Hercules was rudely awakened by some knocking. He was in some inn's room, hungover with a migraine. The smell of booze filled the cold night air. He had slept in some sturdy wooden chair, the only warmth coming from his clothes. His headache seemed to entirely swell from his horn. His room was small, it had just some bed, a chair, and some decrepit table. The air was cold and empty, the deteriorated curtains offered little protection from the cold outside. Hercules let out a grunt as he forced himself from the chair, Morgan was nowhere to be seen. The pounding on his door echoed the pains in his head. "Gods what the fuck do-" Hercules growled as he opened the door, but stopped.
A woman stood, her posture contorted, leaning on the door frame. Her rose eyes were disgraced by rivers of tears, makeup smeared and distorted across her chubby cheeks. Her pink hair was a mess on her head, forming some semblance of bangs. She wore an oddly clean red flannel shirt, worn open to reveal a simple white vest, dotted with oil and dirt, although "white" was a stretch through all the sweat and discolouring. She had black and grey camo trousers and heavy black combat boots both too were painted in mud and hard work. She pushed through Hercules before crashing face-first onto the bed before breaking down further. Hercules was speechless, to say the least.
"C-Close the door, he might come for me" Her voice was wavering and weak, but Hercules vowed he would never forget that voice a long time ago. "Nineteen fucking years." Hercules brusquely interrupted her cries. "It's been nineteen long years Venus. Do you remember it well?" Hercules felt a lot more at ease with the cold, he stood far from the woman. "I-I had-" she was choking on her own tears "I had n-no one to turn to". Hercules smiled "Yeah, I'm not surprised. I guess they got tired of the abandonment hmm. The silence. Or was that just with me?" She cried harder but Hercules just stared. "Herc, I know you don't want me in your life anymore" she cried in between sniffles "but I need you." Hercules laughed "Oh it's just funny how you didn't need me for the last 19 years either; or how you certainly didn't need me when you went off with someone else. And for what? You think I'd fucking welcome you- ME!?" Venus just continued to cry. "Why the fuck did you come here?" Hercules grunted. "E-Everyone left me" Herc rolled his eyes "My boyfriend... he-"
"OH, YOUR BOYFRIEND?" Hercules spat and scowled, "Listen fucking here, I ain't smart but I ain't fucking dumb." Hercules was so seething he turned to face the wall "You kicked me out and abandoned me, left me after I tried everything for you. You left me after you fucked someone? No apology. No remorse. You fucked some other man while I was out fighting. And then you fucking come back, from some boyfriend problem? I don't want any part of you and your boyfriend's shit. I want the fuck out. And of all the people you could've come to you have come to me for, ME of all people. if you think I'm gonna welcome you back with open arms then you best get the fuck-"
Hercules turned to see a naked body.
Contorted, bruised and sliced. Beaten black and blue, decorated in scars like some demon's scratchings. Mazes of cuts, labyrinths of scratches. One of her breasts had this awful heavy scar running across the tit, permanently swiping this twisted, corrupt, aberrant scar across it. Her entire body was a battlefield, some of her wounds seemingly from years ago; some of them deeper than any warrior he's faced. He struggled to find flesh that had been untouched. Hercules' breath almost quivered, he was speechless. Her arms twitched as if she wanted to cover up, but she refrained and let Hercules' gaze explore her war-ridden body. Hercules once looked at her body with love and lust, and for the last 19 years, he has resented every fibre, every cell of her being. And now looking at it again, he can only feel pain. Instead of 19 years of hatred; even if only for a second, all he could think of was 19 years of torture, pain and longing. As much as it hurt him, Venus was beautiful. She had lost her body, She had lost her love and her friends. Her family, but Loss was a pain Hercules knew too much about. He met her eyes, wide and quivering before finally taking a seat and thinking silently.
YOU ARE READING
Of Blood and Loss
FantasyNudity; Violence; Scars; Morgan is a gladiator, a warrior that lived by his own fists. He lived and died by his own hands. His father was some elite, and thought of the boy as only some bastard, eventually throwing him out on the boy's 9th birthday...
