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Fic: Unearthed
Title: Unearthed
Fandom: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Rating: All Ages
Characters: Hercules, Ares (implied slash)
Warnings: None.
Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ruric from my fanfic meme. 600 words.
Summary: Yes, Virginia 'verse - Sometimes, immortality is a real bitch.
Kevin wiped the sweat from his brow with one hand and reached for his water flask with the other. It was good to be back in Greece, but the old country had changed a lot over the centuries.
He took a long drink from the flask, cool water relieving his parched throat, then he bent down once again, returning to work. Carefully, he brushed the sand away from the buried and degraded metal. Things buried in the sand for centuries, even dead things like swords, never survived intact. But he did. The blood of long-forgotten gods flowed in his veins, and he didn't age like this ancient steel, or wither, or die.
Immortality could be a real bitch at times. He liked this job, though, digging up the remnants of his own past. He wasn't there for the good of history, nor for the sake of his own nostalgia. He was there because he knew exactly what was buried under this site. He talked his way onto the dig because he expected to be needed. As it turned out, he had worried for no reason. None of the trenches were going anywhere near the danger zone, so far as he could tell. All the archaeologists had found so far was the temple.
The hilt of the sword was almost clear, and Kevin could see the design clearly enough to recognise it. There was an empty socket where a ruby once glittered in the pommel. A few scraps of leather, preserved in the sand, still clung to the grip. There had been writing on the blade, once, but from the condition of the hilt Kevin didn't think the engraving would still be visible. Still, he couldn't resist running his fingers over the familiar hilt, remembering the hand that once wielded it.
When he finally climbed out of the trench to refill his water flask, Neil waved and called him over. "Kevin! You'll want to see this!"
Kevin joined the professor in trench four, where once-white sheets covered most of the working area in preparation for the night. He glanced up at the sky, surprised it was so late.
"I thought you'd want to see this." Neil raised one of the sheets with a grin. "The statue is in several pieces but the bust looks intact. We finished uncovering the face today."
Kevin crouched beside the statue. He felt an unexpected thrill as the familiar features stared back at him. He did not reach out and touch, but his eyes traced the lines of the face, taking in the sensual lips, the cheekbones, the eyes. Oh, those eyes. The eyes of the statue were lifeless stone, but he remembered them dark and passionate. Alive. Hungry.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly, unaccountably dry.
"It's beautiful," he said when he could trust his voice.
"Who do you think it is?" Neil asked. He was probably asking everyone. He was probably running a betting pool.
Kevin got to his feet. "It's Ares," he answered. "This is a temple of Ares."
Funny how a thousand years could dull the hatred. So much time faded the memories of the worst of the fights, the betrayals and pain. But other things stayed as sharp as that sword had once been. The moments when the battle had been more about flesh and passion than conflict. The nights when jealousy gave way to desire and stubbornness to surrender. The flash of triumph in dark, brooding eyes.
Eyes he hadn't seen for more than a thousand years, though Ares was still around...somewhere.
The man once known as Hercules walked away from the image of his brother. But he knew he would stay with this dig until the end.
Fandom: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Rating: All Ages
Characters: Hercules, Ares (implied slash)
Warnings: None.
Notes: For
ruric from my fanfic meme. 600 words.Summary: Yes, Virginia 'verse - Sometimes, immortality is a real bitch.
Unearthed
Kevin wiped the sweat from his brow with one hand and reached for his water flask with the other. It was good to be back in Greece, but the old country had changed a lot over the centuries.
He took a long drink from the flask, cool water relieving his parched throat, then he bent down once again, returning to work. Carefully, he brushed the sand away from the buried and degraded metal. Things buried in the sand for centuries, even dead things like swords, never survived intact. But he did. The blood of long-forgotten gods flowed in his veins, and he didn't age like this ancient steel, or wither, or die.
Immortality could be a real bitch at times. He liked this job, though, digging up the remnants of his own past. He wasn't there for the good of history, nor for the sake of his own nostalgia. He was there because he knew exactly what was buried under this site. He talked his way onto the dig because he expected to be needed. As it turned out, he had worried for no reason. None of the trenches were going anywhere near the danger zone, so far as he could tell. All the archaeologists had found so far was the temple.
The hilt of the sword was almost clear, and Kevin could see the design clearly enough to recognise it. There was an empty socket where a ruby once glittered in the pommel. A few scraps of leather, preserved in the sand, still clung to the grip. There had been writing on the blade, once, but from the condition of the hilt Kevin didn't think the engraving would still be visible. Still, he couldn't resist running his fingers over the familiar hilt, remembering the hand that once wielded it.
When he finally climbed out of the trench to refill his water flask, Neil waved and called him over. "Kevin! You'll want to see this!"
Kevin joined the professor in trench four, where once-white sheets covered most of the working area in preparation for the night. He glanced up at the sky, surprised it was so late.
"I thought you'd want to see this." Neil raised one of the sheets with a grin. "The statue is in several pieces but the bust looks intact. We finished uncovering the face today."
Kevin crouched beside the statue. He felt an unexpected thrill as the familiar features stared back at him. He did not reach out and touch, but his eyes traced the lines of the face, taking in the sensual lips, the cheekbones, the eyes. Oh, those eyes. The eyes of the statue were lifeless stone, but he remembered them dark and passionate. Alive. Hungry.
He swallowed, his throat suddenly, unaccountably dry.
"It's beautiful," he said when he could trust his voice.
"Who do you think it is?" Neil asked. He was probably asking everyone. He was probably running a betting pool.
Kevin got to his feet. "It's Ares," he answered. "This is a temple of Ares."
Funny how a thousand years could dull the hatred. So much time faded the memories of the worst of the fights, the betrayals and pain. But other things stayed as sharp as that sword had once been. The moments when the battle had been more about flesh and passion than conflict. The nights when jealousy gave way to desire and stubbornness to surrender. The flash of triumph in dark, brooding eyes.
Eyes he hadn't seen for more than a thousand years, though Ares was still around...somewhere.
The man once known as Hercules walked away from the image of his brother. But he knew he would stay with this dig until the end.
Also posted on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/71605