Reasons

“He just doesn’t know when to quit,” Ares murmured to himself as he watched Iolaus valiantly trying to fend off his attackers. Despite the hunter’s considerable skill, he was losing. There were just too many men coming at him at one time, but the unfavorable odds did not prevent him from fighting. He may have been going down, but he was determined to take as many of the soldiers with him as he could. Ares watched complacently until the men finally overcame the brave warrior, knocking him unconscious and giving him a few extra whacks for good measure. As the soldier that was apparently in charge raised his sword for the killing blow, the god of war decided to make his presence known.

As Ares materialized before the mob, they immediately forgot about Iolaus and focused on their patron. He took advantage of their momentary surprise and produced a glowing fireball. Before any of the men could react, he launched it at them with the strength and accuracy that only the god of war could muster, and mowed down the whole crowd. As charred soldiers fell left and right, Ares felt a twinge of pity at having to destroy so many fine mercenaries. But then again, with what he was about to do, he couldn’t afford any witnesses. As gently as a god of war could, he gathered the injured mortal in his arms.

Ares looked around the dusty temple as he laid Iolaus down on the altar. He never used this building much, and it was evident by it’s current state. But, this temple was out in the middle of nowhere, away from prying eyes, and he knew he could trust the single priestess that occupied it. Ares laid his hands over the mortal hunter’s chest and sent him a small amount of healing, just enough to ensure that his wounds would not prove fatal. Then he stepped back and motioned to the girl who had approached.

“Take care of him,” he commanded. “And when he wakes up, tell him that some villager found him left for dead by the road and brought him here to you. Speak nothing of me.” The priestess nodded and went about gathering water and bandages to treat her patient. Ares knew that the girl’s loyalties ran deep. She would cut her tongue out before she would ever speak his name to the hunter, and no amount of twinkling blue eyes or sexy little smiles would convince her otherwise. And he also knew he could trust her not to ask the question that he could see burning in her eyes. Why was he, Ares, the great god of war, taking such an interest in this small mortal man.

Ares was glad that she knew her place was to serve obediently, and never to question. He wasn’t sure he had an answer for her. He, himself, had tried to kill this mortal on many occasions. Why was he now saving his life? Maybe it had something to do with possession. Iolaus was his toy to play with, and Ares was not about to let anyone else have the privilege of killing him. That was a pleasure he craved for himself. He wanted the hunter to recover, to be well and strong to fight another day, so Ares could finally succeed at wiping him off the face of the earth.

Iolaus stirred slightly, and moaned out Hercules’ name. The priestess began murmuring soft, comforting words to him as she continued with her ministrations. Ares decided to make himself invisible to the mortal realm, just in case the hunter were to regain consciousness and open his eyes. He remained for several minutes, watching the girl care for the wounded warrior, before he went to drape his sinewy muscles over his dusty throne in the next room. Ares leaned back and closed his eyes, thinking of how much he’d love to go to Hercules right now and tell him that he had Iolaus. But he wouldn’t. Not this time.

Ares would never admit it to a living soul, but he admired the scrappy hunter. No matter how many times he’d been bested, beaten, or even killed, he always managed to spring back up with renewed energy and attitude. His bravery and skill were almost unmatched among mortals. Ares would have given a lot to count him among his legions. He could have made the hunter into what Xena had almost become. But where Ares still had hope that Xena might one day come back to him, he knew better than to even try with Iolaus. The hunter had firmly implanted himself by the side of the god’s bastard half-brother, and there would be no removing him. As much as that sickened Ares, he still had to respect the conviction behind it.

He heard soft voices floating in from the foreground of the temple. Iolaus was awake and asking questions, and Ares could hear the quiet words of the priestess reassuring him. He knew for sure now that the hunter would be all right, so he decided to take his leave. Iolaus wouldn’t be down for long, and Ares wanted to take full advantage of his absence while he could. But before he vanished, the god took one last look at the wounded warrior. Why had he saved him? Well, after all, a villain is only as momentous as the hero that compliments him.

Disclaimer: There will be no sequel to this story, so don’t ask :)

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