The mud was wet, sticky, and cold.

"Ick!" the pretty princess exclaimed, hastily stepping back from the river bank and wiping her delicate foot on the warm soft grass. "Oh, now what doIdo?"

Her precious golden ball was bobbing oh so temptingly just out of reach among the reeds – but the only way to get it was to walk into the river and that meant walking down the bank to get there. And there was all that icky mud in the way. She didn’t like mud. They didn’t have mud at home. Not cold mud anyway, and not on the floor, and not all icky like this – and shouldn’t there be people to put soft rugs down for her to play on, and sweep the floors before she crossed them, and all that sort of stuff?

She started to pout – and then remembered that pouting causes wrinkles and wrinkles make you look old and ugly and princesses just shouldn’t. So she stopped. But she couldn’t stop her lower lip quivering a little, because she was cold and she was all alone and she was lost, and now she’d lost her ball, and that was important – only she couldn’t remember why exactly.

Her daddy had given her the ball. She remembered that. And he’d told her to take care of it. She remembered that too.

She just couldn’t remember much else …

"Oh, come on, Dite. Don’t cry. It isn’t that bad. Well – maybe it is, but – please don’t cry. I hate to see you cry."

The sound of the voice made her jump, and she swiveled around in alarm, looking for whoever it belonged to. There didn’t seem to be anyone there. Just the meadow, and the river and the reed bed, swaying gently in the breeze.

"Who – who’s there?" she asked turning round a second time, just in case she’d missed something. The voice – or rather the owner of the voice – sighed. Heavily.

"I’m down here, Dite. Yeah – right down. By your feet."

So she looked down. And immediately leapt backwards with a startled scream. Because there was a frog looking up at her. A slimy, green frog, with big webbed feet and a wide mouth – and the most amazing blue eyes she’d ever seen.

"Oh, gods," the frog said to no-one in particular. "It’s obviously one of those days." It blinked a blue eyed blink and scrabbled back a little so that it could look up at her. "It’s okay," it said. "I’m not going to hurt you. Really I’m not. Don’t think I could hurt anyone at the moment. A heron maybe. Get stuck in its throat, choke it a little bit … Don’t go there, Iolaus, that’s not a happy thought. Look – Dite. We have a problem, and I need you to focus, okay?"

"You’re a frog," the princess said. The frog rolled its eyes in pained reaction.

"Nooo," it responded, in the kind of voice that meant of course I’m a frog, you think I don’t know that, and that really isn’t the issue here, is it, which made the princess giggle, because it had been a silly thing for her to say.

"You’re a nice frog," she decided, flopping down on the grass beside him and tilting her head to study him better. She did that because she knew it made her look cute, and looking cute was a good thing when you were a princess and you wanted everyone to like you. Even if everyone was just a weird blue eyed frog that could talk. And knew her name. "I like you."

"Oh, good," the frog muttered, absent mindedly flicking out its tongue to catch a passing fly. "Oh – ugh. Horsefly … Eurg. Ick. Ooh …" It coughed and spluttered for a moment, spitting the fly out and making a disgusted face at it. "I must stop doing that. Okay." It recovered itself with an effort and hopped a little closer to little Dite’s skirts. "Focus," it said. "We have to focus."

"You’re funny," the princess giggled.

"Yeah," the frog the nodded, humouring her. "Sure. Whatever. Oh gods – now I’m starting to sound like her – listen, Dite. I know I look like a frog, but I’m not. Well – I am, but I’m not usually. I got – transformed, or something. The same way you did."

"Me?" little Dite questioned, idly picking daisies and not really paying attention.

"Yes. You. You aren’t really a six year old kid. You’re a goddess. A wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous goddess. And I need your help." The frog hopped closer still, putting one webbed front foot on the back of her hand. She nearly screamed and pulled away – but it was only a little bit icky, and the frog really did have such nice eyes …

"Will you get my ball for me?" she asked abruptly, sitting up and trying to catch sight of her toy in the river. "Daddy will be mad if I lose it. I’ll be so grateful. I really, really will."

"Sure you will," the frog growled, squirming to get up off its back, which was how it had landed when she’d knocked him away. "Zeus couldn’t give Bliss a nice adventure story, now could he? Oh no. Has to conjour up a magic picture book, full of fairy tales. Magic, moving pictures, you can walk right into … Such an amazing idea. Such a wonderful gift. Especially when Discord creeps up and closes the book on the entire birthday party." He finally managed to regain his feet, and took three indignant hops, just to work off his stress level.

"Didn’t Zeus tell you you could get stuck in here?" he asked irritatedly. "Shouldn’t these things come with a ‘Warning- playing games with space and time can be hazardous to your health’ lable?"

"I want my ball," little Dite demanded, stamping one bare foot to get his attention, Just a little. Princesses didn’t stamp. Much.

"Ball," the frog echoed, his train of thought momentarily distracted. "Oh, right. Ball. Yeah, we need that. It’s the key. Umm – haven’t you got it?"

"It’s over there, silly." The princess flung her hand in the direction of the river. "I was playing and it ran away. Into the river. And it wouldn’t come back."

"It’s in – the – river," the frog said slowly. "Oh boy. Dite - " It hopped past her, heading towards the river bank, then stopped and looked back. "What were you doing? Throwing away the only thing that can turn us all back again – providing we can get the book open, of course, and not just find ourselves stuck here for the rest of our lives and – oh yes, you’re a godddess and a little time here and there isn’t going to make much difference to you, but I’m mortal, and do you have any idea how long frogs live, especially on river banks – " It broke off with a sigh, its whole body heaving with the weight of it. "I’m sorry," it said. "I don’t mean to yell at you. I know you’re not yourself at the moment. Its just that – it’s not easy being green, and being this small, and worrying that something’s gonna wander by and eat you at any minute … Stay there. I’ll be right back."

Little Dite sat back among the daisies, tugging one or two up to start making a daisy chain. Or a crown. A little, frog sized crown. That would be fun. The frog shook its head and hopped away into the river, avoiding the mud altogether and diving in with an athletic splash. A few moments later it reappeared, pushing the glittering, gold entwined sphere out of the reeds and back towards the bank. The princess dropped the daisies with a cry of joy, bounced to her feet and ran to snatch up her treasure.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she beamed, hugging the ball to her chest and jumping up and down on the spot.

"Don’t mention it," the frog said wearily, dragging himself up the mud flat and sprawling out on the edge of the grass. "Did you know there are pike in that river? You know, this is the weirdest birthday party I think I ever been too – and believe me, I’ve been to a few."

"Can you take me home, now?" little Dite asked, somewhat plaintively. "I’m hungry."

"Hungry, huh?" The frog picked himself up and gave himself a little shake. "Think we can do something about that. And it’s heading in the right direction too. There’s a tea party - of sorts - happening on the next page. Cupid’s sitting around wearing this really silly hat – and he and Psyche keep trying to stuff Bliss into the teapot. We can stop there for a moment or two, I guess. We need to get to Herc on page ten. If we can wake him up, I figure he can force the book open from the inside. Uh – Dite?" he called as the princess began to skip off down the riverside. "I hate to be a pain, but – would mind carrying me for a little while? I’ve hopped right through this book and back again trying to find out what’s going on and webbed feet aren’t exactly made for distance."

"Oh." Little Dite stopped and looked back, biting her lip with indecision. "Uh – you’re – kinda – icky."

"I’m a frog," the frog pointed out patiently, hopping up to join her. "I can’t help the icky part. I did get your ball," he reminded her, a cajoling note in his voice. She melted instantly.

"Okay," she agreed, reaching down and scooping him up on the edge of her skirt. "You can sit on my shoulder and tell me stories ‘n stuff. Do you have a name?"

"Dite," the frog began, sliding in among the folds of fabric on the shoulder of her dress, "you know my name … Oh. Well, okay. Maybe you don’t remember. Whatever this spell is, it’s hit the full immortals hardest. Hepheastus seems to have turned into a troll on page six. He didn’t recognise me at all. And you wouldn’t believe what Ares is doing back on page three. Something tells me Discord is not gonna be miss popular when he gets out of here. And it’s Iolaus," he added, bracing himself in place as the princess started to skip forward again. "My name, I mean. Ee-o-lus."

"Ee-o-luth," Dite echoed happily. The frog heaved another sigh. It was beginning to feel like a habit.

"Yeah, okay," he acknowledged. "I guess that’s close enough …"

It would be hard to explain how they moved from one page to another. It had something to do with reaching the edge of a picture and then somehow stepping into the next one, and you had to do it without looking back or thinking too hard about what ought to come next. Iolaus had more or less managed it by accident the first time, but then, he had been aware that he was in a magical book and not the real world, so it hadn’t taken him entirely by surprise. Dite did it without even blinking, taking the shift in surroundings completely in her stride. When you’re six years old, you tend to take things like that for granted. Like having a talking frog sat on your shoulder. Or being told you were really the goddess of Love, trapped in a magic book along with half your relatives.

So she skipped off page seven and onto page eight – where she had a wonderful time eating jam sandwiches while Iolaus patiently convinced a top hatted Cupid that he really was the god of Romance, and that the bewitching hare with the twitchy whiskers was his wife – and then she, Cupid and her blue eyed frog skipped on to page nine, leaving Psyche to tenderly extract a dormouse sized Bliss out of the teapot so that she could tempt him awake with a treacle tart or two.

Page nine wasn’t nice. Page nine was a dark and frightening forest, filled with twisted trees and evil eyed animals lurking in among their roots. Little Dite huddled close to Cupid’s side as they picked their way across the picture, swallowing gasps of alarm as things scuttled away from them. Iolaus led the way (he’d already been this way twice – once going and once coming back) and he hopped from twisted root to twisted root, muttering things like ‘What makes me think Hera had a hand in this?’ and ‘So, okay. Scary forest. Very scary forest. Whoa – extremely scary forest,’ from time to time. When Cupid asked him what he was so jumpy about, he threw him an exasperated look. "Hey," he protested. "I’m just a frog, remember? Walking down the street would be scary for me right now.’

Halfway across the picture, they reached the tower.

It was quite a nice tower actually; tall and slim, wound about with roses and ivy, and with a high arched window, somewhere near the top. But it didn’t seem to have a door, which was rather strange.

"If we’re in a book," little Dite asked with sudden perceptiveness, "How come the tower can be so high?"

"Fairy tale physics," the frog said flippantly. She pouted at him and he sighed. "Look – I don’t know. Ask Zeus when you see him. Hey up there," he called, leaping up onto the nearest rose leaf. A moment later a head appeared in the window high above their heads.

"Hey down there," the call came back. "Is that you, Iolaus?"

"No," he answered sarcastically, "it’s a completely different talking frog who’s supposed to be a hunter and is busy risking life and limb trying to save everybody’s butts as usual. I found Dite. She’s six years old, cute as a button, and has absolutely no idea what’s going on around here. You figured out how to get down yet?"

"Uh – yeah. Look out below!"

A moment later a gleaming, golden rope came slithering down the outside of the tower, getting a little tangled in the rose bushes at the bottom. Iolaus hastily hopped out of the way as a figure in short leather skirt and a cropped green top began to clamber down it. Dite tugged at Cupid’s belt.

"He said I was cute," she simpered as he bent down to see what she wanted. "I like him."

The figure jumped the last few feet to avoid the roses, landing right beside the top hatted, bewinged god. "Hi, Cupid," Gabrielle said with a relieved grin. "Nice hat. Oh – Dite – don’t you look sweet?"

"Thank you," little Dite blushed, with a sudden attack of shyness. She slid behind Cupid’s hip and peered around him warily. "Are you a princess too?"

"Well, I’m an Amazon princess," the bard answered, reaching up to tug at the rope, the end of which whipped up the stone wall and then fell back again, coiling the whole red gold length at her feet. "With a lot of hair. Took me ages to get it into a decent plait. Uh – Iolaus? You weren’t under there, were you?"

"Yup," came a strangled croak from somewhere in among the gleaming coils. Gabrielle looked mortified and hastily heaved hair aside until she found him.

"Sorry," she winced, carefully picking him up and looking at him anxiously. "You really are a frog, aren’t you."

"Told you so," Iolaus sighed, carefully stretching his legs one at a time to make sure nothing was broken. "And I see what you meant about the hair. A tower with no doors but many locks … Who comes up with these things?"

"Bored bards," Gabrielle grinned, relieved to see that he was okay. "Did you find Xena on your travels?"

"Oh – yeah." Iolaus broke into a broad grin – which on a frog is very broad indeed. "You’re gonna need all that rope. She’s stuck at the bottom of a well on page two. With a pile of straw and a spinning wheel."

"A what?"

"A spinning wheel. You know – fleece to yarn, flax to thread, straw to gold …Yeah," he concluded, getting nothing but puzzled looks from everybody. "Think you need to be there."

"I’m gone," Gabrielle said, handing her handful of frog over to Cupid (he held out his hat and Iolaus hopped into it) and gathering up armfuls of golden plait. "We catch up with you on page ten, right?"

"Right," Iolaus affirmed, his voice echoing from inside the hat. "Watch out for Hephaestus on page six. He’s in a real mood – and I don’t know if that’s from being a Troll, or from being chained under a damp bridge."

"Got it!" the departing bard called back. "See you later!"

"Oh, I hope so," the frog sighed, with feeling. "I do hope so …"

It hadn’t been difficult for a four inch frog to get through a barricade of thorns, especially when half of those thorns were almost as long as he was. He hadn’t give much thought to how the rest of his company were going to cross it, so – once they’d all arrived on page ten – they found themselves with a decided problem. Little Dite was all for trying to squirm through anyway, but one tentative creep into the tangle had her backing away with little shrieks of alarm and distress. Cupid had to dive to her rescue, carefully disentangling her dress from the brambles while Iolaus heaved yet another sigh and bemoaned the fact that, even if he’d had his sword to hand, he’d be totally unable to make any sensible use of it.

Cupid tried flying over the barrier, but got his coat tails caught and had to tear his way free, fluttering down again in annoyance. He was having difficulty understanding why they wanted to cross in the first place, and said as much, complaining that he needed to get back to his tea party, and wasn’t he supposed to be at a trial or something? Iolaus patiently explained – again – and hopped off around the thorn fence, looking for a possible way in.

He hopped back a few moments later, looking shaken. He’d found where the river (the one that seemed to run right through the book) flowed in under the castle wall, and, in doing so, had had a very close encounter with a hungry heron, which hadn’t impressed him one bit. Cupid put him back in the hat and carried him down to the river bank, where Dite threw her ball at the heron – which drove it away – and Iolaus had to go back into the river to retrieve it. He wasn’t all that impressed with that either. He made Cupid put the ball into the hat and insisted on sitting on it so that Dite couldn’t lose it again.

But at least they’d found a way into the castle; the river had a narrow path running alongside it that went right though the low tunnel under the wall and emerged somewhere in the gardens.

Somewhere in the middle of a garden party as it turned out.

It looked as if it was a wonderful party – or would have been, had everyone at it not been fast asleep and snoring. Cupid and Dite tiptoed through the crowd, stepping over silk gowns and velvet cloaks and occasionally stepping on a hand or foot; no one woke up, and little Dite quickly got bored with oohing and aahing at the splendid dresses and the pretty hairstyles. She ran on ahead, chasing up the steps and into the castle itself, with Iolaus calling after her not to get lost, which she completely ignored, of course.

An hour later a very tired frog had succeeded in rounding her up again and he and the two Olympians were finally standing in the small room at the top of the topmost tower, where a tanned and handsome hero lay fast asleep in an ornate bed draped with cloth of gold.

"Hey, Herc," he croaked, clambering up the drapes to plonk himself down on the sleeping figure’s chest. "Told ya I’d be back."

The son of Zeus gave no sign of having heard him. He lay in the deepest slumber, only the slow rise and fall of his chest betraying any sign of life in his otherwise unmoving form. Little Dite skipped over and flopped down on the end of the bed, kicking her heels at the carved leg and pouting at the sleeping figure.

"He’s no fun," she announced. "I’m bored. Can I have my ball back?"

"No," Iolaus snapped, then heaved another of those froggy sighs. "I’m sorry Dite, I’m not mad at you." (Her lower lip had begun to tremble threateningly). "I just need Hercules here to wake up – and I was sorta hoping that bringing you and the key here would do it. Guess that was clutching at straws." He looked up at Cupid. "You got any ideas?"

The god of Romance shrugged, putting his hat down on the bedside table. "I’d like to help," he said, "But I keep getting this craving for strawberry jam – and these weird poems running through my head. What is a Jaberwok, anyway?"

"No idea," Iolaus answered. "Dite – I know you’re only six years old, but – please – help me out here. How do we wake him up?"

"With a kiss, silly," she giggled. "It’s always a kiss. Like this –" And she slid off the bed, skipped up to the pillows and planted a big wet smacker on her brother’s cheek.

Somewhat to everyone’s surprise – well, okay, maybe not to Little Dite, who was expecting it – Hercules woke up.

"That was it?" Iolaus reacted, hastily hopping onto the pillows as his partner stirred and sat up in bemusement. "I could have done that … oh. No. Maybe I couldn’t," he realised with sudden embarrassment.

"Where are we?" Hercules questioned, looking around in confusion. "Why is Cupid wearing a tail coat – Dite? Is that you? Have I missed something here?"

"Half the story," the frog on the pillow muttered, still blushing a little after realising what he’d said. "Just take a moment, will ya, buddy? I’ll explain everything once Xena gets here. Save doing it twice."

"Iolaus?" The son of Zeus stared at the pillows as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. "You’re a – "

"Frog," his partner capped pointedly. "I know, I know. Don’t rub it in. You got to take a nap. I got green skin, a craving for flies and a headache. It always happens to me."

"Well, don’t sweat it," Hercules advised, scooping him up and placing him, considerately, in the bowl of the crystal fountain at the foot of the bed. "You just need to stay damp – and I’m sure we’ll get everything sorted."

"Thank’s Herc," Iolaus breathed (with bubbles – he was half underwater at the time), "you’re a real pal."

"Anytime, buddy," his partner grinned. "Thank you for finding Dite and getting her to wake me up." He then rang the bell for the servants (they’d all woken up when he had), organised a group to hack down the brambles so that Xena and Gabrielle could get in once they arrived, ordered ice cream – and jam sandwiches – for Little Dite and Cupid, a pot of herbal tea for himself, and a bowl of shrimp for Iolaus. Which tasted much better than flies and vanished down a froggy throat with decided enthusiasm.

All of which goes to show that if you turn Hercules into a prince, then he knows how to behave like one.

They only had to wait an hour before Xena and Gabrielle appeared. They arrived with a lumbering troll in tow, having freed Hepheastus from his chains; the troll was carrying most of Gabrielle’s hair, and Xena was trying not to trip over the rest of it. Hercules provided chairs, more refreshments and a small orchestra to provide mood music while the gods and mortals worked out what had happened to them and what they were going to do about it. Iolaus explained about Bliss’ birthday present and how Discord had closed the book on all of them; Gabrielle regaled them with how a brave and vulnerable frog had hopped right through the book and back again trying to save them all from their various enchantments; Dite sang a cute nursery rhyme and played with her ball; and Cupid asked what had happened to Ares and got a series of sniggers from Xena, Gabrielle and Hepheastus. Iolaus turned over in his bowl and nearly choked himself laughing.

After a moment pondering options, Hercules announced that the only way to test Iolaus’ theory about opening the book from the inside was to try it – and proceeded to lead the way out of the castle and up to the edge of the page. Page ten held the last picture in the book, so from there they were able to descend to the inside back cover, using Gabrielle’s hair as a rope. Hercules went first, with Iolaus tucked into his shirt; Cupid flew down with Little Dite and her ball, Hephaestus lowered Gabrielle and Xena down together and then jumped. They all ended up peering out of the narrow gap between the covers, which was far too narrow for anyone to get through; anyone except Iolaus that is, who hopped out onto his partner’s hand and immediately volunteered to slip out and see if the coast was clear.

He and Hercules then proceeded to have one of those arguments – the one where the son of Zeus protested about the risks his best friend was always taking, and his best friend retorted with a whole series of reasons why he had to take them, at the end of which they both agreed that being a four inch long frog and not wanting to be one was a very good reason indeed, and besides he was the only one who’d fit, and he promised to be careful – a promise which his entire audience believed for less than the few seconds he took to actually say it.

Nevertheless, he hopped out of Hercules’ hand, leaving his partner free to brace his hands against the front cover of the book and push – just enough to widen the gap to be sure that his partner could slip through, although not enough to draw attention if Discord was out there somewhere. Iolaus took a deep breath and vanished into the light, wriggling through the opening and back into the real world.

"Uh – " Hephaestus asked worriedly, peering through the gap, "am I mistaken, or are we on the edge of the table here?"

"Now he asks," Xena noted archly. There was a muffled Whaaooo-ooch that drifted up from somewhere below, and all of them winced.

"Edge of the table," Hercules affirmed, looking pained.

"Frogs are resilient things," Gabrielle assured him. Sure enough, the next thing that they heard was the hunter’s voice announcing that the coast was clear.

"Thank the Fates for that," Hercules declared, bent his arms and pushed with all his might, heaving the book open with a Herculean effort (well, what other sort of effort would he make?). The ball in Dite’s hand flared with sudden brillance – and before you could say ‘once upon a time’ they found themselves back in Bliss’ nursery, proper size, proper costumes and very much themselves again.

"One word" Ares growled, advancing on Xena and Gabrielle with the kind of threatening look that promised dire consequences. Gabrielle looked innocent and Xena merely raised both eyebrows as if asking what's it worth? Ares glowered back and she smiled, knowingly.

"Well," Dite announced, smoothing down her dress and making sure she back to being curved in all the right places, "that was an adventure and no mistake. Who’s for cake?"

"Hold on," Hercules interrupted, having been conducting a head count. "Where’s Iolaus?"

Gods and other guests all looked around in puzzlement. There was no sign of a blond head, purple waistcoat or any other recognisable part of a certain heroic hunter. Somewhere, down on the floor, somebody coughed. Pointedly.

"Excuse me," a familiar voice said. "But would someone mind telling me why I’m still a frog?"

They all looked down. Sure enough, there on the floor was a four inch long, blue eyed frog with a furious expression on its face. Bliss giggled. So did Aphrodite. So – shame on her – did Gabrielle. Ares burst out laughing.

"It’s not funny," Iolaus muttered tightly. Hercules reached down and scooped him up before anyone stood on him.

"No, it’s not," he agreed, holding his transformed partner out towards the giggling goddess of Love. "Dite?"

"Don’t look at me," she snickered, trying to look contrite and failing miserably. "Not a princess anymore. Goddess, remember? Besides, I’ve used up my ‘kiss to break enchantment’ quota today."

"Absolutely," Hephaestus agreed.

"Thanks a heap," Iolaus croaked, slumping down in his friend’s hand and looking decidedly miserable. "Have you any idea how unpleasant this is? I’m cold, I’m wet, I’m tired, I’ve got webbed feet, and I’m green – and those are just the plus points."

"Xena," Hercules requested, swinging round towards the Warrior Princess with a hopeful smile. She looked down at the damp, slimy creature in his hands and shook her head. Firmly.

"I don’t kiss frogs," she announced, in a tone that brooked no argument. The son of Zeus tried anyway.

"But – Iolaus .."

"No. Frogs," she repeated resolutely – then her expression softened a little. "Wouldn’t work anyway. I’m not really a princess. It’s just that everyone calls me one."

"They wouldn’t dare call her anything else," Ares remarked, still snickering. "You know – this is all very amusing, but Discord’s likely to turn up any second and we ought to be ready for her. She’s gone way to far this time."

"You can say that again," the frog agreed, perking up enough to wink at the god of war – who went an interesting colour.

"You so much as mention what you saw," he warned, "and I’ll make sure you stay a frog for the rest of your miserable life. Which will be about as long as it takes me to find a hungry crocodile or two," he added pointedly.

Hercules immediately hugged his hands into his chest, glaring at his brother with decided hostility. "Over my dead body," he said. Ares glowered back.

"That can be arranged …"

"Not at Bliss’ party, dad," Cupid protested. "You promised."

"So did Discord," his father growled. "And when I get my hands on her …"

"Here," Gabrielle interjected, scooping Iolaus out of Hercules’ fingers and carrying him away to a less crowded space. "I’m an Amazon princess. Let me try." She lifted her hands and carefully planted a delicate kiss on wide froggy lips. The frog kissed her back.

"Bucket of water, I think," Hercules said after a moment or two. Cupid tilted his head over thoughtfully and nodded.

"Big bucket," he concurred. Psyche elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don’t be such a spoilsport," she said. Aphrodite was grinning from ear to ear.

"Whaa-hoa - you go sweetcheeks," she cheered. "You earned that one."

"He certainly did," Hephaestus agreed with a grin. "But don’t you think they ought to be coming up for air, or something?"

"Discord!" Xena snapped warningly. Bard and hunter sprang apart, both looking a little guilty. Gods vanished in an instant display of lights. Hercules grabbed his now restored partner by the shoulder and dragged him into hiding behind the party table; Xena snagged hers and they both ducked down at the side of Bliss’ cradle. A moment later Discord strolled into the room with a smug expression on her face.

"I wonder if they’re all having fun in there," she smirked, her hand caressing the cover of the book. She glanced around a little guiltily then – clearly unable to resist – cracked the book open an inch so that she could take a peek.

Heroes galvanised into action. Xena’s chakram arched through the air, knocking the book wide open; Hercules jumped up and over the table in an athletic leap, planting both feet firmly in the small of Discord’s back. She gave a startled shriek and fell forward.

Straight into the book.

"Yes!" Ares crowed, reappearing to flip the book up and slam it shut with a decided snap. "Just where we want her."

"You will let her out, won’t you?" Hercules asked, not sounding all that enthusiastic about the idea.

"Eventually," his brother smiled. For one brief moment their eyes met in mutual understanding – and then they both harumphed and turned away, desperately trying not to look as if they’d just shared a moment.

"Nice move, Herc," Iolaus grinned, emerging from underneath the table cloth.

Hercules grinned back. "Must be the day for playing leapfrog," he quipped warmly.

His partner groaned. "Brekekekex, ko-ax, ko-ax,*" he retorted. With feeling.

*Which, for those of you not familiar with the works of Arostophanes, is a line from the chorus in Frogs …

Discord woke up on a river bank and froze, feeling the unmistakable flutter of feathers ruffling around her in the gentle breeze.

"Oh no, oh no," she groaned. "Not a chicken. Not again."

She crept forward, warily leaning over to catch sight of her reflection in the water. She wasn’t a chicken. It was much, much worse than that.

She had a beak, a long curving neck, and her feathers were all stubby and brown. "I’m ugly," she howled, and collapsed in a sobbing heap, right at the edge of the water.

The mud was wet, sticky and cold …