UnderscoreEleven
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This is fanfic for the video game Hades, but I think the story makes sense even if you haven't played the game.
I know I'm late to the party with this game. I only started playing it recently. I wrote this story during a sleepless night – looking at it now, it's a bit of an odd one, but I'll post it anyway for what it's worth. Megaera vs. Zagreus, in the death-match nobody was waiting for.
Enjoy.
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Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld
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The looming, thuggish shade bellowed ferociously and swung its club. Zagreus darted backwards, teetered for a moment on the edge of a gaping hole in the masonry, then leapt nimbly over it, briefly exposing himself to a burst of heat from the blood-red Styx that rolled below.
Another thug closed in from his left, but Zagreus was more than a match for these creatures. Wielding his sword in one hand with a practiced ease, he delivered a thrust that sent the shade hurtling into one of the many columns that dotted the chamber. The column shattered with the force of the blow, burying the wretched creature in half a ton of rubble. Zagreus was already busy dispatching the other; a single well-timed lunge brought about its dissolution.
A clattering sound made him turn; half a dozen floating, red-eyed skulls were gearing up to charge him. Zagreus launched himself into the air, swinging his blade high over his head. The metal sang out as it struck the ground, generating a high-toned shockwave that turned the malignant skulls instantly to dust.
Muscles tensed, he waited, but that seemed to be the last of them. This chamber was clear. Now on to the next. And the next. And the next. He had a long way yet to go.
Escaping the Underworld wasn't supposed to be easy. In fact, it was supposed to be impossible – but after all, stories told of others who had done it. Ordinary people, mortals. And if a mere mortal could shake off the fetters of eternal imprisonment, why couldn't he? He was Prince Zagreus, son of Hades; a minor god in his own right. Though he may not have his father's strength, he made up the deficit in sheer determination. No matter how many setbacks he might face, he wasn't giving up. Not ever.
He had almost managed to reach the surface last time, only to be set upon by a dire rat and painfully devoured. The time before that, he had blundered into a spear trap and been pierced straight through the heart. The time before that... but he had made so many attempts that they were all starting to blur together. They all ended the same way – with his own ignominious death, and his return via the Styx to his father's house. But as they said up on the surface world: if at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.
Checking once more that the chamber was clear, he turned toward the exit. As he did so, a glowing sigil appeared in the air before him – a sign that one of the Olympians was trying to reach out to him. The gods had only the haziest perception of the goings-on beneath the surface of the earth, shrouded as the realm was by the starry cloak of Nyx, but Zagreus's struggles had excited their attention. The Olympians had no great love for Hades, and were only too happy to assist the prince in his fugitive rebellion.
"Olympus!" he called, reaching out to touch the sigil. "I accept this message!"
"No need to be so formal." A sullen, feminine voice faintly sounded in his ear, and in his mind's eye formed the image of a green-clad young woman with a bow in hand and a quiver on her back. Artemis, goddess of the hunt. "How many times have I helped you out? We're old acquaintances by now. Not that it seems to be doing you much good. Maybe you'll have better luck this time around."
The image faded, and Zagreus felt a momentary surge of power as the boon of the goddess flowed through him. Each god had a different speciality, and Artemis was a master – or mistress – of precision targeting. Her boons gave Zagreus a preternatural ability to analyze his enemy's weak points, greatly increasing his chances of dealing critical damage.
This would stand him in good stead for the battle that he knew was almost upon him. Every time he reached the staircase that led up from the stone dungeons of Tartarus to the fiery plains of Asphodel, he found one of the Fury Sisters waiting for him, charged by Hades with the task of halting the wayward prince in his ascent. Which of the sisters would it be this time? Two of them were completely psychotic, but the other, Megaera... He always found himself hoping it would be Megaera.
His luck held out. As the entrance to the final chamber slid open, there stood Meg in all her blue-skinned, bat-winged glory. She was dressed as always in a deep blue wraparound, secured with a golden belt around her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and the bright pink of her lipstick and nail varnish matched the colour of the whip that snapped restlessly in her right hand.
"Well," she said, "here we are again."
"Here we are again," Zagreus agreed.
Megaera and the prince had a complicated history. It had been a messy break-up to begin with, and that was before they found themselves in the position of repeatedly fighting to the death. For a while, it had seemed to Zagreus that reconcilement would never be possible. But maybe their continual death-matches were helping them work through a few unresolved issues... because lately, whenever he ran into Meg while she was off-duty, back at the house, he got the impression that she was softening towards him. Just a little.
"Why don't we skip the battle this time, Meg? Just stand aside, and I'll tell Father you did everything you could to stop me. Nobody will ever know."
"That isn't going to happen, and you know it." Megaera's husky voice was tinged with impatience. "I'm a Fury. You do understand what that means, don't you? I punish oath-breakers, liars and traitors. If I betrayed my own Master, what would that make me? You may be at liberty to run roughshod over your father's wishes, but I have a duty to perform."
"Even though you know you don't stand a chance of winning?"
"We'll see about that."
Megaera crouched low and sprang at Zagreus, who dodged sideways and readied his sword, waiting for an opening. He knew exactly what her next move would be. Sure enough, she began spinning around, cracking her whip in every direction at lightning speed. Zagreus immediately launched an overarm attack, knowing it would land at the exact moment that Megaera paused to catch her breath.
He had fought this battle countless times. There was no reason why this time should be any different. And yet... suddenly everything changed.
It happened so fast that he didn't see it coming. As he raised his sword arm, something small and silver shot out of the whirling blur that was Megaera and her whip. He felt a sharp pain, and looked down to find a thin needle lodged in the center of his chest. Whatever it was, the effect was instantaneous. Zagreus found himself transfixed. He couldn't move. His right arm was raised high in the air, his left held before him in a defensive posture. His legs were slightly apart, his left foot forward. And he was stuck.
Megaera spun herself to a standstill, then tilted her head and examined Zagreus critically. "What do you know? It worked."
"What did? What have you done to me?" The poison, or whatever it was, seemed only to have paralyzed him from the neck down. He found that he could move his head freely, though that was little comfort.
"What's the matter, Zagreus? I thought you couldn't lose." Megaera drew closer, eyeing the helpless prince with relish. Standing face-to-face with him, she touched the base of her whip to his neck and ran it seductively over his collar-bone. "Do you remember the first time you faced me in this chamber?" she said. "You were hopeless. I tore you apart without even breaking a sweat. The second time, well, that was more of a challenge. The third time, you actually beat me. And the fourth time, you plowed right through me like I wasn't even there."
"Nothing personal, Meg," Zagreus grunted, trying to force some life into his limbs. He had been turned to stone by gorgons more times than he could count, but that was an affliction he'd always managed to shake off in seconds. This was something very different. He wasn't turned to stone, he was only frozen; and he couldn't shake himself loose by any dint of effort.
"I thought it was because you were getting stronger, but that was too easy an excuse. I did a bit of soul-searching, and I realised the problem is with me. I'm too predictable. Every time you come in here, you have a different weapon and a different set of boons, and I have to figure out your gameplan. But as for me... You know all my moves like the back of your hand. So I decided to switch things up a bit."
Circling around him, she tugged the sword out of his upraised arm and let it clatter to the floor. Zagreus turned his head, trying to follow her movements, but the Fury had placed herself in his blind spot. He felt the gentle caress of the whip against the right side of his back, the side which his scarlet toga left exposed.
"Must have been difficult," he said, making an effort to keep his tone casual. "You've always been a creature of habit."
"I had a little help. Dusa mixed me up a concoction..."
Dusa! So the little gorgon was in on this!
"I didn't tell her what I needed it for, but it wasn't hard for her to guess." Megaera circled back around, bringing her face so close to his that their lips were almost touching. She let her right hand rest on his left shoulder, the whipcord hanging down to brush against his calves. "She's very fond of you, you know that? She made me promise not to do anything to hurt you while the drug was in your system."
"That's very... considerate of her." Zagreus had to resist the urge to clear his throat. His mouth was drying up; whether from the peril of the situation or simply Meg's proximity, he wasn't sure. "And of course you'll keep your promise?"
"I always keep my promises." The words, somehow, were anything but reassuring – and neither was the smile that accompanied them. "You ought to know, this whip isn't the only weapon in my arsenal. Don't you remember all the other ways I used to make you go weak at the knees?"
"Erm... Listen, Meg, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking..."
"Remember this?" Megaera reached up and stroked the underside of Zagreus's right arm with her fingertips.
Zagreus made a noise in his throat that turned into a cough. Megaera trailed her fingers up towards his elbow, the backs of her nails grazing his skin. Her eyes were looking directly into his, watching his reaction. "You always hated being touched like this," she murmured. "Always made you so... jumpy."
"Meg..." He stopped, feeling his voice about to crack. Of course the Fury knew exactly what she was doing to him, but he didn't want to let her see him lose his cool. But now her fingers were trailing down again, and he closed his eyes involuntarily as he waited for the tantalizing touch to reach his armpit. It never did; she changed direction once again and continued her slow strokes.
"Meg, this is..." He was no longer able to keep the strain out of his voice. "What about your duty?"
"Oh, don't worry. I fully intend to perform my duty. We can resume our little battle after your paralysis wears off." She moved behind him again, out of his sight. He heard her toss the whip lightly aside, and she began massaging his shoulders with both hands. "Except by that time, if I have anything to do with it, you'll be too weak to stand, let alone fight." She leaned in close and whispered in his ear: "So it won't be a battle – it'll be an execution."
"Come on, Meg. Be reasonable." Zagreus was growing desperate. "This isn't sporting."
"Who do you think you're talking to? One of your Olympians? 'Sporting' has nothing to do with it. I've suffered enough humiliation at your hands. Now it's your turn." Megaera touched her right hand to his midriff and drew her nails up along his ribs.
Zagreus clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes tight shut, forcing back with an intense effort the laughter that threatened to explode out of his throat. He wouldn't give Meg that satisfaction. He wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't—"Hahahahaha stahahapphaha!"
"That's one thing that never ceases to amaze me," said Megaera calmly, raking both hands up and down his sides. "That the fearsome Prince of the Underworld should be so very, very ticklish."
It was indeed a cruel irony, but Zagreus wasn't in any mood to contemplate the twisted humour of the Fates. Howling with hysterical laughter, he struggled to pull his arms down, but to no avail. His state of paralysis wasn't absolutely total – he found, now that he had the proper stimulus, that he was able to twist and jerk a little from side to side, and bend his knees ever so slightly – but his feet remained fixed firmly to the floor, and his treacherous right arm was still raised high above his head.
Megaera couldn't long resist such a tempting vulnerability. Her right hand inched higher and higher up the quaking prince's side, counting off each rib in turn, then suddenly leapt upward and burrowed into his exposed underarm.
"Nohohoho Mehehehegg pleheheheheese!" Zagreus's laughter crescendoed to an embarrassingly high pitch. It pained him to be reduced to begging, and so quickly, but he couldn't help himself. A thousand lashes from Megaera's whip would be more endurable than this.
"You really ought to invest in some proper body armour." The Fury's left hand continued toying with his ribs, while her right drew spirals in the hollow of his underarm. "Just who do you think you're impressing with this outfit, anyway?"
She had a point. The toga was a piece of vanity, and nothing more. Though a mere weakling by his father's standards, Zagreus took pride in his rippling muscles, and had made himself an outfit that showed them off to best advantage. The toga fastened over his left shoulder, leaving his right side completely bare almost to the waist, where a belt adorned with grinning skulls gathered the fabric together. His left side was hardly better protected. A loose, open sleeve covered his arm partway to the elbow, but left a wide expanse of naked flesh on show beneath. With his left arm held out as it was in front of him, Megaera could easily reach into the folds and gain as much access to his left side as to his right.
She wasn't wasting her advantage. Speeding up the action of her fingers, her hands began exploring every inch of the prince's torso – darting up and down his sides, pinching at his belly, digging into both his underarms. Not even his back, neck and shoulders were spared the Fury's ticklish attention. Zagreus shook with helpless laughter, wondering how long he'd be expected to endure – how long he could endure – such agonising torment.
Somewhere in his panicked mind, a thought clamoured for attention. Something Megaera had said. He screwed up all his concentration and mentally replayed the conversation. So very, very ticklish. No, before that. Something about... talking to the Olympians.
That was it. How many times had he seen that smarmy hero, Theseus, call on the Olympians for help? Zagreus had never tried imposing on the gods without an invitation, but if he'd ever needed divine intervention, it was now. Surely he'd earned enough of their good will to ask a favour every now and then? It had to be worth a shot – if he could stop laughing long enough to get the words out.
"Arharharhar– Artemis! I invoke – hahahaha! – I invoke your aid!"
"Don't delude yourself," said Megaera, dancing her fingers along Zagreus's quivering pecs. "Your friends can't help you now."
But already an image was forming in his mind – there before him stood the goddess Artemis, her brow furrowed in undisguised irritation. "What is it, Zagreus? Callisto and I were just about to head out for a hunt." Then her frown gave way to a look of wide-eyed curiosity. "Well. That's quite a situation you've got yourself in, there."
Zagreus was never sure how much the Olympians could see or hear of him, and how much was only dimly sensed. He hoped that Artemis was only sensing his predicament, rather than seeing him as he saw her... but something in her expression told him otherwise. Never mind. He was quite prepared to throw dignity to the winds if it would get him out of this mess.
"Sahehehehave mehehehee!" he squealed, as ten sharp fingernails crawled up his back and then launched a fresh attack on his ribs.
"Sorry, Zagreus," Artemis shrugged. "We can't interfere with the work of the Furies, not directly. And even if I could help you... I wouldn't. This is pretty funny." Her ordinarily gloomy countenance twitched into a smile. "Hey, Callisto," she called, turning her head. "Guess what's happening to Zagreus right now."
"NopleasepleaseArtimuhuhuhahassss!"
"I take it nobody's coming to your rescue," said Megaera. Evidently she couldn't see or hear the goddess, but she heard the betrayal in the prince's anguished scream. "I've warned you before not to put your trust in the Olympians. The gods are fickle. Fickle, fickle, fickle," she repeated, pressing her fingers into both of Zagreus's underarms at once.
Tears sprang to Zagreus's eyes as he succumbed to wordless laughter. His last hope had deserted him. Never in his life had he been so absolutely powerless. Though every muscle in his body was twitching frantically, he was no more able to unfreeze himself from his ridiculous position than a statue.
Then came a new voice – light, seductive. "Artemis, darling, what on earth is going on?" Side by side with the goddess of the hunt appeared the pink, plump, and perfectly proportioned form of Aphrodite.
This sort of thing happened a lot. Whenever one made contact with a god, another member of the family was liable to show up uninvited. Sometimes they rendered dual assistance; more often than not, they fought and bickered. Family rivalries were fierce on Olympus. And Aphrodite, goddess of love, was perhaps more prone to jealousy than any of them.
"Zagreus, dearest, I'm hurt." She addressed him in tones of tender remonstrance, which Zagreus was too far gone to take any notice of. He only registered that he had another spectator to his humiliation. "This is clearly an affair of the heart, and you would call on our petulant huntress to assist you? Oh, Artemis has many virtues, I'll be the first to say it," she added, warding off a sour glance from the huntress in question. "But to call on her for romantic advice... I mean, really."
"Romantic nothing," said Artemis. "She's torturing him."
"How little you understand," sighed Aphrodite. "Really, though, dearest," she continued, turning back to Zagreus, "I'm going to have to punish you a little."
"Punish him? What can you do to him that's worse than this?"
"Watch and learn, my little huntress."
Zagreus, drowning in laughter, was scarcely able to attend to this conversation. He had only picked up on the word 'punish', and now he was vaguely aware of being surrounded by a soft pink mist. The curse of Aphrodite.
Intense arousal surged through him like a white heat. He was suddenly hyper-conscious of the blue-skinned Fury at his back – not only of her fingers, but of her entire presence. The touch of her breath on the nape of his neck; the way her chest and her hips brushed against him as she searched out his most vulnerable spots. The stimulation of his libido sent his nerve endings into overdrive – his all-too-sensitive flesh became twice as tender as before.
The renewed volume of his screams only spurred Megaera on. She reached around to tickle his belly with both hands, pressing her body fully against his. "My, my," she murmured, peering over his shoulder. "Is that an Adamant Rail in your pocket... or are you enjoying this as much as I am?"
Zagreus could only squeal in response, his taut abs rippling at the Fury's touch.
"Maybe you'd like me to tickle you a little lower?"
Ignoring Zagreus's violent headshake, Megaera worked her fingers underneath his belt and dug her nails into his hips – mercifully keeping on the outside of his leggings, though the first touch made him screech and jolt regardless. If his upper body was tender to the touch, this area below the belt was off the scale. The Fury pushed her hands down further and squeezed his thighs, eliciting yet another screech. Meg was giggling now; positively giggling. Megaera never giggled. The pink mist was obviously affecting her too.
As for the prince, Aphrodite's curse wasn't finished with him yet. He fought with every ounce of his remaining strength against the powerful desire that threatened to explode out of his loins. He knew that giving in would only intensify his agony; but at the same time, he needed that release, craved it more than he had ever craved anything before.
He couldn't hold out much longer in any case. Meg's fingers were curling round to clutch his inner thighs, sending him into an even higher pitch of arousal. "Ticklish here too, Zaggy?" she taunted through her girlish laughter. "Tickle tickle tickle."
He had only ever seen her like this once before – the time she had drunk an entire bottle of Ambrosia in one sitting. There was no telling what she might do in this condition. Her body ground against his as he bucked and wriggled, fuelling the tension building up inside him. It was too much – he couldn't bear it. The dam was about to break. Just one more squeeze...
"Wait," Megaera said, suddenly withdrawing her hands from his belt. Zagreus could have screamed with frustration, if he'd had a single breath left in his body. The Fury folded her arms across his shoulders and whispered snickeringly into his ear. "I just had a sudden intuition. I bet there's one spot you're really really hoping I don't tickle you."
Her weight lifted from his shoulders as she sat down cross-legged on the floor behind him. Before Zagreus could guess what she intended, he felt a soft touch to the back of his right knee.
"Oh no," he gasped. "No no no."
"Was I right? Is this the killer spot?" She circled both her thumbs into the soft hollows behind each knee. Now Zagreus found the breath to scream. His high-pitched laughter echoed off the chamber walls. The ticklish sensation coursed through his body like a wave, aggravating his arousal without bringing him one iota closer to fulfillment.
Megaera lapsed into another fit of giggles. "Somebody's in trouble now." The lust-crazed Fury began tearing at his leggings with her nails, ripping holes wide enough to expose the tender flesh beneath.
This was a nightmare. Since when did Meg know about that spot? Zagreus was certain he had never given that particular secret away – not to Meg, not to anybody. How had she suddenly honed in on his most critical...
A sudden intuition. That's what she'd called it. Just like the intuition that guided his sword to his enemy's weak points, when under the influence of Artemis's boon.
The image of the two goddesses was still clear in his mind. Artemis had her eyes averted, her hands clasped behind her back, the picture of innocence – except that her lips were clamped together in the effort to suppress a smirk as wide as her face.
Aphrodite looked perturbed. "What happened? Did you do something?"
"Who, me?" replied the huntress sweetly. "I'm just an observer."
Zagreus had no time for further thought as Megaera's thumbs pressed into the bare flesh of his knee joints. "Yahahahaha pleheheheese!"
The giggling Fury only amped up the attack, wriggling all four fingers of each hand into the sensitive hollows. Zagreus's laughter became silent as the last particle of air left his lungs. This was his last gasp. He was about to die of sheer exhaustion. He made a mental note to steer clear of Hypnos when he got back to the house. He did not want any conversations about his cause of death this time around.
Then he realised that his right foot was stamping rapidly on the ground. His automatic efforts to shake off his paralysis were bearing fruit. His arms were jerkily lowering, his body was creasing at the waist. The effect of Dusa's poison was wearing off. He made one tremendous effort and leapt forward, hurling himself halfway across the chamber before collapsing face-down onto the stone floor.
He lay still, drawing quick, sharp breaths, awaiting the Fury's next move. His energy was spent – though no longer paralyzed, he couldn't have moved a muscle in his body if he tried. After a moment, he heard Megaera's voice, suddenly sounding a lot more sober than before. The pink mist seemed to have dispersed.
"Sorry Zag, I... don't know what came over me. That was very unprofessional. When I said I'd make you go weak at the knees, I didn't think... Well." She knelt down beside him and ran a hand over his hair. "I'm going to have to kill you now, before you get your strength back. I'll knock you out first, so at least it'll be painless. Let me get my whip." She stood up, and he heard her golden heels clicking against the tiles.
Meanwhile, in another compartment of his mind, a disgruntled Aphrodite was chiding the goddess of the hunt.
"I always knew you had a bloodthirsty streak, but I do wish you hadn't interfered."
Artemis shrugged. "I saw an opening, I took it."
"Admirably direct as always, but that prank of yours rather spoiled my design. This story could have had a much happier ending."
"My way was funnier. Don't you think, Callisto?" Artemis appealed to the unseen nymph for arbitration. Callisto's reply, unheard by Zagreus, caused Artemis's brow to crease. "Well, okay, I know it was a little cruel..." Then her eyes grew wide. "What do you mean I deserve— Hey, wait!"
"I couldn't agree more," said Aphrodite. "Let's give Miss Bloodthirsty a taste of her own medicine."
Artemis gave a yelp, and then all was silence. The connection to Olympus had been cut.
Megaera returned, bent down to Zagreus once more, and pressed her lips against his ear. "When you get back to the house... come find me." He felt a gentle pressure at the base of his neck, and passed into unconsciousness.
THE END
I know I'm late to the party with this game. I only started playing it recently. I wrote this story during a sleepless night – looking at it now, it's a bit of an odd one, but I'll post it anyway for what it's worth. Megaera vs. Zagreus, in the death-match nobody was waiting for.
Enjoy.
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Zagreus, Prince of the Underworld
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The looming, thuggish shade bellowed ferociously and swung its club. Zagreus darted backwards, teetered for a moment on the edge of a gaping hole in the masonry, then leapt nimbly over it, briefly exposing himself to a burst of heat from the blood-red Styx that rolled below.
Another thug closed in from his left, but Zagreus was more than a match for these creatures. Wielding his sword in one hand with a practiced ease, he delivered a thrust that sent the shade hurtling into one of the many columns that dotted the chamber. The column shattered with the force of the blow, burying the wretched creature in half a ton of rubble. Zagreus was already busy dispatching the other; a single well-timed lunge brought about its dissolution.
A clattering sound made him turn; half a dozen floating, red-eyed skulls were gearing up to charge him. Zagreus launched himself into the air, swinging his blade high over his head. The metal sang out as it struck the ground, generating a high-toned shockwave that turned the malignant skulls instantly to dust.
Muscles tensed, he waited, but that seemed to be the last of them. This chamber was clear. Now on to the next. And the next. And the next. He had a long way yet to go.
Escaping the Underworld wasn't supposed to be easy. In fact, it was supposed to be impossible – but after all, stories told of others who had done it. Ordinary people, mortals. And if a mere mortal could shake off the fetters of eternal imprisonment, why couldn't he? He was Prince Zagreus, son of Hades; a minor god in his own right. Though he may not have his father's strength, he made up the deficit in sheer determination. No matter how many setbacks he might face, he wasn't giving up. Not ever.
He had almost managed to reach the surface last time, only to be set upon by a dire rat and painfully devoured. The time before that, he had blundered into a spear trap and been pierced straight through the heart. The time before that... but he had made so many attempts that they were all starting to blur together. They all ended the same way – with his own ignominious death, and his return via the Styx to his father's house. But as they said up on the surface world: if at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.
Checking once more that the chamber was clear, he turned toward the exit. As he did so, a glowing sigil appeared in the air before him – a sign that one of the Olympians was trying to reach out to him. The gods had only the haziest perception of the goings-on beneath the surface of the earth, shrouded as the realm was by the starry cloak of Nyx, but Zagreus's struggles had excited their attention. The Olympians had no great love for Hades, and were only too happy to assist the prince in his fugitive rebellion.
"Olympus!" he called, reaching out to touch the sigil. "I accept this message!"
"No need to be so formal." A sullen, feminine voice faintly sounded in his ear, and in his mind's eye formed the image of a green-clad young woman with a bow in hand and a quiver on her back. Artemis, goddess of the hunt. "How many times have I helped you out? We're old acquaintances by now. Not that it seems to be doing you much good. Maybe you'll have better luck this time around."
The image faded, and Zagreus felt a momentary surge of power as the boon of the goddess flowed through him. Each god had a different speciality, and Artemis was a master – or mistress – of precision targeting. Her boons gave Zagreus a preternatural ability to analyze his enemy's weak points, greatly increasing his chances of dealing critical damage.
This would stand him in good stead for the battle that he knew was almost upon him. Every time he reached the staircase that led up from the stone dungeons of Tartarus to the fiery plains of Asphodel, he found one of the Fury Sisters waiting for him, charged by Hades with the task of halting the wayward prince in his ascent. Which of the sisters would it be this time? Two of them were completely psychotic, but the other, Megaera... He always found himself hoping it would be Megaera.
His luck held out. As the entrance to the final chamber slid open, there stood Meg in all her blue-skinned, bat-winged glory. She was dressed as always in a deep blue wraparound, secured with a golden belt around her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and the bright pink of her lipstick and nail varnish matched the colour of the whip that snapped restlessly in her right hand.
"Well," she said, "here we are again."
"Here we are again," Zagreus agreed.
Megaera and the prince had a complicated history. It had been a messy break-up to begin with, and that was before they found themselves in the position of repeatedly fighting to the death. For a while, it had seemed to Zagreus that reconcilement would never be possible. But maybe their continual death-matches were helping them work through a few unresolved issues... because lately, whenever he ran into Meg while she was off-duty, back at the house, he got the impression that she was softening towards him. Just a little.
"Why don't we skip the battle this time, Meg? Just stand aside, and I'll tell Father you did everything you could to stop me. Nobody will ever know."
"That isn't going to happen, and you know it." Megaera's husky voice was tinged with impatience. "I'm a Fury. You do understand what that means, don't you? I punish oath-breakers, liars and traitors. If I betrayed my own Master, what would that make me? You may be at liberty to run roughshod over your father's wishes, but I have a duty to perform."
"Even though you know you don't stand a chance of winning?"
"We'll see about that."
Megaera crouched low and sprang at Zagreus, who dodged sideways and readied his sword, waiting for an opening. He knew exactly what her next move would be. Sure enough, she began spinning around, cracking her whip in every direction at lightning speed. Zagreus immediately launched an overarm attack, knowing it would land at the exact moment that Megaera paused to catch her breath.
He had fought this battle countless times. There was no reason why this time should be any different. And yet... suddenly everything changed.
It happened so fast that he didn't see it coming. As he raised his sword arm, something small and silver shot out of the whirling blur that was Megaera and her whip. He felt a sharp pain, and looked down to find a thin needle lodged in the center of his chest. Whatever it was, the effect was instantaneous. Zagreus found himself transfixed. He couldn't move. His right arm was raised high in the air, his left held before him in a defensive posture. His legs were slightly apart, his left foot forward. And he was stuck.
Megaera spun herself to a standstill, then tilted her head and examined Zagreus critically. "What do you know? It worked."
"What did? What have you done to me?" The poison, or whatever it was, seemed only to have paralyzed him from the neck down. He found that he could move his head freely, though that was little comfort.
"What's the matter, Zagreus? I thought you couldn't lose." Megaera drew closer, eyeing the helpless prince with relish. Standing face-to-face with him, she touched the base of her whip to his neck and ran it seductively over his collar-bone. "Do you remember the first time you faced me in this chamber?" she said. "You were hopeless. I tore you apart without even breaking a sweat. The second time, well, that was more of a challenge. The third time, you actually beat me. And the fourth time, you plowed right through me like I wasn't even there."
"Nothing personal, Meg," Zagreus grunted, trying to force some life into his limbs. He had been turned to stone by gorgons more times than he could count, but that was an affliction he'd always managed to shake off in seconds. This was something very different. He wasn't turned to stone, he was only frozen; and he couldn't shake himself loose by any dint of effort.
"I thought it was because you were getting stronger, but that was too easy an excuse. I did a bit of soul-searching, and I realised the problem is with me. I'm too predictable. Every time you come in here, you have a different weapon and a different set of boons, and I have to figure out your gameplan. But as for me... You know all my moves like the back of your hand. So I decided to switch things up a bit."
Circling around him, she tugged the sword out of his upraised arm and let it clatter to the floor. Zagreus turned his head, trying to follow her movements, but the Fury had placed herself in his blind spot. He felt the gentle caress of the whip against the right side of his back, the side which his scarlet toga left exposed.
"Must have been difficult," he said, making an effort to keep his tone casual. "You've always been a creature of habit."
"I had a little help. Dusa mixed me up a concoction..."
Dusa! So the little gorgon was in on this!
"I didn't tell her what I needed it for, but it wasn't hard for her to guess." Megaera circled back around, bringing her face so close to his that their lips were almost touching. She let her right hand rest on his left shoulder, the whipcord hanging down to brush against his calves. "She's very fond of you, you know that? She made me promise not to do anything to hurt you while the drug was in your system."
"That's very... considerate of her." Zagreus had to resist the urge to clear his throat. His mouth was drying up; whether from the peril of the situation or simply Meg's proximity, he wasn't sure. "And of course you'll keep your promise?"
"I always keep my promises." The words, somehow, were anything but reassuring – and neither was the smile that accompanied them. "You ought to know, this whip isn't the only weapon in my arsenal. Don't you remember all the other ways I used to make you go weak at the knees?"
"Erm... Listen, Meg, if you're thinking what I think you're thinking..."
"Remember this?" Megaera reached up and stroked the underside of Zagreus's right arm with her fingertips.
Zagreus made a noise in his throat that turned into a cough. Megaera trailed her fingers up towards his elbow, the backs of her nails grazing his skin. Her eyes were looking directly into his, watching his reaction. "You always hated being touched like this," she murmured. "Always made you so... jumpy."
"Meg..." He stopped, feeling his voice about to crack. Of course the Fury knew exactly what she was doing to him, but he didn't want to let her see him lose his cool. But now her fingers were trailing down again, and he closed his eyes involuntarily as he waited for the tantalizing touch to reach his armpit. It never did; she changed direction once again and continued her slow strokes.
"Meg, this is..." He was no longer able to keep the strain out of his voice. "What about your duty?"
"Oh, don't worry. I fully intend to perform my duty. We can resume our little battle after your paralysis wears off." She moved behind him again, out of his sight. He heard her toss the whip lightly aside, and she began massaging his shoulders with both hands. "Except by that time, if I have anything to do with it, you'll be too weak to stand, let alone fight." She leaned in close and whispered in his ear: "So it won't be a battle – it'll be an execution."
"Come on, Meg. Be reasonable." Zagreus was growing desperate. "This isn't sporting."
"Who do you think you're talking to? One of your Olympians? 'Sporting' has nothing to do with it. I've suffered enough humiliation at your hands. Now it's your turn." Megaera touched her right hand to his midriff and drew her nails up along his ribs.
Zagreus clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes tight shut, forcing back with an intense effort the laughter that threatened to explode out of his throat. He wouldn't give Meg that satisfaction. He wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't laugh, he wouldn't—"Hahahahaha stahahapphaha!"
"That's one thing that never ceases to amaze me," said Megaera calmly, raking both hands up and down his sides. "That the fearsome Prince of the Underworld should be so very, very ticklish."
It was indeed a cruel irony, but Zagreus wasn't in any mood to contemplate the twisted humour of the Fates. Howling with hysterical laughter, he struggled to pull his arms down, but to no avail. His state of paralysis wasn't absolutely total – he found, now that he had the proper stimulus, that he was able to twist and jerk a little from side to side, and bend his knees ever so slightly – but his feet remained fixed firmly to the floor, and his treacherous right arm was still raised high above his head.
Megaera couldn't long resist such a tempting vulnerability. Her right hand inched higher and higher up the quaking prince's side, counting off each rib in turn, then suddenly leapt upward and burrowed into his exposed underarm.
"Nohohoho Mehehehegg pleheheheheese!" Zagreus's laughter crescendoed to an embarrassingly high pitch. It pained him to be reduced to begging, and so quickly, but he couldn't help himself. A thousand lashes from Megaera's whip would be more endurable than this.
"You really ought to invest in some proper body armour." The Fury's left hand continued toying with his ribs, while her right drew spirals in the hollow of his underarm. "Just who do you think you're impressing with this outfit, anyway?"
She had a point. The toga was a piece of vanity, and nothing more. Though a mere weakling by his father's standards, Zagreus took pride in his rippling muscles, and had made himself an outfit that showed them off to best advantage. The toga fastened over his left shoulder, leaving his right side completely bare almost to the waist, where a belt adorned with grinning skulls gathered the fabric together. His left side was hardly better protected. A loose, open sleeve covered his arm partway to the elbow, but left a wide expanse of naked flesh on show beneath. With his left arm held out as it was in front of him, Megaera could easily reach into the folds and gain as much access to his left side as to his right.
She wasn't wasting her advantage. Speeding up the action of her fingers, her hands began exploring every inch of the prince's torso – darting up and down his sides, pinching at his belly, digging into both his underarms. Not even his back, neck and shoulders were spared the Fury's ticklish attention. Zagreus shook with helpless laughter, wondering how long he'd be expected to endure – how long he could endure – such agonising torment.
Somewhere in his panicked mind, a thought clamoured for attention. Something Megaera had said. He screwed up all his concentration and mentally replayed the conversation. So very, very ticklish. No, before that. Something about... talking to the Olympians.
That was it. How many times had he seen that smarmy hero, Theseus, call on the Olympians for help? Zagreus had never tried imposing on the gods without an invitation, but if he'd ever needed divine intervention, it was now. Surely he'd earned enough of their good will to ask a favour every now and then? It had to be worth a shot – if he could stop laughing long enough to get the words out.
"Arharharhar– Artemis! I invoke – hahahaha! – I invoke your aid!"
"Don't delude yourself," said Megaera, dancing her fingers along Zagreus's quivering pecs. "Your friends can't help you now."
But already an image was forming in his mind – there before him stood the goddess Artemis, her brow furrowed in undisguised irritation. "What is it, Zagreus? Callisto and I were just about to head out for a hunt." Then her frown gave way to a look of wide-eyed curiosity. "Well. That's quite a situation you've got yourself in, there."
Zagreus was never sure how much the Olympians could see or hear of him, and how much was only dimly sensed. He hoped that Artemis was only sensing his predicament, rather than seeing him as he saw her... but something in her expression told him otherwise. Never mind. He was quite prepared to throw dignity to the winds if it would get him out of this mess.
"Sahehehehave mehehehee!" he squealed, as ten sharp fingernails crawled up his back and then launched a fresh attack on his ribs.
"Sorry, Zagreus," Artemis shrugged. "We can't interfere with the work of the Furies, not directly. And even if I could help you... I wouldn't. This is pretty funny." Her ordinarily gloomy countenance twitched into a smile. "Hey, Callisto," she called, turning her head. "Guess what's happening to Zagreus right now."
"NopleasepleaseArtimuhuhuhahassss!"
"I take it nobody's coming to your rescue," said Megaera. Evidently she couldn't see or hear the goddess, but she heard the betrayal in the prince's anguished scream. "I've warned you before not to put your trust in the Olympians. The gods are fickle. Fickle, fickle, fickle," she repeated, pressing her fingers into both of Zagreus's underarms at once.
Tears sprang to Zagreus's eyes as he succumbed to wordless laughter. His last hope had deserted him. Never in his life had he been so absolutely powerless. Though every muscle in his body was twitching frantically, he was no more able to unfreeze himself from his ridiculous position than a statue.
Then came a new voice – light, seductive. "Artemis, darling, what on earth is going on?" Side by side with the goddess of the hunt appeared the pink, plump, and perfectly proportioned form of Aphrodite.
This sort of thing happened a lot. Whenever one made contact with a god, another member of the family was liable to show up uninvited. Sometimes they rendered dual assistance; more often than not, they fought and bickered. Family rivalries were fierce on Olympus. And Aphrodite, goddess of love, was perhaps more prone to jealousy than any of them.
"Zagreus, dearest, I'm hurt." She addressed him in tones of tender remonstrance, which Zagreus was too far gone to take any notice of. He only registered that he had another spectator to his humiliation. "This is clearly an affair of the heart, and you would call on our petulant huntress to assist you? Oh, Artemis has many virtues, I'll be the first to say it," she added, warding off a sour glance from the huntress in question. "But to call on her for romantic advice... I mean, really."
"Romantic nothing," said Artemis. "She's torturing him."
"How little you understand," sighed Aphrodite. "Really, though, dearest," she continued, turning back to Zagreus, "I'm going to have to punish you a little."
"Punish him? What can you do to him that's worse than this?"
"Watch and learn, my little huntress."
Zagreus, drowning in laughter, was scarcely able to attend to this conversation. He had only picked up on the word 'punish', and now he was vaguely aware of being surrounded by a soft pink mist. The curse of Aphrodite.
Intense arousal surged through him like a white heat. He was suddenly hyper-conscious of the blue-skinned Fury at his back – not only of her fingers, but of her entire presence. The touch of her breath on the nape of his neck; the way her chest and her hips brushed against him as she searched out his most vulnerable spots. The stimulation of his libido sent his nerve endings into overdrive – his all-too-sensitive flesh became twice as tender as before.
The renewed volume of his screams only spurred Megaera on. She reached around to tickle his belly with both hands, pressing her body fully against his. "My, my," she murmured, peering over his shoulder. "Is that an Adamant Rail in your pocket... or are you enjoying this as much as I am?"
Zagreus could only squeal in response, his taut abs rippling at the Fury's touch.
"Maybe you'd like me to tickle you a little lower?"
Ignoring Zagreus's violent headshake, Megaera worked her fingers underneath his belt and dug her nails into his hips – mercifully keeping on the outside of his leggings, though the first touch made him screech and jolt regardless. If his upper body was tender to the touch, this area below the belt was off the scale. The Fury pushed her hands down further and squeezed his thighs, eliciting yet another screech. Meg was giggling now; positively giggling. Megaera never giggled. The pink mist was obviously affecting her too.
As for the prince, Aphrodite's curse wasn't finished with him yet. He fought with every ounce of his remaining strength against the powerful desire that threatened to explode out of his loins. He knew that giving in would only intensify his agony; but at the same time, he needed that release, craved it more than he had ever craved anything before.
He couldn't hold out much longer in any case. Meg's fingers were curling round to clutch his inner thighs, sending him into an even higher pitch of arousal. "Ticklish here too, Zaggy?" she taunted through her girlish laughter. "Tickle tickle tickle."
He had only ever seen her like this once before – the time she had drunk an entire bottle of Ambrosia in one sitting. There was no telling what she might do in this condition. Her body ground against his as he bucked and wriggled, fuelling the tension building up inside him. It was too much – he couldn't bear it. The dam was about to break. Just one more squeeze...
"Wait," Megaera said, suddenly withdrawing her hands from his belt. Zagreus could have screamed with frustration, if he'd had a single breath left in his body. The Fury folded her arms across his shoulders and whispered snickeringly into his ear. "I just had a sudden intuition. I bet there's one spot you're really really hoping I don't tickle you."
Her weight lifted from his shoulders as she sat down cross-legged on the floor behind him. Before Zagreus could guess what she intended, he felt a soft touch to the back of his right knee.
"Oh no," he gasped. "No no no."
"Was I right? Is this the killer spot?" She circled both her thumbs into the soft hollows behind each knee. Now Zagreus found the breath to scream. His high-pitched laughter echoed off the chamber walls. The ticklish sensation coursed through his body like a wave, aggravating his arousal without bringing him one iota closer to fulfillment.
Megaera lapsed into another fit of giggles. "Somebody's in trouble now." The lust-crazed Fury began tearing at his leggings with her nails, ripping holes wide enough to expose the tender flesh beneath.
This was a nightmare. Since when did Meg know about that spot? Zagreus was certain he had never given that particular secret away – not to Meg, not to anybody. How had she suddenly honed in on his most critical...
A sudden intuition. That's what she'd called it. Just like the intuition that guided his sword to his enemy's weak points, when under the influence of Artemis's boon.
The image of the two goddesses was still clear in his mind. Artemis had her eyes averted, her hands clasped behind her back, the picture of innocence – except that her lips were clamped together in the effort to suppress a smirk as wide as her face.
Aphrodite looked perturbed. "What happened? Did you do something?"
"Who, me?" replied the huntress sweetly. "I'm just an observer."
Zagreus had no time for further thought as Megaera's thumbs pressed into the bare flesh of his knee joints. "Yahahahaha pleheheheese!"
The giggling Fury only amped up the attack, wriggling all four fingers of each hand into the sensitive hollows. Zagreus's laughter became silent as the last particle of air left his lungs. This was his last gasp. He was about to die of sheer exhaustion. He made a mental note to steer clear of Hypnos when he got back to the house. He did not want any conversations about his cause of death this time around.
Then he realised that his right foot was stamping rapidly on the ground. His automatic efforts to shake off his paralysis were bearing fruit. His arms were jerkily lowering, his body was creasing at the waist. The effect of Dusa's poison was wearing off. He made one tremendous effort and leapt forward, hurling himself halfway across the chamber before collapsing face-down onto the stone floor.
He lay still, drawing quick, sharp breaths, awaiting the Fury's next move. His energy was spent – though no longer paralyzed, he couldn't have moved a muscle in his body if he tried. After a moment, he heard Megaera's voice, suddenly sounding a lot more sober than before. The pink mist seemed to have dispersed.
"Sorry Zag, I... don't know what came over me. That was very unprofessional. When I said I'd make you go weak at the knees, I didn't think... Well." She knelt down beside him and ran a hand over his hair. "I'm going to have to kill you now, before you get your strength back. I'll knock you out first, so at least it'll be painless. Let me get my whip." She stood up, and he heard her golden heels clicking against the tiles.
Meanwhile, in another compartment of his mind, a disgruntled Aphrodite was chiding the goddess of the hunt.
"I always knew you had a bloodthirsty streak, but I do wish you hadn't interfered."
Artemis shrugged. "I saw an opening, I took it."
"Admirably direct as always, but that prank of yours rather spoiled my design. This story could have had a much happier ending."
"My way was funnier. Don't you think, Callisto?" Artemis appealed to the unseen nymph for arbitration. Callisto's reply, unheard by Zagreus, caused Artemis's brow to crease. "Well, okay, I know it was a little cruel..." Then her eyes grew wide. "What do you mean I deserve— Hey, wait!"
"I couldn't agree more," said Aphrodite. "Let's give Miss Bloodthirsty a taste of her own medicine."
Artemis gave a yelp, and then all was silence. The connection to Olympus had been cut.
Megaera returned, bent down to Zagreus once more, and pressed her lips against his ear. "When you get back to the house... come find me." He felt a gentle pressure at the base of his neck, and passed into unconsciousness.
THE END
I envy Zagreus. 
