The Gatehouse was a large sprawling stone building, standing solidly in the pass between Corinth and it's neighbouring lands. Its towers spiked towards the pewter grey snow filled skies like triumphant spears along a dragon's back, giving the building something of the appearance of a crouched and brooding beast. Its walls of black and blood red stone created a dark splash of colour against the grey walls of the mountain pass. No one could remember how long ago it had been built or by who or who had decided to turn it into a hostelry for travellers, but it had withstood weather, siege and war and had come to be regarded as neutral ground for the surrounding territories. Numerous peace treaties had been signed within its thick stone walls and an almost equal number of wars had been declared.

 As afternoon gathered into early evening, the building seemed to hunch down within the path, setting its stony face into the buffeting snow filled winds and approaching blizzard. In the taproom, the fires had been lit in the hearth and the cressets filled with oil or torches according to their function. Swags of greenery brought up from the valley decorated the room amid the colourful banners of the delegates and wafts of scent drifted from the kitchen every time the doors opened, filling the quiet empty room with the scent of roasting meats and thick rich stews. Outside the wind redoubled its efforts to get in, shrieking in frustration as it rattled the shutters and tore at the doors with invisible fingers.

Behind the counter, Pastius the innkeeper, rearranged the tankards for the umpteenth time and ignored the storm force winds, used to the temperamental weather. He looked around the room in satisfaction, once more checking that nothing was out of place. It had been a long time since peace negotiations had been held at the Gatehouse and it was the first time he had hosted so many important guests all at the same time. He had the Gatehouse's reputation to uphold and he was determined that everything would go well. Knowing how finicky some of the nobles could be he wanted to give them nothing to complain about.

The main door suddenly rattled violently on its hinges, shuddering as if something was pounding on it from outside. Pastius froze, staring at it in alarm. There were creatures in these mountains that sometimes roamed around the walls of the Gatehouse, leaving huge scars in the stone as they sought to get in and reach the tasty human morsels inside.  So far the ancient wards that protected the building had stood firm, but there was always a first time…

The door rattled again and was suddenly flung open crashing back against the wall as the blizzard swept gleefully inside with a torrent of snow and wind. No monster stood revealed however, but two figures clinging together in the teeth of the wind; their cloaks plastered against them by the force of the storm. The taller of the two was holding the other against his side and was carrying a couple of bags over one broad shoulder. "I need some help here!" he urged.

Pastius recovered quickly from his shock as soon as he realised it was no monster intruding on him, but guests. He emerged quickly from behind the counter, a big man shaped like a wedge with kind brown eyes. "Come in then and close the door," he urged.

The taller of the two dropped the bags and reached out to grab the door, releasing his smaller companion so he could force it shut against the wind. The smaller one swayed and sank floorwards. Pastius moved instinctively, long experience making him hurry forward to grab the man and sweep him back to his feet, hustling him towards the fireplace as he bellowed for assistance.

"Here, sit here now," he urged, settling the man onto the stone seat in the inglenook by the roaring fire. Unfocused blue eyes in a young but too pale face blinked at him from under the edge of the fur lined hood from which escaped a tangle of wet blond hair. "You've been out in the cold too long," Pastius scolded as he attempted to unwrap the sopping wet cloak from around him. "You need to get warm and dry…" He glanced up at the taller man as he loomed over them, swaying unsteadily. He looked no older than his companion did, also blue eyed but with strands of snow damp brown hair rather than blond plastered around a strong boned face. "You too…Sit down and get warm." Pastius waved him to a seat on the other side of the fire and then looked round for assistance as the young man slumped wearily onto the indicated seat. 

"Pastius?" one of the servants appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Bring the hot blankets and some stew for our guests," the innkeeper ordered briskly.

The servant nodded and disappeared again and Pastius turned back to his guests. "What brings you up here, travellers?" he asked carefully. Although their cloaks were of good cloth and lined with fur, neither young man struck Pastius as the rich type somehow. He directed his questions to the brown haired young man, suspecting that he was unlikely to get an answer from the blond until he had thawed out.

"The negotiations," the taller man answered. "I'm Hercules. That's Iolaus." Hercules leaned forward, hugging his cloak around him as he peered anxiously at his friend.  "Iolaus? Talk to me…"

"Where's your carriage?" Pastius worried, thinking they might have left horses outside. Obviously they were nobles if they had come for the negotiations.

"What carriage?" Hercules gave him a blank look. "We walked…"

"Walked?" Pastius echoed in astonishment. No one walked through the pass if they could help it. "In this weather?"

"It wasn't like this when we started out," Hercules mumbled lamely. He stretched out one hand to Iolaus, shaking his knee. "Iolaus?" There was no response; Iolaus merely stayed huddled unresponsively into the snow-smothered cloak Pastius was doing his best to peel him out of.

Pastius hesitated. He knew he should ask for their identification. He was supposed to turn away strangers during the negotiations, but he could hardly turn anyone away in this weather without killing them.  He put the thought to one side as his two servants hurried out with armfuls of fire warmed blankets.

"He's not even shivering," Hercules worried.

"And you're surprised? Take off that wet cloak. Are your clothes dry? No? Well, strip off and wrap yourself in the blankets…" Pastius busied himself stripping the cloak off Iolaus and tugging at the wet tunic underneath.  First things first, he would take care of his guests and make sure they didn't freeze. Then he would worry about whether who they were.

                                                            * * *

For Hercules the next few minutes passed in a blur of bustle as the innkeeper hustled them into a side room and saw to it that both he and Iolaus were stripped and dried and wrapped in heated wool blankets for warmth. With a mug of spiced ale in one hand, Hercules sat as close to Iolaus as he could get under the blankets, sharing his own body warmth with his friend and keeping him between him and the blazing fire in the hearth. He rarely felt the cold and for him to have the shivers was exceptional. So exceptional that it made him seriously worried about how Iolaus was feeling.

"So, how long do you think the snow will keep up?" he asked aloud, hoping to spark the hunter into making some kind of response.

"No telling," the servant watching them, replied as he stoked the fire even higher. "The stew should be ready soon. Shall I fetch you some?"

"That would be good, yes, please," Hercules said gratefully. The walk would have made him hungry even if the cold hadn't. He turned his attention to Iolaus as the servant bustled out. "Iolaus? How about you? Are you hungry?"

There was no response, only a slow confused blink as Iolaus looked at him as if he wasn't there.

"Ah hah!" the cry came from the doorway as a slender young man with copper brown shoulder length hair bounded into the room. "It is you! Pastius said there were new arrivals!"

"Aethalides!" Hercules greeted his fellow ex Argonaut with genuine pleasure. He half rose to his feet then settled back as he remembered Iolaus, reluctant to leave him.

 "Hi, Hercules," the herald said cheerfully as he padded over and leaned down to peer into Iolaus' face. "What have you been doing to Iolaus?"

"We walked up but it turned out to be colder than we expected."

"Why didn't you get the coach?" Aethalides puzzled, taking Iolaus' wrist in slim fingers and checking his pulse in concern. 

Hercules gritted his teeth. He had a feeling he was going to get fed up with people asking him that question. "We missed it," he said curtly.

"But there's two a day, you should have waited…." The herald paused warily under Hercules' glower. "Didn't anyone tell you that?"

"No, strangely enough, they didn't. Why do you think we walked?"

"Stupidity…" Iolaus mumbled groggily. "Sheer damn stupidity…"

"Iolaus, you’re back!" Hercules sighed in relief and hugged him tight to his side, earning himself an elbow in the ribs.

Iolaus peered up at him, his expression bewildered. "How'd we get here?"

"We walked…"

"Why?"

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Hercules sighed, glancing at Aethalides. "They told us there wouldn't be another carriage and we didn't want to miss the negotiations."

"You," Iolaus corrected. "It was definitely you - I think. I'm sure I said let's wait."

"They still said there wouldn't be another carriage," Hercules said sulkily.

"They lied," Iolaus pointed out, his eyes glazed with confusion. "I said they were lying to delay us. At least I think I did…." 

"Well, they failed then, didn't they," Hercules retorted smugly.

Iolaus gave him a puzzled frown and then turned his head away to peer up at Aethalides. Hercules watched him anxiously, surreptitiously tugging the blankets back around him. "Hey, hi…Aethalides?"

"Hi, Iolaus," Aethalides grinned at him. "You look like you should be tucked up in a nice warm bed."

"Um, that is you, is it? Not…?" Iolaus said warily.

"Yeah, it's me. You look half frozen."

"Oh…" Iolaus' frown deepened and he gave the mug Hercules pushed into his hand a puzzled look. "What….?"

"Don't ask. It's hot. Drink," Hercules urged anxiously, tucking the blanket more firmly around him. Iolaus half lifted one shoulder in a shrug then sipped the spiced ale, taking a larger swallow as the taste and heat got through to him.

The door was pushed open again, this time by Pastius holding it back for his servant with a tray of steaming stew bowls. "Ah, herald, would you care for some supper?" he said politely.

"I’d appreciate that, thank you. I'll join my friends here if you don't mind."

"Of course not, sir," Pastius assured him, glancing at Hercules and Iolaus. "I'm glad to see you awake, sir." Iolaus nodded to him vaguely, more interested in his ale than anything else. "Might I ask if you were expected?" Pastius went on cautiously. Since Aethalides seemed to know them and the herald was an invited guest, he felt on safer ground asking the strangers now.

"Oh, yeah, I didn't introduce us properly, did I?" Hercules mumbled, fishing under the blankets for Iolaus' free hand and holding it up to show his heavy gold ring with the ram seal on it. "We represent King Jason of Corinth," he explained.

"Ah, I see. My apologies then for not greeting you more formally." Pastius shot a chagrined look at the bowls as the servant put them on the table. If he had known the two young men were the Corinthian ambassadors he would have put out the best china instead of his travellers' ware. And this bedraggled young man was Hercules who he had heard so many tales about? Where was his famous lion skin?

"When you're half frozen, polite greetings don't matter much," Hercules replied amiably.  "You've been very kind."

"My pleasure, sirs. If you'll excuse me, I’ll go and make sure your rooms are ready," Pastius told him, nodding politely to Aethalides. "I'll have your meal sent in, herald."

Aethalides watched the innkeeper and his servant leave and then turned back to Hercules. "Did they really say there was no more carriages?" he asked uneasily.

Hercules nodded, shifting away from Iolaus to reach for the stew. He was starving. "I wouldn't have walked unless they had," he said firmly, ignoring Iolaus' under his breath muttering. He handed one of the bowls to his partner as Iolaus finished his ale and accepted the food in its place happily. The hunter still didn't seem quite focused, but his colour was improving gradually.

Aethalides started to pace the room, his hands folded behind his back. He was wearing a stylish deep blue himation fastened with a gold brooch over his black leather breeches and tunic and the soft cloth fluttered as he stalked up and down.

Hercules watched him uncertainly, in between devouring his stew and keeping one eye on Iolaus to check he was doing the same. Iolaus was eating slowly as if he wasn't quite sure why he was doing it and seemed half-asleep, but every bite was warmth he needed. "What's the matter?" the demi-god asked around a mouthful of shredded lamb and vegetables.

"Someone is out to ruin the negotiations," Aethalides told him gloomily.

"One act of malice doesn't mean anything," Hercules argued.

The herald paused and bit his lower lip. "Tell me, if it had been anyone except you deciding to walk, would they have made it?"

Hercules flicked a quick look at Iolaus and flushed in chagrin. "Well…" he began slowly.

Iolaus didn't even bother to look up. "No one else would have been that stupid," he snorted. "Most people would have listened to the weather warnings and stayed put."

Aethalides' worried expression lifted a little as his mouth quirked into a rueful smile. "I see you’re still arguing," he teased.

Iolaus shot a look at him from under his fringe. "That's because I'm still right and he's still wrong."

Hercules sighed heavily and rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "I'm sure it's only a misunderstanding," he told the Herald.

"I'm not," Aethalides' smile faded quickly. "There have been too many delays, too many obstacles getting in the way. Someone doesn't want these talks to take place. If I hadn't sent back up messages to the kings, Ethica wouldn't be represented. Their first confirmation never arrived and the Ethicans are really touchy about protocol."

"Messages do go astray," Hercules pointed out.

"Someone murdered the messenger," Aethalides said grimly then shut up as Pastius returned with a tray of delicate cups, his best wine and more stew - this time in a fancy bowl - all on a silver tray.

"The rooms are ready, sirs, and I have had your…luggage taken up for you," he announced politely as he set the tray down. "And if I may take the liberty of suggesting it, the baths are hot if you should wish to bathe after your…walk."

Hercules resisted the impulse to grin. Pastius was obviously having difficulties reconciling their positions with their looks.

"Sounds great," Iolaus murmured, setting down his empty stew bowl and pushing to his feet. "Lead me to it."

"Are you sure?" Hercules said quickly.

"Yeah. Why not? I'm cold and a hot bath sounds good after being dragged up that blasted mountain by someone whose name I won't mention."

Hercules glared at him, well aware of Aethalides' grin being hastily wiped away when he turned a scowl on him. "I'll see you upstairs then," he decided. "Don't stay in the water too long, you'll shrink."

"Oh ha ha," Iolaus snorted and turned his blue eyes on the innkeeper. "Ignore my friend. He has this strange idea he has a sense of humour. So, where's this bath?"

"This way, sir."

Hercules watched Iolaus follow the innkeeper out and then turned back to Aethalides. "Murdered? By who?" he demanded, returning to the subject.

Aethalides shrugged and sat down to sample his stew. "He was ambushed on the road, apparently by robbers. But all he had on him was the scroll and a few coins. He was a herald for crying out loud! No one robs a herald!"

Hercules held his tongue on that. Being a herald or a bard was not the absolute guarantee of safety that some people would like to think. "Even so…" he said slowly.

"I'm not a fool," Aethalides said sharply. "I'm not saying it never happens. But twice?"

"Twice?"

"A messenger returning to Corinth from Parthia with a reply was also set upon and murdered. Fortunately, Parthia sent a second message with details of who would be attending."

"Jason never mentioned this to us," Hercules observed darkly.

"It's only been recent," Aethalides explained. "Considering how much you and Iolaus move around, I wouldn't be surprised if they're still out looking for you."

"What about the other delegates?"

"Most of them arrived without any trouble," Aethalides admitted gratefully. "The Ethicans aren't here yet. Assuming they didn't change their minds and stay away they should be here soon. They should be coming up the other side of the pass. You and Iolaus are the last to arrive from this side of the mountain."

"It does sound a little suspicious," Hercules admitted slowly.

"A little suspicious?"

"There's no point jumping to conclusions. It could be coincidence."

"Or enemy action," Aethalides grumbled. "I promised Jason I’d keep this gathering peaceful and do my best to make a success of it. He's tired of the skirmishes along our borders. The last thing he wants to do is have to send out the army to deal with it, but if these negotiations don’t show at least some sign of improvement, then he's going to have no choice but to do exactly that. You've been there, Hercules, you know what his advisors are like. They’re pushing for an open show of force."

"I know," Hercules sighed ruefully. There was nothing like the Corinthian nobility for seeing insults in every shadow. It would be a matter of pride to them to stop the border raids, even if it meant declaring war on every surrounding city-state from Corinth to Athens. "But what makes Jason think Iolaus and I can make a difference?"

Aethalides smiled faintly. "You're both pretty good at supporting the cause of peace. Jason hopes between the three of us, we can persuade the others to see reason." He paused, looking up Hercules thoughtfully. "You do want to make peace, don't you?"

"You have to ask?" Hercules snorted.

Aethalides grinned, obviously starting to feel better now that he had the companionship and support of his friends. "Having three Argonauts here to support Jason makes for an impressive show," he said brightly. "Hopefully your presence will help stop any trouble before it starts. I'm sure that between us we can get them all to sit down and at least talk about it. I thought we could start with discussing trade agreements."

"We might be better off finding out what started the border raids," Hercules argued cautiously.

"Largely trade disagreements," Aethalides said swiftly. "I brought all the information we've gathered for you. I thought you might like to read up on it before the talks start tomorrow."

"That sounds like fun," Hercules muttered gloomily.

"Sorry?" Aethalides grinned innocently.

"No you’re not," the demi-god grumbled, reaching for the wine. "When do we meet the other delegates?"

"Well, when the Ethicans arrive, we'll have a little cocktail party in the banquet room."

"This place has a banquet room?" 

"You’d be amazed how big the Gatehouse is," Aethalides told him, settling back to sip his wine. "There's a whole warren of rooms, secret passages and corridors. Parts of it are so old no one remembers when they were built."

"Sounds like somewhere you can get lost easily."

"According to Pastius people have gotten lost here in the past. It's even supposed to be haunted…"

"What a surprise."

"You know, Hercules, you’re starting to sound a little bit tetchy."

The demi-god looked at him irritably over the top of his goblet. "Gosh, really? I can't think why."

"Walking up a mountain in a blizzard maybe and nearly getting your bits frozen off?"

 "That'd do it, yeah." Hercules grimaced. "Especially with Iolaus complaining every step of the way."

"You have to admit he had good reason to," Aethalides pointed out dryly.

"Which is why I didn't pound him into a paste. I am really going to have to go some to make it up to him." Hercules shook his head and smiled ruefully. "One little mistake and you pay and you pay and you pay…"

A polite but brisk rap at the door announced Pastius' arrival. He pushed the door open as Aethalides hailed him and stepped inside, bowing to the herald. "Forgive the intrusion, herald, but the Ethicans have arrived."

"At last!" Aethalides pushed eagerly to his feet. "What kind of mood are they in?"

"Far be it from me to offer an opinion, sir."

"That good, huh? Come on, Hercules, I think I need back up."

                                                            * * *

Hercules' first impression when they entered the main taproom was that a flock of birds had exploded. All he could see was a dazzling display of colour; not all of which matched or that he would have described as fashionable. Not that he knew much about fashion, but he could tell the difference between style and, well, whatever the Ethicans had. Tunics and breeches of blues and reds and greens, of purples, greys and black with an overlay of gold thread and sparkly bits. Jewellery glittered from every ear and neck and finger and feathers bobbed all over the place from weirdly wrapped silk hats. 

Aethalides inhaled sharply, his own stylishly refined senses somewhat taken aback by the lavish display of costly cut and fabric. Then he rallied and forged forward, aiming for the tall supercilious man in the centre of the crowd. "My Lord Orides, I presume?"

"By Zeus, you presume correctly," the Ethican replied, fluttering a brightly coloured blue and green feathered fan in front of his face. "This is Ambassador Neman." He inclined his head to a slightly older man who was somewhat less lavishly dressed that Orides himself. Neman bowed slightly and said nothing, his dark hooded eyes oddly sleepy. "And you are?" Orides continued.

"Aethalides, my Lord. I have the honour of being King Jason's host. This is Hercules of Thebes." Aethalides beckoned Hercules forward urgently and the demi-god came somewhat sheepishly to his side. There weren't as many of the Ethicans as he had thought at first. Only two servants apart from Lord Orides and Ambassador Neman themselves.

Orides extended a hand to Hercules that was weighed down by costly rings. The demi-god took it and shook it cautiously, uncertain whether or not he was supposed to kiss it or not. The noble looked him slowly up and down as he drew his hand free of his grip. He didn't seem to be impressed. "Hercules? I seem to have heard that name before somewhere…" 

"Hercules represents King Jason along with Iolaus of Thebes," Aethalides said quickly.

"Something to do with boats me thinks…" Orides mused.

"I was an Argonaut," Hercules explained easily. 

"Ah, I see….That explains why a Theban is here."

Hercules gritted his teeth as the man's tone rubbed his nerves the wrong way and silently made a bet with himself how long he would be able to resist the urge to punch him out. Orides implied not only favouritism but insulted Thebes too.

The noble turned away before he could say anything however, looking for Pastius as he hovered in the background. "Ah, there you are. Your finest suite my good man." 

Hercules rolled his eyes at Aethalides at being abruptly ignored and sipped the wine he had brought with him.

"I have the Acanthus Suite already prepared," Pastius assured him.

"The Acanthus Suite? Oh no, that really won't do," Orides exclaimed. "I want the best. The Olympian Suite naturally."

"I'm afraid that isn't possible, sir," Pastius answered apologetically. "It is already occupied."

"Occupied? Nonsense! You will have to tell whoever is in there to move immediately."

Pastius shot an anxious look at Aethalides then seemed to pull himself together and drew himself up to his full impressive height; his obsequious manner fading. "I'm afraid that is impossible, my Lord. I'm sure you will be quite comfortable in the Acanthus Suite. It's been recently redecorated and is the very best of rooms."

Orides was flushing furiously. "This is intolerable. I demand…"

"I am very sorry, my lord," Pastius dared to interrupt him.

"I expect the best. My rank…"

"I appreciate your rank, my lord. But on this occasion you are out ranked."

"By who?" Orides very nearly screeched.

"Hercules and Iolaus, my lord."  Hercules nearly choked on his wine. Aethalides hid a smirk behind one hand and Pastius continued smoothly while Orides was still spluttering in shock. "One of the traditions of the Gatehouse is that the Olympian Suite can only be occupied by any visiting heroes. It is in fact a royal command that has not been broken since the house was built. I would not dare to defy the custom, my lord."

"Orides, be reasonable," Neman said quietly. "We are I believe the last to arrive thanks to the blizzard."

"Merely fashionable late…" Orides sniffed, closing his fan with a snap.

"And an excellent suite has been reserved for us. It would be churlish to force others to stand aside. And we would not want to insult anyone, now would we?"

Orides gave him a slow, disdainful look and sniffed again. "Very well, so be it. We shall accept your offer, innkeeper.  Let us see this suite of yours."

"If you would be so kind as to come this way then, sirs." Pastius bowed lavishly to them and led the way from the main room. Orides stalked after him after a disapproving look at Hercules and Aethalides.

"My apologies," Neman murmured, bowing to the ex Argonauts. "It has been a long trip and we are both tired."

"Neman! Don't dawdle, man!" Orides called impatiently. 

"Coming, Orides," Neman answered with a rueful smile and hurried after him. The servants followed, staggering under a coachload of luggage. As the last of them disappeared into the depths of the house, Iolaus trotted in. Newly washed and with his hair still curling damply from his hot bath, he looked a lot warmer and happier.

"So, who blew up the mosaic makers?" he asked cheerfully, inclining his head after the new arrivals.

"Those are the Ethicans," Aethalides told him.

"And apparently we beat them to the best suite," Hercules observed. "Is what Pastius said true?"

"About the royal command and the hero thing? Yes…"

"So how come you didn't get it?"

"Me? Hey, you and Iolaus have got an excuse; you’re real live heroes. If I took it as Jason's host, there'd be trouble with the other delegates. But you guys can get away with it without making anyone jealous."

"Apart from Orides," Hercules pointed out.

Aethalides shrugged. "Everyone's equal at the Gatehouse. Now, come on and I’ll show you to your suite. You'll want to get ready for the party."

"Did someone mention a party?" Iolaus perked up.

"You need to lie down," Hercules grunted.

"Fat chance," Iolaus retorted. "Not when everyone else is having fun."

                                                            * * *

"But why do I have to wear these?" Hercules complained an hour later as he posed dubiously in front of the antique bronze mirror in the corner of his room. On Jason's behalf Aethalides had seen to it that both Hercules and Iolaus would have decent outfits to wear so they wouldn't feel uncomfortably out of place among the rich noble delegates. Hercules was of the opinion that Jason had always had a nasty streak in him and it was showing in the way he had let his tailor choose the clothes he sent. "These breeches are way too tight!"

Lolling across the sapphire blue satin quilt on Hercules' four poster bed, Iolaus yawned behind one hand as he studied his friend's outfit of black silk breeches and a deep red tight fitting tunic that exposed the sleeves of the black silk shirt underneath the tunic. Elegant scrolls of gold embroidery enhanced both items. The clothes contrived to show off the demi-god's height and muscles to his best advantage. "I have to admit they do show off your….attributes," the hunter observed with a wicked grin, absent-mindedly plucking at a loose strand of gold embroidery on the quilt.

"I won't be able to fight in these," Hercules continued indignantly, kicking at the black furs on the floor and certain he heard a seam creak in response.

"It's supposed to be a peace conference, Herc, you shouldn't have to."

"Even so…." Hercules paused abruptly, staring down at the length of his long legs then peering suspiciously into the mirror. "My attributes?" he squeaked in chagrin. 

"S L O W," Iolaus mused, sitting up cross-legged on the bed. He was wearing deep purple breeches and matching waistcoat over a turquoise shirt with silver embroidery picking out the hems. A silver buckle clasped the waistcoat, displaying the silk shirt underneath.

"I can't wear this!" Hercules wailed.

"You'll hurt Jason's feelings."

"He won't know unless you tell him."

"And you'll upset Aethalides in front of the guests."

"Iolaus! This tunic is too short!"

"Don’t whine," Iolaus scolded. "You look very….nice. Don't be such a prude!"

Hercules swung around and glared at him. "I am not a prude!" he roared, blushing furiously.

"Yeah, right."

"And I am not whining!"

"He whined…"

"Iolaus!"

Iolaus snorted and bounded lithely to his feet. Standing beside Hercules, he studied his own reflection critically. "We look okay. At least we're not going to look out of place."

Hercules moaned softly. He wasn't used to such an open display of his legs, not to mention other parts of his anatomy. He was used to a layer of good solid leather between him and the world.

"And don't hunch your shoulders like that," Iolaus scolded.

"But the tunic's too short and the breeches are too tight."

"Looking like you've got a Hydra stuffed up your back won't improve things."

"Why can't I wear my leathers?" Hercules begged.

"Because they make you look like you escaped from Tartarus," Iolaus said flatly. "Now, come on. We are not going to be the last ones arriving."

"But, Iolaus…."

"You’re whining again. Come on, if you can face fighting a Hydra you can face one little party like a hero."

Iolaus stalked towards the doors and Hercules reluctantly tagged after him. "You could go and say I was tired," he suggested hopefully. Iolaus gave him a level stare. "No?"

"No." Iolaus flung open the door and pointed. "Go on, get."

Hercules slunk past him, certain he was going to make a complete and utter fool of himself. "And if I do it’ll be your fault," he muttered at his partner.

"What?" Iolaus said suspiciously.

"Nothing, Iolaus." Hercules gave him a sweet smile, then bravely straightened his shoulders and stepped out. If he was going to be forced into the lion's lair, then he'd go in with his head held high.

                                                            * * *

"Hercules, this is Iocastus of Parthia," Aethalides announced, introducing Hercules to yet another of the ambassadors. There were so many of them that the demi-god had completely lost track of them as one face blended into another. Iocastus was a tall good-looking older man with dark hair worn in a tight page boy type style. He was dressed elegantly but in discreet good taste; unlike the Ethicans who were even more flamboyant now that they had changed out of their 'travelling clothes'. "Iocastus, this is Hercules the demi-god." Aethalides had learned caution in his introductions. Most of the delegates were snobs. Before he could go on however, he was interrupted as voices were raised on the other side of the banqueting room where the Caspians seemed to be taking exception to the Ethicans monopolising the punch bowl in between unexpected bouts of coughing. "If you'll excuse me…."

"Oh, quite, quite.…" Iocastus waved and airy hand and Aethalides hurried off  to smooth the commotion.

Hercules took the hand the ambassador extended to him with a polite smile. "I'm very pleased to meet you, ambassador."

"Enchanted, I'm sure," Iocastus assured him, turning Hercules' hand over and placing a delicate kiss on the back of his fingers. His brown eyes zipped approvingly over the demi-god's body and then burned into Hercules' own eyes. "Perhaps we could get together later and…discuss certain weighty matters?"

Good manners meant Hercules didn't quite snatch his fingers away from him but his smile curdled rapidly around the edges. "I don't believe that private discussions would be considered proper etiquette," he managed to say without stammering. 

"Oh, quite," Iocastus' smile lingered on his sensual lips. His eyes slipped away from him to Iolaus as the blond hunter innocently strolled over to join them. "I quite understand. Perhaps you and your friend Iolaus would both care to join me then? I wouldn't dream of leaving such a fine young man out of our discussions." 

"Er, no," Hercules protested hastily.

"Tsk, surely you're not jealous of him, sir? Come now, a little wine, a little good food…"

Sipping his wine from a blue glass goblet, Iolaus looked up at Hercules enquiringly as he stood beside him, wondering what he was missing out on.

"Some candlelight, a fire…." Iocastus purred on.

Iolaus choked on his wine and Hercules slapped him helpfully on the back. "No, thank you, but no," Hercules babbled. "We had a rough trip up the mountain and Iolaus needs to rest."

"Oh," Iocastus pouted in disappointment. "Perhaps later then? When you have recovered, sir?"

Iolaus swallowed and waved one hand breathlessly in a desperate signal to Hercules. "I think he needs to sit down," Hercules said quickly.

"Ah, yes, quite. He does look a little flushed," Iocastus observed with a touch of concern. Actually Iolaus was blushing in a combination of embarrassment and shocked outrage. "Until later then…"

Hercules smiled weakly and hustled Iolaus away from the Parthian, steering him around a couple of stray Caspians to a free punch bowl.  He grabbed two silver cups, filled both and thrust one into Iolaus' hand before he lifted the other to his lips.

"Herc, I wouldn't…."

Hercules downed the punch in one gulp then started coughing wildly as it hit the back of his throat with a vengeance. "Gods, what is in that?" he managed to wheeze. 

"No idea, but apparently, it's an authentic Corinthian recipe," Iolaus soothed. "You want me to get you some water?"

Hercules shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes. Slowly a thoughtful expression crossed his face and he refilled the cup, taking a smaller sip this time. "You know it's not that bad…kind of fruity…"

"Like the Parthian?" Iolaus suggested dryly.

"Don't even joke about it." Hercules took another hasty mouthful, barely wincing this time as it went down. "Almost smooth," he managed huskily.

Iolaus grinned. "So smooth you could strip paint with it," he observed.

Hercules nodded, cradling his cup in large hands and taking a slow look around the banquet hall. "Do you remember who half of these people are?" he asked quietly.

"Nope," Iolaus admitted cheerfully.

"Great. So we’re supposed to make nice with a bunch of people we don’t even know?"

"So what else is new?" Iolaus propped a hip against the table and surveyed the crowd with him. "As long as you don't get too friendly with the Parthian…"

"Oh, very funny," Hercules growled.

"It's probably you showing off your attributes that attracted him," Iolaus teased.

"Don't go there," Hercules warned, glowering at him.

"I really don't want to. Trust me." Hercules took a quick swipe at him that Iolaus dodged easily. The hunter grinned at him mischievously and fluttered his dusky gold eyelashes.  "You can always tell him we’re an item," he giggled.

Hercules gave him a sober look. "Don't think I won't consider it," he said and had the satisfaction of seeing the look of disconcerted shock cross his partner's face.

"Oh, there you are," Aethalides said in relief as he came up and helped himself to a cup of punch. After he had recovered his breath, he took a second sip, "So that's what they were on about…smooth…" he gasped.

"Maybe it's being a demi-god," Iolaus mused, staring at him in disbelief.

"What is?" Hercules asked.

"Liking something that tastes worse than Hydra hide. You guys have no taste."

"Since when have you ever tasted a Hydra?" Hercules asked sweetly.

Iolaus gave him a dirty look. "Ah, go flash your attributes at the Parthian."

"And how much of the Corinthian have you drunk?" Hercules shot back.

Aethalides laughed, his green gaze ever alert as he kept an eye on the gathering. "Things seem to be going fairly well," he said tentatively.

"The Caspians and the Ethicans nearly came to blows a few minutes ago," Iolaus pointed out.

The Herald smirked at him. "Simply solved. I ordered another bowl of punch from Pastius. I must admit, it does pack quite a punch…"

"That was a pun," Iolaus said disdainfully.

"I know, I'm a Herald," Aethalides' smirk blossomed into a huge grin of genuine warmth. "Gods, it's so to see you two. I'm so glad you’re here! I was having nightmares about having to cope with this lot on my own."

Hercules rested one hand lightly on his shoulder. "Trust me, the first one who steps out of line I’ll snap in two," he assured him solemnly. "You point them out to me…"

"Er…" Aethalides quailed slightly.

"That was a joke, Aethalides," Hercules told him.

"Oh, right," the Herald smiled weakly. "I knew that."

Iolaus sipped his punch and shook his head, his blond curls bouncing. "So, what do we do now?" he asked curiously, flagging down a passing servant with a silver tray of titbits. Handing his cup to Hercules to hold, he helped himself to a plate and a handful of fancy pastries. "Do we circulate? Or stand here looking suspicious but pretty?"

"Actually, I'm about to seal the wards," Aethalides told them seriously.

"What wards?" Hercules asked sharply as Iolaus munched a pastry and looked at the Herald curiously.

"The Gatehouse has magic spells built into its walls. I know the incantations to activate some of the wards to protect it. Once I seal the wards, no one will be able to leave or enter the building."

"No one?" Hercules echoed, feeling a tingle of unease run down his back.

"No one," Aethalides confirmed. "Not even me. Once they’re up, they will hold until the time limit on the spell is up."

"Sounds kind of tricky," Hercules said doubtfully.

"It's traditional," Aethalides assured him. "It ensures that these negotiations remain safe, peaceful and uninterrupted. If there are any saboteurs, they'll have lost their chance to get at the delegates."

"Unless they’re already inside," Iolaus murmured.   Two pairs of eyes turned on him in alarm. "What? I was only saying…."

Aethalides glanced uneasily as Hercules. "Jason told me about the prophecy spell on him…"

"It was an accident and I don't do prophecy any more," Iolaus said sharply. "And don't talk about me as if I'm not here!"

"Sorry, Iolaus," Aethalides apologised contritely. "But that did sound…"

"What?"

Iolaus glared at him belligerently and Aethalides wisely backed off. He had known the warrior too long not to know when to retreat. Muttering under his breath, Iolaus turned his back on them in a huff and stalked off, heading for the buffet table.

"I'm sorry, but he's still a little touchy about that," Hercules said quietly.

"I noticed," Aethalides said wryly.

"He had a rough time," Hercules rumbled protectively.

Aethalides looked at him thoughtfully and smiled. "Still looking out for each other, hmmh?"

Hercules sighed and reminded himself to loosen up. "I guess," he admitted then scowled. "Why didn't you warn me about Iocastus?"

"Warn you about what?"

"The man was all but drooling over me."

"Oh…" Aethalides blushed.

"Oh? Oh?! Is that all you have to say?!"

"Not so loud," Aethalides hushed him hastily. "I didn't expect him to….well, you're not…"

"Not what?" Hercules grumbled darkly.

"I didn't think you were his type."

"Apparently I am."

"Obviously."

"You’d better keep him away from me, Aethalides. Otherwise someone will get hurt. Probably him."

"Point taken," Aethalides agreed warily.

Hercules glared at him for a moment longer and then smiled ruefully, relaxing again. "Want to finish introducing me around then? Only no more Parthians, please…"

Over by the buffet table, Iolaus was nibbling on a chicken leg and absently listening to the conversations around him. The spectacular attributes of the statuesque Caspian ambassador drew the eye of every man around her. Her long hair was the colour of best honey and was fastened up into an intricate arrangement of curls atop her head to show off her slender neck. Her almond shaped eyes were a deep golden brown with hints of green. She was wearing a long gown of rich royal blue that hugged her upper figure but swept out into full skirts from her hips. She was talking to Ambassador Neman who was holding a vase tucked close against him.

"No, Madam Astrid, I can assure you that it isn't Greek at all," Neman was saying as he placed the vase carefully on the table beside him. Iolaus eased closer, drawn by his curiosity into taking a closer look at the object of their conversation. The vase was about forearm's length and of a soft golden hue in colour. The vase was made of some kind of marbled stone, with a narrow neck and seemed to be intricately carved on the inside, although Iolaus couldn't see how anyone could have done so.

"Where then did you get it? It's really quite lovely." Ambassador Astrid had a voice as lovely as her look; warm honey that could make a man melt.

"It has been in the Ethican treasury for some time. I have been studying it in an effort to determine its origins," Neman replied, sounding reluctant to discuss it in too much detail. "His majesty the King decided that it would make a suitable token of our esteem to King Jason of Corinth to show our appreciation for arranging these talks."

Astrid gave him a thoughtful look. "You do not agree?"

"Of course I agree, madam. He is after all my king." Neman cast a suspicious look on Iolaus as he reached out a fingertip to the vase, drawn to touch it without knowing why. The stone felt warm under his fingers.

"It looks Egyptian," Iolaus guessed.

"I really have no idea."

"I thought you were studying it."

"I am. But I have no answers yet. Please don't touch it. It is very valuable."

"Then why didn't you leave it in your rooms?" Iolaus wondered.

"The servants," Neman said simply.

"Neman doesn't trust our servants, clumsy oafs he calls them. Let alone the peasants at this inn," Lord Orides commented as he came up behind his fellow Ethican. He smiled at Astrid who gazed back at him coolly as he looked her over speculatively. "He's carried the thing all the way here personally. Won't let it out of his sight. Ridiculous really. Even sleeps with it under his pillow."

"It's very valuable," Neman muttered, shooting a hostile look at the noble.

No love lost there, Iolaus thought wryly, unsure whether to look at her or the vase. The Caspian ambassador was older than he had thought at first, not that he found that any problem. Beauty was beauty after all and Ambassador Astrid was one of those women who would never lose hers.

"Why, sir, do you think someone would steal it from you?" Astrid teased.

"Yes," Neman said grimly, hesitated, then qualified, "And it would be terribly insulting to Corinth if someone was to steal it before it could be presented to the King."

"I represent Corinth," Iolaus said without thinking. "You could give it to me."

Neman gave him a horrified look. "What? Now?"

"Why not?" Iolaus wanted to get his hands on the vase, but he really couldn't have explained why. It was like a hunger. "I'll look after it for you then you wouldn't have to worry about keeping it safe."

"Oh, I don't think that would be proper," Neman blurted and made a wild grab for the vase. In his haste, his hands were clumsy and he knocked it flying.

Iolaus caught it instinctively; his reflexes honed sharp enough to catch it before it could shatter to pieces on the tiled floor. For a moment the vase rested warm and weighty in his hands, almost melting into his touch. He gazed at it in awe, amazed by the way the pattern of figures seemed to dance under the stone, gliding into each other as if there was a living golden light inside it. Then Neman snatched the vase from his hands and the spell was broken, leaving Iolaus with a momentary feeling of being bereft that faded abruptly before a sense of acute danger. "What's in it?" Iolaus blurted without thinking.

"Wine," Neman snapped. "That's all, only vintage wine."

"Really? Perhaps we could sample some…" Iolaus urged, startled at his own words and his eagerness to see inside the vase.

"I do not think so…" The Ethican was hugging the vase tightly to his chest, folding his long flowing sleeves of emerald silk around it as if he wished to hide it from view. Orides stared at him irritably.

"Really, Neman, you grow more clumsy all the time," he sniffed.

"My apologies, my lord. The long journey has obviously tired me more than I thought," Neman burbled, spreading his fingers across the vase almost lovingly.  He turned dark eyes on Iolaus, a dangerous spark bubbling in their depths. "I will present the vase to King Jason and only King Jason," he said icily. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go and rest."

"What a rude man," Astrid observed, glaring after him.

"Oh, let me make it up to you, madam ambassador," Orides purred. "I can assure you that we aren't all so uncouth."

Astrid gazed at him coolly for a long moment, then laid her fingers on Iolaus' arm. "Quite unnecessary, my lord," she replied. "Ambassador, I believe we were going to sample the punch?"

Iolaus was bewildered, but recovered rapidly. "Oh, of course. This way, madam…" He led her away from the fuming Ethican, feeling his eyes boring into his back every step of the way.

"Overbearing pompous twit," Astrid muttered under breath.

"I trust you don't mean me, madam," Iolaus murmured.

"No. Orides. The man's a moron." The Ambassador smiled at Iolaus. "Thank you for your rescue, ambassador-?"

Iolaus introduced himself as they reached the fruit punch and he filled a cup for her. "The vase is lovely though."

"Yes, isn't it. I felt quite drawn to it. I collect antiques, you know. Why the things I could show you…" Her eyes glowed as she looked him over and Iolaus got the feeling she wasn't talking about antiques. "Egyptian, you think?"

"Huh?" Iolaus did a double take and dragged his mind back on course. Her hot-eyed gaze was making him uncomfortable. "Er, yes. It looked similar to some pieces I've seen," he admitted awkwardly.

"Ah, you have travelled then?"

"You could say that," Iolaus said mildly.

Astrid studied him with new interest. "If you'll excuse me saying so, I do not believe you are Corinthian? Your accent…."

"No, I'm from Thebes. But then King Jason is from Iolcus not Corinth."

"Quite," Astrid seemed not so much amused as fascinated by the young man. "So, tell me, are you one of the famous Argonauts?"

Iolaus felt himself starting to blush. "I have that honour, yes," he mumbled.

Astrid smiled again and linked her arm through his. "You must tell me all about the voyage. There are so many tales told that one doesn't know quite what to believe."

"Most of them are true. Exaggerated, but true…" Iolaus told her, well aware that she was making a flirtatious effort to charm him.

"My lords and ladies, if I might have your attention, please? It is approaching midnight…" Aethalides' voice carried clearly over the noise of conversation. He hadn't been trained as a bard and herald in Athens for nothing. He waited patiently with Hercules hovering at his side until silence fell and every eye turned towards their host to see what he wanted. Iolaus murmured a polite excuse me to the Caspian Ambassador and slipped away from her side to join his partner.

"Found someone to flirt with already?" Hercules hissed at him impatiently.

"She's flirting with me," Iolaus corrected waspishly. "And at least she's female."

Hercules gave him a filthy look and then with deliberate disdain turned his attention back to Aethalides. But he noticed Iolaus lick a fingertip and silently score up a point to himself.

"As you are all aware by agreeing to attend these negotiations, you have agreed to accept the rules of the Gatehouse. I therefore declare that anyone who wishes to do so, must leave now as I am about the seal the wards."

"The wards?" Mollius from Cyrene pressed forward, frowning suspiciously.

"There is a magical impenetrable barrier that surrounds the Gatehouse. Under normal circumstances it remains neutral, but when negotiations are held or the house comes under attack, the wards can be raised and the house sealed. Once this is done no one will be able to leave or enter until midnight two days from now."

"Two days?" a Cochean woman in vibrant red satin gasped.

Aethalides inclined his head graciously.  "Yes, Ambassador Dulcina, that is correct. I believe it will give us plenty of time to finalise the treaty."

"But what if one has to leave before then?" Mollius protested.

"As I said, you will be unable to do so," Aethalides said patiently.

"But what if we don't finalise the treaty?" Orides complained.

"Once the wards open you will be free to leave," the Herald answered.

"This is intolerable! We will be little more than captives! No doubt you plan to murder us all!" the Ethican squawked.

"Why in Tartarus would they want to do that?" Iocastus sniffed, wafting a fan delicately in front of his face. "Why, these wards will simply ensure our privacy and allow us all to get to know each other much better. Where is the harm in that?" He purred, gazing longingly at Hercules.

Iolaus moved beside his partner and prodded the demi-god in the ribs. "He's winking at you, Herc," he whispered.

Blushing and scowling, Hercules very deliberately kept looking the other way. "As Aethalides said, anyone who wishes to do so may leave now," he said pointedly, hoping the Parthian would take the hint.

"Of course, that would mean any treaties made without you wouldn't include you," Iolaus murmured, loud enough to be heard. "And that could be a little embarrassing back at the old palace…"

Hercules glanced at him and grinned. For someone whose usual idea of diplomacy was reasoning with someone at sword point, the demi-god thought Iolaus was doing pretty well.

"If anyone wishes to leave could you please move towards the doors now?" Aethalides asked calmly. "We can delay the ceremony for a few more minutes until you are outside."

"In this weather?" the Cochean Ambassador exclaimed, clutching her long fur robe closer in dismay.

"You can wait in the stables while the coaches are made ready," Aethalides assured her.

"How simply dreadful," the Cochean exclaimed.

"Insulting," Orides agreed, sliding up beside her and looking sympathetic.

"Oh, do pull yourself together, Dulcina," Astrid snapped impatiently. "You know perfectly well you have no intention whatsoever of leaving before you have the best possible treaty you can get for Colchea. No one is fooled by your shrinking flower routine anymore. We all know what a sand shark you are."

"Well, really!" Ambassador Dulcina sniffed. "At least I don't sleep with my prey. Sampled any handsome young men recently or are they running too fast for you these days?"

Hercules turned his head and gave Iolaus a slow old-fashioned grin. Iolaus flushed and suddenly found the toes of his boots absolutely fascinating. "Told you she was flirting with me," he mumbled in chagrin.

Aethalides shifted in embarrassment. The last thing he wanted was for the delegates to start fighting. "Does anyone wish to leave?" he asked loudly and pointedly. There was a low murmur of voices but no one moved towards the doors. "I assume then that I have you acceptance in sealing the wards then?" There was another low murmur and a few reluctant nods of agreement.

"This isn't going to hurt, is it?" Mollius asked warily.

"Some of the more sensitive among you may feel a slight sensation, but that is all," Aethalides assured him kindly. "Hercules? Iolaus? If I might have your assistance?"

"You’re asking the Thebans to help you?" Orides exclaimed.

Aethalides glared at him, showing a flash of the temper he usually held well restrained. "I am asking two old and trusted friends for their assistance," he replied as icily as any prince could be. "The raising of the wards requires a certain amount of power that I know my fellow Argonauts have. We have done magic together in the past."

"Oh, I'm sure you have," Orides sneered, looking down his nose at Iolaus and slender Aethalides before sliding a knowing look at Iocastus. 

"Can I hit him now?" Iolaus hissed at Hercules as the demi-god closed a large and powerful hand over his.

"No, you can't," Aethalides snapped, taking the hunter's other hand.

"Yeah, you don’t want to upset the Ambassadors," Hercules scolded.

"Actually, I was planning on turning him into a frog later," the Herald murmured. Hercules and Iolaus both gave him a startled look.

"Your magic's improved that much?" Hercules asked, awed.

"Nah. Wishful thinking. Ready?"

"Oh, do stop whispering and get on with it," Orides sniffed impatiently. "I grow bored."

"Or maybe a toad," Aethalides sighed as he linked hands with Hercules.

"How about a toadstool?" Iolaus suggested.

"A fungus?"

"No…." Iolaus purred, his blue eyes widening wickedly.

"You are evil, Iolaus, very, very, evil," Aethalides grinned at him. "Now, concentrate on my words and say nothing." He paused, took a deep breath and shifted into the deep melodious tone he used for recitations, "I call on the ancient spirit of the Gatehouse, on that most ancient guardian that sleeps within these walls…."

Nothing seemed to happen at first, but as Aethalides continued, a breeze seemed to spring up around them, swirling in little whirlwinds around their ankles, tugging at a tunic here, a fluttering cape there….

"I call in the name of Hermes, guardian of roads, guardian of travellers. I call on that spirit which dwells within and around us to raise the walls that will protect from within and without."

As Aethalides squeezed their hands tight and pulled them towards him the air started to tingle. Hercules felt a prickle on his skin as if someone had brushed his hair the wrong way. Beside him, Iolaus shuddered all over as if something had run an icy finger down his back then looked round nervously as if looking for something.

"In the name of Hermes, I seal this ward and close the Gatehouse to the outside world."

A vast weight suddenly seemed to descend on them, as if they had dropped into the ocean depths. Feeling deafened, Hercules opened his mouth instinctively and swallowed hard even as the pressure lifted again, leaving them all feeling weightless for a split second.

Aethalides blinked sleepily, his expression dreamy and sated. "The wards are closed," he murmured in a low seductive purr. "What a rush…."

Hercules caught him as the Herald's knees buckled, supporting him as the delegates looked on curiously. Iolaus darted off into the crowd and returned with a cup of punch that Hercules held to the Herald's lips and urged him to sip.

Aethalides wheezed a bit and then took a grip on the cup for himself. "Smooth…" he croaked as he straightened up.

"The Corinthian?" Hercules asked darkly.

Iolaus shrugged and smiled innocently. "I figured he needed something stronger than the fruit punch," he said lightly, his smile wavering a little. "Herc, did you feel…?"

"Not now," Hercules hushed him. "Aethalides? You okay now?"

"Hmmh?" Aethalides gave him a dreamy look, then pulled himself together. "I felt something go through me…"

"I do so not want to hear that," Iolaus muttered.

Aethalides focused on him and smiled slowly. "No, it's all right, Iolaus. It was friendly. The wards are raised. Don't you feel it?"

Iolaus looked around him uncertainly, then at Hercules.

"It feels…muffled," Hercules said slowly. "Enclosed…"

"Yes, that's it. A nice safe feeling, isn't it?" Aethalides chirped. "Ladies and gentlemen, I am happy to say that the wards are up and the negotiations can begin. But first, let us finish enjoying our supper and then sleep on it. We can begin renewed and refreshed…"

As Aethalides talked, bringing the party back to life, Hercules drew Iolaus to one side. "You felt something?" he queried.

Iolaus nodded uneasily. "Something that felt…ancient and…curious…."

"Yeah," Hercules looked around them and draped one arm across Iolaus' shoulders. "The Gatehouse has been here so long that it has to be seeped in magic. Maybe some part of it is, well, alive."

"That's kind of fanciful for you," Iolaus teased.

"You got a better explanation? You know exactly what I mean."

"I guess…. It kind of felt like a puppy, a big dumb puppy that wants us to like it."

"Not dangerous then?"

"I don't think so. Did you think it was?"

"No," Hercules admitted. "And Aethalides seems to have…. enjoyed it."

Iolaus snorted. "He looks like he got rolled in the hay."

"Yeah, Scary, isn't it? Guess we'd better carry on mingling…" Hercules sighed as Aethalides signalled at them urgently.

"Do we have to? I'm kind of tired."

Hercules braked sharply and stared down at him. "What?"

Iolaus gave him a sheepish look. "I guess getting half frozen is starting to get to me, after all."

"Oh, rub it in, why don't you?!"

"And I think I’d like to avoid Ambassador Astrid. I'm not in the mood to be another notch on her bedpost. Especially if her idea of conversation afterwards is discussing the antiques she's collected."

Hercules considered this. "She's probably hoping to influence you into favouring Caspia in the negotiations. Jason will take our advice on what to do."

"What do you think the Parthian's doing then?"

Hercules blushed. "I've no idea," he grumbled.

"Maybe it's your body he wants?"

"Iolaus…" Hercules rumbled.

"I know. Shut up. I'm going to bed."

"Want me to come with you?"

"And give your suitor the wrong idea?  You wouldn't want to hurt his feelings, Herc, now would you?"

"Don't you flutter your eyelashes at me or I'll rip them off."

"Promises, promises."

"Oh, shut up and go to bed. I suppose one of us has to stay here and show willing…"

"Not too willing. You don’t want him to think you're easy."

Hercules took a swipe at him, which Iolaus dodged easily. The demi-god glared after him as Iolaus strolled off, pausing to make polite conversation, but still making his way discreetly towards the gilded doors and out into the main hall. Shaking his head, Hercules started towards Aethalides.

"Did you see that big brute of a Theban take a swipe at that young man?" Astrid's voice cut crisply through the air.

"Which big brute is that?" Iocastus purred in response. "The one with the rippling muscles and gorgeous long silken hair and oh those nut cracking buttocks and those long muscular thighs…"

"Stop it, Iocastus, I do believe you’re hyperventilating…" Astrid scolded primly, swatting him with her fan.

"Come now, I was not hyperventilating. Fair's fair, my dear. And one surely must be permitted a certain amount of gentlemanly drooling over such shapely buttocks as those…."<