"Now, now, Nike," he purred, making his way towards her with a leisurely stride "You know I'd never do anything like that." I was thoroughly disgusted with myself when I realized I couldn't take my eyes off of him. Even from across the room I seemed to feel the heat of his presence and every breath he took echoed in my chest. As he approached Nike, one of her loincloth-clad servants, a tall, broad, densely muscled woman, rushed to her side. Ares grinned at the sight of her. "You may want to call off your watchdog."

"Tóg go bog é, a Shile," Nike laid a hand on the woman's shoulder, not taking her eyes off Ares. I didn't know the language but the meaning was clear.

Ares dropped to on knee and took one of Nike's hands in both of his own. He raised it to her lips and I gulped, hard. "Please, accept me as your humble guest." He didn't even try to keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice.

Nike narrowed her eyes, and I tensed up; this could get WAY ugly real fast. But the only smiled, a blatantly condescending smile. "Well, do try and behave yourself for a change," she sniffed, "I'm trying to have a good time."

Ares bowed mockingly, then sauntered over to where Strife and I were sitting. "Well, if it isn't Idas and Marpessa," he growled.

Peitho sneered at him. "Ares, knock it off. I've met Apollo, and believe me, you are no Apollo." He bared his teeth at her and she giggled and blew him a kiss.

The frozen hush that settled over the room thawed into renewed chatter. Ares glared at Cupid, who scooted over obligingly, then sat himself down next to me on the broad cushion. Strife tightened his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him.

Ares rolled his eyes. "Oh, will the two of you just RELAX!"

Strife didn't seem reassured... at least, he sure didn't 'relax' his grip on me. "So what exactly do you meant by 'Something that belongs to you', Unc?" He sounded different, real quiet but resolute.

Ares stared pointedly at the medallion around my neck, the one that wouldn't come off.

Himerus gasped, chuckling. "Oh, Ares, you DIDN'T!"

Peitho burst out laughing. "Oh that is so... so totally like you, man!" She peered at me more closely. "Oh shit, you DID!"

Zelos sniffed. "That's rotten, even for you, dude."

Oh, I was SO hating the sound of this! I leaned closer to Ares. "What's 'rotten even for you'?"

Ares grinned. "Oh, don't worry, it's an honor for you, really. And it's not as if it weren't too late for you to complain... after all, " he smirked, " 'Uh… Ares, I'm sorry I killed one of your worshippers. Um. Well, I suppose I'm not all that sorry that I killed him, but I'm sorry if it offended you. Anyway, here's his medallion, and I'll try and make it up to you somehow.'.... I don't recall you setting any conditions."

Ohhh... throwing my own words back at me was obnoxious enough, but he did it IN MY VOICE. Asshole.

But before I could start insisting upon an explanation, Nike was on her feet making a speech.

"As you all... well, ALMOST ALL,"she amended, with a glance in my direction, "know, this is the time when My worshippers vie the most desperately for My favor." Knowing laughter rippled through the assembled guests. "The offerings they render unto Me can be quite impressive." She gestured towards the still-heaping platters. "I'm sure those you have already reviewed have met with approval?" Hoots and cheers indicated that they had. This whole interchange had a ritualized feel, as if this went on in the same way year after year. "Then shall I bring forth the cream of the crop?" By the applause and catcalls I guessed that this was everyone's favorite part. Nike fluffed out her wings, smiling.

Apparently this was a cue of sorts. A few of Nike's servants dragged naked, bound captives into the room. The burly woman who apparently considered herself Nike's bodyguard led a chained shaven-headed scar-faced guy with muscles like a gladiator. A dark-eyed servant I hadn't seen before dragged a struggling blonde woman, soft and curvy, her wrists bound with coarse rope. Even Koren and Toren were doing their part, carrying a tall, skinny, pale guy who looked too scared to put up a fight. There were around ten people brought in. They all seemed to be in various degrees of shock and fear. Not that I could blame them. Nike walked up and down, looking them over. "I'm sure you're all very frightened," she said, in a completely unreassuring tone. "After all, you've all been defeated in battle, taken captive, and sacrificed to a Goddess of questionable mercy." She sure was showing a lot of teeth. "So, friends, what shall I do with them?"

"Sell `em to the Romans!"

"Cook `em in a stew!"

"Turn them into lawnchairs!"

"Make `em scrub the public latrines with their tongues!"

"Share them with us!"

"Share?" Nike made a show of appearing to consider it. "How many of you want me to share?"

Everyone cheered. Damn, even I cheered. Guess I was getting caught up in the moment.

"Wellll...." she drawled, "There's only a few of them, however will I do this fairly?"

One of the guests, a voluptuous woman with wine-colored curls, stood up. "Why, the same way we always do, Nike... we let me settle it." She made her way leisurely to where Nike was standing. As she did, I could see that although her teal gown was made of rich, heavy velvet, the hem was tattered and threadbare, and she wore battered, ancient-looking boots. "For when all is said and done, you are all at Fortune's mercy."

"Not that you have, any mercy, Tyche," Nike chuckled.

Tyche? So THIS was Lady Luck? She moved like a showoff, but there was a lot of stagger in her swagger. She looked like a gutter tramp who'd made a few good scores but on the whole had seen better days. I liked her already.

"I may not have any mercy, but I've brought enough astragali for everyone." Tyche opened a pouch at her belt and grabbed a handful of something. You... bookends... let's do your guy first."