tangled hair, some of whom snorted or chuckled quietly as they passed.

"They laugh at us," Eron pouted.

"That's because they don't appreciate you the way I do." Heracles stroked Eron's cheek gently.

"I think that may be a good thing." Eron smiled at Heracles. On this ship, he would have to be very careful to only smile at Heracles. "I should probably just be glad that we found passage to Thespiae and you didn't have to build me a boat."

"I would have been delighted to do it." Heracles had guided them toward the middle of the boat, where a door lead into a room. He pushed open the door and led Eron inside. There, he kissed Eron on the mouth, deeply, inhaling his sweet breath as his hands stroked Eron's chest.

* * * * * * * *

Buphia was able to get to the shipyard in time to see Heracles and Eron get onto the ship, and to see the ship's crew raise the gangplank and cast off its ropes. She was not in time to get passage for herself. Well, that would save her what little money she had. She quietly watched the ship sail off into the distance.

"Enjoy Thespiae," Buphia sighed.

"Eh?"

"What?" Buphia turned. An old man sat in a chair next to a shack which had a sign painted on it with a picture of a prawn.

"You say something about Thespiae?" the old man asked.

"That's where my friends are going."

"Then they better be changing boats at Crete."

"What are you talking about?"

"That ship that just left: It's going to Crete, not Thespiae."

"Oh ... oh, no ... I have to get on that boat!" Buphia cried.

"Then you better start swimming." The old man chuckled.

Buphia dove into the water. Slayer strength propelled her through and sustained her until she saw the stern. With a burst of her fading strength, she swam around to the side of the ship to an oar socket, but once there, she still couldn't reach it, so she kept pace with the ship. After what seemed like hours, a wave lifted her high enough that she was able to reach up and grab hold of the socket. She pulled herself up and vaulted herself into the ship.

* * * * * * * *

As the sun dropped below the horizon, Heracles and Eron sat in the prow of the ship. A sailor walked up to them, a clay bowl in each hand.

"Your supper," the sailor said.

Heracles looked up and smiled, taking a bowl from the man, but Eron looked down at the deck. "Thank you," Heracles said.

"Yes, thank you," Eron echoed without looking up. He did take the bowl and the sailor didn't seem to mind. The sailor smiled a toothless smile and walked away, whistling tunelessly.

"You could have at least looked at the man," Heracles chided.

"I'm sorry," Eron said, "I just miss my home. I'll be courteous tomorrow. Besides," and at this Eron turned to Heracles and did look up, and smiled. "I'd rather look at you."

Heracles kissed Eron lightly. "You'll be home soon. Now eat up." And they both dove into the brown stew in front of them.

When they had finished eating, Heracles set the bowls aside. He curled up where they'd been sitting and reached for Eron, drawing the other man toward himself. He kissed Eron's shoulder as his hands traveled down Eron's chest, but before he could do any more, they were both asleep.

A group of sailors crept up to them quietly. Once they got to them, one grabbed Heracles' arm and another, his leg. They pulled him away from Eron and lay him flat on his stomach. They placed Heracles' wrists together and tied them up in a thick hemp rope. They did the same with his ankles and his knees and wound more rope around his chest. Others went to work on Eron, binding his wrists, ankles and knees together. A man covered Eron's eyes with a cloth tied around the back of his head, then did the same to Heracles. He then wadded up two more cloths and placed them in each of their mouths, tying rope around to keep the wad in place. This man's hand stroked Eron's jaw, then felt across his shoulder, but another hand slapped his.

"No sampling the merchandise," a gruff voice said.

"Like you wouldn't want a taste of him."

"Of course I would. I'd like a crack at them both. But we're going to put them in the cargo hold with the rest. The king won't be happy if he finds out we've been playing with his toys."

A man grabbed Eron's ankles and another his shoulders and they heaved him up.

"He's heavier than he looks."

"Yeah? This one looks as heavy as he is," said one of the four man carrying Heracles. They made their way to the steps leading to the cargo hold.

* * * * * * * *

When Eron awoke, he saw only darkness. He couldn't move his arms or his legs. His muffled scream served only to frustrate him further -- and to rouse Heracles from his sleep. Eron began flailing wildly. With his arms pinned behind him and his legs tied together, he resembled a fish that had just been landed. Heracles, on waking, tried to separate his wrists and also found them tied together. His muscles strained and stretched. The rope behind him began to fray. Eron continued his muffled screaming.

Outside the cargo hold door, two men sat, laughing quietly at the commotion going on inside.

* * * * * * * *

Buphia hid in shadows, making her way through the ship, always having to duck behind this or that as a member of the crew approached. She crept along a wall, deep in the hull, toward two men who sat in front of a door, laughing. As she got close enough, she could hear what she thought were muffled screams inside the door. Quietly, she inched closer, then made her way directly behind them. She grabbed the sides of their heads and before they could react, slammed them together. The two men collapsed at her feet. She climbed over them and opened the door.

Inside the cargo hold, Eron and Heracles were lying on the floor, each bound in ropes. At least a dozen other young men and women were similarly bound in the hold.

Heracles continued to stretch and strain against the ropes holding him. The thoughts he stirred in Buphia ... she shook her head to clear her thoughts and instead concentrated on Eron, pitifully trying to scream through his gag. She scrambled over to him and began untying his wrists.

With Eron's arms freed, Buphia began working on his ankles, and Eron untied his own gag and blindfold while Heracles finally broke the ropes that bound his arms.

"Oh, Heracles, thank you," Eron gushed, only to look down and see that it wasn't Heracles at all.

"Guess again," Buphia smiled at him.

Eron smiled back at her, then quickly closed his eyes, but it was too late. Buphia reached to him, pulled him into a sitting position and began to kiss him passionately. Her hands traveled down Eron's chest, across his rippled abdomen, and as a hand circled around him and another dove between his legs, Heracles grabbed her shoulder and pulled them apart.

"He's mine," Heracles insisted.

"Says you," Buphia protested.

Eron stepped between them. "You will not fight over me." He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, separating them and also calming them.

Buphia placed a hand on his chest. "You're right. We need to get you to Thespiae."

Heracles also placed a hand on Eron's chest. "Yes, we need to get you to Thespiae." He then reached his other arm under Eron's behind and lifted him off the ground.

Buphia groaned.

"Those others," Eron blurted, "We need to free them as well."

Buphia looked around frantically. She could hear footsteps on the deck above. "There isn't time. Also, we need to figure out a way off this ship."

"But---"

"There isn't time!" Buphia exclaimed.

Heracles threw Eron over his shoulder and Buphia led them out of the cargo hold. She led them into the shadows under the stairs as two men came down. The two men carried a couple loaves of bread and a jug of water into the cargo hold, then dropping everything, they raced back up the stairs, shouting, "They've escaped! They've escaped!"

Buphia signaled Heracles to wait a moment, then someone said something about row boats. Then there was a lot of foot traffic over their heads. Then Buphia stepped out of the shadows and signaled for Heracles, with Eron still over his shoulder, to follow her. They climbed the stairs quietly and quickly and dashed to the side of the ship where four men were puzzling over how they could have escaped without taking the row boat in front of them. Buphia shoved two of the men overboard while Heracles knocked the other two out with one punch. He placed Eron into the boat over Eron's protests that he was quite capable of doing that himself, then Buphia clambered in. Heracles hoisted the boat over the side of the ship, climbed in himself, and lowered them down to the sea.

As they separated from the ship, shouts from above told them they'd been spotted.

"He's mine," Heracles demanded as he grabbed a pair of oars and began rowing them away from the ship.

"He's mine," Buphia claimed as she grabbed another pair of oars.

* * * * * * * *

Back on deck, several sailors grabbed bows and arrows and started shooting at the fleeing boat. With the combination of Heracles' and Buphia's strength --- and quarrel --- they were quickly getting out of range. Still, the archers shot. Another man, carrying a whip, grabbed a bow out of one of the sailors' hands. "Are you mad?" he glared. "They're no good to us dead!"

"They're no good to us escaped, either," one of the sailors explained.

"Oh, but they're not escaped," the man with the whip grinned.

"They sure look escaped," another man said.

"You forget" -- the man with the whip raised it to this last man's chin -- "that when those two came to the shipyard, the big side of beef told me they were trying to get to Thespiae."

"We weren't going to Thespiae..."

"No, we weren't," the man with the whip continued, "but I told him we were, and now that's going to be where they go."

The men with the bows lowered them and turned to look at the man, their blank expressions leading him to sigh. "And we are going to follow them, and when we get to Thespiae, we are going to take every able-bodied man and woman on that island, and no little girl is going to stop us."

* * * * * * * *

Sped on by bickering, Heracles and Buphia made quick work of getting to Thespiae. They climbed out of the boat onto the rocky shore and both reached for Eron to help him. Eron took both hands and stepped onto the rocks.

"You two are going to have to learn to share."

Heracles and Buphia simply glared at each other.

"Heracles?" Eros, wings spread, swooped down from the sky, landing directly in front of them. "It's so wonderful to see you!" He turned to notice the girl with them. "Ah, but who is this?"

"I am Annabuphia," she replied, "though Heracles has taken to calling me Buphia, which is quite annoying," and with that she glared at him again. Then she jumped into Eron's arms. "And this is Eron. We are in love."

Heracles snorted and pushed Buphia out of Eron's arms.

"Hey!"

"This is Eron." Heracles ignored Buphia's protests, pulled Eron to him and caught Eron up in his arms, "And we are in love ... Nephew. I saved Eron from a slaving ship and brought him here and now he belongs to me."

"No, I saved Eron," Buphia insisted, "and he belongs to me. And no fair pulling rank with that 'nephew' bit."

Eros clapped his hands loudly. "Silence!" he yelled. "I am Eros, god of love, and this is my land and that," he pointed to the temple at the top of the hill, "is my temple. Eron serves me there, and he belongs to me."

"Hey!" Buphia protested.

"Hey!" Heracles protested.

"Now, stop," Eros chided, "I'm all about the love and the sharing." He took Eron out of Heracles' arms and set his feet on the ground. "Now, if you two can learn to get along, then you may both love Eron. And you can show your love by working with him in my temple."

Eros turned and led Eron up the hillside toward the temple.

Heracles puffed up his chest, then exhaled slowly. "Agreed."

"Fine, whatever," Buphia acquiesced, "but I want first ... I want him first."

Eros looked over his shoulder. "Who's the god here?"

"You are," Buphia muttered.

"And what does that make you?"

"I'm the Slayer," Buphia said proudly. Then, when she saw that Eros was not smiling, added, "and your most humble servant."

"I love that outfit," Buphia added quickly.

"Sarcasm does not become you, child," Eros said.

"No, really, I mean it. I wish I had something just like it. ... O great and wonderful Eros."

"Then you shall," Eros offered. "Relax and enjoy, there are far more demanding gods you could be serving." Then he whispered to Eron, "You looked at her, didn't you?"

"It was an accident," Eron apologized, "I couldn't help myself."

* * * * * * * *

Once inside the temple, Eros embraced Heracles. "Uncle! How I have missed you. You must tell me all about your adventures since we last saw each other ---" Eros caught a glimpse of Hera standing in the corner. She was frowning. "--- at supper. But right now, I could use your service."

"What can I do," Heracles asked, grateful for a chance to do something worthwhile.

"This vase," Eros said, pointing to a vase at the entryway. "It took ten men to deliver it and instead of taking it to my chambers where it belongs, they just left it here."

"How shocking," Heracles said, not the least bit shocked.

"Now, you," again, Eros embraced Heracles in a warm, tight hug, "you sarcasm becomes. Anyway, if they had brought it into my chambers while I was in there, I would have had to smite them, so I suppose it's for the best. And now that you're here..."

"You want me to take that vase into your private chamber?" Heracles asked.

"I would do it myself, but ... well ... it is my temple after all."

Heracles walked over to the vase, grabbed it with one hand, lifted it and began walking to the chamber. "You'll come show me just where you want it?"

Eros looked over at a smiling Hera, "Yes, of course, in just a moment." Then he quickly ducked outside of the temple.

Around the corner, Hera stood. Eros looked back around toward Heracles as he walked away.

"Keep him working for you. Bed him if you like, but keep him working." Hera ordered.

"The vase isn't too menial, or too light-weight for him?"

Hera laughed, "The more meaningless, the more light-weight, the better, as far as I'm concerned. Have him move that vase every day, in fact."

"Mmmmm," Eros sighed appreciatively. "Sometimes I do wish he and I weren't related."

"Please," Hera scoffed, "Like that's ever stopped us. Has no one ever told you of your mother and your uncle Ares?"

"Ares?" Eros shuddered. "They have nothing in common but their parentage."

"Except passion," Hera said, "We are not like these mortals. We take what we want. We do what we want. And what we want, we decree to be right, no matter what these people say. You're almost grown, now. It's time you learned that."

Eros was about to protest, but Hera had already vanished.

"Eros? Where do you want this?" Heracles called from the distance.

"Coming!" Eros called. "And I'm plenty grown," he grumbled.

* * * * * * * *

Early the next morning, just before dawn, Eros climbed down the rock face, sat down and dangled his feet in the water. He'd hid his wings away so as not to arouse attention --- any more attention than the golden trousers would. The previous night, after supper, he had ordered Buphia and Heracles to set a futon outside his private chambers big enough for the two of them to sleep with Eron, provided that they got along and agreed to share. Any bickering and they would both sleep on the rocks. He smiled as he recalled the stories Heracles had told at supper of the monsters he had fought, and for every story Heracles told, Buphia had one of her own. It delighted Eros to watch the two of them struggling to out-impress him --- really to out-impress Eron --- without getting into a fight.

He did not see the men come up behind him until after they had thrown a net over him. Before he could react, a club came down on his head. Of course, just a club would not have done much damage to Eros, but the rocks were slippery, and he was set off-balance, and he fell and struck his head again, and then darkness overtook him.

The men set to work quickly, wrapping Eros in the net and tying ropes around him. Then two were set with the task of taking him back to the ship while the others climbed the rocks toward the temple.

On the ship, the two carried Eros, having no idea who he was, down to the cargo hold and set him down. They stood up and one, reaching under his chiton, began to smile. "You know," he said to the man with him, "these are all extras. We got the twelve the king demanded. We could keep this one for ourselves."

"We could," the other agreed, "and this one is much prettier than the one that escaped."

"In fact, if we give the king everyone we catch here at Thespiae, he could even let us keep this one and those escapees as a reward."

"He could at that," the other agreed again. "But if we don't get back out there, we won't catch the rest of the Thespiaens and there'll be no reward and the captain'll kill us."

"Go ahead," the first said. "I'll be right with you."

"If the captain catches you..."

"... then I'll die with a smile on my face." He pushed his partner out of the cargo hold. "GO!" then he closed the hold behind him. He reached down and untied the ropes and removed the net before quickly tying Eros' hands behind his back. Then he pulled the unconscious Eros into a rough embrace and kissed him. He separated from him, placed his hands on the god's chest and said, "Now what is this you're wearing and how do I get it off?"

* * * * * * * *

When Eros came too, he could feel what had been done to him. He also could feel the ropes around him and the net which had been placed over him. He looked around and saw Eron, Heracles and Buphia, bound, gagged and the men blindfolded, in one corner. Scattered around the room were several of his priests, priestesses, servants and acolytes, as well as the best and most beautiful of the villagers of Thespiae, all similarly bound and gagged.

He didn't bother asking himself why he wasn't blindfolded, he just shouted, "MOTHER!"

One of the guards outside the doors snickered, "Somebody wants his mommy."

"MOTHER!" Eros shouted again.

Aphrodite appeared in the room in front of him, beautiful and buxom, with long blond hair piled high on her head. She straightened out her satin gown, then looked down at him. She groaned. "How many times have I told you not to invite me to your sex games?"

"This isn't a game, mother," Eros complained, "These humans captured me. At least one of them violated me..."

"At least?" Aphrodite chuckled, "You mean you don't know?"

He grumbled bitterly. "They hit me from behind. When I came to..."

"When you came to?" Aphrodite repeated. "Where did I go wrong?"

"Never mind that," Eros said, straining against his ropes. "Get me out of this."

"No." Aphrodite brushed some imaginary dust off her shoulder.

"NO?" Eros struggled more. "I'm your son!"

"And you should have thought about that before you sided with Hera against my father --- your grandfather."

"I just wanted to visit with Heracles."

"I know you like Heracles, and I'll admit he has his charms." Aphrodite walked over to where Heracles lay, bound and unconscious and stroked his shoulder. "But Hera does not." She walked back to him and bent down in front of him, brushing dust from the floor out of her path, and then clapping it off her hands. "Try to remember: we don't like Hera. We don't side with Hera against Zeus ... or his children, especially when she's just using us to further her own ends."

"I was siding with Dionysus." Tears began to fall from Eros' eyes. "And I wanted to spend time with Heracles."

"I know, I know, and you wanted this pretty new play-thing to ... play with," Aphrodite added, indicating Eron. "And this is where it got you."

"Mother," Eros cried, "I need your help."

At this, Aphrodite stood, angry. "You're a god, for pity's sake. Help yourself." And with that, she vanished. "And stop that infernal whimpering!"

"MOTHER!" Eros shouted, "MOTHER!" There was no reply. "ARES! ZEUS! DIONYSUS! ..." Still no reply. "HERA!"

A strong wind gust flew through the cargo deck, but that wasn't what told Eros that his father, Hermes had been there. A note lay in the floor next to him. "THANK YOU FOR CONTACTING MOUNT OLYMPUS. ALL OPERATORS ARE BUSY. BUT IF YOU STAY ON THE LINE, WE WILL BE HAPPY TO CONTINUE TO WAIST YOUR TIME AND ENERGY. THANK YOU AND CALL AGAIN."

"DAD! That's not fair!"

"Eros?"

"Um ..." Eros turned, startled. "Heracles. ... Sorry."

"What's going ... How did we end up back here?" He began struggling against his bindings again, but this time, heavy chains had been added to the ropes.

"I got attacked from behind," Eros sheepishly admitted. I've called my mother, Zeus, everyone. Mother was here, but now no one's talking to me.

"Your mother was here?" Buphia asked.

"Yes, but she left. She does that. She pops in. She pops out. Whatever she wants to do, Aphrodite does."

"She left?"

"Yes, well, she is a go---" Suddenly, Eros realized what Buphia was asking. "She's a godess. And I'm ..." With that, Eros closed his eyes, and in a flash of light, he was gone. The ropes and net which had bound him collapsed to the floor.

"Wait!" Buphia called. "Eros! You get back here this ---"

Eros reappeared directly in front of her. Then with a massive grin, he spread his white wings through the cargo hold. Then he scowled at her. "You were saying ... mortal?"

"I --- I'm --- I'm sorry," Buphia stammered.

"Relax," Eros laughed. "I'm just playing with you." He drew his wings back and hid them again, then sat down beside her. "I'm sure you'd like to be released now."

"I --- Yes --- NO!" Buphia blurted.

"Yes no?" Eros asked, genuinely confused.

"No," Buphia repeated, "No, thank you, your deitiness."

"Why not?" Heracles demanded.

Eros laughed even brighter. "Oh, I know. Of course. I'll obviously rescue my Thespiaens, too."

"That's not what I..."

"And these other good people, as well." Eros added for good measure.

"Eros, please," Buphia stopped him. "I wish we could just rescue everyone and send them home and sink this ship and put an end to the slave trade."

"Brilliant!" Eros stood, excited. "That's exactly what we'll do. We'll get all of our people off the ship, then we'll sink it. These slave traders will pay for what they've done to me, oh, yes they..." He looked at Buphia's sweet, but frowning face. "...oh, no, they won't?"

"The traders are only a symptom," Buphia said. "It's the king of Crete who's demanding the slaves. And he probably already has some in his possession."

"And we need to set them free as well?" Eros asked. When Buphia nodded, he gleamed. "This do-gooding is so exciting! I shall do good every year. We shall call it Buphia Day."

"Great idea," Heracles said, "but first we should get all these innocents to freedom. Then you, I and Buphia can battle the Cretans."

Eros thought a moment. "That could be a problem."

"You can't do it?" Heracles asked.

"I'm sure he can do it," Buphia said, "but if the slave traders come in here and find most of their ... cargo ... gone..."

"... Then they'll know they've escaped, and they'll think they went back to Thespiae, and they'll go right back for them," Eros added for her.

"...Which is what they did the last time," Eron finished.

"So, you have a plan," Heracles asked.

"I do," Buphia answered.

* * * * * * * *

When they reached land, the slave traders came down into the cargo hold and carried each of the prisoners out of the cargo hold. When three of the men started to lift Eros, another voice said, "Wait. I'll take him." The voice belonged to a dirty man with a pimpled face. He was deeply muscled and wore his garment wrapped around his waist. He grabbed the net around Eros and dragged him out of the hold. Eros, not wishing to be dragged up the steps, pointed his finger down at the ground and a pocket of air lifted him up about a palm. He dutifully said, "ow," several times as he was supposedly dragged up the stairs so his captor wouldn't realize what he was doing. Once off the boat, as others dragged their quarry in through a stone gate, the man dragging Eros along stopped, feigning being short of breath. Then, as the last of the others went through the gate, he shut it, he and Eros still outside. He turned to Eros.

"Maybe the king will let us keep some of our excess. Maybe he won't. At any rate, I'm keepin' you." He started fussing with the net.

"No," Eros frowned, "You're not." And with that, he disappeared in a flash of light.

The man jumped. He spun around. "Where'd you go?" he called. The man looked off toward the boat he'd come from.

Eros reappeared behind him. "You violated me." He growled.

The man jumped again and screamed.

Eros grabbed him by the jaw and lifted him up into the air. He spread his wings behind him and roared. "I knew as soon as you spoke, not just from the words you said." His eyes blazed a fiery red. "When you spoke, I could feel you inside me."

The man began to scream again, but just as he did, Eros said, "You shall never speak again." His voice fell completely silent mid-scream. He tried to scream again. Then he tried to speak. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"That's not even your punishment," Eros laughed. "That's just so I don't have to feel you anymore." And with that, Eros threw the man into the air. He landed on the boat, off shore. Then Eros grabbed the net and threw it. It landed on the man and wrapped itself around him.

"That's right. I'm Eros. And don't you forget it." Eros vanished in another flash of light.

* * * * * * * *

Buphia and Heracles, Eron and the Thespiaens and the other prisoners were taken to a holding cell. The slave traders left the cell and closed the door. At that moment, a flash of light filled the area, and when it had gone, Eros stood in the middle of the room. He walked over to Buphia, and grabbed a shoulder. There was another flash and Buphia was outside of her ropes and they fell to the ground. In the same way, Eros released Eron and Heracles together. He then made his way through the others in the cell.

"What's next?" he asked Buphia.

"We have to find out where anyone else is being held."

"Slaves are kept here," a small voice said from a dark corner. A boy of 16 stepped out of the darkness. "The most beautiful are sacrificed to the maze."

"Where's the maze?" Buphia asked.

"I'll find them," Eros offered. "A beast lives down there. You'll get your chance another time," he said, looking at Heracles, "not now."

"First, could you take these to safety?" Heracles asked.

"Of course." Eros gathered the prisoners around himself. "Now, everyone hold onto someone. Make sure you're all holding on together."

"Are you an angel?" a girl in the group asked.

"Better," Eros replied. Rising up, he spread his wings far and wide, then slowly lowered himself until the wings touched many captives' heads. Then he reached forward to touch several more. "On three now. One ... Two ... Thr--" a blinding light flashed and they all vanished, except the boy.

"What are you doing?" Buphia asked, incredulously.

"I'm going to fight," the boy said.

"You're just a boy," she exclaimed.

"And you're just a girl."

"This is not just a girl," Heracles said.

"Well, whatever," Eron interrupted. "He's still here, and we can't sit around and do nothing, waiting for Eros to take all those people back to Thespiae and rescue anyone in this maze."

"Did someone mention my name?" Eros asked. He'd reappeared while they were talking. "There were sadly only three left alive in the maze. Far too many bones to count," he added, frowning.

"Well," Buphia started, "since you're a lover, not a fighter ---"

Eros raised his hand, and in it, a broadsword appeared.

"Forgive me, for a moment there, I'd forgotten who I was." He breathed on the sword and flames burst out of it. "Did I ever tell you one of my other uncles is Ares, the god of war?"

"Right," Buphia said, "You're a fighter."

Eros raised his other hand and an arrow appeared in it. "Of course, there's more than one way to fight."

"Won't you need a bow for that?" Buphia asked.

"Need?" Eros replied, "Not need." Then his eyes flashed red. "Let's go."

"I'm ... not gonna have to slay you, too, am I?"

"Gosh, I hope not," Eros said brightly.

They marched out of the room, briskly. Buphia was ready to fight, really she was. Heracles was, too. But when they came across a sailor from the boat, Eros would thrust the sword into his chest and he would vanish. When they came across Cretans, Eros would force them to face each other and thrust arrows into their hips. The men would either become consumed with passion for each other, or one would become consumed with passion and chase the other, who was overwhelmed with fear and hatred, or they would both start clawing each other's eyes out.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Buphia joked.

"I don't want to appear ... ungrateful," Heracles interrupted, "for your doing all of the fighting for us, but ..."

"... where am I sending the sailors?"

"Well, it is a question."

Eros laughed. "As Buphia said, 'I'm a lover, not a fighter'. You'll see where they've gone." Once again, he hid his wings.

Finally, they made their way to the palace and into the royal chambers. There, the king reclined in a lounging chair, eating grapes from a large bowl. A young man waved him with a large palm frond.

"Are you from Crete," Eros asked the man.

"What is the meaning of this?" The king puffed.

"Yes, I am," the young man answered.

"Are you here of your own free will?" Eros asked.

"I will not have you talking to my servants this way," the king blustered.

"There are things I'd rather be doing, but ..." the young man paused a moment. "Yeah, I guess I'm here of my own free will."

"Then, go do them," Eros said and the young man fled. Then he turned to Buphia and Heracles. "He's all yours."

"It's about time," Buphia grumbled.

"Get out of my chambers," the king shouted and he called for his guards.

"They're kind of busy right now." Buphia told him. She walked slowly toward him. "So, what's the story? You tax your people so you can buy slaves from the traders, who you get to do all the worst possible jobs in the palace? And when you get one that's exceptional, you sacrifice her ... or him ... to some beast you keep imprisoned in a maze?"

"Stay away from me," the king stammered as he backed away.

Heracles came up beside Buphia. "And you think that because you don't actually kidnap the people your hands are clean?"

The king backed away further and found himself leaning backward against a window, one hundred cubits above the ground. "I am the king. You sh-sh-shall l-l-leave my pres-s-s-ence."

"I don't think so," Buphia sneered.

The king darted past Buphia, robes trailing behind him. Buphia shrugged, and tumbled and cartwheeled and somersaulted until she was again directly in front of him. "Where ya going, king-y?" She thrust out a hand and he fell backward onto the floor.

The king turned onto all fours and started crawling away from her, only to find Heracles' sandal on top of his fingers. Heracles didn't press down ... much.

"OWWWWW!"

"Stop your whining," Heracles chided.

The king jumped up, screaming in pain and putting Heracles off-balance just enough that when he shoved past him, Heracles tumbled over the lounging chair. The king made a mad dash for the door.

Buphia looked to Eros and Eron. "You going to help?" she asked.

"He's all yours," Eros waved.

Buphia ran to the lounging chair and bounced off it, catapulting herself into the air. She landed just before the king reached the door, directly in front of him. He came to a screeching halt.

"Nicely done," Eros, Eron and Heracles all said at once.

"Thank you," Buphia nodded.

The king backed away again. "You think you're all so clever? You think you have me?" He reached for a torch on the wall, pulled it and the floor opened below him. He fell down through the opening.

Buphia and Heracles raced to the trap door and peered down. "Where do you think he went?" she asked.

"Down," Heracles shrugged.

"Very helpful. Should we follow?"

"You'll get your chance," Eros told them. "Besides, we have other work to do."

Eros led them out of the palace and out the city gates, down to the boat, where all the members of the crew were tied to the sides of the boat. "You asked what I did with them," he said. He breathed in deeply and then blew a long, hard gust, which sent the boat out to sea.

"What's going to happen to them?" Buphia asked.

"Either the sea will take them, or it won't, but either way, they won't be trading slaves ever again," Eros answered. "And now..." he grabbed Eron's waist with one arm and reached the other arm through Buphia's arm to hold Heracles' elbow, then in a flash, they were at the temple in Thespiae. Eros released Buphia and Heracles and told them, "You both need to see this."

Eros took Eron back into a corner.

"Please," Eron cried, "I don't want to."

"But you must," Eros said calmly.

"What are you doing?" Buphia and Heracles both asked together.

He kissed Eron, and placed his hands on Eron's sides. Eron's skin grew pale, then white and hard. In a moment, he was a marble statue again. Eros turned back to find both Buphia and Heracles in tears.

"You're a monster," Buphia cried.

"No!" Eros insisted, "That's his true form. We gave him flesh so I could lure Heracles here."

"We --- " Heracles stammered. "You lured me?"

"Please understand," Eros pleaded, "I just wanted you to visit. And Hera wanted---"

"HERA!"

"Don't be mad!" Eros begged.

"Did it hurt?" Buphia asked through the tears.

"What?" Eros looked back at the statue she was still staring at. "No. No, it didn't hurt. And he's back the way he belongs."

"You made him alive," Heracles said, "And then you just took it away." He turned and stomped out of the temple.

"Heracles, wait!" Eros followed after him.

* * * * * * * *

For the next two days, each time Buphia or Heracles walked past that statue, they touched it, caressing an arm or the chest. Once, Buphia built a ladder from the benches around the temple, climbed up, stroked the statue's cheek and kissed it. It never responded.

Eros had stayed away, leaving the two of them to mourn perhaps, or maybe just to adjust.

On the third day, Buphia and Heracles sat on the floor of the temple, across the room from the statue, with the ladder of benches still next to it.

"I could make you forget," Eros spoke from behind them.

"I don't want to forget," Buphia insisted.

"I could make you fall in love with someone else," Eros offered. "Each other, perhaps."

Heracles looked at Buphia and Buphia looked at Heracles. "If that's meant to happen," Heracles said, "it'll happen without your help."

"Will you come visit me?" Eros asked him. "Ever?"

"I don't know," Heracles replied. "Maybe some day I'll forgive you."

"For taking him away?" Eros asked, "Or for giving him to you in the first place?"

Heracles turned to him, surprised.

"What are you angry with me for, uncle?" Eros asked again, "deceiving you into coming to stay with me? Because if that's it, I've given you back your freedom. And if you're angry with me for taking away a lover," he sighed, "well, again, I gave you back your freedom. And this love wasn't real. And you'll have others."

"I don't want others," Heracles growled.

"No, I don't suppose you do. Not yet." Eros admitted. "Well, you have your freedom, and important things to do in your life. You should do them."

Heracles rose, wordlessly, turned away from his nephew, and walked out of the temple.

Eros called after him, "I can wait for your return. I've got all the time in the world." Then he turned his attention to Buphia. "And you, miss? You reminded me of who I was. You saved the Thespiaens and many others from Crete, and you helped make sure Crete would not be a danger to the people of Greece for ... a while, anyway. What reward would you have?"

Buphia looked off in the distance.

"Besides the statue back, I mean," Eros added as he sat next to her and draped an arm around her. "Would you like to fall in love?"

"With you?" Buphia asked.

"Oh, I'm flattered, but no, with someone. Anyone, really. We could go on a search together."

"No," Buphia answered. "I'm kind of into the free-will thing."

"What I offer," Eros told her, "It's not what you think it is."

"You make people fall in love. Sometimes people who would never know love otherwise. I know what you do isn't evil," Buphia continued to stare off, "But it isn't exactly good, either." She turned to look at him. "Besides, you know what I am."

"Don't you mean, 'who you are?' You're the Slayer. It's part of who you are. Not a what."

"It's both," Buphia insisted. "And it comes with a ... it comes with a ... it means that ..."

"... that you're going to die?" Eros asked.

"That I'm going to die." Buphia confirmed. "And when I die, the next will be chosen. And on it goes."

"Everyone dies." Eros smiled at her and touched her chin. "So why not grab love while you can?"

"Because it won't be fair to him. One day, and sooner, not later, I'll be as lifeless as that statue over there. And he'll be left as alone as I am now."

"But until that time, he --- whoever he is --- can know a joy that words can never capture."

"You think awfully highly of me," Buphia laughed.

"I think awfully highly of love," Eros responded.

"Well, you've given me a good laugh," Buphia said, "and some memories to treasure, some with that statue over there." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "I think I shall forgive you."

Eros drew back, startled. "Oh! Good, then."

Buphia stood then, and turned and walked out of the temple.

* * * * * * * *

Eros rose up, high over the temple. He watched as Heracles made his way to the ship yards, and then Buphia followed, each getting onto separate ships and going their separate ways. When he was sure they had both truly left Thespiae, he lowered himself down, back into the temple. He walked over to the statue again, and once again, breathed life and flesh and color into it. Eron opened his eyes, gasping for breath.

"Are you all right?" Eros asked.

"Yes," Eron answered. "What made you change your mind?"

"I didn't." Eros explained. "I needed to break the spell that had them both in love with you. But that doesn't mean I had to give you up."

"But what if they come back and there's no statue?"

Eros pulled Eron away from the corner then pointed him back to it, where an exact copy of his statue-self now stood.

"How long do you think they'll be angry with you?" Eron asked.

"Not nearly as long as I deserve," Eros supposed. "But now, we have work to do."

Eros took Eron in his arms and flew him up, out of the temple, and across the island and out to sea. They traveled across the sky, wind blowing through Eron's hair, Eron beaming with delight. Then they came to the ship with the sailors tied up to its sides.

As they descended, Eron asked, "Is that...?"

"Yes, it is." Eros said.

"I don't want to go there."

"Neither do I, but we have to finish the job." Eros' eyes grew cold.

They landed in the middle of the deck, and as they did so, the ropes holding the sailors vanished. The sailors all shook themselves off, stood, and turned around to the center of the ship.

"Isn't that...?" one asked.

"He was one of our...?"

"Zeus save us!"

"That's Eros."

Eros held Eron closely around the waist and whispered in his ear. "I want you to look at each and every sailor here, and smile the sweetest, brightest smile you can."

"But if I do that..."

"Please."

Eron did as he was told. One by one, the men stopped in their tracks.

"He's beautiful."

"He's gorgeous."

"I have to have him."

"He's mine!"

As they started to move again, this time toward Eron, and they started to push and shove against each other, Eros lifted Eron up off the deck. The men all raced toward where they'd been standing. They looked up.

"Wait!"

"Stop!"

"Bring him back!"

Eros flew Eron out over the sea.

"What are you doing?" Eron asked Eros.

"Forgive me," Eros only said, "but I must." Then he called to the men on the boat. "If you want him, you know what you're going to have to do."

The first man to move was the man who'd attacked Eros. He was followed by several men who raced for the side of the boat. Others who followed after pulled them down onto the deck and jumped or dove over the railing into the sea. Others pushed men at the railing overboard before diving after them. The man who'd attacked Eros found himself the last one on the boat. He looked around, then raced down below. In a moment, he came back up, carrying an oar.

In the sea, the men were swimming to a place directly below where Eros was holding Eron. They reached up, trying to grasp for either of them, but they were far out of reach. The men clawed on each other, trying to climb each other, causing some to swallow gulps of sea water. One man climbed on another, who had climbed on a third, who was now struggling as he drowned below the surface.

The man with the oar jumped into the sea and swam out to them, bashing several men with the oar before a man grabbed the oar and pulled it out of his hands, throwing it far away before returning his attentions to Eron. The attacker now put several of the beaten men together and climbed on top of them. He tried to stand on them to reach for Eron, but floating men do not make a firm platform, and he fell deep into the sea.

Soon, the flailing and the blood attracted the monsters of the deep. The man who'd taken the oar away was pulled under. Another man was lifted up and soon was speeding away on the water, screaming. Blood burst from his mouth.

"Buphia was right," Eron said, "You are a monster."

"You heard that?"

"You allowed me to hear that." Eron was now struggling to get away from Eros despite the fact that he would then fall into the sea and the melee below.

"I'm not a monster." Eros held Eron tightly. "They are. I may have made them want you, but what they did for that want was their own choosing."

He flew, carrying the still-struggling Eron away from the site as it grew more gruesome by the minute. "And I do not command the creatures of the sea. These men are the sort who choose violence. For them, it is the answer to everything."

One of the men below broke away from pack and began swimming frantically back to the boat, then a second, then a third. But only a third. The rest continued fighting each other, beating each other, sacrificing themselves and each other to the depths for a prize they could never hope to have.

And the three who came to their senses and got back on the boat? Eventually, the boat foundered and shattered and the three sought the safety of dry land, where, with no other options, they offered themselves in service to the first deity they could find. They served out the rest of their days in the temple of Aphrodite, cleaning the floors and staying far clear of the virgin priestesses.

* * * * * * * *

The paths of Heracles and Eros would cross again, but that's another story.

Buphia fought many battles, and in short time was found by her watcher, and when the time came for another to take her place, Eros placed Buphia in the heavens, in a place the world would never see, but surrounded by many suitors who would offer her an eternity of love.